The Christmas Surprise (10 page)

He pulled her to him.

‘I’d love to show you Africa.’

‘Would you?’ Rosie was under his coat to keep warm, and her voice came out slightly muffled, but still doubtful. ‘I thought you never wanted to go back.’

‘Well Diane thinks it would be good for me.’

‘That’s because
Diane
secretly wants to do kissy kissy with you. It’s totally obvious. She’ll want to come with you and be all like, “Oh, here I am in Africa, KISSY KISSY, it’s totally therapeutic.”’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘I am not being ridiculous, I can always tell.’

Rosie popped her head out and looked up at the sky.

‘We can’t afford it.’

‘I know.’

She looked at him.

‘Except …’

‘What?’

It shot across her: what could be better than getting away, having a trip, taking some time out? This was just what she needed. To do something a bit different for a bit.

‘We could use my plane ticket to Australia.’

Stephen had forgotten all about that. Rosie’s mother and brother had given it to her for Christmas.

‘It’s open, it cost a fortune. I bet we could change it.’

‘I thought you needed to keep it for when you wanted to run away from your evil fiancé,’ teased Stephen.

‘There is that,’ said Rosie. ‘But wow. It would be …
it would be an adventure, wouldn’t it? And we could take lots of pictures and show the village kids where the fund-raising is going, and …’

She looked at Stephen looking at her.

‘What? What is it?’

‘You are some woman, Rosie Hopkins.’

Rosie woke up with a groan and a headache.

‘Tell me I didn’t just agree to go halfway across the world with you to somewhere without any luxury swimming pools.’

‘Nooo,’ said Stephen, rolling over and taking her in his arms.

‘Oh good,’ she said, snuggling down again under the covers.

There was a pause.

‘Shit, I did.’

‘You can go back on your word,’ said Stephen sleepily.

‘I don’t want to go to Africa! What about all the lions and tigers?’

‘Well, there’s no tigers for starters. They don’t live in Africa.’

‘Not even if they marry lions?’

Stephen cleared his throat.

‘I release you from your promise.’

‘See, this is exactly what will get me eaten in Africa.’

‘I still can’t believe you’re going,’ said Lilian, stirring her tea crossly.

Rosie felt a bit annoyed at this. Lilian had been to London three times in her life, and Cherbourg once (which she had absolutely adored, talking about the French ever since as the ultimate arbiters of taste and
style), with her younger brother Gordon. Rosie wanted her to say ‘Wow, that’s amazing, how wonderful,’ rather than ‘You’re completely crazy, what are you thinking?’

‘What about when you’re being held hostage?’

‘Lilian, stop being racist.’

‘I’m not being racist. There’s loads of places where people get held hostage – Cumbria, for instance – and I don’t want you going to any of them.’

‘People don’t get held hostage in Cumbria!’

Lilian furrowed her brow.

‘A lot of mysterious things happen in Cumbria.’

‘Well anyway. The charity is going to let us ride along with them, we’ll be perfectly safe.’

Lilian sighed.

‘It all sounds very fishy to me. Are you
sure
you can’t just send them a postal order?’

Rosie shook her head.

‘Stephen wants to go. He feels committed, from before. It’s his duty to the family to make sure the girl is well taken care of.’

Lilian pouted.

‘That’s a given, if he’s taking you.’

‘I think they’ve got plenty of medical staff there,’ said Rosie. It hadn’t actually occurred to her that her skills might be needed.

‘And where does it end?’ said Lilian. ‘Are you sure you won’t make things worse rather than better?’

‘You can never be sure,’ said Rosie. ‘About anything.’

‘Hmph, I suppose that’s true,’ said Lilian. ‘Well, come back safe and never leave the village again. That’s all I ask.’

Planning the trip had been, in retrospect, wonderful for Rosie. She couldn’t forget what had happened, of course, not entirely, but there were vaccinations to arrange, routes to plot. They’d booked their flights – Angie had not been exactly happy to know they weren’t coming out to Australia, but had heard the spark of life back in her daughter’s voice and that had been almost enough – and Faustine was going to let them camp with them, so all their money could pay for Célestine’s trip to the mission hospital. They’d also sent vitamins, supplements, nappies and baby clothes on ahead.

Moray poked his head round the door, having been in to see one of the other residents. He’d heard Rosie’s voice.

‘Hello!’ he said. ‘Give me some gin!’

Rosie looked up.

‘It’s a bit early for gin.’

‘Not when you’ve been doing what I’ve been doing,’ said Moray. ‘Are you joining me or shall I tell you in great detail? It involves use of the word “weeping”.’

Rosie fled to get the gin bottle and the tonic from Lilian’s mini fridge, and grabbed a lemon and some ice from the kitchen, and they sat round the fire, a convivial threesome.

‘So you’ve heard of her nutty plan,’ said Lilian.

Moray gave a half-smile.

‘Rather you than me,’ he said. But in fact, after the hard time Rosie had had so far this year, he absolutely approved. A change of scene, some sunshine, and other people to focus on rather than turning inwards. He was the only person aware of her fertility issues, and he hated her carrying the burden alone, even though he understood her reasons.

‘Actually,’ he said, ‘I think you’ll fall in love with it and go all Meryl Streep and come back saying “I hed a ferm in Efrika” and start talking about the moon over the savannah and the smell of the dust.’

‘I don’t see what’s wrong with Lipton,’ said Lilian.

‘I’m only going for a trip,’ said Rosie. ‘Don’t listen to Moray.’

‘Until Robert Redford turns up with a big gun and sweeps you off your feet,’ said Moray, and they both swooned a little, and Lilian said what on earth were they talking about, and Rosie was shocked when she realised Lilian had never seen the film, so she found it in the library and put it on, and they had more gin and tonics and watched it and all three of them swooned over Robert Redford, and Stephen was entirely confused when Rosie turned up at home late and slightly tipsy, talking about how much she couldn’t wait for their trip.

It had been a good, busy summer season and now it was late October, with fewer daytrippers and hikers coming through. Célestine’s baby was due in two weeks, so they probably wouldn’t be there to see it born, but they would visit the capital, spend a night in the village and make sure everything was all right there, then travel on to a backpackers’ hostel in a beach resort and have a little holiday too.

Rosie clutched Stephen’s hand very tightly as they shut up the little cottage, and turned the sweetshop sign to ‘Closed’. In the three years they’d known each other, they’d never had a holiday.

‘Well, it’s not really a holiday,’ said Stephen, smiling apologetically as he sat trying to apportion out their holiday money, while Rosie puzzled over the packing. ‘A new start. A healing process. Will you throw a humbug at me if I use the word “closure”?’

Rosie swallowed. He was so happy about this trip, so hyped up and enthusiastic. And she was too, of course. But she couldn’t forget that she hadn’t yet come clean with him; hadn’t shared everything about what had happened at the hospital.

‘Then we can come home,’ said Stephen, ‘and make a baby of our own, and then we can forget about ever having had a holiday or a second’s free time ever again.’
He came up behind her and kissed her.

Rosie stiffened.

‘What?’ said Stephen. ‘Sorry. Sorry, love, was that insensitive?’

‘No,’ said Rosie, shaking her head. ‘But there’s something I have to tell you …’

It wasn’t, she knew, the fact of it – or if it was, he didn’t touch on it. It was the months and months she had gone without mentioning it; it was such a huge part of their future, and she had selfishly kept it to herself, assumed he wouldn’t be able to cope, thought she could deal with it all herself.

And all she could say, numbly, was that she didn’t know why she hadn’t told him; that she’d thought it was already bad enough (and there was a tiny part of her that had wondered if, possibly, the immaculate Dr Chang might after all have been completely wrong; that maybe, in the intervening months, it might happen of its own accord, prove them all completely wrong and they would never have to face up to it and deal with it). And Stephen had accused her of wanting to control everything, to keep that knowledge for herself, and she could only agree.

‘Did you think I was going to jilt you?’ Stephen had said furiously. ‘Is that what you think of me? Hmm? Just
dump you the second you stopped being breeding material?’