When Summer Fades (24 page)

‘
Craven’s
Bride
,’ she whispered, standing on tiptoe to reach the book with its golden-yellow cover. Golden like the Algarve sunshine and warm, soft sands, where she and Carlos had made love. ‘Oh, Carlos!’ she gulped, emitting a stifled sob. To think that on her return from Portugal she’d foolishly imagined the two people standing in that church doorway on the cover to be Carlos and herself. That the title wasn’t
Craven’s
Bride
but
Carlos’s
Bride
instead.

With a shiver of apprehension, Sophie laid the book down, cover uppermost. I suppose I was right, in a way, she told herself, brushing a solitary tear away from the cover. Carlos will still have his bride, but it will be Rosa, and not me, standing beside him outside the church.

*

‘Do say you’ll come for Christmas,’ Edna pleaded, when she phoned.

Sophie hesitated, deeply pensive. ‘It’s kind of you to invite me, and I’d love to come, but working the night shift on Christmas Eve means—’

‘You probably won’t feel much like driving to Norfolk on Christmas Day?’ Edna finished for her. ‘What about New Year instead? Monty says it’s not right, you being on your own at Christmas.’

‘I shan’t be on my own,’ Sophie lied. ‘I’ve been invited to The Nag’s Head for Callie and Patrick’s belated celebratory party. Did I tell you they were engaged?’

‘Yes, and we’re thrilled for them both. Such a lovely couple, have they set a wedding date?’

‘March 17th – St. Patrick’s Day.’

‘How nice, and you’ll be chief bridesmaid, I expect?’

‘Yes,’ Sophie replied, this time in all honesty. She refrained from adding that by then she’d be almost as big as a house!’

*

Two days later, Sophie had an almost identical conversation when Callie called at Victoria Villas. ‘Why won’t you come for Christmas? Mum’s going to be terribly disappointed if you don’t.’

‘I’m making a start on the nursery. I can’t leave that till the last minute, can I?’

‘No.’ Callie conceded. ‘But do you really have to do it on
Christmas
Day
?’

‘Yes, I do. However, I’ll give you my word, my bump and I will be at your party on Boxing Day.’

Not wholly convinced, Callie left Sophie pondering paint charts and wallpaper samples. What was it to be, pink or blue? Rabbits or teddy bears?

*

On Christmas morning, Sophie lovingly patted her tiny bump, reached for a T-shirt and denim dungarees, switched on a tape of carols from King’s and proceeded to shift the furniture.

‘I’ll stop for coffee at eleven,’ she told the beige, lop-eared toy rabbit Callie had bought, the moment she’d found out about the baby. Then it would be roast turkey dinner for one and ... Eyeing her intended Christmas dinner, Sophie gave a start when the doorbell rang. Not bothering to remove her rubber gloves, she hurried to the door, convinced it would be Lottie or Pearl inviting her for yet another ‘little Christmas tipple.’

‘Aunt Edna! What on earth are you doing here? I thought you were in Norfolk.’

‘And
you
were supposed to be at Callie’s,’ Edna said, her gaze falling suspiciously on Sophie’s stomach.’

‘Oh! I…’ Sophie began.

‘
Oh
, indeed! Sophie dear,’ Edna replied, holding her arms wide to embrace her niece. ‘Some holiday romance!’

Feeling warm tears fall from her cheeks on to the pale denim bib of the dungarees, Sophie enquired feebly, ‘I take it Uncle Monty’s with you?’

Edna nodded, watching dark tear-splodges form on Sophie’s swollen bosom. ‘Yes. He’s bringing the turkey and trimmings from the car. And before you start acting all stubborn – exactly like your father – just let me explain, we prepared everything last night. You know Monty, typical naval man, up with the lark and everything ship-shape before breakfast!’

‘How did you know I’d be here?’

Edna tapped the side of her nose. ‘I could say a little leprechaun told me.’

‘You mean Callie rang you?’

‘No. I rang to congratulate her on their engagement. When I mentioned you and Christmas, she became suddenly cagey. I guessed something was wrong, but not...’

‘That you’d find me heavily pregnant.’

‘I don’t know about
heavily
pregnant? Shall I guess and say about five months?’

Nodding in reply, Sophie looked anxiously towards the front door. They could already hear Monty’s footsteps on the stairs as he whistled
Rudolf
the
Red
-
Nosed
Reindeer
. She turned to her aunt with worried eyes. ‘What on earth shall I tell Uncle Monty?’

‘Nothing,’ Edna whispered. ‘Let him get settled in first, and then leave everything to me. Can you put on a loose top over those dungarees? You know what men are like, they are so unobservant. I doubt if he’ll notice a thing.’

‘I’ve certainly got the red nose, but no antlers, Sophie dear,’ Monty said, rubbing his hands against the cold. ‘What’s this – painting and decorating on Christmas Day?’

Swiftly hiding the tell-tale nursery border in a drawer, Edna announced cheerily,

‘Isn’t it just like Sophie to start spring-cleaning on Christmas Day?’

With the turkey safely in the oven, and vegetables in numerous saucepans, Edna suggested Monty lay the table for dinner while she helped Sophie make up the bed.

‘I feel
so
guilty not letting you know we were coming. Not to mention the thought of you sleeping in that Z-bed, especially in your condition.’

‘That’s not a problem. I slept in the spare room for months when Rosa was here.’ ‘Speaking of Rosa...’

‘Yes,’ Sophie interrupted, fully aware of what was coming next. ‘Rosa’s cousin is the father. He – er – doesn’t know.’

Reaching for a clean pillowcase, Sophie hoped Edna wouldn’t notice her trying to hold back fresh tears. ‘It’s a bit like you said, Auntie. Just a holiday romance, albeit a very nice one, that went a little bit too far.’ She blushed, trying to sound convincing. ‘If Carlos knew about the baby, it might – er – complicate matters.’

‘How? He’s not married is he?’

The words
not
yet
stuck in Sophie’s throat. How could she tell Edna that Carlos was to marry Rosa? ‘No. But with Carlos in Portugal and me in England, I thought it was easier if he didn’t know.’

Edna shook her head in dismay. Why was it young people did things so differently nowadays? ‘Doesn’t he have a right to know that he’s about to become a father?’

Just in time Sophie stopped herself from crying out,
He’s
going
to
be
a
father
anyway
!
Which
means
he
must
have
made
love
to
Rosa
within
weeks
of
making
love
to
me
!

‘I’m sorry,’ Edna began, sensing Sophie’s renewed distress. ‘I’ve no right to pry. It’s your decision, dear. I won’t say another word, other than to suggest we tell Monty sooner – rather than later. You see, we’ve also been invited to Callie and Patrick’s party!’

  Helping Sophie down the icy steps to the car, Monty announced brightly, ‘Well, who’d have thought I’d have such a wonderful Christmas surprise?’

Sophie turned puzzled eyes towards her uncle.

‘You know, Sophie,’ Monty continued, patting her hand. ‘Being a mere five foot four I always wanted to reach great heights. Now I’m going to be a great-uncle, I feel about ten feet tall. It’s the best Christmas present Edna and I could possibly have!’

‘Oh, Uncle Monty!’ Sophie cried, linking her arm in his. ‘What would I do without you both?’

‘You will let us help – won’t you?’ Monty urged. ‘You’re not going be a typical Fuller, proud and stubborn, just like your father? Edna and I offered to help him so many times, but he always refused.’

‘I know,’ Sophie acknowledged. ‘I also confess to a similar stubborn streak.’

‘Like not telling Carlos you’re pregnant? Oops! Sorry! Edna said I shouldn’t say anything to upset you. It’s not because you’re frightened he’ll take the baby away is it?’

Sophie froze in her tracks. She’d never even considered that possibility before!

*

Returning from yet another night on duty, Sophie was surprised to find Monty and Edna already dressed and preparing to leave the flat.

‘A last look round before we go home tomorrow,’ Monty announced.

‘January sales,’ Edna said, hurriedly. ‘Which means you can get some sleep without us banging about the flat. Perhaps later we can take you for a spot of lunch? You’ll be able to go back to bed for a rest this afternoon.’

Tired and confused, Sophie watched the dapper Monty and petite Edna, scurry away like two of Beatrix Potter’s neatly dressed mice. Stretching wearily, she kicked off her shoes and poured herself a glass of milk. Moments later, too exhausted even to dig out Carlos’s shirt, which she still kept hidden beneath her pillow, she fell into a deep slumber.

Setting off for lunch, Monty pulled away from the curb. ‘We thought we’d go to that pub on the outskirts of Beckford Heath. If I remember correctly, it used to be a great favourite with your mum and dad.’

‘This certainly brings back memories,’ Sophie said a short while later, sipping her mineral water. ‘Mother always preferred this side of Beckford Heath. She said it had the best of both worlds; the park at one end, shops and station at the other.’

To Sophie’s bewilderment, Monty nudged Edna and grinned. She was even more bewildered when they left the pub and headed in the opposite direction.

‘Edna wanted to drive past your granny’s old house. Is that OK Sophie? You’re not too tired?’

Sophie shook her head and looked to the right, where Edna was pointing to some allotments. ‘That’s where your granddad used to grow his vegetables. Such a shame people aren’t interested in growing things anymore.’

‘Oh, I think they are. They simply don’t have the time,’ Sophie replied. ‘Added to which, gardens in modern houses are so small these days. Children need somewhere to play – hence no room for growing vegetables.’

Edna hesitated. ‘Have you thought where
your
child will play Sophie?’

‘To be honest, I haven’t. I'm still coming to terms with the thought of pushing a baby in a pram.’

‘Not up the steps at Victoria Villas, I hope?’ Monty said, pulling into a side street.

‘Probably not. I suppose I’ll have to get one of those modern, lightweight prams, or else find someone to help me carry it up the stairs.’

For a while, Sophie remained strangely quiet, suddenly aware of the problems she could face as the baby got older. Victoria Villas’ residents were mostly able-bodied elderly, or else those with children who had no difficulty climbing stairs. Deeply pensive, she looked up. ‘Why have we stopped in Coniston Avenue?’

Uncle Monty gave Edna a knowing smile and reached into his pocket for a key. ‘We thought we’d just take a quick look at this house.’

‘So
that's
what you’ve been up to!’ Sophie said, stepping from the car. ‘I thought the two of you have been acting suspiciously. What made you suddenly decide to give up the hotel and go house-hunting in Beckford?’

‘We haven’t decided to give up the hotel,’ Edna replied, following Monty up the path to a small terraced house, with Sophie in pursuit.

Opening the door and motioning his niece inside to the front sitting room, Monty paused and puffed out his chest. ‘Now, Sophie, supposing we were to ask your opinion about living here. Don’t you think it would be simply perfect for you and the baby?’

‘You mean you own this house?’

‘Not exactly,’ Edna continued. ‘I’m afraid your uncle’s jumping the gun a bit. Suffice it to say that the owners are desperate to sell. They’re on a bridging loan. We had a word with the estate agent this morning, and also made them an offer. So … as Monty said, what do you think?’

‘I think I need to sit down.’

Looking about the empty room with its high, corniced ceiling and Victorian tiled fireplace, Sophie headed for the fitted seat in a large bay window. ‘This is all so sudden,’ she said, eventually. ‘I admit the prospect of hauling a pram up the steps at Victoria Villas is extremely daunting, but I couldn’t possibly let you commit yourselves to this property just for me.’

‘Why not?’ Monty and Edna cried in unison.

‘Firstly, it’s a terrible commitment on your part.’

‘I prefer to call it investment,’ Monty grinned, his button eyes twinkling.

‘Secondly, how can I ever pay you back?’

‘Sophie, dear,’ Edna said, sitting down beside her. ‘You already pay rent to the council. Why can’t you pay rent to us? Of course we’d prefer it if you
didn’t
. But you’re a Fuller, through and through, and a very determined one at that. You’re also the only family we have. What we’ve got will come to you eventually. Think of the baby.’