Minding Frankie - Maeve Binchy [148]
It somehow made up for her thinking he had joined a circus.
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Ania’s family were on their way from Poland to be with her as she and Carl watched over baby Robert. He was so tiny, they could have held him in the palms of their hands; instead he was lying in an incubator attached to monitors and with tubes in and out of his tiny body. Ania watched carefully as the breathing monitor showed how Robert was having difficulty breathing on his own and how the machine was breathing for him. She was able to hold his tiny hand through the holes in the incubator. He looked so small, so vulnerable, so unprepared for the world.
Back at home, they had a nursery prepared, waiting for them to come home as a new family. The room was full of gifts given to them by friends and well-wishers. There were baby clothes and toys and all the equipment for a newborn child. Carl silently wondered if baby Robert would ever get to use it.
On the third day, Ania was able to hold her baby in her arms. Unable to speak for the emotion, her face was wet with tears of hope and joy as she held him, so tiny, so fragile.
“Mały cud,” she whispered to him. “Little miracle.”
The honeymoon had been a resounding success. Emily and Betsy were like girls, chattering and laughing. Hat and Eric found a great common interest in bird-watching and wrote notes each evening. Dingo met a Galway girl with black hair and blue eyes and was very smitten. The sun shone on the newlyweds and the nights were full of stars.
It was over too soon for everyone.
“I wonder if there’s any news when we get back? I wonder how Ania’s baby is doing. I do hope he’s going to be all right,” Emily said as they drew closer to Dublin.
“You’re really part of the place now,” Betsy said.
“Yes, isn’t it odd? I never had a real conversation in my life with my father about Ireland or about anything else, but I do feel that I have come home.”
Hat heard her say this and smiled to himself. It was even more than he had hoped.
When they did get back they heard the astounding news that Frank Ennis had moved in with the elegant Clara Casey, who ran the heart clinic, and, wait for it … he had a son. Frank Ennis had a son called Des Raven, who lived in Australia and was coming to Ireland.
Fiona could talk of nothing else. It had completely wiped her own pregnancy off the list of topics. Clara living with Frank Ennis—didn’t people do extraordinary things. And Frank had a son she hadn’t met yet. Imagine.
Their first chance to celebrate properly as a family came when Adi came back from Ecuador with her boyfriend, Gerry. Des had wanted to go back to Anton’s. “It will be like starting over,” he had said. This time, there was no need to plead for a table, even though they were nine: Clara, Frank and Des; then Adi and Gerry; Linda came with Nick. Hilary from the clinic and Clara’s best friend, Dervla, made up the party.
The restaurant was half empty and there seemed to be an air of confusion about the place. The menu was more limited than before and Anton himself was working in and out of the kitchen. He said that his number one, Teddy, had gone, as he needed new pastures. No, he had no idea where he went. Des Raven was very courteous to his new almost-stepsisters. He talked to Adi about teaching; he spoke to Linda about some friends of his who had adopted a Chinese baby; he talked easily of his life in Australia.
Clara asked Anton’s advice about what they should eat.
“There’s a very good steak and kidney pie,” he suggested.
“That’s the men sorted, but what about the rest of us?” she asked. She noticed he was tired and strained. It couldn’t be easy running a restaurant that looked as though it might be on the way down.
“Small, elegant portions of steak and kidney pie?” he suggested with a winning smile.
Clara stopped feeling sorry for him. With a smile like that he would get by. He was a survivor.
Frank Ennis, in his new suit, was in charge of the table. He poured wine readily and urged people to have oysters as the optional extra.
“I talk about my son a lot,” he said proudly