The Way We Were_ A Novel - Marcia Willett [44]
‘They're all unusual names, aren't they? Tiggy, Claerwen and Zack.’
‘Tiggy was just a nickname for Tegan, which means “beautiful”. Celtic too, probably.’ Liv stood her mug on the floor. ‘I'm sorry Zack's a bit low. He gets over it but it's part of the package, I'm afraid.’
‘I just wonder sometimes if he's a bit daunted by the prospect and wishes we hadn't done it,’ explained Caroline anxiously. ‘I'm so happy about the baby and I want him to feel the same.’
‘He's thrilled about it,’ said Liv firmly. ‘But there's bound to be the odd wobble, isn't there? I expect you have the odd moment of blind panic. It's pretty awe-inspiring, isn't it? A brand-new person to be responsible for; pretty scary.’
Caroline nodded. ‘Well, sometimes,’ she admitted. ‘I don't let Zack see when I have those moments. It seems a bit mean to let him see me panicking when he has to go away so much.’
‘Oh, I think you should share it,’ Liv said at once. ‘Much better for both of you than being brave and suffering in silence. It'll make him feel better about his own fears. Then you can take it in turns. Panic by numbers. Oh, here they are.’
Chris and Zack came in together. Caroline saw that Zack was looking relaxed, amused by some remark that Chris had made, and she felt a further lightening of spirits. Liv was right: his moodiness was a perfectly natural reaction. She got up and went over to him and he smiled down at her, putting an arm around her.
‘Hungry?’ he asked. ‘What do you and the sprog fancy today? Fried squid? Raw pig's cheek?’
‘Not in Debs’ kitchen they don't,’ declared Liv. ‘Home-cooking plain and simple is the watchword here. Come on. Let's eat.’
From her window Val watched them leave the annexe and cross the yard to the café; she felt quite stiff with irritation.
‘Can't we manage a bit of lunch for them?’ Chris had asked when he'd heard that Caroline and Zack were coming to see Liv. ‘Something simple. I could go over and get some food from the kitchen, if it's easier.’
‘I haven't got the time to sit around having lunch, even if you and Liv have,’ she'd snapped. ‘I've got to go to the cash-and-carry, and there's a pile of laundry to wash and iron. I shall grab a sandwich.’
He'd simply looked bleak and turned away. Val had wanted to scream at him. If only he'd recognize how hard it was for her; it wasn't that she wanted to nag all the time but, if she didn't, he seemed to think that it was all so easy. It was only by continually prompting him to action, correcting things he was doing the wrong way, reminding him of things to be organized, that chores got done properly. It was exhausting, making sure that he stayed on top of things, but even then he sometimes simply walked away from it. Like now, for instance.
Val stood at the window, rigid with annoyance, watching Liv and Zack sharing a joke before going into the café. She'd been certain that he'd come back when the others went to have lunch, but not a bit of it.
And what about me? she asked herself silently, angrily. I suppose I just have to sit here on my own.
For a moment, a very brief moment, she imagined herself joining them: laying down the burden of control and strolling into the café, quite casually, saying, ‘I've got a spare half-hour after all so I thought I'd come and have some lunch.’
The promise of such relief, relaxation from her rigid need to control, briefly tempted her. Yet it would give off the wrong signals: Chris and Liv would merely assume that she'd given in, backed down. Val's jaw tightened. Of course, Chris would be relieved. His pleasure at her change of heart would manifest itself in attentive gestures: getting an extra chair, passing her the menu, hovering about asking what she'd like to drink. There would be a secret triumph in having him dance attention: it would soothe that itch of desire to see him under control; publicly putting her first. As for Liv – Val