The Way We Were_ A Novel - Marcia Willett [46]
Val's eyes flicked up briefly, then down again, and Liv saw that she was close to tears. She'd already noted the glass of water, the strip of tablets, and now she leaned over and took the pad, tore off the shopping list.
‘I'll do the cash-and-carry’ she said. ‘I'll take the Subaru. Go out and walk in the sunshine, or just sit in the sun out of the wind. Switch off for a moment, Val, or you'll crack into pieces.’
She didn't wait for an answer, she simply put the list in her shirt pocket and went out. In the silence that followed Val put her head down on her forearms; she felt that if she were to start crying she might never stop. Chris, coming in unexpectedly, caught her by surprise. His first reaction was the, by now, familiar frustration but as she raised her head, startled, he saw her expression and felt a pang of remorse.
‘I've run out of milk in the office,’ he said. No point in asking what was wrong; he knew the answer to that one. ‘But since you're here I'll have my coffee with you. I thought you'd probably gone to the cash-and-carry.’
‘Liv's gone,’ she said. ‘Well, she enjoys it. Anything to be off in the car.’
Her voice lacked its usual bitterness, however, and he decided not to defend Liv this time. He was beginning to be seriously worried about the reignition of his affection for Liv; it had seemed so right at lunchtime in the café to be there with her, joking and at ease, as if they belonged together. Just lately he was convinced that Liv felt the same way. A tiny but insistent voice in his head told him that they were doing no harm; that they needed to support each other. The same voice was beginning to hint that he deserved all the help and love he could get from Liv, and that Val was asking for it. He longed to believe the voice but, each time he worked himself into a self-pitying mood of agreement with it, his conscience disturbed from its heavy sleep and reared up to tell him with finger-wagging righteousness that he'd be a cheating bastard. Chris, cursing beneath his breath, suddenly remembered Liv's silly chant – pee po piddle bum – and had to choke down an unexpected spurt of laughter.
‘Tea?’ he asked abruptly. Val nodded, and, as the kettle boiled, he cast about in his mind for some topic that would reconnect him with her.
‘Zack was very impressed,’ he told her. ‘Of course, he hasn't seen Penharrow since we've been up and running properly so it was good to have his reaction. He really liked the way Liv designed the café and the shop.’
She didn't respond directly but accepted her mug of tea, looking thoughtful. ‘Caroline was looking well,’ she said.
Chris sat down opposite. ‘Mmm.’ He took a sip. ‘I suppose she was.’ Val looked at him; her wide-eyed unsmiling gaze unnerved him. ‘What?’ he asked defensively, as if she'd accused him of failing in some observation or duty.
‘Perhaps we should be thinking about it,’ she answered. ‘Having a baby, I mean.’
He was shocked by his instinctive negative emotional response. A baby: the final commitment, the big one.
‘Well, that's a conversation stopper.’ He pretended to laugh it off, hoping she hadn't noticed his initial reaction. ‘I'm a bit surprised that you think you could cope, to be honest, love. You're finding it such hard going as it is, aren't you? Surely a baby on top of running Penharrow would be the last straw. How would you manage?’
She gave a kind of facial shrug. ‘It was something Liv said just now made me think about it,’ – and Chris felt a tiny jolt of pain, as if Liv had somehow betrayed him – ‘about pulling myself out of this downward spiral. Seeing Caroline looking so well and happy made me wonder if perhaps we should try it.’
He bit back the retort that Prozac might be a cheaper, easier option, and pretended to consider her suggestion. ‘A bit drastic?’ he offered tentatively.