Dropping them at once, he raised his hands in surrender. ‘I wasn’t going to.’
‘Sorry.’ She put her head in her hands. ‘Yes, of course it’s Colin. He loves someone else.’
‘No, Pippa, he doesn’t. He loves you.’
‘You don’t know anything about it!’
‘I do. He told me.’ He stood up uncomfortably and bent to throw a log on the fire.
‘So this was a set up!’ She was furious suddenly. ‘All this. Coming here. Your rods. Your party trick!’
‘No, Pippa – ’
‘Did he hide my cross and tell you where it was?’ Her tears were very close again. ‘Hattie. That was all pretend!’ Suddenly she was furiously angry. And disappointed.
‘No.’
‘Did he tell you what we quarrelled about? But of course he did! That was what this is all about. Children. Keep me occupied. Distract me! Good old Morgan can talk her round.’ She bit back an angry sob.
‘I’m not a ventriloquist, Pippa. I can’t throw my voice. And if I could it wouldn’t be a woman’s. I didn’t know about your cross. All he told me was that you were both very unhappy and he was terrified he was going to lose you.’ Morgan stood up, irritated and uncomfortable. ‘Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to become involved in all this. I came because Col sounded so miserable when I spoke to him I thought maybe he could do with a sympathetic ear.’ He paused, seeing her indignation.
‘I’m sorry. I know there are always two sides to every quarrel, but I can tell you honestly that he loves you. He really does.’
She was biting back tears. ‘Maybe he lied to you.’
‘He wouldn’t lie about that.’
‘How do you know?’
He hesitated. ‘I just know. It’s a bloke thing!’ He gave a shrug, half humorous, half rueful.
‘I don’t think so! Blokes are not renowned for their mutual confidences.’ She shook her head wistfully.
There was a moment’s silence. ‘Maybe I should leave,’ he said at last. ‘None of this is my business and I’ve managed to put both my feet well and truly in it! I’m so sorry.’
She didn’t reply. Suddenly she wasn’t listening. He paused for a moment, trying to hear whatever it was she could hear. The only sound in the room as far as he could make out was the gentle crack and shift of the fire in the hearth. Quietly he moved towards the door.
It was only when he had picked up his overnight bag and walked sadly out to his car that he realised he didn’t have his keys. He must have dropped them on a table somewhere as he walked into the house just as he did at home. He glanced back at the cottage, cursing under his breath. He had messed up completely. He didn’t want to go back and confront Pippa and he particularly didn’t want to see Colin. ‘She might talk to you, Morgan. See if you can turn on a bit of the old charm. She’s not got many friends round here yet, and I don’t know if there is anyone she can confide in. I can’t ring one of her old London friends, they wouldn’t tell me. You know what women are!’
Oh indeed. He was the expert on women. No question. That was why he hadn’t noticed his own marriage coming apart; why Sheila had left him for someone else. After all, it was because of their divorce that he was so often at a loose end at weekends, free to dispense his invaluable advice, while his married friends were tied up with their families. With a sigh he leaned on the gate.
Inside the house Pippa was staring at the rods, lying on the carpet where Morgan had left them. For a long time she didn’t move, then at last she picked them up. For a moment they hung inert between her fingers feeling exactly what they were, bent coat hangers, then almost cautiously she changed her grip, holding them as he had, by the short side, extended in front of her, and as she did so something strange seemed to happen. They seemed to come alive. She could feel them suddenly taut, almost trembling, attentive, as she looked at them. For a second she stood watching them, willing herself not to throw them down. Then, her voice husky, she whispered her question. ‘Did Colin tell Morgan the truth? Does he love me?’
The pieces of metal almost wrenched themselves out of her hand as they sprang together and crossed. She stared. That meant no. She had seen it so many times in Morgan’s hands. Apart: yes. Crossed: no.
‘Did you ask them to show you a yes?’ The voice behind her made her jump.
‘I thought you’d gone!’
‘I forgot my keys.’ He had already spotted them, lying on the coffee table.
‘They say he doesn’t love me.’ She turned away to hide her tears.
‘Ask again.’ He sounded very stern.
‘But they said – ’
‘Ask them. They move in a different way for everyone. You have to establish what the code is for you.’
For a moment he thought she was going to refuse, but she did as he asked and when she whispered, ‘Show me a yes,’ the rods sprang across in front of her.
‘There you are!’ He nodded, satisfied. Scooping up the keys he turned back to the door. ‘Tell Col I will ring him, OK? Sorry to miss him.’
It was the second time he had exited without her noticing. He shrugged as he let himself out of the house. Better this way. Give them some time to themselves and if they couldn’t talk to each other before, perhaps now they could, with their little wire go-betweens. The idea cheered him up as he climbed into his car and set off on the long lonely drive back to London.
‘Hattie, are you still here?’ Pippa laid aside the rods at last.
There was no reply.
‘Hattie? I need to talk to you.’
But the rods had told her what she wanted to know. Yes, Colin genuinely wanted children. Yes, he wanted them soon. No, he wasn’t having an affair. No, he had never even contemplated it and, yes, he would love her whatever happened; whatever she decided.
‘And me,’ she had asked at last, the final question, her mind tired, the rods more and more reluctant to respond. ‘Do I really, deep down, want children? Do I want a baby?’
She had always thought not. She stared at the two motionless rods in her hands, almost willing them not to move. Babies meant loss of freedom, exhaustion, the anguished juggling of job and family, the need for everything and the achievement of nothing. She had seen it again and again, in her friends, her two sisters. She remembered her own mother, struggling to look after them all and keep working at the same time till she dropped with exhaustion. Oh yes, she had two successful friends who had managed it in London. One with the help of buckets of money and a nanny, the other with a willing house husband. But even they were not completely happy; they were missing so much of their children’s babyhood. One couldn’t win! She glanced back at the oracular coat hangers.
Yes. The rods had snapped across. Yes, she wanted a baby.
No.
Did she?
Really?
Of course she did. She wanted one so much it hurt. She dropped the rods and went to stare into the fire.
What on earth had happened? What had changed her mind? It was as though she had suddenly been given permission to confront the truth. Had the relentless time clock she had heard so much about suddenly ticked another second on its inexorable round and pushed her into biological panic or had it got something to do with Hattie? Hattie who had loved her man and loved her babies and who had died with so much love still in her heart that it was imprinted on every timber and every inch of plaster in this cottage.
She was still sitting staring at the fire when Colin came home. She hadn’t heard from Hattie again, but she had heard laughter, children’s laughter, in the distance. Perhaps it had drifted in through the window from the village.
Colin looked down at the dying ashes. ‘Pippa? Where’s Morgan?’ He ran his fingers through his untidy fair hair. Unbuttoning his wax jacket he dropped it over the back of the chair.
She bit her lip. ‘He went back to London.’
‘Why? What happened?’
She smiled ‘He’s a very nice tactful man, your friend Morgan. He thought we should spend the weekend on our own.’ Climbing to her feet she put her hands on his shoulders. ‘I’m sorry I was such a cow this morning. Will you
