All Good Things by Amanda Prowse

Author:Amanda Prowse [Prowse, Amanda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lake Union Publishing
Published: 2023-08-14T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CLEO RICHARDSON

It was a little after one a.m. Thankfully, the pain in Cleo Richardson’s abdomen seemed to have subsided, and she now soaked in a warm bubble bath, with a cup of tea Georgie had made her resting on the side, and a fragrant candle lit for good measure. She inhaled the warm scent of amber, finding it soothing. She wished her husband could find something similarly calming to distract him, as the sound of him pacing the living room below filtered up the stairs. His heavy tread on the laminate flooring, interspersed with the squeak of the loose board by the fireplace . . . it made her smile. He’d become the caricature she’d seen in movies, one they had mocked together: the pacing expectant father, hands wringing, prayers and wishes floating up to whoever might be listening, a tense look across a worried brow. In another era he’d have no doubt toked on a fat cigar. The thought made her laugh.

Still, the idea lingered that maybe they should move away, pack up their little home and go . . . anywhere. Start over, free from the clutches of her parents, the irritation of Lawrence, the inevitable comparison between her baby and its wealthy cousins . . . God, how she loved the thought!

She took deep, slow breaths, doing her very best to slow her pulse, knowing that to keep calm was the most important thing, aware that she would need to pull on all her reserves soon enough. They had read a book together when first pregnant, a book all about what to expect as first-time parents. She had read aloud the chapter on the importance for the person giving birth to feel in control and that their wishes were, as far as possible, adhered to at a time when they were most vulnerable. Yes, she remembered this clearly, knowing it would be in her husband’s nature to want to take over, make plans, usher her this way and that, make suggestions, do what he thought best. She knew it would be killing him to hand over control.

‘Did you call, love?’ He poked his head around the door.

‘No.’ She shook her head and reached for her tea.

‘Oh.’ He bit his lip, as he did when he was nervous. ‘Thought I might have heard you shout out. I yawned and was worried I’d missed it.’

‘You didn’t miss it. I didn’t call. Come in, you dafty, come and sit with your wife.’

Lumbering in, he took up a seat on the loo and leaned forward with his large hands splayed on his knees.

‘How are you doing, Georgie?’ She spoke in the soothing voice that she used to greet him after a long day, knowing it helped ease his worries.

He considered his response. ‘I’ve got to admit . . .’

She could see he was doing his best, choosing his words carefully, taking his time, as if he, too, might be thinking about that chapter in their book.

‘. . . it’s a bit alien to me that you want to be here at all.

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