Truly Madly Guilty(109)

There was silence from the back seat.

‘Ruby is the littler one, right?’ said Erika’s mother in her regular voice. ‘How old is she? Two?’

‘Yes,’ said Oliver.

‘What happened? Nobody saw her fall in? Where was her mother? What was Clementine doing?’

‘Nobody saw her fall in,’ said Erika. ‘It was just one of those unfortunate things.’

‘So … she wasn’t breathing when you pulled her out?’

‘No,’ said Erika. She watched Oliver’s hands tighten on the steering wheel.

‘The two of you worked together?’

‘Oliver did compressions, I did the rescue breaths.’

‘How long before she responded?’

‘It felt like a lifetime,’ said Erika.

‘I bet it did,’ said Sylvia quietly. ‘I bet it did.’ Then she leaned forward and patted their shoulders.

‘Well done,’ she said. ‘I’m very proud of you two. Very proud.’

Neither Erika nor Oliver said anything, but Erika could feel their mutual happiness filling the car; they both responded like thirsty plants to water when it came to parental approval.

‘So Little Miss Perfect Clementine isn’t so perfect after all!’ crowed Sylvia as she leaned back in her seat. There was a triumphant, bitchy edge to her voice. ‘Ha! What did Pam have to say about that? My daughter saved her grandchild’s life!’

Erika sighed, and Oliver’s shoulders slumped. Of course she would ruin the moment, of course she would.

‘Pam is very grateful,’ she said flatly.

‘Well, that certainly evens up the score then, doesn’t it, for all that family supposedly did for you.’

‘They didn’t supposedly do anything, Mum,’ said Erika. ‘Their home was a haven for me.’

‘A haven,’ snorted Sylvia.

‘Yes, that’s right, a haven, with running water and electricity and actual food in the refrigerator. Oh, and no rats. That was nice. The lack of rats.’

‘Let it go,’ said Oliver quietly.

‘Well, all I’m saying, my darling child, is that we don’t have to feel quite so grateful to them now, do we? Quite so subservient. Like they’re our feudal overlords. You saved that child’s life!’

‘Yes, well, and now Clementine is going to donate her eggs to help us have a baby, so we’re going to be back to feeling grateful to them,’ said Erika.

It was a mistake. As soon as she said it she knew it was a mistake.

There was a beat. Erika looked at Oliver. He shook his head as he resignedly flicked on the indicator to turn right.

‘I’m sorry … what did you just say?’ Sylvia leaned forward as far as her seatbelt would let her.

‘Dammit, Erika,’ sighed Oliver.

‘We’ve been going through IVF for the last two years,’ said Erika. ‘And my eggs are … rotten.’ Because of you, she thought. Because I grew up in filth, surrounded by rot and decay and mould, so germs and spores and all manner of malignancy found its way into my body. She hadn’t been at all surprised when she couldn’t get pregnant. Of course her eggs had gone off. No surprises there!

‘They’re not rotten,’ said Oliver in a pained way. ‘Don’t say that.’

‘You never told me you were going through IVF,’ said Sylvia. ‘Did you just forget to mention it? I’m a nurse! I could have given you support … advice!’

‘Yeah, right,’ said Erika.

‘What do you mean, “yeah, right”?’

‘We never told anyone,’ said Oliver. ‘We just kept it to ourselves.’

‘We’re strange people,’ said Erika. ‘We know it.’

‘You always said you never wanted children,’ said Sylvia.

‘I changed my mind,’ said Erika. You would think she’d signed a contract the way people kept reminding her of this.

‘So Clementine offered to donate her eggs?’ said Sylvia.

‘We asked her,’ said Erika. ‘We asked her before … what happened with Ruby.’

‘But you can bet your bottom dollar that’s why she’s doing it,’ said Sylvia.

‘Look, none of this is definite yet,’ said Oliver. ‘We’re right at the early stages. Clementine still has to have tests, see a counsellor …’

‘It’s a horrible idea,’ said Erika’s mother. ‘An absolutely horrible idea. Surely there are other options.’

‘Sylvia,’ began Oliver.

‘My grandchild won’t really be mine!’ said Sylvia.

Narcissist. That’s how Erika’s psychologist described her. Classic narcissist.

‘My grandchild will be Pam’s grandchild,’ continued Sylvia. ‘It’s not enough that she has to take my daughter, oh no, now she can lord it over me with this: “We’re just so happy to help out, Sylvia.” So condescending and smug. It’s a horrible idea! Don’t do it. It will be a disaster.’

‘This isn’t about you, Sylvia,’ said Oliver. Erika could hear a pulse of anger in his voice. It made her nervous. He rarely got angry and he always spoke with such scrupulous politeness to his mother-in-law.