The Mother-in-Law(45)
Diana sighs. “Yes, well. You probably don’t think I’m especially wonderful. But I do feel strongly that everyone should be given an equal chance. Hakem was not given one. My children, on the other hand, have been given every chance. Now it’s time for me to stay out of the way and see what they make of the opportunities they’ve been given.”
It’s the closest I’ve ever come to a proper conversation with Diana and for a second, I get a glimpse of who she is.
“What a good philosophy,” I say.
We look each other straight in the eye for a second or two and I think something like mutual respect passes between us.
“I’m glad you think so,” she says and she takes my children and bustles into the house.
26: LUCY
THE PAST . . .
“Higher,” Archie shouts. “Higher! Make it go weely high.”
He’s already soaring so high he looks like he might loop-the-loop.
“Okay,” Nettie says. “Here we go!”
Nettie has taken the day off work to help me with the kids. She’s done this a handful of times since Harriet was born and each time, afterward, I feel like I have a new lease on life. Right now, Harriet is strapped to Nettie’s chest while she pushes Archie on the swing, but all morning she’s been tossing a ball to Archie, climbing trees, and playing hide-and-seek. She’s nothing if not a devoted aunt.
Unlike Diana, Nettie comes to my place because “you don’t want to be strapping all those kids in the car to come to my place.” (Hallelujah.) She nearly always arrives with treats for the kids (and asks me if it’s okay before handing them over), coffee for me, and a ready-to-eat meal for Ollie and me to eat that evening. Sometimes she takes the kids out to give me a break, other days, like today, we amble around together, doing errands and visiting the park. Usually when she’s around she’s upbeat, happy, radiating happy energy, but today she seems off her game. Her hair is unwashed. She’s wearing leggings and a long cardigan and trainers which, while perfectly appropriate for a day in the park, is a good step down in her normal stylish attire. And while she’s been talkative enough with Archie, she’s barely said a word to me all morning.
“Are you all right, Nettie? You’ve been quiet this morning.”
Her gaze steals sideward. “Have I?”
In fairness, Nettie usually isn’t a big talker, especially about herself. She plays her cards close to her chest, preferring to ask questions than give information. But I see an internal struggle in her eyes now, and it occurs to me that maybe she does want to talk.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
She steals another look at me, and then exhales. “Okay. The truth is . . . I had a miscarriage a few days ago. That’s why I’m off work this week.”
“Oh, Nettie, I’m so sorry.”
She remains focused on pushing the swing, shrugs a little. “It’s . . . not my first, actually. Patrick and I have been trying to have a baby for years. We’ve lost three others, all early, during the first trimester.”
“You’ve had four miscarriages?” My mind reels back over all the times she might have been pregnant or miscarrying and I had no idea. I think in horror of all the off-the-cuff comments I must have made.
“You can have this pram when I’m finished with it . . .”
“Just wait until it’s your turn . . .”
“I’ll repay you when you have your kids.”
Narcissistically, I’d thought Nettie would tell me something like this. Foolishly, I thought I’d know.
“I assumed you were focusing on your career . . .”
Nettie shakes her head, laughs blackly. “I couldn’t care less about my career. I want a family. I have polycystic ovaries, so I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I never thought it would be this hard.”
“Have you seen a fertility specialist?”
“Two. We’ve tried Clomid and IUI. I’ve injected my belly with hormones for months on end. The next step is IVF.”
“Well I know dozens of people who have had babies using IVF. Half the kids in my mothers’ group were IVF babies,” I say eagerly.
“I know, but it’s not cheap. With the mortgage and all this fertility stuff I’ve got nothing saved up. And Patrick’s business, well, it’s not exactly thriving.”
“Surely your parents will help you?”
“Of course I had to go through that hideous formal process of asking them. Then Mum said no.”
My jaw drops. I know Diana’s rule on giving money, but I can’t fathom that this would extend to Nettie’s IVF.
“Dad’s given me money in the past, for the IUI and some of the testing. But Mum doesn’t know, and Dad hates lying to her. So . . . I guess we’re on our own for the IVF.”
“Sometimes I really hate her,” I say before I can stop myself. Immediately I want to take it back. Diana is Nettie’s mother. No matter what she does, Nettie will be loyal to her. “Nettie, I’m sorry I—”
“Sometimes I do too,” Nettie says, and we drift into silence, as the swing chains squeak in the cold morning air.
27: LUCY
THE PAST . . .
“I want to pop a cracker with Harriet,” Archie says, sidling up to me in the kitchen.