ash-blonde hair swept into a bun, a pair of little tortoiseshell specs strung round her neck. She radiated the kind of calm that makes you instinctively lower your voice. Within ten minutes of meeting her I knew she’d be fine.
And she was. She was friendly without being familiar. She took charge without being abrupt, swiftly establishing a sleeping and feeding routine for Milly. She moved about the house as unobtrusively as a cat.
I stayed in bed for the first three days, recovering from the surgery. But as I became more mobile Elaine showed me how to use the steriliser, how to breastfeed more effectively, how to burp Milly and bathe her tiny body – a proposition which terrified me – how to swaddle her to make her feel secure. She revealed to me the Byzantine mysteries of the baby sling and showed me how to collapse the pram. She’d cook for us both and clear up; she’d make me rest; she’d go to the local food store while Milly slept.
‘How’s it going with the maternity nurse?’ Dad asked me over the phone a week after Elaine arrived.
‘Wonderful.’ I sighed. ‘She’s like the Angel Gabriel and Florence Nightingale rolled into one.’
As we became used to each other we talked. Elaine was from Melbourne, where she’d been a nurse. She’d been separated from her husband for just over a year.
‘Last April I found a note from Don on the kitchen table,’ she said quietly, as we sat under the parasol in my small courtyard garden one sunny morning in late June. Milly lay peacefully in her arms, swathed in a soft pink blanket, her eyes flickering with sleep. ‘The note said that he wouldn’t be back for dinner because he was leaving me for Julie – a close friend of mine.’ At least Xan had only abandoned me for a job, I reflected. It seemed less humiliating. ‘At first I didn’t believe it,’ Elaine said, ‘because by cruel coincidence it was April the first. Then I phoned him and realised it was true. I learned afterwards that they’d been having an affair for six months. I’d had no idea.’
‘How terrible.’
‘For two months I hardly ate or slept. I wouldn’t leave the house because I couldn’t face people. I’d adored Don – we’d been married thirty-one years. But then I suddenly woke up one day and said, “To hell with this misery.” I was fifty-six. I still had a lot of life left to live – God willing’ – she knocked on the table – ‘and I resolved to live it. My two boys were grown up so I arranged to come here.’
‘Did you know anyone?’
‘An old school friend who lives in Bath and my nephew, Jamie. He’s been here for three years.’
I glanced at the bees buzzing about in the lavender. ‘You were brave to come.’
‘Maybe – though you might say that I was running away. But I knew that only a complete change of environment would save me.’ She stroked Milly’s outstretched hand. ‘But maternity nursing suits me. I love tiny babies – I don’t mind the nights because I’m a light sleeper – and it means I get to travel and meet some wonderful people. I miss Don, of course, but at least the life I’ve made for myself now isn’t a bad one.’
‘You’re such a positive person,’ I said. ‘I should try to be more like you and stop feeling sorry for myself.’
‘So … what about your fella?’ she asked. All I’d told Elaine was that I wasn’t with Milly’s father. ‘Not that it’s any of my business,’ she added, ‘so excuse my Aussie directness and you don’t have to answer.’
I smiled. ‘I don’t mind. In fact, I’d like to tell you …’
‘How do you feel about him now?’ she asked quietly, when I’d finished.
‘Well … I feel sorry for him in many ways. The truth is he hadn’t known me that long. It’s also true that I could have taken more care not to get pregnant – I knew I was taking a huge risk that night. But something … strange had come over me and I just wasn’t … myself.’
‘Bereaved people never
And she was. She was friendly without being familiar. She took charge without being abrupt, swiftly establishing a sleeping and feeding routine for Milly. She moved about the house as unobtrusively as a cat.
I stayed in bed for the first three days, recovering from the surgery. But as I became more mobile Elaine showed me how to use the steriliser, how to breastfeed more effectively, how to burp Milly and bathe her tiny body – a proposition which terrified me – how to swaddle her to make her feel secure. She revealed to me the Byzantine mysteries of the baby sling and showed me how to collapse the pram. She’d cook for us both and clear up; she’d make me rest; she’d go to the local food store while Milly slept.
‘How’s it going with the maternity nurse?’ Dad asked me over the phone a week after Elaine arrived.
‘Wonderful.’ I sighed. ‘She’s like the Angel Gabriel and Florence Nightingale rolled into one.’
As we became used to each other we talked. Elaine was from Melbourne, where she’d been a nurse. She’d been separated from her husband for just over a year.
‘Last April I found a note from Don on the kitchen table,’ she said quietly, as we sat under the parasol in my small courtyard garden one sunny morning in late June. Milly lay peacefully in her arms, swathed in a soft pink blanket, her eyes flickering with sleep. ‘The note said that he wouldn’t be back for dinner because he was leaving me for Julie – a close friend of mine.’ At least Xan had only abandoned me for a job, I reflected. It seemed less humiliating. ‘At first I didn’t believe it,’ Elaine said, ‘because by cruel coincidence it was April the first. Then I phoned him and realised it was true. I learned afterwards that they’d been having an affair for six months. I’d had no idea.’
‘How terrible.’
‘For two months I hardly ate or slept. I wouldn’t leave the house because I couldn’t face people. I’d adored Don – we’d been married thirty-one years. But then I suddenly woke up one day and said, “To hell with this misery.” I was fifty-six. I still had a lot of life left to live – God willing’ – she knocked on the table – ‘and I resolved to live it. My two boys were grown up so I arranged to come here.’
‘Did you know anyone?’
‘An old school friend who lives in Bath and my nephew, Jamie. He’s been here for three years.’
I glanced at the bees buzzing about in the lavender. ‘You were brave to come.’
‘Maybe – though you might say that I was running away. But I knew that only a complete change of environment would save me.’ She stroked Milly’s outstretched hand. ‘But maternity nursing suits me. I love tiny babies – I don’t mind the nights because I’m a light sleeper – and it means I get to travel and meet some wonderful people. I miss Don, of course, but at least the life I’ve made for myself now isn’t a bad one.’
‘You’re such a positive person,’ I said. ‘I should try to be more like you and stop feeling sorry for myself.’
‘So … what about your fella?’ she asked. All I’d told Elaine was that I wasn’t with Milly’s father. ‘Not that it’s any of my business,’ she added, ‘so excuse my Aussie directness and you don’t have to answer.’
I smiled. ‘I don’t mind. In fact, I’d like to tell you …’
‘How do you feel about him now?’ she asked quietly, when I’d finished.
‘Well … I feel sorry for him in many ways. The truth is he hadn’t known me that long. It’s also true that I could have taken more care not to get pregnant – I knew I was taking a huge risk that night. But something … strange had come over me and I just wasn’t … myself.’
‘Bereaved people never
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