But during the vest/nappy-buying expedition, Kaz appears to have preoccupations of her own.
‘Kaz? What’s up?’ I ask her, when we adjourn for coffee and cream slices. She looks pale, and she obviously hasn’t slept, and I suspect that the news isn’t good.
‘I’ve slept with someone.’
‘Kent. Yes. You said you were going to.’ My heart sinks. For if they’ve slept together, breaking up will be so much harder.
‘No. Someone else.’
‘Goodness.’ I put down my cup. ‘But why, Kaz? And who?’
‘An old friend.’ Kaz fiddles with her teaspoon.
‘Let me get this straight. You’re supposed to be having a — thing with Kent, but you’ve gone and slept with an old friend! What on earth were you thinking of?’
‘Long story.’
‘Good thing we’ve got plenty of time, then.’
‘You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?’
‘Nope.’ Though given Kent’s feelings about the future, this may be one solution.
‘I was — upset. Kent and I had this horrible row, and I needed cheering up.’
‘I see. So the cure for a lovers’ tiff is to dash out and find a replacement?’
‘Oh Ruth, it wasn’t like that at all.’
‘Well, what was it like?’
‘He’s got this thing about his age, and I don’t think it matters, and we had this argument, and it kind of — well, it got out of hand. I said some horrible things.’
‘And he did, too?’
‘No. Kent never does anything horrible. That’s the trouble. He’s so bloody nice all the time. He just goes all quiet and sad, and then I feel awful and make things even worse.’
‘So let me get this straight. You were horrible to Kent, who didn’t deserve it, and then you went off and slept with someone else. What a brilliant move!’
‘Actually, he was the one who “went off”. He said he needed to be alone, and he went back to his caravan, and I was upset, and I went to see Gary. Gary and I go back a long way. We just had a few drinks, but one thing lead to another. And Ruth, I’m so, so sorry. I feel terrible.’
‘It’s not me you should be apologising to.’
‘I thought you’d — I thought you might understand. After all, isn’t that what got you into your present mess in the first place?’
‘Oh, no. Oh no. You’re not comparing this — what you’ve done with my situation. I am not in a mess, as you so kindly put it. I may have made a mistake, but I didn’t plan to get pregnant, and I did not let anyone down. Amos and I are — were — free agents. No-one else got hurt.’
We sit glaring at each other, while tears trickle down Kaz’s cheeks and drip onto the checked tablecloth.
‘Look, let’s not fall out about this.’ I decide that one of us had better rescue the situation before it escalates further. ‘We need to decide what you’re going to do.’
‘I’ll have to tell Kent, won’t I?’
‘Will you? Won’t telling him make things worse?’
‘I don’t know,’ Kaz says wretchedly. ‘Oh, Ruth, what am I like?’
‘Well, you’re kind and funny, and — and bloody impossible!’ I can’t help smiling. ‘But if you really love Kent, I’d leave this for the moment. It might make you feel better to tell him, but it certainly won’t help the situation.’
‘Mm.’ Her hair is rumpled, and there are streaks of mascara down her cheeks, but she still manages to look as stunning as ever. ‘Ruth, do you think — do you think twenty years older is too old?’
I’ve been thinking about this ever since my conversation with Kent, and I’m not sure. ‘Yes and no. I think it’s more a matter of you being mature enough to take on someone of his age. Running off and sleeping with someone else as soon as the going gets tough isn’t a mature thing to do, is it?’
‘I’ll never do it again. If he stays with me, I swear I’ll be faithful. I really will.’
‘Well in that case, if I were you I’d go home and apologise nicely for the things you said, and try to discuss the situation as calmly as you can. I’m sure he’ll listen if you can keep your cool. Then ask him to give you — you and him — a bit more time. After all, there’s no hurry, is there? No-one’s going anywhere.’
‘Would you have a word with him?’ Kaz pushes her plate towards me.
‘If I get the chance, I will,’ I promise, finishing off Kaz’s cream slice and thinking that if I go on like this, I’m going to have one very fat baby.
The next day, I find myself alone with Kent in the orchard.
‘About you and Kaz,’ I begin.
‘Has she been telling you about her — our row?’
‘Her row, I think it was.’ I laugh. ‘Yes, she has. Kent, she really loves you. I know she’s young, but could you give her a chance? I don’t think Kaz has had much love in her life, and maybe someone like you is exactly what she needs.’
‘I just feel that I’ll be — taking advantage of her, I suppose.’
‘Trust me. No-one takes advantage of Kaz,’ I tell him. ‘She’s young, and she can be stupid, but she’s also pretty canny, and I reckon she’s been looking after herself most of her life. It’s love that she needs.’
‘Maybe. I’d love it to work out. She’s a special girl, Ruth. Not just pretty. There are lots of pretty girls around. But few as — as special as Kaz. Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps we should give it a bit more time.’
By now, the news of Kaz and Kent has got out, and everyone seems to know (everyone, that is, except my parents, who have a blind spot where such goings-on are concerned). Silas and Eric, those most accepting of men, seem quite happy about the situation, if a bit surprised. But Blossom is furious.
‘Dratted girl!’ she says, sending a tsunami of soapy water across the kitchen floor. ‘Anything in trousers. Always been like that. Takes after her father.’
From what I’ve heard, nothing could be further from the truth, but there’s no point in saying so.
‘Don’t you want her to be happy?’ I venture.
‘Happy? Humph.’ Slosh, swipe. ‘She wants to be happy, does she? I’ll give her happy!’
She flings down her mop and slams out into the garden.
So it seems that yet again, the focus is on other people and their problems. Just as I have got Kaz on side and excited about the baby, her attention is lost to more pressing problems. And while I am still not as excited as I probably ought to be, I quite enjoy the excitement and the attention of others. For the first time since I came to Applegarth, I feel very much alone, and if I am honest, frightened. For whatever my feelings about it, the baby is going to come out, and it’s going to hurt. That much I know. I’ve paid scant attention to the ante-natal classes, and I am ill-prepared for the rigours of childbirth. I have at least one friend who’s sworn that she’s “never going through that again”, and has stuck to her word, enjoying her daughter but flatly refusing to have any more children. I have never been particularly good with pain, and Mum, while supportive, can be squeamish. Supposing she faints? Supposing we both faint? It won’t be much of a welcome for a baby who didn’t ask to be born and wasn’t even wanted in the first place.
I wander into the sitting room and find Eric, who is preoccupied with the problem of humming birds. For it is not only bees and other insects that need flowers, he tells me. Humming birds do, too.
‘But surely God wouldn’t have expected Noah to have more than just two birds, and they could have been anything. Robins are nice and easy. How about robins?’
‘No. The Bible says two of “every kind of bird, every kind of animal and every kind of reptile”. So you can’t get away with just robins. I’ve had to leave out a lot; it would take more than a lifetime to deal with every single species. But I’ve dealt with quite a few. Owls, eagles, ostriches — you’ve no idea, Ruth. It’s incredibly complicated.’
I realise that the more complicated it becomes the more Eric enjoys it, but have enough sense not to say so.
‘So you see, we’ll have to have a garden, or even a small park, for all the creatures which can’t do without living plants. At this rate, the Isle of Wight is definitely going to be too small. Perhaps something the size of Gibraltar.’ He rubs his head. ‘How big is Gibraltar?’
‘I’ve no idea. Eric, you can’t have a park on a boat. The soil would rot the boards and fall through.’
Eric sighs. ‘Ruth, you’re missing the point, like everyone else. I thought you at least understood. Of course it’s not possible. At least, not possible on an Ark. But on a structure the size of Gibraltar — whatever that is — and reinforced with concrete (I must ask someone about that) it might be possible. Or maybe I could line the foundations with plastic.’
‘They wouldn’t have had concrete in those days,’ I remind him. ‘Or plastic.’
‘I know, I know. That’s not the point, either.’ He jots down a note to himself. ‘Come to think of it, I believe there’s a cruise ship with a small golf course,’ he says thoughtfully.
‘Is there really?’
‘I believe so.’ He folds up his charts. ‘Ruth, are you all right?’ He pats my bump. ‘Not long to go now.’
‘So everyone keeps telling me.’
‘It won’t be so bad, you know.’
‘What? The baby? Childbirth? The — my — future?’
‘All of them.’ He holds out his hand, and draws me down beside him on the sofa. ‘You’ll be all right, you know. And we’ll do anything we can for you. You’ll always have a home here, if you need one.’
‘I know.’ I squeeze his hand, and my eyes fill with tears. ‘Kent’s so lucky.’
‘Why? Why is he lucky?’
‘To have you — you and Silas — as his father. Fathers, I mean.’
‘You have a good father, Ruth. And he does care, you know.’
‘Perhaps he does, but at the moment I want to feel that he cares.’ I look down at our linked hands. ‘I don’t think my father has so much as touched me since I was a small child.’
‘People have different ways of showing affection. Some just aren’t the hugging kind.’
‘I suppose you’re right.’ I lift Eric’s hand and hold it against my cheek. It is rough and chapped from working outside in all weathers, but the feel of it is infinitely comforting, and I realise that what I miss more than anything else at the moment is physical contact with another human being.
‘He’s a fortunate man, your Amos,’ Eric says, as though reading my thoughts. ‘I hope he does come and find you soon, and discover that for himself.’
‘Oh, so do I, Eric. So do I.’
I gaze out of the window, where a wintry dusk is already draining away what little daylight we’ve had. Somewhere out there, perhaps not very far away, is Amos. I wonder what he’s doing at this moment; whether he’s playing his trombone, perhaps having a pint in a pub with a friend, driving somewhere in his dreadful old car, making a curry (Amos makes good curries). If I believed in telepathy, I’d send him a message. As it is, I just have to hope that one of the smattering of messages I’ve left all over the country reaches him soon.