‘So was marrying a Catholic fifty years ago, Billy,’ she snapped and glared at him.
He shot her a warning look. A woman passed by with a Golden Labrador on a lead. It looked harmless enough but frothed at the mouth, its breathing laboured. Oli, cautious, scampered back to his mother’s side. She placed a hand on his head.
‘This isn’t about your mother and me, Louise.’
‘Well I see quite a few parallels myself,’ said Louise, who had given the subject considerable thought. ‘Mixed marriages are two a penny these days but back then you broke a taboo. In your own way, you were trailblazers.’
‘Don’t exaggerate, Louise. There were other mixed marriages.’
‘Not among any of the kids I went to school with, there weren’t.’
Dad sighed. ‘I don’t see what that has got to do with this discussion.’
Oli ran along the promenade, hitting the railing rhythmic ally with the stick like a drum. They started after him, but slowly. The road was a long way away and he was in no immediate danger. ‘Well, I would’ve thought that you of all people would be open minded, having experienced prejudice yourself. In a few years’ time what I did won’t be so exceptional. Lots of single women will have babies the way I did and raise them alone.’
‘I sincerely hope not,’ said her father glumly.
‘Pahhh,’ cried Louise in exasperation. ‘You will insist on seeing this in a negative light. And I absolutely refuse to. Look, it’s not how I wanted my life to turn out either. I wanted to have children with Cameron. But he didn’t and I’ve had to deal with that,’ she went on, her voice breaking. She paused to regain control and continued. ‘But having Oli is the most positive, the most empowering thing I’ve ever done. And I won’t let you take that away from me.’
‘No one’s trying to take anything away from you, Louise. But you can’t ignore the fact that the God-fearing people of Ballyfergus might find it unusual … hard to understand. We didn’t want people judging you, talking about you behind your back. We didn’t want Oli to be thought of as … different.’
‘He’s no different than any other child from a single-parent home with no contact with his father.’
‘Well I beg to differ, Louise. He is different. His story makes him unique – in Ballyfergus anyway.’
‘And that’s a bad thing?’ she said, almost choking on the words.
Her father fixed his gaze out to sea once more in the direction of the three small rocky islands called The Maidens. He squinted and sighed loudly. ‘There’s something … something unnatural about the way he was conceived. Children should be born out of love between a man and a woman.’
Louise gasped and the back of her throat swelled up until she could hardly breathe. Tears pricked her eyes but she would not let them fall. Her anger held them in check. She swallowed. ‘Oli was born out of love. No one could love him more than I do.’
There was a long pause and when he spoke again her father’s voice was quiet and sad. ‘I know you love him, Louise,’ he said, looking at his hands, ‘but a child needs two parents. No matter how much you love Oli you can never make up for that. There it is. I’ve said it. And I’m sorry if it hurts you.’
The words stung her like hard rain in a storm. She had wrestled with this belief herself over many months and eventually put it to rest – or so she thought. Now, it was being thrown in her face, like a bucket of icy water. Maybe it was true – maybe her attempt to raise Oli single-handedly, no matter how dedicated, no matter how well-intentioned, could never compensate for this fundamental handicap. It was her greatest fear. But even as these doubts crossed her mind she said stoutly, ‘You’re wrong. I don’t agree with you.’
He made a little tut-tutting sound and shook his head.
‘I’ve made a terrible mistake,’ she said, staring at the back of Oli’s head. She gripped the handles of the buggy so hard it hurt. ‘I never should’ve come back. I thought I could count on your support and Mum’s and everybody else’s. But you’re all judging me, even Sian and Joanne.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you can rely on us, Louise. And on your sisters. We’d do anything to help you. We all love you. And Oli. And by the way, what Auntie P and everyone else thinks has nothing to do with your sisters. It was our doing – your mother’s and mine. We thought we were doing the right thing. And we didn’t think it really mattered – you’d been away for so long we didn’t expect you to ever come home. Look,’ he said and paused. ‘If we’ve upset you, then I’m truly sorry.’
Louise hardly registered the apology. ‘I’ve never been ashamed of what I did and I won’t let you make me ashamed now.’ She turned her back to her father and pulled a hankie from her pocket. She dabbed at her eyes – tears had fallen in spite of her resolve – and tried to compose herself. Her father continued.
‘Look, I can’t lie to you about how your mother and I feel about what you did. You knew what we thought from the outset. You can’t make us approve, Louise. But we can accept. And we do. Look, perhaps it’s best if we just move on from here. Put all this behind us and concentrate on doing the best for Oli from now on.’
But that wasn’t enough, not for Louise. By sheer force of willpower and reasoned argument she had thought she could blast her way through every objection, every taboo and force her family to come round to her way of thinking. Now she realised that what she craved most was the one thing she would never get – her parents’ wholehearted approval.
‘Try to put yourself in my shoes, Dad,’ she said quietly. ‘What would you have done if your husband didn’t want children and time was running out? What if you knew you’d never meet another guy in time to have his kids? What would you have done if you’d been me?’
But there was no answer. She felt a hand on her shoulder, a gesture of reconciliation. But she did not want it, not without the approval that she so desperately sought. She dipped her shoulder – and the hand slipped away.
That night she dreamt of Cameron once more and in this dream he was on a small fishing boat with Oli out on the Firth of Forth, teaching him to fish for mackerel. The two of them wore matching yellow oilskins, Oli a mini-me version of Cameron. She was on the boat watching and yet she wasn’t – for they could neither see her nor hear her. She smiled at the tenderness with which Cameron positioned Oli’s hands and the patience with which he listened to the child’s disjointed chatter. And when she woke up – before she remembered that it had only been a dream – she was happy.
Chapter Five
It was early, but the day was already hot and sticky. In the kitchen, Joanne, in a thin silk dressing gown, wiped perspiration from her brow. She collected together the things for making sandwiches – bread, butter, ham, cheese and shop-bought egg mayonnaise. Heidi settled on the floor at her feet, nostrils flaring in the vain hope that a morsel of food might fall into her jaws. Two weeks had passed since the party and Joanne still couldn’t look back on the events of the day without flinching in embarrassment. She hoped no one outside the kitchen had heard her argument with Phil.
She laid six slices of wholegrain bread on the chopping board and buttered them haphazardly. She was still furious with her husband for coming home late and drunk that day and she was just as mad with herself for rising to the bait. She should’ve simply ignored him when he came in – she ought to have challenged him after everyone had gone. Not that the outcome would’ve been any different, she thought bitterly. He never took responsibility for his own behaviour. She put ham in the sandwiches, stacked them and cut them with a knife. Heidi made a pathetic whimpering sound and rested her head on her paws, her dark eyes staring up at Joanne like oiled chestnuts.
She sighed. Why couldn’t she and Phil get on these