Almost three years earlier
"Are you feeling any better, my lover?" Demelza was kneeling next to an old fashion pull-chain toilet bowl as she toweled her son dry, gently rubbing his arms and torso.
Mother and child were standing in the largest bathroom in Nampara, a room situated in the Victorian extension of the house. Built in 1890, the washroom was tastefully decorated except for the brown and orange wallpaper, a 1970's addition which Demelza had never had the heart to do away with. It was Ross' mother's.
Jeremy nodded as both of his hands escaped the towel she had wrapped around him to rub his eyes. His skin was covered in itchy red spots, and it had taken all of her efforts to keep him for scratching himself. But his fever had broken several hours ago thanks to Dwight's advise, and Demelza felt much more relax. Her little boy would be alright in a couple of days.
"You're tired?" she asked. It was only 6 P.M., but his rashes had kept him awake all afternoon, preventing him from enjoying his usual nap.
Jeremy nodded again, and she wrapped him tight in his towel once more, so she could pick up his pyjamas.
"Would you like mama to bring you your supper in bed?" She expected him to protest. As soon as his fever had broken, Jeremy had wanted to join her downstairs for lunch. Much like her, her son did not like to lie around in bed any longer than he needed to.
"Yeah." The toddler yawned, and she knew he would fall asleep very soon.
"Would you like some mac and cheese with extra cheese?" Demelza helped him step inside his pyjama bottom. Jeremy leaned on her, as he carefully put one foot inside of each leg.
"Yeah." He gave her a smile and a quick nod of the head. "With extra extra cheese."
"Extra extra cheese, it is." She smiled back at him. She would have said yes to ice cream and biscuits for supper if it would have made him feel just a little bit better. He had had such an awful couple of days.
She passed his head through his pyjama top and helped him with the sleeves.
"There," she said as ran her hand over the two cartoon dogs on the front. Verity had given him these pyjamas for his birthday. Things were still a bit awkward between them since the divorce, but her ex-cousin-in-law still tried to stay in contact with her, and Demelza was glad for it. "Let's get you into bed."
She emptied the clawfoot bathtub before she left, and she watched as the dirty water swirled around the drain, the baking soda she had spread in it giving it a strange white colour.
She had just picked up Jeremy and was heading towards his bedroom when she heard the doorbell ring.
"Door," Jeremy told her as if she hadn't heard. Downstairs, Garrick barked.
"Yes, there's someone at the door, but you're going to bed first," She told him as she reached his room. His bedroom still smelt like a sickroom. It would need to be aired out tomorrow, Demelza thought as she tucked him in his bed. Jeremy was very tired, and he sighed and closed his eyes as soon as his head hit his pillow, putting his thumb in his mouth, something which still seemed to sooth him.
"I'll be right back." She kissed his forehead before she hurried downstairs, running to the door, almost tripping over Garrick on the way. She didn't even think about who might be standing on the other side before she opened wide.
"Hi," Ross greeted her, his hand in his coat's pockets. Garrick rushed to him, jumping on his lap. Ross leaned over to pet him.
"Ross," she said, and she knew she must have looked as shocked as she felt.
"Hi," he repeated.
"What are you doing here?" she asked. It was strange seeing him here again. Strange because it was so familiar, and yet it wasn't.
"I came to see Jeremy." He pushed Garrick away and shrugged. "I wanted to know how he was doing."
"He's alright," she said. Her voice was hard and cold as it usually was now when she talked to him. She hated who she became when she talked to him. "I told you we didn't need anything."
Garrick came up to her then, wagging his tail, and jumping around as if he wanted to share his joy with her. She pushed the dog inside without a petting.
"His fever?" Ross probed further. His voice was soft in contrast to hers. He was so gentle with her now, so understanding, always so understanding. Perhaps it wasn't fair, but it only made her hate him more.
"It's gone."
He sighed in relief, and then smiled at her, a true grin that showed all of his teeth. She felt the usual flutter in her stomach at the sight. She pushed it down.
"Can I see him?" he asked, sidestepping her to get inside. She stepped in his way, blocking his path.
"I just put him to bed." She crossed her arms in front of her chest as if she could keep him out with this barrier alone.
"I won't wake him." He pleaded with her, his eyes reminding her of the desperate look Garrick gave her when she left for work. "I just need to see him. I won't take long."
She sighed, and let her arms fall to her side. How could he still have such an effect on her after everything?
"Fine. You can go see him, but if he's sleeping you best not disturb him." She stepped away from the door, expecting him to rush to Jeremy's room, but he surprised her once more that evening by taking his time. Instead of hurrying up the stairs as she thought he would, Ross took off his scarf and coat and put them in their old spot on the coat hanger as he looked around the entrance to his ancestral home.
Garrick continued to wag his tail as he surveyed them from his spot by the entrance to Ross' old office.
"You changed the painting," Ross commented. She only frowned back at him.
"Over there," he continued and pointed at the painting of a mother kissing her baby that hung next to the staircase. "It used to be a painting of two lovers. You changed it."
She shrugged. The painting which had showed an 18th century gentleman approaching a pretty redhaired woman had always secretly reminded her of her and Ross. She had bought it at a thrift store when she was seventeen. Some part of her had always wished that he would gaze at her the way the man in the picture did his lover. She couldn't stand to look at it now.
"I needed a change," she said.
Ross nodded.
"It looks nice," he added. "And I like the new curtains."
He stared at the window in the living room next to the entrance way with a strange faraway look in his eyes. He had given her the royal blue curtains that had been there before. She'd changed them for some forest green ones.
"Thank you. Jeremy's upstairs," she said as if he needed to be reminded of his reason for being here.
"Right," he said, but he stood there for a little while longer, looking around him with that same strange look.
It had been more than a year since he last stepped foot in Nampara. She had made sure of that. It had never been her plan to keep the house. It was his family home after all. No matter how angry she had been and still was with him, she hadn't wanted to rob him of it. In fact, the thought of living there without him, surrounded by the memories of their life together, had seemed more like a punishment to her than anything else. But Ross had argued that it was what was best for Jeremy. Demelza would have the main custody of their son for the first few years before he was schooled, and the divorce would be less traumatic for him if he at least got to stay in the same home he'd always lived in. Nampara would be his inheritance some day anyway. So Demelza had kept the place for her son's sake, and when Ross moved in with Elizabeth in Trenwith just a month after he signed the divorce papers, she told herself she had made the right choice. It saved her from having to pay rent as well which on her clerk salary wasn't negligible, no matter how generous Ross was with child maintenance.
"Well," she said when Ross made no move to go upstairs, seeming instead transfixed by the portrait of the mother and her child by the staircase. The brunette mother's face was obscured as she leaned in to kiss her redhaired child on the forehead. Valentine would be almost a year old now. Perhaps Ross was thinking about him.
"Right." Ross cleared his throat. "I won't be long."
He made his way upstairs as she watched him from the entrance. Garrick followed him. The sight made her want to heave at its normalcy. She shook her head as if to shake the feeling away. The quicker Ross checked on their son, the quicker he would be out of her house, she told herself as she walked over to the kitchen.
Demelza took out the cheese and cream from the fridge. Everyone thought that the secret to a good mac and cheese was in the cheese. That wasn't entirely untrue, but she personally thought that the cream was just, if not more, important.
She put some water to boil for the pasta and added some salt, when she heard Jeremy's voice upstairs. Ross had woken him. He'd said he wouldn't, and yet again he had lied to her. She felt a surge of anger at the thought. She knew it wasn't entirely fair. Jeremy may not have been sleeping. He hadn't had his supper yet, and he was probably hungry. But she found it harder and harder to be reasonable when it came to Ross these days.
Demelza mixed the cheese and cream in the pot with a little more vigour than was strictly required, scowling at the ingredients as if they had done her some wrong. If Ross was smart, he would leave the house without telling her goodbye.
She continued to steer the cheese sauce as the pasta water started to bubble over. She added the macaroni to the boiling water.
"Jeremy is asking for his mac and cheese with extra extra cheese." She heard Ross say behind her. She didn't even turn to acknowledge him.
"It smells delicious," he added like it was two years ago, and she was cooking all of them supper. She flinched. "Then again, it always does when you're the one cooking."
"Was he sleeping?" she asked. Icicles must have been coming out of her mouth, her tone was so icy.
"What?" he asked confused, and her blood boiled.
"Jeremy. When you went to see him, was he sleeping?"
"No. He was groggy, but he wasn't sleeping."
She took a cooling breath. As if sensing her mood, Ross smartly chose to change the subject.
"Look, Jeremy wasn't the only reason I wanted to stop by," he said fishing in his trousers' pockets for something. "I also wanted to give you these."
He held up a set of keys to her. She looked at them but didn't pick them up.
"They're for my place. This one opens the main door, and this one is for my flat."
Ross and Elizabeth had split up last year. She knew he had a new place. She'd been there three times when Dwight and Caroline were off on their second honeymoon, and both Prudie and Jinny were sick. She had had no choice, but to drop off Jeremy at his father herself.
"I don't need them," she said.
"What?" He looked confused. "Of course, you do."
"I don't." She didn't look up from her works as she took out a bowl and a spoon, picking her son's favourite blue plastic sets with gold stars.
Ross put the keys down on the table and ran a hand over his hair. He inhaled as if to calm himself.
"How long are you going to do this, Demelza?" It was his turn to lose his composure. "How long are you going to punish me?"
She turned away to steer the pasta, biting her cheeks to keep the words in. There was no point in fighting about this anymore.
"You can't avoid me forever," he went on. "We have a son together or did you forget?"
"Did I forget?" She couldn't stay silent at this. The hypocrisy of this man truly knew no bounds. "Did I forget? I'm sorry, was I the one too busy making phone calls on Christmas morning to watch my son open his very first present? Did I miss his first step? Or was I the one spending all day with my mistress when he was teething?"
Ross clenched his fists, becoming a little red under the collar.
"That was years ago. I know I did him wrong. I know I did you wrong. But I'm trying…"
"Oh you're trying?"
"Yes!"
"So calling me a bad mother, that's you trying? I guess that's alright then."
"I didn't call you anything of the sort. I would never…" Ross rubbed his forehead and inhaled once more. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said that way."
She took the macaroni out of the water and added them to the sauce, wishing he would just leave and never come back.
"You're a wonderful mother," he said, his tone now as gentle as before. "You're the best mother I know."
She snorted.
"Truly, you are." He sighed. "But you cannot deny that you've been avoiding me. I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen you since we…" He stammered at that.
"Since we've been divorced," she finished for him. She wasn't afraid to say it. There was no point in running from such an obvious truth. "You're exaggerating."
"Perhaps, but barely. You know that I'm right. I don't think Dwight and I have ever seen as much of each other as we have in the last two years, and he is my best mate."
"Because stopping at Trenwith was such a pleasant experience, I just had to repeat it."
She had had no choice but to drop off Jeremy herself at the old Poldark estate, one month before the divorce had been formalised. Elizabeth's stomach had been big and round, but the woman herself had remained as dainty and pretty as ever. Her hair had cascaded around her shoulders in waves like she had just come out of a shampoo commercial. She'd been wearing a fuchsia maternity dress that would have made anyone else look like a birthday cake, but somehow had only made her look even more regal.
Elizabeth had been courteous, seeming not to find anything uncomfortable in receiving her boyfriend's ex-wife in her home. Ross had been mostly silent and stiff.
Demelza had held back her tears until she got home. There, she had locked herself in her room, and she had cried until her head hurt and she couldn't breathe.
"I'm sorry about that day. If we made you feel uncomfortable… but I am not with her anymore. Things are different now. I'm different now. You can stop by anytime. It won't be like it was then. She will not be there, Demelza. That's over. Over for good, I promise."
"Because she finally realised that George was the better bet." She sneered at him, feeling a twisted kind of pleasure in saying these words.
Ross dropped his gaze.
"I don't care about that," he said, sounding tired.
"Of course, you do."
She stopped the stove and put the pasta in the bowl, her movement sharp and brusque.
"No. Listen, I just want us to be friends again. It can't be like it was before. I understand that. But if you gave it a chance…"
"You're telling me to give us a chance?" She laughed, but it sounded bitter to her own ears. "You certainly didn't seem so eager to give us a chance two years ago when you went and fucked her. But never mind that. You've got a new flat, and you're a different man." She nodded mockingly.
"What do you want me to do?" he shouted. "Truly, tell me. What am I to do? What can I do to please you? I've been racking my brain trying to figure it out for two years, but I can't. So just tell me! What can I do? What can I say? I'll do it. Just tell me!"
"You could leave me the bloody hell alone! Or better yet, you could go back in time, make it so it all never happened at all."
Ross only stared at her, breathing hard like he just ran a marathon.
"No?" She sneered at him again. "You can't do that, can you? You probably wouldn't even if you could."
He didn't deny it. Instead, he just closed his eyes and said in a warning tone, "Demelza."
"Leave! You saw Jeremy, you can go."
"Would you even have told me that he had a fever?"
"What do you mean? I left you a message."
"Not yesterday. I meant last year when he had a stomach ache. Would you have told me if I wasn't with Dwight when you called him?"
"Of course," she said.
"Really because I am not so sure."
Truth was she wasn't either. It was two weeks after her visit to Trenwith, and she'd been especially bitter. She hadn't wanted to see him, and she knew he might show up to check on Jeremy. As neglectful as he had been of their son before their divorce, he was incredibly involved now. Some part of her had wondered if that would even last. He'd never wanted Jeremy. Would he lose interest again once Elizabeth had had her baby, the child he doubtlessly had always desired?
Ross had asked her questions over the phone, wanting to be assured that their son would be alright. He wanted to rush to Nampara to see him. Thankfully, Jeremy's fever had dropped in a matter of hours, and she'd been able to convince him not to come. It was petty and cruel, and she hated herself for it.
"I think Dwight would have been the one to tell me about it a week later," Ross went on, his eyes hard.
"No, he wouldn't have been," she said with all the righteous fury she didn't feel. "And you know what, fuck you!"
She heard her son cry. It was a clear and strident sound that reached her ears and stopped her heart. Both parents turned to find Jeremy standing by the kitchen door, Garrick in tow. The child's face was scrunched up, his eyes small and wet, and large fat tears running down his cheeks.
Demelza felt all the blood leave her body. Judas, how much had he heard?
Ross took him in his arms before she could even react.
"Hey there, my boy." He hugged the child close, his tone becoming cheerful. "We didn't hear you come in."
She was a terrible mother. She couldn't blame Ross for this, that was all her.
Jeremy continued to sob, his nose starting to run down his lips, his face red.
"It's alright," Ross soothed their son, rubbing his back. "Mama was just angry because I tried to steal some of your supper."
Jeremy gave a hiccup before he lifted up his head to look at his father in the eyes. He sniveled and rubbed his nose with the edge of his pyjama sleeves.
Ross nodded. "I was being naughty. Your mama was rightfully scolding me."
Jeremy turned to look at her sceptically.
"Really, my lover," she told him with what she hoped was a reassuring smile.
"Steal bad!" the toddler told his father with a scowl before he turned to her. "Yell bad!"
"Yes, it is," she said.
"Absolutely," Ross confirmed.
"No yell, no bad words, mama." Jeremy frowned at her. She felt herself flush with shame. "No steal, papa."
"I won't. I am very sorry." Ross kissed his son's brow.
"It's alright," the boy told him. He sniffled and stared at Ross with a serious expression. "We share."
"That's very kind of you, but I don't think I deserve it now."
"How are you feeling, Jeremy?" Demelza changed the subject.
"Hungry."
Ross chuckled and said, "Well, it's good thing your supper is ready then."
"You should go back to bed." Demelza approached father and son, her arms reaching to pick up the toddler.
"I want papa," Jeremy said, pushing her hand away. She felt like he'd stabbed her. Of course, he wanted his father to take him upstairs. She was the bad mother who'd made him cry.
Ross gave her an apologetic look. "If it's alright with you, Demelza?"
"Of course," she answered in a whisper, her eyes not meeting his.
Ross took the boy up to his room, while she looked for a tray to bring up his supper. Her stomach was in a knot. She never wanted Jeremy to witness something like this. Ross and her had always been so careful not to fight in front of him or at least not this hard. For the first time in her life, she felt like her father's daughter.
She took out the milk carton and poured out a glass in Jeremy's beaker. Garrick watched her from the doorway. She was probably imagining things, but she could swear he was giving her a disapproving look.
Ross came down and stopped in the kitchen to say his goodbyes.
"You should probably bring him his supper first," she said.
"You can do that." He smiled and shook his head. "He isn't upset with you, just a bit shocked. He's never seen you this angry. It was bound to happen sometime."
"It shouldn't have happened." She looked down at the floor.
"Demelza…" Ross held up his hand as if he meant to touch her.
"Please, just take up his tray." She turned away from him to put the remaining cheese and cream in the fridge.
Ross sighed but did as she asked.
She started the task of cleaning the pots and utensils, her mind a jumble.
She'd been selfish, she decided. She had put her anger and grief over her son's well-being. That was unforgivable. What happened between her and his father should have never been allowed to hurt him. Her grudge was her own.
Demelza vigorously rubbed away the left-over cheese sauce from the pot until it shone. The hot water felt too warm on her skin, but she didn't try to make it cooler. She didn't deserve to be comfortable just then.
Ross came back to the kitchen just as she had finished cleaning and was drying her hands with a white clothe.
"He is happily eating his supper," he announced as he walked in. "And I have no doubt he will fall asleep quickly once he is done. He looks much improved from what you told me in your message."
She nodded, staring at her shoes, her hands playing with the folds of her peasant skirt.
"I'll be off then," he told her, turning away.
"No, wait," she said, but the words stuck in her throat and she fell silent.
"Yes?" Ross asked her after she hadn't said anything for a while.
She struggled to find something to occupy her hands, something to distract her from what she was about to say, but her kitchen was now spotless. There was nothing left for her to do, so she kept on fingering her skirt.
"I wanted to say that I'm sorry," she finally said. "I shouldn't have said what I did. I shouldn't have yelled…."
"You don't need to apologise," Ross scratched the back of his head. "You didn't say anything I didn't deserve."
"But that doesn't matter. The point is I shouldn't have gotten angry like that. Jeremy…"
"Will be alright," Ross cut her off. "Demelza, you've always been honest with me. I won't have you be otherwise now, no matter how hard it might be to hear. I ambushed you. I should be the one to apologise."
"No, you don't need to do that." Demelza sighed and bit her lips. "It won't happen again. I can't promise that we'll be friends, but this." She pointed between them. "This is over. I won't let it happen again. I'll be the one who tries. I'll try, Ross."
Ross looked at her with a frown. "You'll try?"
"Yes, I'll try."
"Does that mean that you won't be avoiding me any longer?"
She took a deep breath and answered, "I won't avoid you anymore."
"And you'll take my keys?" he continued, both of his eyebrows now raised.
"And I'll take your keys."
Ross was quiet for a moment, as if he wasn't quite sure this was real.
"Good…I mean this is…I'm glad." He smiled at her and nodded.
They both stared at each other for a moment without saying anything. It would be difficult, they both knew it, but she had said she'd try.
Ross finally put his hands in pockets and said, "Right, I should be going. I'll leave the keys with you." He gestured with his head toward the table where he had left them. "Call me if there's anything new with Jeremy."
"I will."
Ross walked over to the entrance, and she followed him. She watched him as he put his coat and scarf back on.
"Well, I'll take my leave," he said as he stepped over the threshold. The sun had started to set outside, and the air felt cooler than before. Demelza hugged herself, admiring the pink colour of the sky.
"I'll see you on Tuesday," she said with a forced casual air.
Ross stopped in his track and turned to her, his eyes wide. She would be dropping off Jeremy at his place herself.
"I'll see you on Tuesday," he answered back with a large grin. "I'll see you on Tuesday," he repeated and then as if he was afraid she would change her mind if he stayed any longer, he left in a hurry.
She closed the door behind him and went back to the kitchen to pick up the set of keys. She put them in her purse, and there they stayed for about three weeks until she heard about his date with a woman named Harriet.
Jinny told her all about it when Demelza stopped by for tea with Jeremy in the woman's little flat inside the old servants' quarters of Nampara. It was exactly three days after Valentine's day, a day Demelza had spent at work, cleaning up vomit on the Café's floor.
She had smiled and nodded at everything her friend had said like it meant nothing to her who Ross saw, like he was nothing more than an old acquaintance she could gossip about.
Once she got home, she had left Jeremy in front of the tele, and she had tossed Ross' keys in the rubbish. She'd felt some satisfaction in the act.
She'd regretted it later, but she had never dared ask him for another set. He had never offered her another one.