Chapter 16

The weeks passed and Margaret's life once again was filled with shopping trips, card games, afternoon "tea" with her friends, the usual swirl of parties at the club, and other social activities. All thoughts of Martin and his family slipped her mind, except when Miriam mentioned them, which was not very often, as there were other more interesting tidbits of gossip to share with her clients. That is until late March when she pulled out an envelope with several pictures of the new baby. They had arrived by post just that morning. "Another boy … just look at him, will you. Isn't he beautiful?"

Margaret's shoulders rose with the sigh she was unable to conceal, "Yes, he is a lovely baby. What are they calling him?"

"Robert Martin. Robert after Louisa's father, not that he takes after my Robby. He had dark hair and this little one is as blond as he can be, takes after his Daddy, just like James."

Margaret peered more closely at the pictures, "Yes I suppose he does."

She laid the photos carefully on the table in front of her, not wanting to dwell on them further. She had told herself that she wasn't interested in these children; they were to be nothing to her. She had thought about the entire situation shortly after her adventure down the coast and realised that she had been carried away with the idea of grandchildren. All her friends had grandchildren and she had felt left out; but as she contemplated it, she knew she wasn't cut out to be a grandmother, no more than she was cut out to be a mother. She supposed it would be gratifying to have pictures to share with her friends as they did with theirs; in fact, it would be extremely satisfying to feel part of their special club instead of the outsider she frequently felt nowadays. But honesty compelled her to admit that she wouldn't really want to spend time with the children, and she wasn't interested in reconnecting with Martin … too much water under that bridge by now. She remembered that she had never really considered the possibility of grandchildren in her life until her friends started obsessing over theirs. And, even if she and Chris had reconciled with Martin and he had presented her with the little darlings, she wouldn't know what to do with them. No, she would treat Miriam's grandchildren as she did those of all her friends. Good manners required her to complement these children, but no more than that.

She supposed good manners also required one more comment, "Mother and baby are both healthy?"

"Yeah. Robert was born in the morning and Martin took them home that afternoon, but he's hired a nurse for the first two weeks to help Louisa get back on her feet. He may be a grumpy old sod, but she's lucky to have him. I remember when I came home with Louisa. Alan, my oldest was three years old and had stopped taking naps. Boy those first few months were killers. Wouldn't want to go through that again. 'Course Louisa has a nanny too who helps out in the mornings, takes James to preschool and will help with the baby once the nurse has gone. "

Miriam concentrated on her work for a few minutes and then blurted out, "Bloody lucky she is."

Margaret raised her eyebrows and smiled, "Yes."

"And Joan has come down as well to help when the nurse leaves."

"Joan? Oh yes, Martin's aunt from Cornwall …. Seems they will have a full house."

Margaret thought back to Martin's birth. Christopher had hired a nurse for her just as Martin had for Louisa. Such an officious little woman as Margaret recalled, insisting that she stay in bed and rest the first week home, bringing Martin in to her for feeds three times a day. And then Joan had come over from Cornwall to help out, just as she was doing now. She completely took over Martin's care after the nurse left; Margaret didn't feel up to it and Joan seemed happy to help. Joan was always happy to help, she thought derisively, always willing to have Martin down at the farm whenever she and Christopher needed time away or when they were between nannies. She would have cared for him full time on the farm if Christopher had agreed. Little wonder that he turned to her when his own children were born. She let out a sigh. She wasn't ordinarily one for self-reflection, but she wondered nevertheless how it had come to this, his turning to Joan instead of his own mother for help. Perhaps she should have spent more time with him as a child? Would that have made any difference? Was it too late to heal the rift?

Miriam had been finalizing the set of her hair while Margaret had been musing. She held up the hand mirror for Margaret to check out her do and she turned the chair around slowly, "What was it? Oh yes, do they have enough room? Of course, they have plenty of room. The baby will be in with Martin and Louisa for the next several months until he is sleeping through the night so Joanie will have her own room. And Joan is a good cook. Louisa tells me that she arrived the day after Robert was born and has taken over the kitchen so that she and Martin have time to spend with James and Robert. Of course, I will go visit for a week or so at the end of May before they go down to Cornwall for the summer. I need to get to know my new grandson." Miriam let loose with one of her cackles, then added, "By then, two months, he should be doing a little more than eating and pooing!"

Margaret was curious. "What about Martin's aunt's farm. Shouldn't she be planting crops in the spring?"

"Good question. I hadn't thought of that. I don't know. 'Course she has been cutting back these days – plants a small vegetable patch and tends the chickens and sheep. I suppose she has a neighbour to take care of the animals."

"Undoubtedly."

Margaret left the salon conflicted. Seeing Miriam's joy at her new grandson who happened to be Margaret's new grandson, had resurrected the feelings she had so capably quashed after her trip. She vowed to erase these emotions again and headed out to the local shops to treat herself with something pretty. While she was shopping, it suddenly occurred to her that she would never have wanted Martin to turn to her for help, and she laughed out loud, startling the salesgirl who had approached her hoping for a sale, "God … no. Let Joan help out, changing nappies and burping babies. That's definitely not for me. What was I thinking? This obsession with grandchildren has to stop!"

As the weeks drifted by, she again found herself easily forgetting about Martin and his family, only remembering when she dropped in at the salon. That is until Portia's granddaughter was born in late May at the same time Miriam was off to England to meet Robert. Portia immediately flew back to Oxford to help out with the baby. She sent daily email missives to her friends replete with pictures, describing the baby's every accomplishment, such as they were with new-borns. Margaret felt obliged to open each message on the off chance that it required a response, but after the first two, she scanned them quickly, briefly glanced at the pictures and deleted them. She had observed that Portia's grandchild, Cecily Jane, wasn't nearly as cute as Robert. How unfortunate that she couldn't pull out his baby pictures to show her friends how much more robust and adorable he was. He was smiling in the pictures that Miriam had brought back from her visit with them in late May; he really was a darling baby.

When Portia finally did return from her two months in Oxford, her talk was of nothing but the baby and her accomplishments. Cecily had just started lifting up her head, and Portia was certain that she would turn over any day. Both Carlotta and Sylvia were full of questions and advice. Margaret thought she would scream. It really was unbearable. Fortunately, Christopher had decided to attend another conference, this one in Copenhagen in late August, and he had indicated that she could join him if she wished. It had been a good many years since they had travelled to Scandinavia and she was looking forward to the trip. There were several interesting side trips planned for spouses and others accompanying the attendees which appeared intriguing. And above all, it would be good to get away from the insular world of their commune where all her friends were focused on their grandchildren.