The moment small, unsmiling Mary stepped forward, Trevor could tell she was anything but plain, and either morbidly obese or heavily pregnant. From her thin face and the way she pushed a hand into her lower back, he assumed the latter. Right then a hundred and one thoughts hit him. Was the baby Karl’s? And if so, why hadn’t he said anything? Had he planned the child or had it been an accident? Had they been sleeping together while he and Karl had still been married? Why the hell had he brought her to Scotland in that condition? But then her strident schoolmarm voice brought him back from his meltdown.
“Which one of you is Trevor?” she asked, looking from Frank to Johnny and finally to Trevor.
“I-I am,” he said, raising his hand. With something bordering distaste, she looked him up and down like a sergeant major inspecting one of her troops—and disapproving on every level.
“Are we the last to arrive?”
“Actually, you are.”
“I see. Well, first of all, thank you for arranging everything. I know these things don’t happen all by themselves,” she said and appeared genuine. For a moment he began to think everything would be fine, even though her words seemed to come out a little contrived. “Secondly, I hope you haven’t assigned rooms yet, because we’ll need our own private bathroom. Not that any of you would understand, but in my condition, there is no way I can share. And when you heat the place, can you make sure the temperature is comfortable, not more than twenty-five degrees. Pregnancy sends my body temperature soaring, especially at night. Obviously, I’ll regulate our bedroom heating myself, but in the communal areas I’d appreciate your cooperation. Thirdly, do any of you smoke?”
Nobody answered. Everyone stood in stunned silence.
Until Johnny piped up, “Cigarettes?”
“Yes, of course. What else? Oh, cigars, you mean. Do you smoke either?”
“No.”
“Does anyone?”
As one, Trevor, Johnny and Frank obediently shook their heads. Trevor felt sure pot-smoking Johnny had not been referring to cigars.
“Good, because I refuse to share a living space inside or out with baby-killers. Fourth, from a food perspective, I am a vegetarian, so have brought my own provisions, which I trust none of you will touch. You’ll need to assign me dedicated shelves in the refrigerator. At meal times, please wash and move your pots, pans, glasses and chopping boards out of the way when you’ve finished, so that I can prepare my own meals. My husband tells me you are all carnivores. Whether I approve or not, that is your choice, but I would appreciate your understanding and cooperation in this matter.”
“Did she call him her husband?” whispered Cheryl to the back of Trevor’s head. She must have returned while Mary distracted everyone with her monologue. “Did you know?”
Trevor shook his head gently, and Cheryl hissed out a sigh behind him. In the meantime, Mary had been surveying the faces in the room to see if her words had provoked any reaction, and only then did Trevor realise Mrs M was missing. No doubt she would have something to say about these demands.
“Finally,” continued Mary, turning back to Trevor, “I know this—situation—isn’t perfect and might be a little awkward for you, for us both, but we’re just going to have to muddle through. For my part, this is my one last chance of a break from routine before our baby boy comes. Something I would really like to make the most of. So let’s clear the air right from the start.”
“There’s really nothing—” began Trevor.
“Karl is with me now. And as you can see, we are about to bring another life into the world. So I would appreciate you keeping your judgement to yourself and not arguing with him over—”
“Okay, that’s enough,” said Johnny, piping up and not even attempting to mask his contempt. “Karl, are you sure you and Rosemary’s Baby here wouldn’t be more comfortable in a hotel? We drove past a nice one on the outskirts of Edinburgh.”
“Johnny, Edinburgh’s four hours’ drive away—oh,” said Frank, catching on.
“You see?” said Mary, rounding on Karl with an exaggerated sob. “You see? I told you we shouldn’t have come. Told you we wouldn’t be welcome.”
“If we’d been given the chance, any one of us could have told you that,” said Johnny. “If only your—husband, is it now?—communicated instead of keeping secrets from his friends.”
When Trevor looked over, he noticed Karl’s anguished gaze frowning at the kitchen flagstones. Maybe he was deciding if this was such a good idea, whether to cut and run, to turn and flee, follow Johnny’s advice, but Trevor felt a sudden and overwhelming surge of compassion for him.
“No, Johnny,” said Trevor, quietly but firmly. “I invited Karl and his—Mary. Me. If you want to have a pop at someone, then have a pop at me. But while they’re here, I’m going to make them as welcome as every other one of our guests. And I’d like you and Frank to do the same. Understood?”
At that Karl peered up, and the ghost of a grateful smile touched his lips.
“For you, Mac, happily. I’ll share the place, surely I will,” said Johnny, his Irish accent ramped up to the max. “But don’t ask me to be civil. There’ll be no sympathy for this devil. Not from me.”
Mrs M appeared just as the Frank and Johnny headed out, giving them a quizzical gaze as she entered the kitchen. As Cheryl followed not far behind, she patted a hand on her mother’s shoulder but said nothing.
“What did I miss?” came Mrs M’s cheerful voice—which then dropped a tone or two when she spotted Karl. “Oh, it’s you. Hello, Karl. Just in time for the evening meal. Dinner’s at seven. Go and fetch your bags from the car while I check on the food. Then I’ll show you and your girlfriend up to the bedroom.”
“Up? Are there stairs?” asked Mary.
Mrs M sized up the new arrival, her arms folding. Trevor decided to pick that particular moment to slip away.
