carefully home through the sleet and rising flood water. The boys were waiting by the door with happy smiles and hugs, and they couldn’t wait to drag her through into the living room where, they cheerfully announced, Simon had a surprise waiting for her. She shook them off and told them to go and wait for her, while she took off her coat and kicked her wellingtons onto the mat where they wouldn’t be dripping all over the hallway floor.
“You know, I’ve been thinking, Si. I’m not entirely sure that letting out the rooms is such a good idea.” She grabbed a towel from the radiator and dried off her hair. It was amazing how wet it was possible to get despite only being out in the rain for twenty minutes at the most. “Do you really think it’s such a good idea forcing the boys to get used to someone new in the house at this time of the year?”
“Not the best of times to be asking that, Carrie.” Simon’s voice held a note of ironic laughter, and Carrie took the towel from her head just in time to see a heavily pregnant young woman getting to her feet from off the couch.
“Simon, you shouldn’t make pregnant women sit on there,” Carrie told him, fumbling for a more suitable response to the situation. “The cushions are terrible. You could have at least given her your chair.”
“Never thought of that.” Simon winced as he realised his mistake. “Belle, I’m sorry. You should sit over here.”
“I’m fine, honestly.” The young woman smiled broadly and held out her hand to Carrie. “Sorry, I’m guessing Simon didn’t tell you I was going to be coming round?”
Carrie shook her head and looked at the empty cups on the coffee table. “Tea? Coffee?” She picked up the cups without waiting for a reply and hurried into the kitchen, achingly close to hyperventilating. She put the cups down in front of the kettle before she could drop them, which she knew was inevitable, and drew a tall glass of water from the sink. There were footsteps in the doorway and she turned to see Belle standing there, watching her with a nervous smile. “You want tea, right?” Carrie asked. “No caffeine when you’re pregnant.”
“Look, Carrie, I can tell Simon hasn’t told you anything about me, but I want you to know, I won’t make trouble. I just need a place to stay for a couple of months while my flat’s being sorted. There was a gas leak, and when the place was being looked over they found all sorts of problems. I know it’s short notice, but—”
“Hey, who am I to turn away a pregnant woman at Christmas?” Carrie shrugged. “It’s not like I can just tell you there’s no room at the inn, is there?”
“Since you’re the one paying the bills, I’d say it really is up to you.” Belle looked so young and so vulnerable that Carrie felt guilty for even joking about training her away.
“How old are you?” Carrie asked, flicking the switch on the kettle and gesturing for Belle to sit down at the table.
“I’m twenty.”
“And how, uh…”
“How did I meet Simon?” Belle offered. Carrie nodded dumbly, her head full of horror stories about how her husband could possibly have met someone so young and pretty. “We met at AA.” Belle’s expression changed to a mixture of guilt and self-loathing. “It was about a year ago. He said you were going through a bad patch, and that he should try to get clean for you and the boys.”
“So, she just came out with it. No prompting or anything.” Tom was busy adding yet more tinsel to the window display. “She just announced that she met your husband in the Temperance league?”
“Something like that.” Carrie laughed at the idea of her husband being involved in any demonstrations against alcoholism. “Obviously going to AA didn’t help him, because up until two days ago, he was still getting wasted every day.”
“Has he ever been clean? In the last two years, I mean.”
“Briefly, a few months ago. Not for long though.”
Tom
Gabriel García Márquez, Gregory Rabassa