Page 90 of A Secret Cornish Wish
Rosie is now nine years old, and my whole life.
When I first had her, like Claire correctly predicted, I did need help, and a lot of it. I read so many baby books that I thought I had everything covered. But reading about having a baby is one thing – actually looking after one yourself is a completely different ball game. So when I first came out of hospital, my parents travelled up from Cornwall and stayed with us for a while to help out. Dad returned home for work after a few days, and Mum stayed for several weeks.
When it was time for her to go, part of me was pleased it was just going to be me and Rosie at last, but another part was petrified about looking after her on my own.
Mum offered us the opportunity to go and stay with them down in St Felix, but I declined. I had to get used to looking after Rosie on my own at some point, and I still had nearly five months of maternity leave left from the gallery. I figured that was going to be plenty of time to get all my ducks in a row before I went back to work.
But ducks have a funny way of not sitting all that neatly when you ask them to, and even if they do decide to rest for a while, there’s often a lot of flapping of wings and quacking before they calm down, let alone getting them into anything like a straight row.
So, although I thought I had everything as together as it was going to get before I went back to work, I found out the hard way that the reality of looking after a young child and working full time is way more difficult, challenging and downright exhausting than anyone realises. Especially if you’re doing it on your own.
‘Nearly there,’ I say to Rosie now. ‘I’m sure you won’t remember when we came here last time, but on this final part of the journey you get a really lovely view of St Felix.’
Rosie looks up from her book. ‘Actually I do remember. You go around a bend and then suddenly you see the sea, the beach and a harbour.’
‘Wow, I’m surprised you remember that – you were only five when we came last time. Do you remember anything else from that trip?’
Rosie shrugs. ‘Not a lot. Playing with some other kids on the beach, I think?’
‘Claire’s children. They’re not really kids any more though.’ I try to remember their ages. ‘Alice is eighteen now, I think. George must be sixteen, and that makes little Freddie . . . wow, fourteen. I can hardly believe it.’
Rosie watches me in the way she often does, like she’s trying to work me out.
‘You’re really excited about this trip, aren’t you, Mum?’
‘Yes and no,’ I tell her honestly. I’m always honest with Rosie, even if it’s to my detriment sometimes.
‘Why yes and no?’
‘Yes, I’m looking forward to seeing St Felix again and some of my friends. Most of them I haven’t seen for ten years.’
My mind wanders to the other mermaids.
‘And no?’ Rosie prompts me.
‘No . . . Now that’s a little trickier to explain.’
The truth is I’m really looking forward to seeing the others again. It’s been so long since we all last caught up properly. Other than Claire and Eddie briefly, I haven’t really seen any of the others since before Rosie was born, and even though I follow what they are all up to these days via social media, mostly Facebook and more recently Instagram, knowing it, and actually seeing them again to talk about it, is a completely different thing.
Everyone is doing so well with their lives right now, and the truth is I feel left behind.
‘It’s been so long I wonder if we’ll all have things to talk about.’ I try to explain as truthfully as I can. ‘We all lead such different lives now.’
‘But you’ll always be the mermaids,’ Rosie says. ‘Mum, I don’t think I ever see you smile as much as when you tell me stories about what you got up to with your friends when you lived in St Felix. I’m sure you’ll be fine once you’re all together again.’
‘Who made you so wise?’ I ask, grinning at her. ‘Not me, I’m sure of it!’
‘Certainly wasn’t Dad!’ Rosie smiles now too. ‘I love my dad, but he’s not what I’d call wise.’
‘No, he certainly isn’t. But he’s a good man and he does love you.’
I took Claire’s advice and told Rosie’s father that I was pregnant, but that I didn’t want anything from him.
But to my surprise, after the initial shock, he stepped up immediately and made arrangements to pay me maintenance after Rosie was born. He was also very keen to be a part of her life, which, after a little reluctance on my part I agreed to, and I’m pleased I did. Because now at least Rosie has a father figure in her life, even if it’s only occasionally.
As the train pulls into the station, I feel a strange mix of excitement and anxiety.
Excitement at being back here again, still one of my favourite places in the world, and anxiety at what’s to come over the next few days.
