Billy had developed colic. Two and a half months later he was still crying every night for hours.
“If you need me, say the word and I’ll fly back,” her mother said. “I don’t feel right leaving you, and I don’t like missing out on his early months. The first two weeks were wonderful, but he’ll be doing so much more now.”
“He’ll still be small when you’re here at Christmas.”
She couldn’t let on she was struggling. Her mother had been a rock when Holly died. Emma had also leaned on her when her marriage was falling apart. Her mother would return to Summerside in a heartbeat if she thought Emma needed her. However, her parents had planned and saved for years to travel around Australia in a campervan. They deserved this trip, and Emma wasn’t going to spoil it for them.
“I tried calling Alana, but she’s never home,” her mother said.
Emma pushed at the tubing, finally easing it over the nozzle. “She’s got a new job—” The words were out before she could take them back.
“She’s working? She didn’t tell me that.”
Uh-oh. “It’s new. Might not last. Don’t say anything to Dave. She hasn’t told him yet.”
“She hasn’t told him? Why not?”
“It’s a long story....”
“And you don’t have time right now. Okay, I won’t keep you much longer. How’s your milk supply? Alana told me you were having trouble.”
“I’m fine, really.” She glanced at the wall clock. “Sorry, Mum, I have to go.”
“I talked to Marge yesterday. She told me about Roy’s hip operation.”
“You talked to Marge? Why?” Giving up on a quick end to their chat, Emma sat at the kitchen table, pushed up her top and attached the pump. She flipped the switch and gently squeezed her breast, hoping for a trickle, something, so she wouldn’t have to give Billy formula again.
“Why wouldn’t we? Darling, we’re friends. And we’re grandmothers together. Of course we talk.”
“What else did she say—about Billy?” Emma pressed her fingers to her throbbing sinuses. Here it came. Would it be a gentle reproach or a stern lecture about allowing Marge access? If her mother were here, they could talk things out but she wasn’t and Emma didn’t have time to explain over the phone. It was all building up, becoming too much, her job, her studies, Billy and now the family.
“She said how adorable he was, how precious for his age. What a wonderful mother you are.”
Marge had covered for her. That was so like her, unselfish, concerned and caring. And Emma had repaid her by not finding time for her to see her grandson. Just then Billy began to cry. Emma felt like crying, too. She was completely, utterly inadequate in every way.
“Mum, I really have to go. I’ll talk to you later.”
She had to pull herself together and carry on. Billy needed her to be strong. But it was increasingly hard when she felt as if her life was spiraling out of control.
* * *
WEDNESDAY NIGHT WAS slow, too. So slow Darcy got out the architect’s drawings and unfurled them on the bar.
He could do a lot of the work himself, things like painting and ripping out old carpeting. Dan could do the wiring and Tony could do the brickwork. They would cut him a deal and he’d rather give them the business than some stranger.
The aspect that worried him most was the interior decorating. It wasn’t a top priority till the structural work was complete but now that he’d decided to move ahead he should at least start thinking about it.
He’d visited his dad in the hospital that morning before the pub opened. On his way home he’d swung by some paint and upholstery shops to pick up color samples and fabric swatches. He spread them out on the bar next to the architect’s plans, arranging them in different combinations, trying to visualize them incorporated into the pub’s decor. But he couldn’t mentally transform the tiny scraps of color into chair seats and walls. His brain didn’t work that way.
Riley came in dressed in civvies and pulled up a stool. “What’s all this? Are we redecorating our dollhouse? Cooper’s Pale Ale, thanks. Make it a pint.”
Darcy pulled a pint of ale and blotted the foam. “This is what I like to see, Summerside’s finest, keeping the streets safe from crime.”
“Even the senior sergeant is allowed to have a drink when off duty.” Riley glanced at the rectangles of color and fabric. “What’s with the samples?”