Maddy’s Christmas Wedding (Little Duck Pond Cafe #37)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

‘I’ve got another surprise for you,’ Jack said next morning, as I wandered sleepily into the kitchen for the breakfast he’d cooked for me.

After we’d returned from the restaurant, I’d gone straight to bed saying I was exhausted after the long journey from Lapland. I’d been worried I might not be able to sleep with so many stressful thoughts churning round and round in my head, but thankfully I’d gone out like a light. When I woke, Jack was still treating me with kid gloves, saying I should have a lie-in. He leaped out of bed before returning to kiss me on the lips and tell me he’d make breakfast in an hour.

I’d lain there, wide awake after he’d gone, thinking I’d never be hungry. But the aroma of frying bacon drifting up the stairs had done the trick, tempting me downstairs.

‘Another surprise?’ I asked, wiggling my ring finger and admiring Jack’s surprise from last night for the millionth time.

‘He’s behind you!’ he shouted, making me jump.

‘What? Who?’ I turned around.

He chuckled. ‘Sorry. No, that was actually a clue. You and I are off to the pantomime this evening.’

*****

I sat in our own private box in the theatre waiting for the panto to start, gazing at the sea of faces – many excited young children – as Jack flicked through the glossy booklet.

We didn’t usually bother with a programme but he’d insisted this time, and I’d known it was because he wanted to really push the boat out for me today and spoil me.

Life was ganging up on me. Well and truly. That was how it felt, anyway.

After Jack gave me my gorgeous eternity ring, I could hardly have ruined the moment by sharing my hideous news. I’d been psyching myself up to tell him over bacon and eggs, though. But then he’d sprung his second surprise – a trip to the panto – and I could tell he’d booked it with only my happiness in mind.

Under normal circumstances, I’d have loved it.

But how, when Jack was clearly loving the fact that he was spoiling me, could I really, genuinely spoil things for him by introducing the topic of hereditary genes and heart disease?

I’d have to pretend to be enjoying myself. And then I’d tell him later.

It felt like such a waste, though. I’d never sat in an actual box at the theatre, ever, but I’d always wanted to and Jack had known that. And he’d booked one for us and we had the whole thing to ourselves – five seats to choose from!

But all I could think was that I wished the bell would ring for the performance to start, because then all these annoyingly excited kids I was having to look at would just quieten down – instead of rubbing my face in the sad fact that Jack and I might never be able to have children ourselves or bring them to a panto like this.

I glanced at Jack, absorbed in the programme.

He’d meant well. Of course he had. And it was so sweet of him to think of organising this just for me. But honestly, even tickets to a football match would have been preferable to this torture.

But I just had to keep up the front of having a good time until we got out of here – and then we’d go to the café attached to the theatre and I’d tell Jack then. Luckily, he didn’t seem to suspect a thing . . . I was obviously doing a good job of pretending I was –

‘Maddy, what’s wrong?’

Far away in my own world, I actually flinched as I felt Jack’s arm around me.

‘Nothing. I’m fine,’ I muttered, but I could tell he was puzzled by my reaction to his touch. He’d pulled back himself now and was looking at me with a hurt expression in his eyes.

‘Are you still worried about your dad?’ he asked. ‘Because I thought you told me it wasn’t Huntington’s disease after all?’

‘Yes. I mean, no.’ I shook my head, feeling flustered.

He gave me a small, humourless smile. ‘So what is it? Yes or no? Because frankly, Maddy, I don’t know where I am with you these days. I know you’re not yourself and I’ve been trying to give you some room to breathe instead of badgering you for answers, hoping you’d come to me and tell me what’s going on in your own time. I thought maybe I wasn’t taking enough interest in the wedding arrangements, so I’ve been trying. But I don’t think it is that. There’s something else.’ He looked at me intently. ‘Is there something else?’

I nodded miserably. ‘I . . . was going to tell you last night, but then you gave me my lovely ring and I couldn’t spoil it. And then . . . all this today . . .’ I gestured at the audience in their seats, waiting for the panto to start. ‘I just wish you hadn’t chosen somewhere with all these . . . kids!’

He frowned. ‘What do you mean? There’s always children at a pantomime. I thought you liked kids.’

I could feel emotions rising up and I took a deep breath, fighting to control my tears which never seemed to be too far away these days.

‘I do like kids,’ I muttered, but the level of noise in the place carried my words away.

‘Sorry?’

‘I said, I do like kids.’ I said it so loudly that a woman below us in the stalls looked up. ‘It’s just I’m not sure I’m going to be able to have them.’

‘What?’ Jack stared at me, his eyes full of confusion.

I shrugged. ‘I might not be able to be a mum to your children.’

‘What are you talking about? I don’t understand.’ He took my hand but I pulled it away. ‘Maddy, are you okay? Talk to me, for God’s sake.’

Vaguely aware of a bell ringing in the distance, I swallowed hard and forced myself to look Jack in the eyes. ‘Remember I had that lunch with Marcus?’

He nodded. ‘What about it?’

I took a deep breath. ‘Marcus wanted to see me to tell me he has this thing called Marfan syndrome. It’s a horrible condition and over the years it’s weakened his heart,’ I told him, all in a rush. ‘And the thing is, it’s genetic and I may have the faulty gene myself, which means I might not be able to have kids because I could be passing the gene on to them. Okay?’

I sat back and looked at him, my mouth trembling, dreading his reaction.

He looked back at me for a long moment, shock written across his face, and my heart sank. Of course he was shocked. I’d known he would be.

He reached for my hand. ‘Why didn’t you tell me straight away?’

‘I . . . I don’t know. I was scared.’

‘Scared of telling me?’ He looked confused now, but all I could do was shrug. ‘You said you may have the faulty gene?’

I nodded.

‘So you haven’t been tested?’

‘Not yet.’

‘But surely . . . I mean, you need to know if you’re a carrier, Maddy. You need to get tested straight away.’

‘Maybe,’ I muttered, feeling the pressure tightening in my head.

He looked at me in disbelief. ‘What do you mean, maybe? Maddy, of course you need to do a test. You need to know if you’ve got this . . . this Marlow syndrome. I need to know.’

‘It’s Marfan syndrome. And it’s not your body,’ I murmured defensively, my lips trembling. ‘It’s my decision when I decide to get tested.’

‘Hey, I understand that.’ Seeing I was upset, he shuffled closer and put an arm around me, and we had to whisper after that because the curtain was going up and the audience had fallen silent. ‘But surely we need to know so that we can plan for the future.’

‘For a future without children?’

He looked at me, genuinely puzzled.

‘Well, that’s what you’re bothered about, isn’t it?’ I snapped. ‘That we won’t be able to have the big family you’ve always wanted?’

‘What?’ He looked horrified. ‘No! I’m worried about you. I mean, heart disease? The thought of kids never entered my head.’

‘No, but it will,’ I said defensively. ‘You want a big family, right?’

He sighed and gave me a look, not disputing it, and in the darkness, tears began rolling down my face. He could say all the right things, but that didn’t mean everything was going to be okay between us.

‘You haven’t been tested for the gene. You might not even be a carrier,’ he reminded me.

‘That’s true. And I will get tested. I promise.’

He nodded and squeezed my hand. ‘You had lunch with Marcus a few days before you left for Lapland, didn’t you?’

‘Yes.’

He shook his head sadly. ‘I can’t believe you’ve known about this for almost a week. But you’re only just telling me now?’

I shrugged defensively. ‘I was processing it all in my own mind.’

‘Couldn’t you have processed it and told me about it? Christ, Maddy, if someone told me something bad like that, you’d be the first person I’d come to for support. Before anyone else. We’re going to be married, for goodness’ sake!’

‘I know.’ I shrugged miserably but my throat was too choked to say anything else.

‘Didn’t you trust me to help? To say the right things?’

‘No! I mean, yes. I wanted to tell you. But . . . well, I suppose I was scared you’d back off if you knew about the hereditary thing . . . that children might not be a possibility for us.’

‘Back off?’ He stared at me incomprehensibly. Then he shook his head slowly. ‘You don’t know me very well, Maddy, if you really think I’d back off when you needed me the most.’

‘I know. Yes, I know. It’s just . . . well, I realise how important it is for you to have a family . . . and I suppose I just needed time to . . . get my head round the whole thing.’ I was trying to justify what to me had been entirely logical at the time, but it was clear by his incredulous expression that my ‘logic’ had escaped him completely. ‘I was scared to tell you, Jack. I’ve been rejected before and I thought . . . well, I thought . . .’

‘That I’d reject you as well?’ He blew out his breath, a weary look on his face. ‘Do you know how worried I’ve been about you? I’d do anything for you. You know that. And I certainly wouldn’t be walking out on you because of something like this. And yet you genuinely thought there was a chance I’d do just that?’

I shrugged helplessly, not knowing what to say because he was right.

‘You should have told me straight away, Maddy,’ he said sadly. ‘I could have helped. You could have talked about how you felt. But instead, you’ve spent the best part of a week stewing over it all by yourself.’

I felt my mouth tremble. I pinched my lips together. I happened to be going through hell here, knowing I should get tested but terrified of the result, but all Jack could do was criticise me for not telling him all about it sooner? He was disappointed in me and I hated to see that look on his face more than anything.

‘I’m telling you now, aren’t I?’ I snapped, folding my arms mutinously. Tears pricked my eyes and out of the darkness came a sudden bang and a big flash of light and the genie appeared, much to the delight of the audience.

I was regretting my sharp tone already. The truth was, I was more upset with myself than with Jack, but as I tried to lay a conciliatory hand on his thigh, he moved slightly in his chair, folding his arms and leaning against the side wall of the box so he was out of reach.

We watched the panto in our separate, miserable worlds . . . no leaning in and whispering funny things about the performance like we’d usually do. I literally couldn’t reach him. The gap between us felt like an enormous chasm.

‘Are you enjoying it?’ I asked when the lights went up. My fake smile wobbled.

‘It’s good.’ He nodded but I could see in his eyes that there would be no softening . . . no taking my hand and smoothing things over. ‘You?’

I shrugged. ‘Yes. I’ve always liked a good panto.’ The truth was, I hadn’t really taken any of it in. I’d just been sitting there, wishing to goodness I could reach Jack and beating myself up for having been so stupid. The news from Marcus had turned my world upside down and I had a right to be shocked. But in not involving Jack in my nightmare, what message had that sent to him? No wonder he was hurt . . .

‘You’re not really into it, are you?’ he said.

‘No, I am. Thank you for booking it.’ I attempted another bright smile.

‘That’s okay. Do you want to stay for the second half?’

‘Of course. Why? Do you want to leave?’

‘Only if you do. It’s your treat.’

‘Well, we’ll stay, in that case.’

He nodded but I could tell he hadn’t thawed towards me in the slightest.

‘You need to get tested,’ he said brusquely, folding his arms.

‘I know I do. And I will.’

‘When?’

‘Erm . . . I’ll phone the surgery in the morning and get an appointment.’

‘Okay.’

‘I will, Jack. I promise.’

He shrugged. ‘It’s up to you, obviously. As you said, it’s your body.’

We sat in silence for the rest of the interval. I was determined not to cry but as soon as the theatre was plunged into darkness for the performance to begin again, my shoulders slumped and I let the tears flow silently down.

I hated it so much when Jack and I argued. But this felt far more serious than our usual tiffs.

It was clear he was hurt, but what could I do, apart from apologising for not telling him sooner and promising to get tested for the rogue gene? Jack would have to forgive me if we wanted to move past this, but his coldness towards me suggested he wasn’t prepared to do that yet, if ever . . .

Also, there were always two sides to every argument.

I could understand Jack’s position. He felt I’d left him out when I was facing two big crises in my life, and he was hurt that I hadn’t gone to him first for help and to talk things over. And that was true, of course. But it hadn’t been deliberate on my part. I’d kept Dad’s secret because I couldn’t bear to make it ‘real’ by talking about it.

And as for what Marcus had told me – that had been so tricky for me because I knew that if the worst turned out to be true, and I had inherited the gene, Jack would be directly affected by it. Not knowing what his response to this would be had scared me. Yes, he’d said I should have known he’d stand by me. But could you ever really know what was in someone else’s mind?

However close you were to that person, was it always possible to predict how they’d react to a tricky situation? I didn’t think so. People, I’d found, could sometimes be very unpredictable indeed, so I had a right to be worried.

Surely he could understand that?

I was trying to understand Jack. But was he making any attempt to understand me? To look at things from my point of view and see why I’d acted as I had?

The bottom line was, it was me who was possibly facing a life-long illness that might weaken my heart and prevent me from having children. I was still trying to come to terms with Marcus’s news over a week later, and Jack really wasn’t helping . . .

I was suddenly aware of Jack moving closer, and my heart lifted hopefully. But when I glanced at him, my hopeful heart stalled.

He was staring rigidly at the stage, a look of horror on his face. Then suddenly, without warning, we were engulfed in a really bright light and I heard our names called out. Jack and his lovely fiancée, Maddy!

I hadn’t been concentrating at all on the action on-stage.

So suddenly finding myself at the centre of an enormous spotlight was a shock, to say the least. Especially when I realised that the actors on stage were all looking up at our box and smiling expectantly, and lots of people in the theatre audience were staring up at us as well!

Beside me, Jack muttered a harsh expletive and forced a smile, giving a wave to the actors to acknowledge that it was indeed us.

And then the pantomime dame was putting her hands on her hips and smiling up at us and saying, ‘Aw, look at the little dears! Or should I say rabbits? Yes, they’re like a couple of rabbits caught in the headlights there. And we all know what those naughty rabbits get up to when no one’s looking, don’t we, children?’

There were chuckles from the audience at this and a few piercing whistles.

‘Anyway, we just want to say a huge congratulations on your forthcoming marriage on Christmas Eve. A big round of applause for the happy couple, ladies and gentlemen!’

Everyone started clapping and cheering, and all I could do was smile stiffly and nod, but inside I felt like crying. I wanted it all to stop but they just kept on applauding until my cheeks were aching with trying to keep my smile in place.

The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on me. Jack must have planned this surprise for me, but that was when we were together and solid. Now, with this horrible distance between us, it just felt achingly sad . . .

From behind me, a huge bouquet of flowers appeared from nowhere, startling me even more. I turned and one of the stage hands was grinning broadly at me. I took the flowers gratefully, using them to hide my face. And then it was all over and the panto resumed as if nothing had happened. We were no longer the focus of everyone’s amusement . . .

‘Can we go now?’ I hissed at Jack.

‘Now?’

‘Yes, now! That was awful!’

‘Okay.’

He got up and I followed him out.

*****

Back home, Jack went straight to the study while I went to the kitchen to make hot chocolate for us both. Still feeling wobbly after what happened in the theatre, I managed to spill chocolate powder all over the counter.

When it was finally ready, I went to tell him but I could hear him on the phone so I went back to the kitchen, slumping wearily down at the table, my head in my hands. This was awful. So awful. A week ago, we were happily planning our wedding, Jack and I . . . it was going to be the best day of our lives. But now, everything was up in the air.

Would there even be a wedding . . .

I heard Jack emerging from the study, so I sat up straight and pasted on a smile.

‘I was phoning Dad,’ he said. ‘I’m going to take some time off work and go and help them with their move. It’s happening next Friday so if I leave tomorrow I’ll be able to help with the packing.’ He paused. ‘Unless you need me here with you when you go to get tested?’

‘Oh.’ I stared at him in confusion. Jack’s parents lived near Birmingham, hardly a daily commute. He’d be staying there. ‘No, if your mum needs you . . .’

Something occurred to me. ‘What about the Snow Ball, Jack? It’s on the Saturday night, the day after your parents’ move.’ Fen’s parents held a big Christmas party every year at Brambleberry Manor.

‘And?’ Jack was looking at me as if I was mad for even mentioning something so trifling.

‘You will be back for it, won’t you? Everyone’s going.’

I wasn’t sure why but it suddenly seemed really important that Jack and I should go to Marjery and Will’s Snow Ball together. As a couple. We’d always had a brilliant time in previous years and I longed for this year to be no different.

But Jack just shrugged. ‘I don’t know when I’ll be back. But more to the point, when are you going to see your GP?’ His eyes were boring into me.

I swallowed, looking away. ‘Well . . . I’ll phone tomorrow morning, like I said, and make an appointment.’ I swept some spilled salt into my hand, stood up and went to the bin. ‘They won’t do the tests straight away so you’ll be back by that time.’

‘They might do them straight away. And I want to be there for you when they do.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ I murmured with a shrug.

Stop pressurising me, Jack.

‘Honestly.’ I turned. ‘They’ll just be taking blood, whatever . . . I don’t know how it’s done . . . and we probably won’t get the results for ages.’

He looked at me doubtfully for a long moment. Then he sighed. ‘Just as long as you are going to make that appointment? Because we need to know whether you . . . well, we just need to know, Maddy. As soon as possible.’

‘Yes, yes, I know that. Tomorrow morning first thing. I’ll call the surgery. I promise.’

He nodded and for the first time in hours, his face relaxed a little and he smiled at me – a genuine, warm smile – although I could still see the worry in his eyes. ‘Right, let’s take this up to bed, shall we, and watch some TV?’ He picked up the mugs.

I nodded and tried to smile back.

He was obviously keen I should take the test immediately and I understood that completely. I’d feel the same if it was Jack’s health in doubt. I’d want to know one way or the other because otherwise, the waiting would be agony.

I was going to have to phone the doctor in the morning – I’d promised Jack I would – but already, I was dreading making the call. Because once that ball started rolling, it wasn’t going to stop until Jack and I were presented with the truth . . . and the thought of that was like a knife twisting in my stomach every time I thought about it . . .