Lambkin

5. Cambridge

No honeymoon for the Solomons. Our wedding night was lovely - the storm eventually calmed down and we were able to have a night walk on the beach after we consumed our union properly - but it already feels like it was ages ago, a sweet memory...

I shake my head and open the box on the table. Mum sent me new curtains for Cambridge's house that I have yet to hang up. I'm a little worried to leave her alone in London but she insists she'll be fine. I guess with the maid Alfie hired for her, she's not really alone...but still, I've never been so far from her for so long.

Cyril is sleeping on the rug, snoring as usual. He's getting bigger by the day, and louder! I stop to pet him, scratching him between the ears, then drag a chair to the window. I climb on it, the curtains folded in one arm, and reach out for the bar. Those windows are so high! I put my right foot on top of the back of the chair, secure my balance with my hand against the wall and climb up. I unhook the bar and try to slip the curtain on it. It's not easy with one hand but-

"Fucking hell, love," shouts Alfie's voice from behind me.

I start, Cyril barks excitedly, my foot slips, the chair tilts, I try to catch myself, the bar falls on my head, I whine in pain and find myself on the floor. Alfie is already grabbing me and pulling me up. He's barking too, calling for Ruth, my maid.

"Don't yell at her," I say, rubbing my sore bottoms. "It's not her fault."

Cyril is running in circles around us, leaping, his tail moving so fast it makes his rear wiggle. Ruth hurries in the room and picks up the curtain, the chair and the bar.

"Are you trying to break your neck?" asks Alfie.

"I wouldn't have fallen if you hadn't surprised me," I point out.

He stares at me, his eyes twitching. I give him a smile and caress his cheek to show him it's all good. Cyril pushes against my leg, I pick him up and laughs as he attacks my husband with tonguy kisses. He misses his Daddy as much as I do.

We leave Ruth and Peter - my butler slash bodyguard - deal with the curtains and enjoy a cup of tea in the back garden, watching Cyril chasing bugs and his tail. Alfie's hand is on my thigh, I play mindlessly with his rings - there's so many his wedding band is hardly noticeable - wishing this moment never stops.

That night, as we lay in bed, Cyril curled up between our legs, Alfie's arm around me, his hand on my belly, I find myself wondering...No matter how hard we try, I can't seem to become pregnant. Alfie hasn't said anything about it yet but surely he must be thinking about it.

My friend Maggie is expecting her third child, my cousin Sissy just gave birth to her forth, even Ollie's wife is pregnant and they married a month after us! My doctor says I must be patient, that it comes easier for some than others. Since I'm an only child, it might indicate that, like Mum, I am from the latter...

I run my fingers along Alfie's arm, up and down to the rhythm of Cyril's snoring. There's a rough patch in the fold of his elbow, it feels like the lesions Mum had a while ago. At the time, we put it on the detergent we were using and changed it. The rash disappeared on their own. I make a note to myself to ask Mum if they changed their products again.

Alfie shifts and mumbles, a sign of another of his nightmares coming. I sit up against the head of the bed and pull him closer. I stroke his hair and rock him lightly until the bad dream passes. My heart aches all along.

In the morning we make love one last time before he leaves, God knows for own long this time.

*

September arrives in the blink of an eye and with it begins my first term at the university of Cambridge. My private teacher says I'll be fine but I'm not so sure. I was able to make some friends in the staff while I was working as Professor Jenkins' assistant but so far not so much with my classmates. It seems that being an overaged married woman - I can't say which is the worst - makes me an outcast among the students.

Alfie is tremendously supportive and has made an effort to come every week for shabbat since mid August, after a period of irregular visits. Both Cyril - who's become too big for me to carry him - and I are grateful for that! As a matter of fact, Alfie should be here any moment.

I've sent Ruth to get some groceries and cook us a nice meal. Despite the stress of my scholarship, I feel jolly today. I'm late. It's just one day, but I think it's the first time it ever happens to me. I don't want to say anything yet, but I'm really hoping for good news.

I change into a nice dress, swirl in front of Cyril to ask his opinion. The mutt is spread all over the bed, his droopy eyes following me lazily. I laugh to myself and pet him. The sound of the door downstairs makes us both look up.

"Do you think it's Daddy?" I cheer.

Cyril runs down the stairs, his bum swaying like an exotic dancer. I laugh as I follow him. Alfie is hanging his hat and his coat when Cyril jumps at him. I watch them greeting each other, imagining what it could be like with a little boy in Alfie's arms. I think he notices my emotional state in my welcome home kiss.

We talk about university during dinner, Alfie is eager to know everything I've learned. He sounds excited about my interest in natural science and medicine. He jokes about me becoming a doctor.

"Well, maybe you'll agree to see one if it's me," I tease.

He chews on his meat, giving me eyes. He knows what I'm talking about. The rash on his arm is persisting and he won't do anything about it. The oil Professor Jenkins gave me should have helped, I suspect Alfie doesn't apply it everyday like he's been told.

After dinner, we head in the garden to enjoy the warm evening. Alfie sips his rum, I rest my head on his shoulder, Cyril's is on his laps. It's one of those brief but precious moments, careless, out of time. I close my eyes to let it impregnate all my senses.

When I open them again, Alfie's glass is empty, his gaze lost in the far. I offer him another one and go to the living room to fill his glass from the alcohol tray. I feel it on my way back outside. The familiar wetness running down. I freeze, my hand lets go of the glass that shatters on the floor.

I hear Cyril barking and the sound of his paws. Alfie calls out, asking if I'm all right. My nose tingles, my eyes fill up with tears. I hurry on the floor to pick up the pieces of glass before Cyril hurts himself on them. Ruth hastens to help me.

"Let me madam," she says, "you might cut yourself."

The dampness is spreading between my legs, I swallow a sob. Cyril arrives at my side, starts licking my cheeks. I try to push him away from the shards but I'm strengthless and his 50lbs are immuable. Alfie calls again, I burst into tears that Cyril laps as they fall.

"Are you hurt madam?" asks Ruth.

I want to scream "Yes!" I'm cold and shivering, my heart has sunk so low it feels like a rock in my stomach. I wrap my arms around Cyril's neck, bury my face in his fur and try to calm my sobbing. I know this is ridiculous, that I shouldn't have put so much hope in one bloody day of delay. Ha! One bloody day!

I hear footsteps coming, quickly dry my face, get up and put on a smile that fades the second Alfie sets his eyes on me. Cyril sniffs my groin, the smell of blood.

"I'm sorry," I say in a brittle voice.

I take a deep breath, straighten up before adding with a steadier voice:

"I'm sorry, I dropped your glass."

Alfie frowns, Ruth looks helpless. I run to the bathroom where I lean against the wall for a while, trying to catch my breath and calm my racing heart. I yank at the towel hanging next to the bassin, lift my skirts and harshly clean myself. I was never particularly happy to have my periods every month, now I simply despite them. I hate that body, that wasteland where no seed would grow.

Alfie comes in as I finish stuffing my panties with clothes. Cyril pushes past him and sits next to me, his body pressed against my leg. I bite the inside of my cheeks not to cry again when I see Alfie's eyes on the reddened cloth on the floor.

He doesn't say anything, steps up and pulls me into a hug. A sob forms in my throat, I wrap my arms tightly around him trying to swallow it. After what seems like a lifetime, he whispers :

"It's okay my love."