Page 66 of An Island in the Sun

‘You’re very much alike, you and Raff. Free spirits. Raff has never followed the norm. He escaped his parents the first opportunity he could, although they pushed him away from a young age. He’s confided in me over the years, but his reluctance to come back here put paid to the closeness we once had. They had an epic falling out a few years ago – I think I told you about Cordelia and Rufus accusing him of stealing, but I don’t know the whole story and they certainly don’t confide in us. I’ve never broached the subject with Raff because he’s rarely returned since his parents drove an even bigger wedge between them.’ She shrugged. ‘You probably know far more than I do… I, er, assume you and Raff are, um, together?’

‘It depends on what you mean by together?’

‘Romantically involved.’

‘After last night, yeah.’ Tabitha couldn’t help but grin at Julie over the top of her wine glass. She took a large swig to cover her embarrassment.

‘Oh!’ Julie said, her cheeks flushing. ‘I’m so happy for you. For you both. He’s quite a catch.’

‘He is indeed, although I’m sure it’s nothing that’s going to last beyond my time here—’

‘Oh you don’t know that.’ Julie frowned and clasped her hands on the table.

‘I wasn’t looking for a relationship – I’d escaped from one. A bit of fun I can handle. I’ve never craved getting married or even being in a happy long-term relationship, what my parents or my sister and her husband have. What you and Anton have.’

Julie dropped her gaze from Tabitha’s and glanced away.

‘Did I say the wrong thing?’ Tabitha touched her arm.

‘No, you didn’t.’ She looked back at her. ‘I’m being silly. Anton and I are happy enough.’

‘You don’t sound that sure…’

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Julie shook her head. ‘I see other couples our age and wonder how they manage to keep the spark alive.’

Tabitha was starting to worry about the direction the conversation was going in. Advice about love was the last thing she’d be able to give.

‘Anton and I are friends first and foremost, we always have been, that’s how our relationship started and then we fell in love and got married.’ She sighed. ‘But over the years the passion has faded.’

‘Surely that’s normal?’ Tabitha said while thinking her longest relationship hadn’t lasted four years, so what did she know.

‘Perhaps. We loved each other – we still do,’ Julie stressed, ‘but both of us expected our lives to be different. I know I certainly did. I thought children would be a part of our future, yet despite trying everything we possibly could to have a child of our own, it wasn’t meant to be.’

Tabitha was at a loss as to what to say. Her heart pounded, the upset of what she’d been through the summer before grinding away at her insides, something she’d been trying hard not to divulge to anyone. The enormity of what Julie had confided left her fearful of saying the wrong thing. She had some understanding about the emotional fallout not being able to conceive had. She remembered Elspeth’s heartache when she and Gethin had struggled to conceive Olivia. It was obvious from Julie’s demeanour, pursed lips, slight clenching of her fists and the way she avoided eye contact that it was an emotion she still struggled with. Yet when Tabitha thought about it, she did know what to say, not because she understood on any level what Julie must have gone through, but because she’d experienced something of what Julie had – that hope, however brief, when she’d come to terms with her pregnancy that was so cruelly and unexpectedly dashed.

Tabitha found her voice. ‘That must have been incredibly difficult, to not have a child when you wanted one so badly.’

‘It was. We went through so much, with five rounds of fertility treatment, both in the UK and Portugal – the strain on our marriage, well, on everything, financially, emotionally, physically, was hard to deal with and to keep having a disappointing outcome…’

The way she said ‘disappointing’ made Tabitha sense it was a whole lot more than that. Her tone suggested it was devastating, and yet she was obviously trying hard to keep it together. Tabitha reached for Julie’s hand and held it, wanting in some small way to comfort her, knowing she had no words that would.

‘IVF was hard enough,’ Julie continued, ‘and the absolute disappointment of a fertilised egg not being viable is impossible to explain, but what hit me hardest was the treatment being successful twice.’ She pressed her lips together and her knuckles tensed white around the stem of her wine glass. ‘I got pregnant twice but miscarried both times.’

The word startled Tabitha. She tensed, her hand involuntarily squeezing Julie’s. The statistic of one in four pregnancies ending in miscarriage was a stark reminder that she wasn’t alone in her grief, yet she’d clammed up over it, not wanting to talk about it, not wanting to share her heartache, unable to put words to the jumble of confusing and surprising feelings after her own miscarriage, even to those closest to her.

‘What did I say?’ There was concern in Julie’s voice as she clasped Tabitha’s hand.

The heartache that had toyed with Tabitha over the last year, hitting her when she’d least expected it, sucker-punched her in the gut. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks.

‘I’m so sorry.’ Tabitha swiped angrily at her face. ‘After everything you’ve been through and here I am crying like this.’

‘You should never apologise for letting out your feelings. And there must be a reason for it?’

Tabitha sniffed, feeling foolish for her upset and thankful for Julie’s kindness. ‘It was the other reason I escaped – actually, the main reason.’ She breathed deeply. ‘I had an early miscarriage just over a year ago. I was only about seven weeks along.’

‘Oh Tabitha, I’m so sorry.’ Julie gripped her hand tighter.

‘The thing is, unlike you, I didn’t want to have a baby. My first reaction to seeing that positive pregnancy test wasn’t joy or even nerves, it was utter devastation because I already knew that Lewis and I weren’t right for each other.’

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