Proserpina
The doctor had finally agreed to let me go back home. I was excited; God knows I was dying to meet my children. Every day we spoke for hours, at least, Ria spoke for hours, monopolising the conversation. Piers would finally, in exasperation, snatch the phone from her and talk. Claude would also be allowed to join in where he would blow me raspberries.
Claude was now beginning to say “Mumma ” in a clearer manner. So he would also be given his time. After that I insisted on saying Hi to poor Paddy who shuffled around in the background, looking shy and indecisive. Then, of course, there was Beatrice to greet and then Philippe, who would steal into the kitchen when he knew Beatrice was going to be talking to me.
Seeing them, the family who had been with me through thick and thin, gave me a sense of peace.
Watching everyone on video calls made me feel thoroughly glad that it was possible to view the person you were speaking to!
My children at home were waiting to see me and I suspected, to meet their siblings.
As for me, I wanted to be in my familiar surroundings again.
That and the knowledge that my friends were with me.
***
My dear friend, Rachel had also made it a point to talk to me.
She had seen me when I was a besotted eighteen-year-old, madly, crazily in love with Lucien Delano. Rachel had never held my lover in great esteem.
She had been the one who had formulated a plan to help me flee from him too.
She sensed that I was perturbed even though I had initially pretended to be happy.
Rachel was an environmentalist now and very well renowned for her views and her work in saving the rain forests. But she made time to talk to me, to look at the children and generally made me feel good.
“How is your macho husband?” Rachel had asked me earlier that day as she prepared to board the flight to Oslo where she was making a presentation. She was at the airport, flying out of South Africa but she had not wanted to miss our daily conversations.
“He’s …uh…good…” I said offhandedly, shrugging my shoulders. She studied my face.
“That’s it?’ she queried.
I nodded, my eyes sliding away guiltily from her all-knowing expression.
“That Mafia man has gone and put his massive foot in his mouth again, right?” she sighed.
I nodded miserably. But before we could continue our conversation, she looked around with a frown.
“My flight has just been announced, babe,” she said regretfully.
“But I shall catch up once I reach .” I smiled. We both knew how busy she was. But the thought that she had understood, was enough for me.
***
Brian was another person to whom I could open my heart to. A non-judgemental Buddhist monk now, he was the one who asked me about Lucien.
Brian, my friend from Bhutan, was more specific.
“What does Delano say?” he asked. I met his cool eyes, calm and serene. He was now sporting a shaved head and I could make out his maroon robes.
He was, after all, a monk in the order now.
The eyes behind the glasses were intent and sharp.
“He’s good.” I said but my voice lacked enthusiasm.
There was a pause. He said nothing. Then he went on, quietly.
“Some people take time. You have an old soul. And you are strong, very strong. Always remember that.”
I smiled through my tears for listening to him and his words had reminded me of the Mother who I had loved with all my heart.
I nodded, unable to speak, the lump in my throat too large for me.
He sighed. We sat in silence. I wept softly.
Finally, he said, “I will pray for you.” We cut the call but that night, I dreamt of the hills of Bhutan and felt calmer than I had in many days.
***
As for Lucien, he had not tried to talk to me after that disastrous day.
That is to say, he did come, every day but I lay with my face turned away, eyes closed till I knew he had left.
The first day he came and stood by my bed. I could sense his presence, but I refused to look at him. Cupping my cheek in my hand, I lay; eyes squeezed shut, and turned away from him.
I sensed rather than saw him clench his fists, but he said nothing. After what seemed like hours, he turned and strode off.
Since then, we had an unspoken arrangement. I would lie, looking the other way, ignoring him when he came. With a brief, almost tortured glance at me, he would go and stand by the cradles, silently but I could sense his joy.
He did visit the babes when they were taken for their check-ups, every day.
One of the nurses would sometimes hand him the babies one by one. He was generally accompanied by Danielle. But I ignored them on those occasions.
I had specifically asked Camilla to make sure that my husband did not disturb me when he visited the babies.
She had tightened her lips and agreed stonily. She was no great fan of my Mafia Boss husband.
If he was unlucky and Camilla was on duty, she would sternly study him, arms akimbo and refuse to let him come close to the babies. Lying on the bed, I felt a childish happiness.
I knew it was silly but…
***
Danielle and Aiyana turned up every day. The day after Lucien had flung his accusation at me, Schwartz turned up sporting a big purple bruise on his cheek, a black eye and a swollen jaw. When I asked, in alarm, what had happened to his face, he grinned ruefully and then groaned.
‘I walked into a large door, is all , hen”
It did not take a genius to figure out that the said Door had a name, Lucien Delano.
Schwartz had got into a brawl with my husband.