Page 47 of Villa of Secrets

The phone rang again. She picked up immediately.

‘Rebecca, please don’t hang up,’ Naomi said breathlessly, nerves still apparent in her voice. ‘The court case has been brought forward. We’ve only got a short time left to prepare. Please say you’ll come over.’

‘Naomi, it’s difficult.’ She paused for a beat. ‘I don’t think—’

‘I realise I’m asking a lot after all that happened,’ Naomi interrupted. ‘I understand that, but this is very important, not only to us, but to the entire diaspora of the Rhodes Juderia. People are coming from all over the world – Canada, Australia, Israel – in the hope they will get their property back.’

Rebecca hesitated.

‘And Bubba’s desperate to make peace with you. Rebecca, I don’t know anything about your life. You’ve probably got kids, and it’s school-term time.’ Naomi’s words sliced through Rebecca like a knife. ‘Perhaps you have a job and it’s difficult to get leave. I understand all that. I’ve been there myself, but a lot of people are depending on the result of this case. It will set a precedent for the thousands that were mercilessly robbed, not only of their loved ones, but also of every stick of their possessions.’

‘I want to help, Naomi, I really do, but—’

‘Please, Rebecca. I’m begging you,’ Naomi said. ‘What could be more important?’

‘I, oh, Naomi . . .’ Rebecca choked on rising tears. ‘There’s a lot you don’t know.’

She heard Naomi gasp. ‘Good God, Rebecca! What’s the matter? What’s going on?’

Rebecca swallowed hard and found herself lost for words. Silence hung between them.

Naomi tried again. ‘Tell me, Rebecca. Something’s awfully wrong . . . I feel it. I’m sorry; I always imagined your life in London was how you always wanted it.’

Too anguished to speak, Rebecca took a breath. ‘I can’t talk about it right now.’ Suddenly, she wished Naomi was with her. She wanted to explain everything to her sister. Ten years of trying to conceive. The pain and the heartbreak of her miscarriages. The hope and the fragility of her current situation.

Naomi would understand. Again, she faltered, telling herself to keep calm. Breathe. ‘I’ll speak to Fritz and give you a definite answer tomorrow morning,’ she said before ending the call. She made a mental note to ask Naomi for her email address next time they spoke.

She decided to nail Fritz down, tell him she was pregnant at last. He seemed to be avoiding her, or was her imagination working overtime? Her hormones were all over the place, and he was still up to his eyes in the business. Things would calm down soon, he had promised, and then she hoped they’d take a holiday together.

Rebecca needed time alone with him, although if she were honest, she didn’t see a vacation happening in the near future. She had to tell Fritz, but it was like a jinx. She feared that when she told him, she would miscarry. There was no logical reason for her to think that way, but she couldn’t help it.

Her home life had become chaotic. She couldn’t concentrate. Each day she remained pregnant was an achievement and strengthened her chances of going full term, but also multiplied her anxiety. Her superstitions reached new heights. She wouldn’t open the nursery door or glance at the window of a Mothercare shop. Visiting the bathroom was an anxious necessity; she checked for signs of a miscarriage on every occasion.

Mealtimes became disastrous. Unable to concentrate on the simplest food, she double salted potatoes, or forgot the salt altogether. She had taken up yoga, spent hours doing gentle exercises, walking, or resting. Everything was connected to her state of health and her pregnancy.

To make life easier, she ordered meals online and had them delivered. She set the table with her best china, added a centrepiece of red roses, and made an effort with her hair and makeup.

Fritz arrived home that night with stress written all over him. Things hadn’t gone well at the office. His mood worsened when he discovered she hadn’t collected his suits from the cleaners.

‘Make sure you get them in the morning,’ he said at the dinner table. ‘We’ve got the reception to launch our advertising campaign tomorrow afternoon.’

‘Reception?’ Rebecca cried. ‘Oh Fritz, I’d forgotten!’

‘Rebecca, I just don’t believe it. You’ve nothing to do all day. I depend on you to take care of a few simple things,’ he said angrily as she served him Marks & Spencer’s moussaka.

‘Fritz, I’m sorry, really. The thing is . . .’ she hesitated, watched his eyes. He was bound to be thrilled. She blurted her news out, breathless and excited. ‘The thing is I’m pregnant, six weeks, and for some insane reason I can’t concentrate on anything.’

‘Pregnant?’ He dropped his cutlery and stared across the table, his anger giving way to disbelief. ‘What? I don’t understand. How did that happen?’

He didn’t appear thrilled at all.

She tried to talk about it but the right words escaped her and eventually she cried, ‘You’re always too busy . . . You’ve no idea how painful those hormone injections were, and everything was set up at the IVF, but you’re too busy to spend a little time with me these days. You couldn’t even spare me one hour of your precious life for such an important thing as having our own baby.’

He continued to stare at her. ‘But, we haven’t . . . Who’s the father?’

She tutted and huffed. ‘You’re not serious?! You’re the father, of course. You banked sperm, remember? Or is your head so full of the company merger that it slipped your mind?’ Her voice was corrosive and, too late, she regretted the sarcasm.

‘Rebecca, stop it,’ he cried. ‘You have no idea how impossible you’ve become! You’re obsessed with having a baby. The woman I married was fun to be with. She was glamorous, adventurous. She kicked off her heels and danced all night. People loved to come here, to dinner. You were the perfect host.’ He pushed his plate away. ‘Yesterday, a colleague asked if we’re still together. Can you believe that? It made me realise how much we’ve changed. It’s like we’re leading separate lives.’