December EIGHT YEARS BEFORE . . .

December

E IGHT YEARS BEFORE . . .

7.00 P . M .

Madeleine wanted to leave the flat. The sound of her mum alternately crying and then coming up with wild suggestions on how she would make the perfect substitute parent was doing nothing to aid her clarity of thought. The feeling of otherworldliness persisted; she fully expected to wake up at any second. Her dad kept stealing glances at her, as if seeing her in a different light, and it hurt her. She could cope with most things, but the thought that she’d disappointed her lovely dad; it was too much and felt a lot like the shine had fallen away from his image of her, leaving her in some way tarnished.

The way she and Trina had parted earlier preyed on her mind. Not only did hurt ripple through her, but what if her friend reached out to Jimmy and told him what she knew? What if that morsel of information was just too good not to share – not only a way to get back at her friend, balance the hurt, but also information that meant a discussion, a secret shared, a way to ingratiate herself with Jimmy? Madeleine now knew Trina had a soft spot for him, just as she had all the way through school, not that anything had ever come of it. And when Madeleine had bumped into him on that drunken night out, Trina was the last thing on her mind. She had figured that if Trina and Jimmy were ever going to be a thing they’d have made it happen in the intervening years. Plus, she and Trina had both harboured ridiculous crushes that had never materialised; it hadn’t felt like a reason not to let the gorgeous man whisk her off her feet for a while.

How’s that working out for ya?

This she asked herself as she crossed the footbridge over the A-road that led to the estate where Jimmy lived with his mother. Traffic thundered underneath. Juggernauts made the structure shudder. She paused for a second, staring headlong into the traffic, and allowing her eyes to go fuzzy in the dazzling glare of headlights. She felt herself sway and gripped the handrail.

‘Hello, mate – just off to visit me mum.’ She hadn’t seen the man approach from the other side, recognising the voice in the dusk as that of Bradley, Mrs Nelson’s son – their neighbours.

‘Hi, Brad.’

‘You all right, Mads?’

‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ She gave a weak smile.

‘Good.’ He carried on walking past with his newspaper tucked under his arm. ‘In that case, cheer up, love, it might never ’appen!’

Her heart hammered in her chest and she watched him leave the bridge, knowing it was too late; it had already happened. She looked back along the route she’d taken, still unsure if this was a good idea. The thought of having to tell Jimmy made her retch. The simple fact was she didn’t have the luxury of time. It wasn’t as if they had nine months to get used to the idea or endless evenings on their sofa, hand in hand with a fire smouldering in the grate and excitement fizzing in their veins as they discussed the joy of impending parenthood before examining their latest haul of cute baby clothes. Nothing like that. They were instead up against the clock. He just didn’t know it. No more than mere weeks until this baby was born, and in that time she had to wrap her head around the fact that she was pregnant, plan the next steps for her and this child, knowing one thing to be true: she did not want and was not ready for parenthood.

Madeleine had never been so nervous in her life as she walked the narrow tarmac path towards his mother’s ground-floor flat. This wasn’t her first visit. They had returned here one Saturday afternoon during their fling, his mother gone to visit her sister in Bromley. With the place to himself, Jimmy had cooked her a delicious nasi goreng – a Malaysian rice dish that tingled her tastebuds. They’d demolished two bottles of plonk, danced in the kitchen to hits of the eighties and had sex on the sofa, before pulling a throw over their naked bodies where they slept for the night. A memory flashed in her thoughts. That night ... she’d drunk too much, they’d had sex, she’d vomited – due to the wine, not the sex ... Could that have been the night that she conceived? Not that it mattered now, the end result was just the same. Plus, it wasn’t as if she’d ever have the conversation with the child about their conception. Oh, I was so sloshed I could hardly stand. Your father and I smooched to ABC’s ‘The Look of Love’ and I don’t remember the sex very well, but I know I spent at least ten minutes in the early hours with my face in your grandmother’s toilet bowl, ridding my body of contraception ...

‘You idiot, Edith-Madeleine,’ she whispered into the night as, with a trembling finger, she rang the doorbell. The hall light came on and she heard movement.

Her wait on the step felt interminable, her heart pounding, her stomach barely risen inside her jumper and words cued up on her tongue that felt like lies no matter how many times she practised them in her head. She looked along the path that ran across the low-rise block of flats. It was dusk, cold and the uniform streetlamps gave off an eerie glow that pooled on the damp pavement still slick from earlier rain. Her limbs shook and she felt light-headed with nerves as her breath blew smoke into the atmosphere.

Hi, there! Good to see you again. What have I been up to? Nothing much. Oh, by the way, I’m pregnant ...

Hey, Jimmy, remember me? Well, guess what? I’m pregnant!

Jimmy! Sorry for not calling you back. You won’t believe what’s happened ...

Jimmy, hi! So here’s a funny thing ...

‘Can you get the door, lovey?’ his mother, she assumed, called out. And there she stood, wanting the meeting to be over and hoping – praying – that he wouldn’t make things any more difficult than they needed to be, that he wouldn’t try to complicate an already complicated situation. His mother, who lived in the same postcode as her family, her accent like Marnie’s, sounded familiar, and her heart bunched for all she was bringing to her door – quite literally. The woman who had no idea she was about to become a grandmother – and maybe she never would. Who knew what Jimmy was about to say? How he’d react? Who he’d tell? Would he and Trina discuss it? Judge her? Again she shivered.

Jimmy opened the door and his face instantly split into that easy smile. He looked good, his straight, almost black, hair longer than she recalled, and it suited him.

‘Hey, stranger.’

He held her eyeline, his stance a little awkward, but there was no doubt he was pleased to see her. His face lit up at the sight of her – he shoved his hands in his jeans pockets, shoulders hunched, hair falling messily over his handsome face, self-conscious in the way that was hard to disguise when you liked someone and weren’t sure how to hide it.

‘Hi, Jimmy.’

‘It’s good to see you. Wow! You are, like, the last person I expected to see.’

‘It’s good to see you too. Sorry to turn up so randomly.’

‘No, it’s all good.’ His words were a green light, his way of telling her she was forgiven for whatever might have transgressed and how they had ended, opening a door that he was seemingly willing to walk through. ‘You wanna come in?’ He stood back against the wall.

‘Actually, can we talk?’ She pointed down the street.

‘Sure. Just nipping out, Mum!’ he called over his shoulder as he slipped his feet into boots that were unlaced on the welcome mat, before following her out into the cold of early evening. He walked in step with her and her heart sank as he initiated small talk.

‘So, what have you been up to?’ he asked.

‘Not much.’ Felt safest. She was aware it came across as rude, but all she wanted to do was buy time until she could come clean, get to the point, and leave.

It was the very last thing she wanted – to discuss the weather, football, his latest music craze, a party he’d been to, or plants. She remembered he had a thing about plants.

It seemed he got the hint, and they walked the four hundred metres in silence, until they reached the edge of the canal, made their way along the towpath, and sat on a bench that was lit by one of the old cast-iron Victorian streetlamps that were dotted along the path. There were some slats missing on the bench. The seat was slimy, damp. Not that she cared. She sat down hard. He followed suit. She had already figured it would be easy to talk openly if they sat side by side and she didn’t have to look him in the eye.

‘So,’ she began, ‘I need to talk to you.’

‘So you said.’ He stretched his long legs out in front of him and put his hands inside the kangaroo pocket of his caramel-coloured fleece top.

She exhaled.

‘You seem nervous, Mads.’

‘I am, a bit. A lot, actually, I’m nervous ... a lot,’ she stuttered.

‘Well, don’t be. We’ve known each other a long time and so anything you want to say or ask me, I can almost guarantee a favourable response, unless it’s a request for money. I don’t have a whole lot of that.’ He tried to make light of the situation, speaking in his slow, slightly intense way, that she had always found quite attractive.

‘It’s not easy to know where to start,’ she began.

‘So take your time. And for the record, I’m really pleased to see you.’

Oh God! It occurred to her then that he might think she was there seeking reconciliation or with the hope of picking up where they had left off. It was the jolt she needed to cut to the chase, to put them both out of their misery.

‘I came to tell you something – something that’s not very easy for me to say.’

‘Right.’ She felt him stiffen slightly beside her, as he sat up straight.

‘Oh, Jimmy ... God ... I’m just going to say it.’ She drew breath.

‘Please do.’ He licked his lip nervously.

‘I’m pregnant.’

‘Oh!’ He made a small noise that was part astonishment and part relief. ‘I thought you might be about to give me really bad news, like, “Jimmy I’ve got three weeks to live!” Or similar.’

She turned on the bench to face him.

‘Truthfully, I’m finding it hard to read your face.’ He toned down his enthusiasm. ‘I don’t know what to say next. Are congratulations in order? How do you feel about it? Are you excited, happy, scared? All of the above, I bet.’ She liked his honesty. ‘Are you being supported? I guess you’re seeing someone. How do they feel about it all?’

She realised they could go around the houses in this way for some time and decided to grasp the nettle.

‘It’s your baby, Jimmy. You’re the father.’

He laughed then, a nervous guffaw that saw him rock forward and then back.

‘Okay, you got me!’ He put his hands up. ‘Not funny! Not really, but very well done! Jesus, Mads!’ He placed his hand over his heart.

‘It’s not a joke.’ She studied his face and watched his smile slowly fall away.

‘Okay, so, I think we all know that school wasn’t really my thing.’ He coughed to clear his throat. ‘But even I know that we slept together over half a year ago, and so, by my reckoning, if it were true, you’d be very, very pregnant by now. So what’s going on? What’s this all about?’ He clasped his hands between his thighs.

‘I had no idea, none. But I can promise you I’m not joking.’

‘For real? You are honestly pregnant?’

‘Yes. I only found out today. I got a test this morning and then a scan.’

‘But ...’ His look of bewilderment was entirely relatable.

‘I know it’s a lot. It’s a lot for me too.’ And now for the kicker. ‘I’m seven months pregnant.’

‘You can’t be!’

‘I am.’

‘You don’t look it.’

‘I know!’ She pushed her fingers into her forehead, hoping this might relieve some of the pressure she could feel building. ‘I guess that’s why it didn’t occur to me.’

‘And you were on the pill?’

‘I was. I am. I was.’ She pictured the foil pack in her bedside cabinet, which was of course now redundant.

‘Then how? Mads, help me out here!’ His voice shook with emotion.

‘I was sick once or twice, and that can affect it. I’m still trying to get my head around it, but I thought you should know.’

She didn’t think it prudent to mention that it was actually Marnie who thought he should know, having to admit that right now there was no small sense of relief that whatever Trina chose to divulge, it was Madeleine who was in control of how the information was given.

‘It’s definitely mine? I don’t know if it’s okay to ask ...’

It was a fair question. They weren’t even a couple.

‘I haven’t slept with anyone since you,’ she admitted, and noted the lift to the corner of his mouth, suggesting the idea delighted him. It bothered her. He was not what she wanted, not now. Not ever. He was what Trina wanted, and in that moment she felt a smack of remorse around her face at how she had hurt the girl she so loved.

‘Seven months! So that means you have the baby in ...’

‘She’s due on January twenty-sixth.’

‘She?’

‘Yes, a little girl. Do you want to see the scan picture?’

He nodded. She hadn’t shown it to her mum, understanding that if this child was possibly not going to be part of their family, aware of the huge undertaking and the slim chance that her parents might have second thoughts, then to see the image and start to bond with the baby would only lead to greater heartache when it came to saying goodbye. But with Jimmy, in that moment, it felt like his right. To see this baby they had made together.

Reaching into her jacket pocket, she pulled out the black and white photograph and handed it to him. It was the first time she’d seen it since she left the hospital that morning, finding it too hard to look at, until now. There she was. Intact, perfect, and coiled in her nest. The sight of her had a curious effect: tears welled up and clogged her nose and throat, spilling down her face, as she struggled to take a breath.

Jimmy skirted across the bench and took her in his arms, rocking her and whispering gently into her scalp. ‘It’ll all be okay. I promise, whatever happens, it will all be okay. Please don’t cry.’

His words were moving, his kindness no less than she had expected of him. He was wonderful. She could see how Trina was still smitten.

‘I’m scared, Jimmy. So scared.’

‘We’ve got this.’ He kissed the top of her head, and in that moment she understood that they might have very different ideas of what might represent a successful outcome when it came to this pregnancy. Even the vaguest suggestion that they were in it together was something she could not allow to foster. She felt the same level of wariness she’d felt when he gave her a picture of the cottage with a duck pond, suggesting they might live there.

He was undoubtedly the very best kind of human being, beautiful inside and out, but he was not what she wanted. Just like becoming a mother was not what she wanted. And being tied to a life that she had fought so hard to be free of was most definitely not what she wanted.

‘Nothing is insurmountable.’ He tried to reach for her hand and she folded her arms across her chest to keep them out of reach, leaning out of his grip, until he sat back on the bench. ‘You need to remember that no story is about how you start, Mads. It’s always about how you finish.’ His eyes were bright, as if a plan was forming, and it hurt her to hear. ‘You have no idea how happy I was to see you on the doorstep tonight. I’ve thought you about a lot. Like, a lot . And I think you’re remarkable and beautiful and funny and smart and—’

‘Please, don’t, Jimmy.’ She cut him off and sniffed the last of her tears. ‘There’s no point.’ Her were words harsh, direct and she knew the kindest in the long run. ‘Nothing lasts for ever. Nothing, Jimmy.’

He stopped talking and his head hung forward a little. ‘This might really be something for us! We were having such a good time – it was brilliant! You sabotaged a really good thing. A really good thing,’ he whispered. ‘You just stopped answering your phone, disappeared! And now this’ – he flicked the photograph into the palm of his other hand – ‘this could be something wonderful. A baby!’

‘You just don’t get it, do you?’ She turned to face him, he looked right at her, and she was forced to face the situation head on. It was every bit as difficult as she had imagined. ‘It’s only ever a really, really good thing if two people feel the same, and I didn’t! And I don’t, Jimmy. I don’t want any of this!’ She brushed her stomach with her palm. ‘None of it. I just want to pick up with my life as if this had never happened. I’m on track to achieve all the things I want. It’s my chance to live an incredible life. I don’t want to be a mother and I don’t want a baby, not now – maybe not ever, but definitely not now! I can’t and won’t do this. I can’t keep her. I want someone else to have her.’

‘Adopted?’ His face crumpled, and she thought for a terrible moment that he might cry.

‘Yes. Kind of.’

‘Jesus Christ!’ He put his hand over his mouth.

It seemed obvious to her in that moment; the solution that Marnie had suggested came even more sharply into focus. It meant the baby would be brought up close to him, close to her if that was what she wanted, to know her a little, to loiter on the edges of her life like a really good auntie or friend, and yet she would be free. And what she wanted more than anything was her freedom.

‘Or maybe something less formal than adoption to strangers. My ... my mum and dad said they’d take her, bring her up. And you’d know where she is if you wanted to see her occasionally, or not, I don’t know. I’m just making this up as I go along, Jimmy, it’s all ... new.’

He stared at her, eyes narrowed, as if seeing her for the first time, and judging by his expression, what he saw wasn’t to his liking. It made her feel small.

‘I can’t imagine thinking there’s only one option – one life and that’s the path you have to follow, no matter what. I believe life drops boulders in our way and we have to find a way to climb over them, or go around them, or tunnel through them, but sometimes they are the very best things – these surprises that pop up – because they help you find a new route or they help you look at the world in a different way.’ He paused. ‘Would my mum and I be as close if my dad had stuck around? Probably not. Things happen, and even though they seem like the end of the world, often they’re not. They might just be the obstacles that bring you more joy and fulfilment than you knew was possible. That to me would be an incredible life.’

‘Well, that sounds like some deep hippie shit to me and confirms that we are very different people. I’m a lot more practical, Jimmy. I don’t think anything lasts for ever and that’s why you have to grab opportunity when it comes along.’

She pictured Rebecca walking away from her desk, having offered her a chance ...

‘I couldn’t agree more.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I guess the only difference is what we define as an opportunity.’

‘Not this.’ She pointed to him and then her chest. ‘Not us.’

‘Well, you’ve made that very clear.’

‘Don’t you want more?’ She gestured behind her to the blocks of flats that towered above them and stole their horizon.

‘I think’ – he paused – ‘that I don’t want more necessarily. I only want enough, and I know that enough will make me happy. But as you said, we’re very different people.’

He stood then, his eyes roving her face, taking in every bit of her. It felt a lot like goodbye and there was no denying the jump in her gut at the thought. They were, after all, now irrevocably connected. Or maybe it was simply her little one reacting to their daddy as he left. He tried to hand her the scan picture; she shook her head – he could keep it. When he next spoke, his tone was steady, his manner calm.

‘I’ll do whatever you need or want me to. I will be as involved or as absent as you think is right. I want to be involved, but I will take your lead.’

She let out a long sigh of relief. He wasn’t done, however.

‘And you’re right, Madeleine.’ He spoke with an unmistakeable note of sadness as he turned to walk along the towpath. ‘Nothing lasts for ever. But I always figured that we don’t need a love that lasts for ever – we only need it to last for our lifetime. And even though it’s you who is calling the shots, I would like this little girl to know that I’ll be here for whatever you need, whatever she needs, whenever she needs it. Always.’

Love? It was the first time he’d used the word and it struck her like a tiny knife in her chest. It was as she considered how best to reply that she looked up, and he was already walking away.

The man who was beautiful inside and out, the man her beloved best friend had always loved ...