Chapter Thirteen PRESENT DAY

Chapter Thirteen

P RESENT D AY

Madeleine had been solemn on the cab ride home, thoughtful, as she replayed the afternoon’s events and her conversation with Jimmy, unsure whether they had made progress or had regressed. She had swapped text messages with Marnie, who, unsurprisingly, was keen to hear all about her visit – of which she gave her a potted summary – and equally keen to detail how well Dougie was looking after her, even managing to cook a chicken and roast a couple of spuds.

I’M BEING SPOILED AND FEEL QUITE GOOD. RESTING.

Her final reply was short and sweet.

GOOD X

Walking through the busy London borough, the street where she lived seemed particularly noisy. This awareness, no doubt, following her afternoon spent cloistered in the quiet cottage on the towpath. The contrast was striking. The hallway echoed as she entered and the wide front door clanged shut. There was nothing soft or particularly cosy about the grand foyer and entrance hall and she wondered how she might soften the space. A project post-LA, whenever that might be. An image of a willow basket filled with wool blankets and that stunning green vintage log burner filled her mind.

Her apartment was in darkness, and in the dark she felt the mournful echo of loneliness. She switched on the lamp and walked over to the far wall. Garth had texted that morning to say that her Chantilly had arrived and that they would be painting it today, even though it was Sunday. He also let her know that Micky had put a can of Diet Coke in her fridge and a Dairylea triangle to replace the one he’d borrowed. On any other day, she might have found this funny. She cast her eyes over the fresh coat of paint and was only mildly satisfied by the rectification. Strangely, it didn’t seem quite so important now. She was after all going to LA soon enough and the flat would ring with the sounds of the new tenants, who probably, with hindsight, would neither care nor notice the particular paint colour. There were far more important things, she was discovering, than the perfection of her décor. Like dancing on a Sunday afternoon and reading stories on a comfy couch with a tummy full of home-made soup.

She was tired – overly tired. Her feet hurt, her back twinged and she felt the beginnings of a headache. It was as she ran the cold tap for a glass of water that the intercom rang. She ambled over, ready to direct another lost or befuddled delivery driver to a different apartment.

‘Hello?’

‘Madeleine.’ She’d almost forgotten the soothing nature of his tone and how much she liked him. She felt like crying at no more than the sound of his voice, which she hadn’t heard for a couple of days. Time enough, it seemed, for him to gather his thoughts and decide how he wanted to go forward.

Nico ... the very nice man.

‘Nico, hello. Please come up.’

She pressed the button to release the front door, wanting him to step inside before he changed his mind or any discussion could take place over the intercom. She was also nervous, wary of what he might want to say and how he might say it. This was a new position for her, one where a potential future love-interest was aware of her child, aware of Edith. She took a deep breath and opened her door.

Gone was the confident manner of when he had last set foot in her home. That glorious morning when he’d cooked breakfast and they had laughed and kissed as she sat on the countertop, and he’d pulled her back to bed for ten minutes before he absolutely had to leave to get to the office. This was different. His tread was hesitant, his skin a little pale with dark circles of fatigue looped under his eyes. He held back, unsure of his welcome, and she matched him, hesitant glance for hesitant glance. His reticence was sweet, endearing, and she felt it put them on an even footing, which was reassuring. There was nothing aggressive, assumptive, or resolute about his actions, suggesting he came without an agenda, and for this she was thankful.

‘Hi.’ She smiled nervously.

‘Hi. Hope it’s okay just to pitch up.’ His hands stayed close to his body, neither expressive nor reaching for her as they had before.

‘Of course, I’ve only just got back, but I’m ... I’m pleased to see you.’

He nodded and took a step further inside.

‘Would you like a drink, Nico? I’m going to have one.’

‘A cup of tea would be lovely.’

‘Just what I was thinking.’ She switched on another lamp in the kitchen and filled the kettle, a very different dynamic to his last evening here, when they’d guzzled wine and shed their clothes.

‘I nearly didn’t come. Right up until I knocked on your door, I nearly didn’t come.’

‘I’m really glad you did,’ she reiterated. ‘That text I sent you, the one saying, “happy” – I should explain.’

‘It was meant for someone else?’ he interjected.

‘Oh God, no, no!’ She grabbed two mugs and threw teabags into them. ‘I thought that you’d sent me some, erm, some flowers.’ She was embarrassed, as if this had been her expectation; naive at best and, at worst, assumptive. ‘Kind of like a forgiveness thing, or if not forgiveness then a “We’re good!” kind of thing.’

‘I see.’

‘But they were from someone else, obviously.’

‘From Edith’s dad?’

‘Jimmy?’ She pulled a face. ‘No, no, I don’t think he’s ever sent me flowers.’ She poured on the hot water, agitated the teabags with a spoon and opened the door of her scratched Meneghini la Cambusa to fetch the milk. ‘But he did make me soup today. Well, technically he’d made soup anyway and offered me some.’ She babbled as her discomfort at the topic guided her tongue.

‘Are you guys married, or were you? If it’s okay to ask.’ He licked his lips; his mouth sounded a little sticky with nerves. ‘I’m trying to piece together the ... situation. I mean, it’s none of my business, the detail, but I’m aware of how you spoke about clarity and the importance of it.’

She got the message loud and clear and picked up on his slightly irked tone, not that she had lied – apart from about being ill. It was more that she’d not confided in him, totally different, and why would she, after one measly date and one night spent together?

‘Of course it’s okay to ask. Shall we sit down and drink this while it’s hot?’ She handed him a mug and he followed her to the large sofa, which was still in semi-darkness. The soft light from the kitchen area was all she could cope with, thinking it would be easier to talk openly with some of her expression shaded – a privacy of sorts.

He took a seat in the corner where they had spent time together – chatting, sipping wine, and learning the shape of each other, as they spoke words full of promise and let excitement fuel their touch.

‘Don’t know where to begin really.’

‘Me either.’ She hoped this was some consolation, if not comfort.

‘I ... I guess I just wanted to see you, to say ... I don’t know ... just ...’ He sighed and looked towards the ceiling as if this was where the words might lurk. ‘I don’t know what to say now I’m here. Not sure how I should feel about it all.’

‘Well, the short answer is it’s nothing to do with you, not really. We’ve had one lunch date, one night together and a bit of flirtation. It didn’t really give me a chance to build up to giving you my history.’

‘And I absolutely understand that, but ...’ He paused. ‘I suppose, what I’ve found tricky, is that we did open up to each other, spoke about the important stuff, and you never thought it might be a good idea to mention you had a daughter?’

‘When would you suggest I did that?’ This was what she did, put up the screen, spoke in a blunt manner to keep all those feelings at bay. She was well practised.

‘I’m not sure, and I don’t mean unsure how I feel about you having a child, although I have to admit that’s a lot, I guess I just thought ...’

‘What, Nico? What did you think?’ She looked away, not wanting to see his expression of regret or disappointment. She had enough of that from Marnie.

‘I thought that we had a really good connection.’

We did . . .

‘I thought things were moving very quickly and in the right direction.’

They were . . .

‘I can’t remember the last time I’d felt so ... optimistic about another person, like I could fall for you.’

Me too . . .

His admission softened her hardened shell and she felt the warmth in it, as her guard dropped. A little.

‘I guess I thought that as we were being open about insecurities and other parts of our lives we don’t normally share, it might have been the perfect opportunity for you to drop into the conversation that you have a child.’

I wish it were that easy ... Only part of it is the existence of Edith. Far bigger is my inability to be her mother ... How attractive would you find the thought of a future with me then?

She took a sip of the hot tea. ‘I guess it’s not that simple, and you’re now being reactive, having had a chance to weigh up the information you have, but I wonder if your reaction would be the same had I told you earlier on, or if I’d “dropped” it into the conversation.’

He pulled a face. ‘I don’t see the difference.’

‘The difference is you’d be amazed how much less attractive some people can find others when they think there is a small child and an ex-husband in tow.’

‘You were married?’ His mouth opened.

‘No! I’m only saying that as an example! It’s all very well casting me as the baddie, but actually I’m just very protective of my story. It’s complicated.’

‘I think you’ve made it complicated, or at least more complicated than it needed to be.’

‘Oh, really? And what would Mamma Yannis make of the fact that I had a child? I can imagine that might not be what she wants for you.’

He stared at her. ‘Why are you bringing her into this? How on earth would you know or not know what she wants for me? This is about you and me, not my mother!’

‘You say that, but it’s actually about the whole family when there are kids involved. I should know.’

‘I don’t know why I came really.’ He put his untouched tea on the coffee table. ‘This feels unnecessarily hostile, a bit too involved. You’re very defensive. I didn’t think it was going to be this ... this difficult to navigate. It shouldn’t be, should it?’

‘No, Nico, it shouldn’t be.’ She put her hand on his leg. ‘Please, don’t go. Just ...’ She let her hair hang forward. The thought of him walking out now and not coming back left her feeling hollow inside. ‘I am defensive, because every single person who knows my situation judges me.’

‘Everybody judges everyone about everything! You’re not unique, it’s how people figure out how they feel about something. As I said, it’s not so much about the fact you have a daughter, but more how we could talk about childhood biscuits, even touch on parenthood, spend great time together, hint at meeting up in LA, and you didn’t trust me enough to open up. And I guess the thing I liked about you most, or one of the things, was how open you were. Or how open I thought you were.’

‘I’m pretty sure if, before we’d gone Dutch on our gnocchi, I’d mentioned in passing that I had a seven-year-old daughter, you’d have felt differently.’

‘Maybe, maybe not, but we’ll never know, will we? Because you didn’t give me the chance. And how did you see it playing out anyway? What were you going to do, hide her in a cupboard whenever I appeared?’

She removed her hand from his leg, put her tea down and crossed her arms. Where to begin? It was always going to be difficult, and something she had shied away from in the past, preferring to cut potential lovers loose rather than have to face it. Nico was different. She wanted to open up to him, felt it was worth the risk. Besides, he knew about Edith now; all she had to do was fill in the blanks.

‘I always intended to tell you, but I also knew it was a matter of timing. And for your information, that was the ...’ She gave a small nervous cough; this admission she knew painted her in the very worst light. ‘That was actually the first time she had been to my apartment.’

Nico gave a short laugh. ‘Is that a joke? I don’t follow.’

‘It’s not a joke,’ she levelled. ‘That was the first time I had ever brought her here and she only came because my mum, who Edith lives with, who she has always lived with, ended up in hospital. It was a big deal bringing her here, I was really nervous and then, erm, she spoke to Jimmy, her dad.’

‘He seemed nice.’

She chose not to remind him that this was a word he felt to be insulting and mediocre, confident that Jimmy was neither of those things.

‘He is. Edith spoke to him and decided she’d rather go home to his house, and just as he arrived to pick her up, you appeared on the doorstep. And that was that.’

‘Why has she not been here?’ He looked confused and she more than understood.

‘Because I don’t look after her. I never have. I don’t see her that often. I’m more like that aunty who pops up on occasion and brings fabulous presents and then disappears again until Christmas.’

Her cheeks flamed at the admission, and she saw his eyes widen in response. She had told him of her quirks, her oddities, but this was by far her biggest: the fact that, unlike most other women she knew, she had given up the care of her child for freedom. And it was a freedom she loved. What she hadn’t banked on was that it came with a side order of loneliness and a dressing of regret.

‘I don’t understand.’ He held her eyeline, his expression suggesting he did indeed want to understand, and that felt like a good place to start.

‘I didn’t know I was pregnant for a while – quite a while, actually. I was seven months gone when I found out.’

‘I thought women knew instantly.’

‘In a movie maybe, or if they’re experienced, or trying to get pregnant, but I didn’t have any of the usual clues and I was naive really in some ways – just starting out. At least, that was how I felt, still learning so much about myself, my body ...’

‘It must have been a shock.’

‘That’s an understatement. I thought the best thing, the best solution for me, for the baby – for us all – was to have her adopted.’ She saw him bristle.

‘Really?’

‘Yup, really.’

His tone, his face, his demeanour, all judging her in the way she could have predicted. It was, she had discovered, almost impossible not to. Her gut folded with nerves as she carried on. It was getting easier; the more he knew, the more she felt able to say. And she wanted him to know everything, figuring it would either give him all the information to allow him to walk away, or to fully understand if they were to stand any chance at all.

‘I didn’t know how it would feel being a mother, but I did know that I didn’t want to be one. I knew it wasn’t a life for me.’

These were almost the exact words she had used when she had told Trina of her pregnancy.

‘As soon as I mentioned the word “adoption” to my parents, to my mother specifically, she leaped at the chance to have her. It was almost a given. The only option, as it was presented, was to let the baby live with them. She set fairly stringent rules – some of which I can see were well intended and have proved to be the best, like always being honest with Edith, agreeing that any lack of transparency would only lead to heartache further down the line.’

‘It doesn’t sound ... easy.’ His eyes crinkled in kindness, as if he understood the pain such an arrangement, such a secret, might cause.

‘It’s not.’ She cursed her desire for tears that sprang as she spoke, as if voicing it allowed her to understand it. It wasn’t easy, not at all. ‘I told you already that I grew up poor, yet my mum was also insistent that I didn’t pay them to raise their granddaughter, never wanting Edith to think they might have stepped in for financial gain. I’ve found this hard to abide by.’ This was the truth, especially when her salary had risen handsomely. ‘Not to offer assistance when I knew they might be struggling wasn’t an option, so I kind of found ways around it.’ She paid a generous sum into an account monthly with the explicit instruction that it was for whatever Edith needed or whatever they as a family might need to make their lives easier. She had no idea if her parents had drawn on it, recalling her mother’s thin-mouthed acceptance of the account card that Madeleine had forced into her palm; she certainly slept a lot better knowing that it was there. ‘My mum also insisted that I told Jimmy about the baby, which was difficult and odd.’ She thought about that night, sitting on the bench on the towpath where he had now created the most beautiful home. ‘We weren’t together. Hadn’t been for a while. It had been a fling, no more, and had ended months before. But as we’ve already established, he’s a nice man.’

‘That must have made everything easier.’

‘Definitely. I saw him and Edith today and it’s made me think ...’ She hesitated, wondering whether to voice her thoughts would draw him in or scare him off, not that it mattered either way, really; she was after all off to LA. Plus, the way he sat rather formally on the sofa, his whole demeanour changed, made her wonder about the point of him being there at all if reconciliation weren’t on the agenda.

‘Made you think what?’

‘That I ... I miss out. I miss out on so much of her. It makes me ask if I’m ready to be a mum, if I can be, in some way. More involved. Not that I really know what that looks like on a practical level, and it’s hardly an option as I’m off to LA.’

‘So what’s stopping you figuring it out?’ he asked kindly.

The thought of getting it wrong, knowing I’ll never be as at ease with her as Marnie or Jimmy. Feeling like I missed my chance, knowing I’d be on catch up, having to live with a decision I made while in complete shock with everyone watching me every minute since to see if I admit my mistake or, even better, how I try to fix it ... I’m paralysed with regret, with fear! Fear of getting it wrong!

‘That’s a good question.’

Nico looked at his watch. ‘I have to go, Madeleine. I’m off to Munich tomorrow – a ridiculously early flight – but I wanted to see you before I left. Didn’t want things to be uncomfortable for us.’

‘I think that ship might have sailed. I feel uncomfortable right now, don’t you?’

‘Maybe, a bit.’ She appreciated his honesty. ‘I guess I didn’t want me hightailing it up the pavement with a bottle of Tums to be the last you saw of me.’

‘So is this the last I see of you? Is that what you’re saying?’ She hated the disappointment that formed a ball in her throat.

He shook his head. ‘No, what I’m saying’ – he looked right at her – ‘is that I thought things were straightforward and I’m not sure they are, and so I’ll take some time to process it all and you should do the same.’

‘And you wonder why I didn’t immediately tell you about Edi—’

‘That’s not what I’m saying!’ he cut in. ‘This isn’t about her, but it’s obvious to me that you don’t really know what you want. You’ve just admitted as much. As I say, you need to figure it all out.’

‘Oh, is that all I need to do?’ She was aware of and embarrassed by her own flippancy; it was the crappiest of defences.

He took a deep breath that smacked of exasperation. ‘We need to be on the same page, that’s all. We need the honesty and openness that is so much more than just a hashtag. It’s the foundation. To everything.’ He let this hang.

‘I didn’t like lying to you.’

‘I don’t like lying to anyone,’ he countered. ‘And for the record, I’ve not felt ... not felt this way before, the way I did – do – or did, about you. So ...’

It was both confusing and exhilarating, his honesty. Devastating to hear, and yet her heart lifted in response to the fact that he had deep feelings for her, or at least he did. She decided there was no point chasing the topic round and around. She was already exhausted, and he was right, they needed time. Or maybe that was his way of ending things kindly.

‘It’s a good idea. We’ll take some time, process where we are at and maybe I’ll text you.’ She smiled, feeling nothing but regret at the thought of their fabulous flirtation with all its glorious promise that she really didn’t want to end. But right now, pulling up the drawbridge felt like the safest thing to do. Maybe he was right; she needed to figure her own head out first. No matter how painful.

‘Ah, yes.’ He stood. ‘And I know what to do if I want to follow it up.’

‘Thumbs-up.’ She stood too and made the sign.

‘Thumbs-up.’ He nodded, leaning forward to give her the gentlest kiss on the cheek. It could have been a holding kiss, a place marker for whatever came next, but to Madeleine, it felt very much like goodbye and she wanted to sink into the floor with the finality of it.

Having watched Nico leave, she scrubbed away the day with a hot shower, before falling into bed – alarm set, night cream slathered, silk pillow beneath her cheek. She thought of Edith curled in her fairytale bed and smiled, the image of her little girl enough to dilute the sadness she felt when she thought of how things had been left with Nico.

‘Sandra has a daughter, Chelsea, who is forty-eight ... It’s not funny! Chelsea has to do everything in that house!’

Her little girl was funny! The funniest.

She was still processing the incredible home that Jimmy had created, amazed that something so glorious could exist in the place that she had failed to see any beauty. It didn’t feel good, the way she’d left things with him. Picking up her phone, she fired off a text.

THANK YOU FOR A LOVELY AFTERNOON. MADS

Her phone rang almost immediately. It was Jimmy.

‘I was just thinking of calling when your text came in, but wasn’t sure if you’d be asleep already, didn’t want to disturb you.’

‘I keep laughing about Sandra.’

‘Honestly, the things that kid comes out with. She’s priceless.’ The pride in his voice was evident.

‘She is.’

‘I wanted to call you, Mads, because it was unusual for us to have a heated conversation like that, and it’s no bad thing, probably long overdue, but I wanted to tell you again that Edith is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. She made me want to do well, to be the best version of me and to get my shit together. I have absolutely no regrets and you shouldn’t either. I think we both do the best we can and I think we’ve always done the best we can.’

His words felt like a kindness she didn’t deserve and her tears bloomed accordingly.

‘There are things I would do differently now,’ she whispered. I am going to miss her more than I can say. I think I’ve always missed her ... but I haven’t let myself dwell on it because I didn’t think I was allowed to feel that way ... because I walked away ... all or nothing ... How she wished she had the courage to say this out loud!

‘But nothing you would have done differently at the time?’

‘No.’ It was that transparency thing again. ‘That’s the thing, isn’t it? We only do what we do and choose what we choose and then we’re given a lifetime to mull over those choices.’

‘Because when we are making those decisions, we don’t get to glimpse the consequences.’

‘Because we don’t get to glimpse the consequences ...’ She repeated this truth.

‘You should, erm, you should come to Marnie and Doug’s on Saturday. Doug’s invited us all over for a cuppa to cheer Marnie up, and of course she wants to see Edith before her surgery. It’d be good if you were there, to see your parents and see Edith before you go away.’

‘Yes, I’ll come.’

‘Edith will be pleased.’ He was smiling, she could tell.

‘So I guess I’ll see you there.’

‘Yep. Night, Mads.’

‘Night.’

She lay staring at the ceiling long after the call had ended. Dr Schoenfeld’s question danced in her thoughts.

Are you happy, Madeleine?

‘Am I happy?’ she spoke aloud. ‘Am I happy?’

Placing her hand on the cool pillowslip next to her, the one where Nico had laid his head before making her that glorious breakfast.

‘I don’t like lying either, Nico. Not to anyone, but especially not to myself ...’