A Million Dreams

by Dani Atkins

  ‘I’m going to need to speak with Family X’s lawyer as a matter of urgency,’ he had declared, his voice grave. ‘This obviously changes everything.’ I had nodded emphatically in agreement, but when I saw the worried expressions on my legal team’s faces, I could tell we were on totally different pages from completely disparate books.

  Even William’s PA looked distraught as she led me back along the carpeted corridors towards the reception, making me feel like the only person in a cinema who hadn’t grasped the jaw-dropping twist of a film. I might have asked her to explain why everyone was so very concerned, but she was walking so fast it was all I could do to keep up with her.

  *

  I looked around me at the unfamiliar streets. I wasn’t exactly lost, more misplaced. I’d been walking for fifteen minutes and could easily have retraced my footsteps, but instead I crossed the road ahead of me and carried on. A few minutes later I found myself at the entrance to a city park. Hidden away behind the tall buildings, it was a quiet green oasis for local residents and sun-seeking office workers. The gates were pushed open as if beckoning me in, and it seemed rude to refuse the invitation.

  I hesitated for a moment at the entrance and then selected one of the grey ribbons of concrete walkway that meandered through the neatly mown grass. I walked with no destination in mind, happy just to feel the warmth of the sun against my back and a light breeze lifting the hair from my neck. I shared the pathway with red-faced joggers, dog walkers carrying unmentionable plastic bags, and mothers holding wobbly-legged toddlers by the hand. I also shared the pathway with my memories. Our early visits to the clinic, when we were still reeling with the news of Tim’s diagnosis, were a place and time I rarely revisited. It was a time overshadowed with fear and although neither of us admitted it, we both knew we were banking on a future we might not have.

  During the last six weeks, since I’d learnt about the clinic’s mistake, I’d focused only on the error and the injustice, allowing those feelings to sweep me up and carry me along on a destructive riptide. But today, for the first time, I focused on the miracle that somewhere out there, a part of Tim still lived on. He wasn’t gone… He was still here. All I had to do now was find him.

  I’ve never believed in guardian angels, but someone out there was trying to help me; why else would I have been sent that card? And perhaps they’d sent me here too, to a park I never knew existed, in an area I didn’t know well? Nothing is random. There’s a reason for everything.

  The path bent like a dog’s leg up ahead, and as I rounded the corner the peaceful sound of birdsong was drowned out by an excited swell of young voices, punctuated by shrill blasts from a whistle. I lifted one hand to my eyes, using it like a visor to cut out the midday glare as I looked towards the football pitch. Twenty-two enthusiastic children, wearing bright yellow polo shirts, were careening up and down the field, while their teachers ran along the sidelines, bellowing out cries of encouragement. I’m not a football fan. Tim once joked he’d grow old and die before I ever understood the offside rule. His words had been horribly prophetic. But this was different. This felt so much like a sign that I even glanced skywards, as though looking for celestial confirmation.

  I stared at the pint-size players on the pitch. How old were they, I wondered? To my inexperienced eye, they looked about the same age as my nephew Aaron – which would make them about the same age as Noah. He could be among them, I realised, he could be right there in front of me and I wouldn’t even know. I was wondering what would happen if I called out his name to see if anyone looked up, when a name rang out clearly through the park. It wasn’t Noah’s, it was mine.

  I spun around and saw Liam Thomas standing in a pool of sunshine, his suit jacket looped on one finger, hanging casually over his shoulder. ‘Beth,’ he said again, ‘I thought it was you.’ I glanced back almost longingly towards the football pitch before crossing the grass to reach the man who had a peculiar habit of turning up in my life just when he was needed.

  ‘Hello, this is a surprise,’ I said.

  ‘It is,’ he confirmed, bending low and grazing my cheek with a fleeting fly-past of his lips, so light I barely felt their touch. Even so, it took me by surprise. We were still in that weird no man’s land, somewhere between formal handshakes and kisses hello. Or so I’d thought.

  ‘Weren’t you supposed to be meeting with Bill this morning?’ he asked.

  My face must have registered surprise that Liam was familiar with my appointment schedule with his colleague. Was that why his cheeks suddenly took on a pinker hue, or was that simply due to the heat of the day? It really was quite warm.

  ‘Something came up… and William cut the meeting short.’ It still didn’t feel right calling him Bill, but that wasn’t what brought the furrowed lines of a frown onto Liam’s brow.

  ‘Is there a problem?’

  I gave a small, helpless shrug. ‘I don’t really know. I didn’t think it was a big deal, but then everyone acted like it was a real game changer.’ I sighed. ‘So now I’m just confused – and unexpectedly free in the middle of the day.’

  I winced inwardly the moment the words left my mouth, because they sounded embarrassingly like I was angling for company, and then winced again as I realised that wasn’t so very far from the truth. Fortunately, Liam didn’t appear to have noticed, although he was looking genuinely concerned. I had to keep reminding myself that he was a senior partner in the firm handling my case. Obviously, he had a vested interest if we’d just hit a bump in the road.

  ‘Someone sent me an anonymous card, revealing the name of my child.’ A sudden suspicion grew from a minute seed to a fully fledged conviction in the space of a heartbeat. Liam’s position in the company would certainly give him access to the case files. Was he the one who’d taken pity on me and decided that I deserved to know the gender of my own flesh and blood? It suddenly seemed to make perfect sense, but would asking him outright put him in an impossibly awkward position?

  ‘Hmm,’ Liam said, and even though I was studying his features for a clue, I couldn’t read a single one. Never ever play poker with this man, I told myself; he was totally devoid of even the tiniest tell. ‘Well, that could definitely complicate things.’

  You did this, didn’t you? asked my eyes.

  His own had deepened almost to the colour of charcoal in the sunlight. I have no idea what you’re talking about, they replied.

  ‘Why does it complicate things? It was going to come out anyway, wasn’t it?’

  Liam drew in a long breath before asking: ‘What did Bill say, exactly?’

  ‘Not much. Although Edward Patterson mentioned talking urgently with the other party’s lawyers.’ As much as I tried not to, my voice never failed to grow colder whenever I spoke of the mystery couple who’d received our embryo.

  There was clearly some inner conflict going on within Liam. I could see it in the small grooved lines between his brows and the tightening of his lips. He reached whatever decision he’d been battling with quickly and decisively.

  ‘Walk with me,’ he said, his words falling somewhere between a request and a command. I fell into step beside him, although after a few minutes of inconsequential chatter I began to think he’d changed his mind about discussing the case after all.

  ‘There’s a mobile lunch wagon a little further on. They do great sandwiches and baguettes – it’s where I was heading when I saw you.’ Liam looked at me, as though seeking encouragement. ‘We could grab something to eat and find a quiet bench somewhere to talk?’

  My head was asking if we couldn’t just cut straight to the talk, but was overruled by my stomach, which couldn’t quite get past the promise of great baguettes. I’d waited this long for information; I could surely hang on for a few more minutes?

  On the walk to the sandwich van Liam took a firm hold of the conversation, steering it steadily onto neutral ground. He certainly seemed to know the park well, and pointed out several landmarks as we passed them, including its oldest tr
ee and an oversized modern sculpture in the shape of a pear.

  ‘I come here a lot with Sally,’ he explained. ‘Although her habit of stopping to smell every single tree is a bit time-consuming.’

  I looked at him blankly for a moment, wondering who the hell he was talking about, before suddenly remembering the cute photo on his phone of the Jack Russell terrier he’d shown me six weeks ago. It felt like another lifetime.

  ‘Ahh, your dog. For a moment I thought you were talking about a nature-loving girlfriend.’ I liked the sound of Liam’s laughter; it had a depth and richness to it that made me think of soulful saxophones playing in intimate jazz clubs. Tim would have liked the musical analogy.

  Liam’s eyes were still smiling, which was at odds with the confession on his lips. ‘No girlfriend. Not now, not ever.’

  It was a conversation stopper, but fortunately we’d arrived at the mobile sandwich van, and all I had to worry about for the moment was selecting one of the freshly made baguettes, which looked every bit as good as Liam had predicted.

  While Liam took charge of the cardboard tray holding our drinks, I carried the bulging brown paper bag containing the food. We spotted a vacant bench and crossed the grass to claim it. The wooden slats felt warm against my back, but as pleasant as it was sitting in the sun enjoying an impromptu picnic, there was really only one thing I wanted to talk about. I managed only half of my lunch before returning to the topic that was monopolising my thoughts.

  ‘The card that was sent to me…’ I began hesitantly.

  ‘The one giving you your son’s name?’

  The plastic drink cup was halfway to my lips, and froze there. ‘I didn’t tell you that I had a son. I never said it was a boy’s name.’

  Liam’s eyes held mine, but as hard as I tried, I couldn’t free the secrets locked in their depths. He was far too skilled at reading mine, though.

  ‘It wasn’t me, Beth. I’m not the person who sent you that card.’

  ‘But you knew it was a boy,’ I challenged.

  There was a small flush on his cheeks. He reached for his own drink, buying himself time to formulate an answer. ‘I admit I may have taken more of an interest in this case than I’d normally do.’ He took a long sip and then set down his takeout cup carefully, as though the manoeuvre required all of his concentration. ‘It presents a fascinating legal conundrum.’

  ‘Oh.’ My reply was heavy with disappointment. Perhaps that’s why Liam unexpectedly declared: ‘Damn it. That’s not the truth… Well, it’s not the whole truth. I feel… invested… in this case. Invested in its outcome and what happens to you.’ He looked strangely confused, and I don’t think it was an emotion he was accustomed to feeling. ‘I feel like we’re connected, you and me, by the things we’ve lived through and the losses we’ve experienced.’ There might be only two shadows falling onto the grass beside us, but it definitely felt as though there were now four people sitting on the park bench. Perhaps there always had been.

  ‘I’ve read the case files,’ Liam admitted. ‘I knew that the child was a boy, but I truly didn’t know his name. I’m not the one who leaked that information, Beth. Professionally, that would be really irresponsible of me.’

  I nodded, finally believing that he wasn’t my mystery benefactor. ‘But why is it so bad that anyone has told me?’

  Liam spoke with slow deliberation, as though carefully selecting each word before using it, to test its suitability. ‘Any leak of confidential information can damage a case. The biggest challenge with yours, beyond the uncharted legal precedents, was always going to be keeping it out of the media for as long as possible. It’s naïve to expect that the story would never break, it’s far too newsworthy, but Bill’s hope was always that he wouldn’t have to make a public statement until after the case had gone to court.’

  ‘But wouldn’t going to the press strengthen my case? Wouldn’t getting public sympathy actually help me?’

  Liam’s eyes, which had looked almost charcoal in the bright sunlight, burned now with something that looked like sympathy. ‘It’s impossible to say, Beth, but I know Bill was very worried that Family X’s case might strike a more poignant chord. His fear is that it would strengthen their claim and maybe weaken yours.’

  16

  Izzy

  My day unravelled slowly, like a pulled thread on an old cardigan. And I unravelled right alongside it.

  A wedge of sunlight had found a gap in the curtains and was falling across my pillow. I rolled over leisurely and reached for the alarm clock, wondering how much longer I had until it went off, only to discover it should have woken me an hour earlier. ‘One job. That’s all you have. One bloody job,’ I reminded the useless piece of technology as I catapulted out of bed.

  Not bothering to slip on a dressing gown, I raced across the hallway to wake Noah, and collided straight into the solid wall of Pete’s bare chest as he emerged from the bathroom. Droplets of water from the shower were still speckled like dew across his torso. Some transferred to the skimpy vest top I was wearing over a pair of briefs, my standard sleepwear when the weather was too warm for pyjamas. For one ridiculous moment, I almost crossed my arms to cover my semi-nudity, as if he was a lodger instead of the man who’d seen, touched and caressed practically every last centimetre of my body – even the bits of it I didn’t particularly like.

  We were only two weeks into our new living arrangement and there were still some major kinks that needed ironing out. Clearly, organising some sort of rota for the bathroom was going to have to be a priority. The days of Pete shaving while I showered, or brushing his teeth while I soaked in the tub, belonged to a past we’d never again recapture. I missed them.

  ‘Where’s the fire?’ Pete asked, his eyes doing an involuntarily sweep upwards from my pink-painted toenails to my cheeks, which were fast turning the same colour.

  ‘Overslept,’ I mumbled, stepping around him like a roadblock and hurrying to Noah’s bedroom. I had less than thirty minutes to get a sloth-like eight-year-old ready for school and out the door, but that’s still no excuse for the way I snapped at him when I saw he was already awake and surrounded by a colourful sea of Lego pieces scattered across his mattress. In his hands was the model he and Pete had been working on together the night before.

  ‘Noah, what on earth are you doing? We’re late!’ My exasperation was out of character, and I hated the way it wiped my son’s cheerful good-morning smile from his face.

  I stepped into his room and immediately trod on a particularly evil piece of Lego, which must have fallen from the bed. Its sharp edges punctured the soft skin of my sole and I swore angrily, teaching Noah a brand-new word to impress his friends with.

  ‘Mummy swore,’ snitched my son, just in case Pete hadn’t already realised I was now in training for the ‘Worst Mother of the Year’ award. He must have been standing right behind me in the doorway, because I could feel his breath fanning the exposed skin on my neck right beneath my ponytail when he spoke.

  ‘Yeah, pal. But you know the rules about clearing up your stuff.’

  Noah slithered off the bed in that curious boneless way that only those under ten seem able to achieve. ‘And she shouted,’ he muttered under his breath, managing to sound both shocked and indignant at the same time. ‘I’m very disappointed.’ It was the first time he’d used my preferred expression of reproach back against me, and at any other time, on any other day, I would probably have laughed. But not today.

  ‘Mummy’s got a lot on her mind right now, big guy, so why don’t we go easy on her for a bit?’ Pete suggested reasonably.

  My eyes prickled uncomfortably with guilt and gratitude. I was in the wrong here – all three of us knew it, and yet Pete was still defending me; still on my side. I flashed him a small, grateful smile.

  ‘Why don’t I go and fix his breakfast while you get yourself ready?’ he suggested, taking charge in a way that reminded me so much of all that we’d lost, it just made me sad.

  ‘What kind o
f things are on Mummy’s mind?’ I heard Noah asking as they descended the stairs. There was a familiar giggle, which I knew meant Pete had pulled one of his funny faces, the kind that always made Noah crack up.

  ‘Just silly grown-up stuff,’ Pete replied, his voice fading as they headed towards the kitchen. ‘Nothing for you to worry about.’

  I had the world’s fastest shower and joined them in the kitchen just as Pete was directing Noah back upstairs to get dressed for school. I stopped in the doorway and pulled our little boy in for a hug, which he tolerated for longer than he probably wanted, just to please me. ‘I’m sorry, sweetie,’ I whispered into his sleep-tousled hair, before gently pushing him towards the stairs.

  ‘I’d better go with and keep him on task,’ said Pete, squeezing past me. We were chest to chest in the narrow doorway and I was enveloped in a cocktail of aromas that woke up far too many sleeping memories. My nose twitched as it isolated his aftershave. It was one I’d bought, and Pete used to save it only for special occasions. It was the fragrance of anniversaries, birthdays, and date nights, and it saddened me knowing he’d now downgraded it for everyday use.

  A cup of coffee was waiting for me on the marble patterned worktop, and as I reached for it I caught sight of the slim white envelope I’d left propped up against the tiles. Within it was one of those ‘silly grown-up things’ I’d spent half the night worrying about. Despite her promise to keep the costs as low as possible, Frankie Burrows’s first bill was very probably going to empty out my bank account.

  Pete had turned to leave, but paused and looked back at me with an awkward uncertainty on his face. ‘Er, I won’t be back until very late again tonight. I’m not sure if you want or need me to tell you that kind of thing anymore.’ I turned to face him, leaning back against the kitchen units with what I hoped looked like casual interest. We were living in a curious no man’s land. We were back together, sleeping under the same roof, but in different rooms. The chasm of the narrow upstairs landing was our own Grand Canyon, separating the double bed we used to share from the single one in the spare room Pete now occupied.