It was over a week since the barbecue. Since then, she had been holding her breath. Waiting for a knock on the door, for bailiffs, for strangers to come and take her things. Afraid to go out in case she came back and the locks had been changed. She had considered moving back in with her parents every day for a week, but was still here. Rahul assured her that between their families, the debts were paid off to a manageable level, at least for now. He’d promised to go to Gamblers Anonymous, however much shame it brought. She knew she would always be watching him, wondering when he’d slip up. That kind of problem was like a sickness, it didn’t just go away. But for now, they’d witnessed a murder and not been involved, they’d swerved away from danger at the last minute, and Rahul had been leaving his phone in the other room for most of the day.
She held out her arms. ‘I’ll take him.’ How funny it was, to look at this virtual stranger holding their baby in his arms. Maybe they hadn’t known each other very well to begin with, but they had this little boy now, and that meant they were locked together forever. That meant she had to find a way to make it work, for the rest of their lives.
CATHY
When Cathy’s mobile buzzed, Hazel gave her a quick look, and Cathy was reminded of what she’d forfeited – the right to ever hide her phone, to casually receive messages, to keep secrets, perhaps forever. Cathy was washing the dishes after their dinner of couscous and tofu, and had to take off her rubber gloves to read the text. ‘It’s the police,’ she said quickly. ‘Jax and Aaron are cleared. They’re not going to charge Chloe, in the circumstances.’ The day before, she’d finally told the entire truth, what she saw happen on the balcony, the decision to protect Chloe – protect them all, really – by saying it was an accident. After all, Cathy had a motive to kill Nina too, didn’t she? Nina had guessed her pregnancy was more advanced than she claimed, and one word to Hazel would have been enough to bring her life crashing down. Of course, that had happened anyway.
‘Wow. I hoped that’d be the case, but you never know.’ Cathy wasn’t sure why Hazel had so readily agreed to lie about what happened on that balcony, pretend they hadn’t seen who’d pushed Nina. For her, it was self-preservation. But Hazel? Perhaps it was just kindness, to save ruining the life of a teenage girl. Hazel was a kind person, under all the bluster. Cathy had to remember that, and hope she’d be forgiven one day.
‘It’s over then, I guess.’
Hazel reached past her to take an apple from the fruit bowl. ‘I suppose.’ The murder enquiry was over. But was it over for them? Would the lie she’d told be between them always?
‘So . . . that’s good.’
Hazel weighed the apple in her hand, then half turned away towards the living room. ‘Just one thing I want to know,’ she said.
Cathy’s heart quickened. ‘Oh?’
‘Will you ask Dan about his medical history, his family and so on? Same as we did with the donor?’
She had already promised she would never speak to Dan again, had deleted his number while Hazel stood over her. Dan might protest, but what could he do without blowing his life up, his marriage? It was harsh – Cathy felt the loss as a constant ache in her chest – but it was the only way. And she understood what Hazel was saying with this question – I will accept what you did, I will fold it into the dough of our relationship. I will think of him as a donor only, not as your lover. ‘I’ll have to talk to him to do that,’ she ventured.
Hazel nodded. ‘Just the once, and no more.’
‘Of course.’
Hazel moved towards the door. ‘That Scandi drama’s on tonight.’
‘Great. I’ll just finish these and we can watch it?’
‘OK.’
And that, it seemed, was that.
KELLY
She was grateful that someone at the police had taken the time to tell her the investigation was over, but it still meant she somehow had to get on and live the rest of her life with no baby and no boyfriend. Funny. Just two months ago she’d felt weighted down by her life, stable and secure for the first time ever. Now she was single, alone, not a mum. Now she could do whatever she wanted. She’d already been looking into courses at the local uni; she kind of fancied doing something like what Nina had done (not that Nina actually had any qualifications, or was even using her real name). Counselling. Listening to people when they were desperate. Helping women who’d lost babies, and still had to go out and about in the world haunted by the ghost of someone who didn’t officially exist.
Kelly was thinking about all this as she got home to the little flat, with the empty spaces where Ryan had taken his stuff. She knew she couldn’t really afford it on her own, especially if she went to uni. She was vaguely thinking she might leave London, go somewhere cheaper. She’d be far from her mum and family, but on the other hand, she’d be far from her mum and family.
As she got to her door, it was already dark, and she was taking her keys out. When she saw the shape detach itself from the shadows and move towards her, her heart was in her mouth for a second, and it was a shock to realise she could feel something other than sad. Even fear made a change. ‘Ryan?’
‘Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.’ He was wearing his Sainsbury’s uniform, his shoulders hunched. Her heart gradually slowed to normal.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Got a text off the police – case is closed.’
‘Yeah, I know.’
‘Just wanted to check you was alright.’
Was she alright? Would she ever be alright again? Her baby was gone, and she knew she and Ryan were done as well. She was on the verge of a whole new life, one that didn’t include him. It was strange now, to look at him and think how close they’d been, how she’d carried a child that was half him and half her. ‘I will be. Will you?’
He shrugged. ‘I’m sorry for what I did. Losing my temper. I just – I wasn’t ready for a kid. Doesn’t mean I’m not sad about him.’
‘I know.’ The sadness would always be there, the imagined feel of a small hand in hers as she walked down the street. But she was only twenty-two – to the women in her group, that was nothing. There was ten years, fifteen years, to think of having kids. There was a whole life to live in between.
Kelly took out her keys. ‘Come in for a cup of tea,’ she said, and she knew it was the last time she’d ever see him.
ANITA
She and Jeremy got the text at the same time, as they sat on the sofa watching the latest BBC crime drama. Now that she’d been up close to a murder herself, she’d seen how silly it all was. How much of police work was mundane, or just sad rather than mysterious. ‘Chloe did it! Goodness me, she’s only a child. Pushed her right over, apparently.’
‘I did wonder how she’d managed to fall like that.’ Strange how little attention she’d paid to the murder that had taken place in front of them, so consumed had she been with the loss of Victoria. There had never been a Victoria, she knew now – there was a baby, yes, but she would be called something different, be brought up in a trailer in Alabama instead of in their nursery. And after all, Nina had been rather unkind to Anita, with her comments about adoption. It was sad, of course, that she’d died, but . . . it wasn’t all that sad.
‘So what now?’ said Jeremy, his finger hovering over the remote control’s play button. ‘Do we . . . I mean, would you want to try local adoption?’
She thought about what they’d been told. Only older children, only damaged ones. Behavioural issues. Trauma. She looked around their lovely cosy house, the well-chosen pictures, the vinyl stack, the hand-woven blankets on the sofa. ‘Oh, Jeremy, I just don’t know. Life’s not so bad, is it? Without a baby?’ She thought of what she’d seen in the group. Monica’s manic perfectionism, Jax’s postnatal misery. Kelly’s terrible loss. The tension between Cathy and Hazel and Rahul and Aisha, the unequal division of labour. The loss of sleep, loss of bladder control. She looked down at her flat stomach and shiny-clean house.
‘So what will we do
?’ said Jeremy.
She took his hand. ‘How about we take some time off. A holiday, maybe, just for us. Somewhere kids aren’t allowed.’ They could drink cocktails and sleep late and do all the things you couldn’t with a newborn. And think. And see how they were after that.
Jeremy said, ‘Alright. Why don’t we shelve it for now?’ As if it was an academic meeting.
‘Right. Just a bit of time to think. See how we feel.’
‘Fine by me.’ His arm went round her, solid and sure, and after a few more moments, he pressed the remote and the TV show began to play again.
CHLOE
‘Will you be OK in here, love?’
Sam’s mum was so sweet. Sure, they only had a small house, so Chloe and the baby would be sharing a box room, but they were kind to her. They cared. And she was allowed to have Isabella – Issy, she’d decided to call her – with her. That was all that mattered really.
The police had been nice to her, considering she’d confessed to pushing a woman off a balcony. There’d been a lawyer, paid for by Ed, she assumed. The police had asked a lot of questions. Had her mother pressured her to pretend Isabella wasn’t hers? Yes. Had she felt Isabella and Hadley were in danger from what was taking place on the balcony? Yes, probably? She didn’t entirely know what she’d felt, it had all happened so fast. Had she thought Nina was a danger? She hadn’t even known who Nina was before that day, but she’d seen her pushing Jax then going for the baby, and she had acted. She hadn’t known Jax either. Just that she was a woman with a baby, and in that way they were alike. The police had allowed her to go home after that, except not to her actual home. She wasn’t sure she’d ever go there again.
‘I’m fine, thank you.’ She smiled at Sam’s mum, snuggling into the double bed that filled the small room. Sam was in the bathroom, cleaning his teeth, and soon he would come to say goodnight. Since they were only fifteen, the social-services people said they couldn’t share a room, but that was OK. She didn’t know what would happen to them in the future, but for now at least she had her baby. Issy’s warm scented head was under her chin. Chloe had claimed her now as her daughter, and the social worker had said she never had to see her mum again if she didn’t want to. Her dad was flying over from Hong Kong to look after her, and apparently he hadn’t abandoned her all this time, it was just her mum running interference as usual. Chloe couldn’t wait to see him, and hear about the new baby brother or sister her stepmum was expecting. It was OK. It would all be fine.
MONICA
‘Do you really have to?’
Ed was looking around the kitchen, vaguely patting the overnight bag on his shoulder (Louis Vuitton, £1,958). ‘I can’t imagine a way back from this, no.’ She had lied to him about being a dad at his age – that was what seemed to sting the most. Not cheating her daughter out of a baby and tricking him into marriage. The affront to his manhood. ‘Have you seen my iPad charger?’
‘In the kitchen.’ She’d like to see him last five minutes without her subtle organisation of his life.
‘I’ll be in touch about . . . the legal side, and so on.’ Meaning he’d made his mind up, and it would be divorce rather than reconciliation.
‘I’ll get the house, you know.’
Ed shrugged. In his income bracket, you didn’t let petty worries like that hold you back from doing whatever you wanted. He was still supporting his wife and children from his first marriage, after all. ‘Get yourself a lawyer, Monica.’
‘Oh, I will. Don’t you worry about that.’
He bowed his head slightly, and with one journey back because he’d picked up the wrong set of car keys, he was gone. Monica stood alone in a five-bedroom house that had recently held her daughter, her husband, and her granddaughter, who she had almost convinced herself was her daughter too. Now she had no one. A brief pang went through her – she’d staked everything to get Ed, and lost. How humiliating, that everyone, and especially Thomas, would know she’d had to lie her way to a proposal. At least the police had stopped their irritating investigation, and Chloe wasn’t going to be charged. And Nina . . . well, when it came down to it, she hadn’t been a very nice person, had she?
She spotted a fragment of grass on the marble floor, and stooped to pick it up. Her eagle eye scanned over every surface, but could find nothing amiss. Her new cleaner was good, and of course Chloe wasn’t here with her endless mess, not to mention the baby dribbling and throwing food. Perhaps some time apart would do them good, make Chloe realise Monica had only ever tried to help her, give her a better life. Monica sighed, and put her shoulders back. At least now her house would actually be perfect, and if the rest of her life wasn’t, well, there were always ways to cover that up.
JAX
Turns out there is very little ceremony to being cleared of a crime. They come in and unlock your cell, give you back your clothes, then you sign a form and you can walk free. Free. Somehow, I had been so close to a murder I wasn’t actually sure if I was guilty of it or not, and still walked free.
Aaron was standing in the car park, Hadley in his arms. They’d let him go before me, since his DNA had not been on Nina’s body. I shuffled towards him. A night in a cell coming after birth, and two weeks of hellish motherhood, had just about done me in. For a moment I thought about running away from both of them, these dependents I’d strangely acquired. Get back poor Minou, who’d apparently been living with Nina’s neighbour under the humiliating name ‘Bootsy’, and pretend none of this had ever happened. ‘Are you OK?’ he said.
‘I’ll live. Here.’ I took the baby, because I felt better with her in my arms. She might have been a tiny millstone, but she anchored me down, at least. ‘She’ll need feeding.’
Aaron burst out, ‘Jax . . . can I come home with you? I hate being in the studio. Not just because it’s small, because I miss you. Both of you.’ He looked so miserable, I felt an answering sadness in my chest. ‘Also – I lost my job. I’m so sorry. I was just a mess.’
So I’d be responsible for supporting us all, assuming I wouldn’t get fired myself. ‘Aaron, I don’t know. After all this . . .’ His mother had been stalking us, had infiltrated our lives so thoroughly we hadn’t even noticed. We had watched as she died, and not saved her. I might have killed her myself if I’d had the strength.
‘Please. She was my mum, you know? No matter what she did. All these years I hoped I’d find her, and then I did and . . . she’s gone.’
I couldn’t bring myself to think of Nina – not her real name – with much sympathy, remembering the moment she’d pressed me back against the balcony edge, my feet lifting off the ground with her strength. ‘I know she was your mum. I’m sorry for what happened.’
‘They’ve said I can bury her now. If I want. My grandma’s still alive but . . . well. She doesn’t want to know, apparently.’
Poor Aaron. He’d found the long-lost family he craved, only to end up with nothing after all. Except for Hadley, the little girl squirming in my arms. His daughter. Could I really take that away from him, the chance to see her every day? ‘You didn’t believe me that something was going on all that time.’
‘I know, I’m sorry, it was just – you seemed so kind of . . . crazy. I’m sorry. I thought you weren’t well. And Nina said . . . well. And you didn’t tell me all of it, did you? The emails. Jarvis.’
It was true, I hadn’t been well. What now? The threat was gone, we weren’t going to prison, but where did we go from here? I eyed Hadley, this tiny little being who had hijacked my life. She was three weeks old. None of this was her fault. Something pattered on to her head, making her blink – I was crying. ‘Aaron, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m so scared and so . . . I can’t seem to bond with her. What’s the matter with me?’ My shoulders heaved as I stood hunched over the baby, but then I felt someone’s arm round me. A smell of Anais Anais released complicated feelings – love, resentment. ‘Mum?’ Of course, she had driven Aaron over.
‘Come on, Jax, we can’t have you
crying in the car park, can we. Let’s go.’ She began to lead me towards the car. She’d called me Jax, for once.
I was still crying. ‘Mum, I can’t do this. You were right. I was too old to have her, I, I, I just didn’t know how it would be.’
‘Nonsense.’ She opened the door. ‘I never said you couldn’t cope, did I? Go on, get in.’ She took Hadley from me and put her in the car seat, with efficient movements. I got into the front as I was told, blubbering pathetically.
‘Honestly, I can’t. I feel . . . Oh, I’m just not managing. I’m not, Mum.’
Mum met my eyes in the mirror. ‘Are you scared all the time? You sometimes feel like Hadley’s judging you, she doesn’t like you very much, that maybe she’s even plotting against you? The world seems suddenly full of darkness and horrors and nothing else?’
‘I . . . How did you know?’
She fastened the baby’s seat belt. ‘That’s how it was for me.’
Oh my God. After me, my mother never had another child. ‘Mum . . .’
Briskly, she said, ‘It’s alright, darling. They have good drugs now. We’ll take you to the doctor tomorrow, make them help you. It does pass, you know. The hormones.’
‘But I felt like this before she was born. It can’t be postnatal—’
‘Nonsense, it can start before birth, did you not know that? Didn’t you read the baby books at all, darling?’
I could hardly believe it, this new light opening up through the fog. That maybe the crushing fear I’d felt since she was born – before, even – wasn’t just something I had to deal with. That maybe something was actually chemically wrong and could be fixed. That maybe there was a way out of this.
Aaron was hovering outside, as if he didn’t know if he was welcome in the car. I wound down my window. ‘Come on, get in the back with her.’ I heard Mum sniff, but didn’t care.
‘Really?’ The haunted look on his face lifted slightly, and I wondered if I looked the same. Like someone given a last-minute reprieve. Like someone getting a second chance, and didn’t I know how that felt?
The Push Page 29