by Frances Pye
Slowly, she counted. “Mississippi one, Mississippi two…Mississippi fifty-nine, Mississippi sixty!”
The minute was up. She took off the cap.
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” she cried as she leapt about the room, waving the test stick in the air before looking at it again and then again, needing to confirm that it had indeed been positive. And each time she looked, the clear blue line was still there, in the right place. “I’m pregnant, I’m pregnant.” Jules jumped up and down with delight. Until a thought struck her. She stopped moving, put her hand protectively over her stomach, and sat down on the side of the bath. She shouldn’t be hopping around like this. It might hurt the child.
“I’m going to have a baby,” she said softly to herself, still finding it hard to believe. “A baby.”
Three
forty
Mara hustled the girls into their coats and out of the smoke-filled house. The wind was blowing from the north again. Worse, it had rained the previous day, so the wood was wet and the chimney, unswept for so long, its stack half fallen to the roof over the summer, couldn’t cope with the amount of smoke the fire produced when it was first lit. After a few minutes, once the flames had had a chance to take hold, it was fine, but until then they either sat around in clouds of smoke or took refuge outside. But there was little else she could do. Her free wood worked fine when the weather was good, but if it was rainy she needed to give it a chance to dry out before using it and she never could manage to do that. It was hard enough to gather sufficient branches for their immediate needs.
However, she had little choice but to continue. Moo and Tilly had a small storage heater in their bedroom for the coldest nights, but Mara didn’t have the money to pay for costly electric fires. Even when the cheaper gas heating had been working, she’d had to be careful with it or she struggled to pay the bills in winter. The free fires were a financial godsend, but they carried their own risk; there was always a chance someone would see the smoke and she would be arrested for burning wood in a smokeless fuel zone. She kept telling herself she was safe—if they didn’t have enough police to stop old ladies from being mugged in the High Street, they wouldn’t have an anti-wood-burning fires squad—but she couldn’t help worrying nonetheless. That would be all she needed, a criminal conviction.
Coughing, she wedged the front door open to get some fresh air blowing through the house and walked outside into the chilly October night to check on Moo and Tilly. There they were, huddled against the outside wall.
“Mum, Mum, is it okay now?”
“Can we go back in?”
“Let’s give it a few minutes.”
“I’m cold.”
“Me too.”
“Come here, then.” Mara put her arms around her two daughters. “That better?”
EVER SINCE Mara had seen the lawyer and heard his advice, she’d been operating more out of habit than anything else, going through the motions of everyday life whilst underneath, her mind struggled to come to terms with what Robin Heath had said she should do. She kept hoping she would find some other way out of her problems, kept praying every night to Jake to help her see some alternative, but her prayers remained unanswered.
She was going to have to get in touch with her father. A man she hadn’t spoken to in almost twenty years. Not since she’d fled the family house in Dagenham, near London, one icy night when she was just sixteen. Running from an arranged marriage to an elderly man.
The lawyer had said she could do with some close relatives. Aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents. And her family were all under her father’s iron control. Plus, she needed money. She was living on borrowed time with the chimney and she had just received a wake-up call. If nothing else, she had to get the central heating fixed. What if the Moores found out she was breaking the law and burning wood? They’d make sure she was charged and convicted.
Even if she wanted to continue running that risk, sooner or later the rest of the stack would fall, the flue would close up, and she wouldn’t be able to make her free fires anymore. With no way to heat the house, she would either have to run up an electric bill she would never be able to pay and so end up being cut off or be forced to ask Amy to have Moo and Tilly every night until Mara could find a solution to her problems. Not only would that not look good if the Moores insisted on going to court, but it would also mean Mara imposing on a friend who was far from well. And spending every night apart from her girls. Just like Mara’s own, Amy’s house had only two bedrooms.
Mara hadn’t thought about Shama Mattajee in ages, hadn’t even known if he was still alive. Until a few months ago, when she had seen an article about him in Metro, talking about his chain of electronic superstores, his luxurious house in an exclusive suburb of London, his millions in the bank. All proudly achieved without borrowing a penny from anyone. At the time, she had felt nothing more than a mild sense of disappointment—he didn’t deserve that kind of success—before dismissing it from her mind. But now it all came back to her and she couldn’t get the picture of his house, his cars, his money out of her head. He could afford to help her, if he chose to do so.
Could she go back now? Could she bring herself to beg for money and attention from the man whom she had first loved, then hated so much? Could she forget the way he had blamed her when she’d staggered home, a fifteen-year-old girl raped by a gang of youths? The way he had seen what had happened as his shame, a loss of family face rather than a devastating attack on a young and vulnerable girl? The way he had begun to shop her around to anyone who might take her as soon as it was clear that she was not pregnant? He hadn’t cared about age, prospects, financial situation, history, anything. All he’d wanted was someone to take her off his hands as soon as possible. And so wash clean the stain she had brought to the family.
He’d found that person in Anil Patel, a fifty-five-year-old widower with grown children, a thin, desiccated-looking man with a leering eye and wandering hands. And a yen for some juicy young flesh.
Apart from Mara’s younger brother, Roshan, who before Mara ran away had been occasionally—and secretly—supportive, her other siblings and even her mother all followed the line set by her father. Obedience was second nature to all of them. They were terrified of him. They shut Mara out, acted as if they also believed that she was something dirty, to be kept out of sight and then disposed of as quickly and quietly as possible. Mara was sixteen. Her family was everything to her. So, though she hated the idea of Patel slobbering all over her, she tried to go along with her father’s wishes.
She sat quietly while the old man pawed her, while the betrothal was agreed upon, when all the way through, somewhere inside she was screaming her refusal. That night, lying in bed, imagining how it would feel to have Patel next to her, his hands reaching for her, she knew she could never go through with it. She had to get away. Immediately. She wasn’t sure she would be able to hide her disgust for another minute, and once her father found out how she felt, he would make sure she had no chance of escape.
She waited until it was late, until everyone was asleep. Then she crept down and out of the house. When she paused at the corner of the narrow street on which she had lived her whole life, to take one last look back at the family house, she’d seen a figure leaning out of an open window, waving. Roshan. Softly he’d called out, “Good luck,” before quietly closing the window. And Mara had turned and walked away.
Her family had long since moved on. Her father had made a fortune from his electrical stores. Her brothers and sisters were all married, with their own kids. And all of them, even Roshan, had refused to have anything to do with her ever since she’d walked out that night. Mara’s father had forbidden it. She was to be treated as if she were dead. As far as he was concerned, she was. They had obeyed him, seemingly without question. To begin with, she had tried to contact her family, but had soon given up. Even Roshan, even her mother were too afraid of Shama Matterjee to have anything to do with her. And so she had tried her best to stop
thinking about them. First her friends and then Jake and the girls had become her family. Most of the time, she had been happy with that. When Moo was born, she had longed briefly for her own mother and attempted to get in touch, but she had gotten no reply to her letter and soon forgot her longing in the excitement and worry of her first baby. By the time Tilly arrived, she was too involved in her life with Moo and Jake to want anyone else. Her family had become as dead to her as she was to them.
But now it was time to try and bridge the chasm that had existed between them for nearly twenty years. It had been a long, long time. And they said that space, distance, and age transformed people. Perhaps her father had mellowed. Tilly and Moo were innocent of Mara’s own crimes against him; maybe he would want to help them, even if he were still furious with her. After all, he had always cared deeply about his family, if in a medieval, overly controlling sort of way. Yes, it was a slim chance—she never remembered her father changing his mind about anything—but she had to try. It was what Jake would want her to do.
forty-one
“To Jules.” Lily raised her glass of champagne and took a sip.
“And the baby,” Jules added.
“Of course. And the baby,” Lily agreed.
“Congratulations, Jules,” said Terry, buttoning her lip. Now was not the time to say anything. The baby was on its way, there was no changing that. And it was her job to be supportive. If she could. Hiding her feelings wasn’t one of her strong points—God, how much easier her life would have been if it were—but for her friend’s sake she needed to try and conceal her continuing worries about Jules’s plans.
“Jules and the baby,” Mara said, thankful that in the general melee of greetings and coat taking and the getting of drinks no one had noticed her being subdued.
“Us.” Jules was radiant, her happiness shining out of every pore.
“And I just want to say that none of this would have happened if not for me and my brilliant idea.” Lily smiled around at her girlfriends. This was what she had envisioned when she’d had her brain wave all those weeks ago. Each of them benefiting—well, three of them anyway—and none of them being hurt.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’re a genius, we all know.”
“Laugh all you like. But that baby is part mine.”
“I’m not laughing. Without you, there’d be no child.” Jules raised her glass of fizzy water to her friend. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I’ll never forget it.”
Lily blushed. “Hey, it was nothing. Thank Sean.”
“I will. But without you, he would never have done it. And done it so well.” Jules grinned. “Imagine, all that and potent too. Pregnant on the first try. Although I wouldn’t have minded having him again.”
“Well, there’s nothing stopping you.” Lily felt able to be generous. She was confident Jules wouldn’t go to bed with Sean again.
“Thanks. But no thanks. That might just complicate things. I’ve got what I wanted.”
Mara watched her friends discussing Sean, their lives, their scheme, and felt almost as if they were characters in a movie. Lily’s pride in her plan, Terry’s banter, Jules’s excitement barely registered with her. She was in a scary, isolated world of her own. Tomorrow she was going to make a surprise visit to Roshan in the hope he would help her see her father.
She’d been sorely tempted to back out of Jules’s celebration. She knew constant worry had rubbed her emotions raw and that there was a chance she’d break down if she were challenged in any way. It was going to be hard to convince her friends that all was well. But she’d left the girls with Amy and forced herself to go. The night was for and about Jules, not her. And she was delighted for her friend. So she had come, trusting to the occasion to distract the others from her lack of animation.
Terry searched for something to say to Jules that was suitably nonjudgmental. “So who gets to be godmother?” she asked.
“Me.”
“Ahh, Lils. I thought of it first.”
“But I deserve it. Me. Me. Me.”
“Calm down. You can both be. You can all be.”
“Yes.” Lily pumped her fist in the air. “I’ve always longed to renounce the devil and all his works.”
“I’ll do my best to be a good one. And that’s a promise,” said Terry.
Three faces turned to look at Mara. Who didn’t respond.
“Mara?”
“Didn’t you hear what Jules was saying?”
“Are you okay?”
“Sorry. I was dreaming.” Mara searched for something to say to explain her inattention. “I…I’ve not been sleeping well.” It was true, after all. No need to say why.
“Poor thing.”
“You do look exhausted, sweetie.”
“Are the girls all right?”
Mara looked at her girlfriends’ concerned faces and burst into tears.
“Mara?” Terry went over to her friend and held her. “Mar? What is it?”
Mara burrowed into Terry’s shoulder. “It’s nothing,” she said, sobbing.
“Like hell it’s nothing.” Lily sounded deeply concerned. It was not like her friend to break down like this just from tiredness.
Mara made a superhuman effort and managed to stop crying. It felt as if she’d only skimmed the surface, that if she really let go she’d be bawling for weeks. “It is. Tilly’s fine. Moo’s fine. We’re all fine. I’m just tired. Promise.”
Lily and Terry still looked doubtful, but Jules was prepared to take Mara at her word. If she said she was just tired, she was just tired. After all, everyone knew she didn’t lie. “What you need is some fun,” Jules suggested.
“Fun?”
“Yes, fun. It’s about time you gave yourself a present. And I have the perfect thing.”
“I don’t think…I’m a bit broke at the moment.” She could barely manage to buy the girls something for Christmas. She was hardly going to give herself a present.
“Ah, but this gift costs nothing. And it comes complete with hammer and nails.”
It took Mara a second or two to work out that Jules was talking about Sean. Then she was annoyed by the suggestion. Wouldn’t they ever give up? “No. I’ve said no. Why can’t you accept that?”
“Right. I agree. If Mara says she doesn’t want to have a part of Sean, she should be allowed not to do so.” Up until a few moments ago, Lily had believed that she wanted Mara to take part in the scheme. She’d been convinced that it would be the making of her, in fact. But as Jules mentioned it, she’d seen a flash of Mara and Sean together. Of Mara, beautiful, sexy, irresistible Mara, in bed with her lover. And she was shaken by just how much she hated the idea. No way did she want those two to get together. If Sean was once with Mara, what chance he’d return to her?
“Yes, Jules. Leave her alone, why don’t you?” Terry said. She was starting to feel uncomfortable about the way they were treating Sean. Though she’d always had some doubts, when she hadn’t known him, when she hadn’t realized what a great guy he was, when she’d been unaware of the tragedy in his own life she’d allowed herself to believe it was okay. A bit of innocent fun for them all. But now, particularly after the other night, it felt sort of degrading. Both to him and to them.
“But…but…” Jules was amazed by her friends’ reactions. “I thought we all agreed. Sean and Mara should get together.”
“That was then, wasn’t it?”
“Ages ago. Anyway, you can see Mara isn’t interested. We should stop pestering her.”
“I wasn’t pestering her. I was just suggesting. Like we agreed.” Jules looked from Lily to Terry, hoping for some kind of understanding. The last time she’d spoken to the two of them about it, they’d wanted Mara involved. What had changed?
“Don’t get worked up about it. I don’t want him. Please, please, will you believe me? I can’t bear all this pressure to join in. I’m fine as I am. There’s only one man I want and he’s…gone.”
“That’s absolutely ridiculous. I th
ink we’ve all had enough. It’s about time you were told—”
“How much we all care about you,” Lily jumped in to finish Jules’s sentence. She glared at her friend. Maybe the time was coming for Mara to find out the truth, but not now. Not unless they all concurred. And had planned it in advance. Now Mara was tired and emotional and not ready to hear that her sainted husband had been a complete shit. “We just want you to be happy, that’s all.”
“Yes. Happy,” Terry echoed.
Mara smiled. “I know. And I can’t believe how lucky I am to have friends like you all. Even when I ruin Jules’s celebration by crying over nothing, you still love me. Jules, forgive me.”
“Of course.” Jules couldn’t believe she’d been about to blurt out the truth about Jake. She’d lost control there for a moment. Maybe what they said about rampaging hormones was true? “I shouldn’t have pushed you. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. Only…can you all please leave it alone from now on? I promise you I don’t want him. Please.”
“If that’s what you want,” Lily said. “Of course.”
“It is. It is. Thank you.”
“Well, we’ve just seen one of the effects of single motherhood,” Terry said.
“What’s that?”
“You’re always, always tired.”
“I don’t care if I’m exhausted for the next eighteen years,” Jules said, smiling around at the group. “Am I really, really going to have a baby?”
“You are really, really going to have a baby,” Lily said, grinning back. “In about thirty-seven weeks and six days.”
“Yippee!”
forty-two
Sean stood outside the door to Jules’s little house. It was the first time he’d seen her since their two nights together. He’d spoken to her briefly, to congratulate her, but he’d been getting most of his information about her through Lily. He had to admit that he was nervous; he didn’t know how to treat Jules, what to say to her. They’d been to bed together—would you call what they had done an affair?—he was the father of her child, and yet they were almost complete strangers. A couple of dinners and two nights of baby making didn’t tell you much about a person. And they needed to know each other rather well. They were going to be mother and father. Sean had no intention of stepping on Jules’s toes, wasn’t expecting to move in with her or have joint custody or anything like that, but he wanted to be involved as much as possible. He yearned to spend time with a child of his own again, to have a new son or daughter to love.