Inheriting Jack

by Kris Webb

  ‘I’ll do three nights’ babysitting if you come back with an ice-cream for each of us – and a date.’

  Even if my reputation wasn’t at stake, this was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. Three nights of free babysitting – surely that was worth a bit of humiliation.

  Slowly I pulled my purse out of my bag and dragged my feet towards the van. I looked back over my shoulder to see Patrick waving me on encouragingly. Rounding the van, I joined the back of the queue. I saw with a lurch of my stomach that it was indeed Grant’s van.

  The queue shuffled forwards disappointingly quickly and it was my turn.

  ‘Yes ma’am . . .’ His voice trailed off as he recognised me.

  In the fifteen or so years since we’d left school, Grant had changed from a gangly seventeen year old to a handsome, broad-shouldered man. His blue eyes had deepened a bit and he wore his brown hair fairly long and pushed back from his face.

  ‘Look, Julia, I’m sorry but I’m in the middle of the park. I haven’t come within two kilometres of your place lately, surely the music can’t bother your kid here.’

  ‘No, no. I – uh – actually came to apologise. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’ve only just started looking after Jack and he didn’t do much sleeping the first week. He’d just gone to sleep when your music woke him and – well, you know the rest.’

  I could hear disgruntled noises in the queue behind me.

  ‘That’s okay.’ He smiled. ‘You’re forgiven. So what’s the deal?’ he asked conversationally. ‘Do you babysit him?’

  I didn’t think the people behind me would put up with an explanation of the events of the last couple of weeks. ‘It’s a long story.’

  I could imagine the look of polite discomfort on his face when I asked him out and he had to tell me about his twins. I knew I couldn’t do it. I waved vaguely and stepped to one side.

  ‘Hang on,’ I lunged back towards the counter with sudden urgency. ‘I need three ice-creams.’

  ‘No problem.’ He filled the cones with soft serve and handed them over to me.

  I took a deep breath. ‘Ah, I don’t suppose you’d be free to catch up after work sometime?’

  He looked surprised and I braced myself for the rejection I knew I deserved. I vowed Patrick was going to pay for this. The family behind me had fallen silent. Obviously they didn’t often see their ice-cream man picked up by a customer.

  ‘Uh – yeah sure.’

  ‘Sorry?’ I started, having been fully expecting a negative response.

  He looked at me in confusion and I quickly tried to recover.

  ‘I mean, great.’ Now that I had actually asked him, I suddenly couldn’t think of anything worse. ‘Great,’ I repeated. ‘Well then, I’ll call you, shall I?’

  He smiled. ‘You could do that. Or we could meet tonight.’

  I started to mumble something about being busy until I realised that I was going to have to deal with this sometime.

  ‘Ah, yeah okay.’

  ‘Right, well . . . I knock off at five. How about I meet you at Luxe at six?’ he suggested, naming a local bar.

  ‘That sounds good. Well . . . I’ll see you then.’

  He shook his head when I handed him a ten-dollar note. ‘You can buy the drinks tonight – the ice-creams are on me.’

  By the time I reached Patrick, a feeling of triumph had replaced the humiliation. I offered Patrick’s cone to him with a smug smile.

  ‘Ha! I have four words for you. Tonight . . . Luxe . . . six o’clock. Hope you didn’t have any plans.’

  He stared at me. ‘You’re lying! There’s no way you asked him out!’

  I ignored him. ‘I need to call in my first babysitting credit. I’ve got a date.’

  EIGHTEEN

  ‘How could you have dared me to do such a thing, Patrick?’ I demanded.

  I didn’t give him a chance to respond. ‘Because of you, I now have a date in half an hour with someone I haven’t seen since I had a corkscrew perm.’

  The flush of success I’d felt at meeting the dare had disappeared before we’d even left the park. Rather than wild and exciting, I now felt certifiable.

  ‘I haven’t seen this guy in more than a decade. How did he end up selling ice-cream anyway? He could be some kind of weirdo by now.’ I was warming to my theme. ‘I bet he preys on helpless mothers who buy ice-creams for their kids. If you think about it, it’s the perfect cover.’

  Patrick didn’t seem at all remorseful. ‘It’s not as if you’re meeting him in a graveyard at midnight. And besides, you were the one who asked him out – not the other way around. Pretty tricky for a serial murderer to arrange that.’

  I had to concede that point.

  ‘You’ll be in a public place. You’ll be fine.’

  After seriously considering standing Grant up, I decided I had no option but to go. To ‘face the music’, as Patrick had said with a grin, lacking any sympathy for my predicament.

  I felt slightly guilty about Tony, but decided that was one thing I didn’t need to fret about. Although I hadn’t asked for it, Patrick had given me what he called ‘the view from the other side of the fence’ and his measured opinion was that Tony wasn’t keen.

  ‘Contrary to what women think, the length of time between calls isn’t important – it’s what days they happen on that counts. If a guy doesn’t call for three days, it might just mean he’s been busy at work, but if he hasn’t called over a weekend, you’re history.’

  Although I pretended to ignore my brother’s brutal honesty, I thought he was probably right. If there had ever been anything going on between Tony and me, there certainly wasn’t any more.

  Besides, it wasn’t as though I was going on a date with Grant. We were just catching up for old times’ sake.

  Reluctantly I left at ten to six, having fed and bathed Jack in record time. His bottle was ready to go and I was pretty confident that as long as Patrick remembered Harold, everything should be all right.

  ‘Bye.’ Patrick waved cheerily as I headed down the path.

  I pulled up across the road from the bar at two minutes to six. Unless he was sitting inside, he wasn’t there yet. Sighing, I stepped out of the car and locked it. How did I manage to get myself into these situations?

  I’d give him fifteen minutes and then leave, I decided, taking a seat at one of the outside tables. As I did, Grant walked around the corner. Exactly on time.

  ‘Uh, hi,’ he said, looking down at me.

  ‘Hi,’ I managed in response. ‘Ah, do you want to sit down?’

  He sat and put his hands on the table edge. Self-consciously he moved them to his lap, then back to the table edge.

  ‘Look,’ I blurted, ‘I don’t know what came over me this afternoon. Contrary to what you probably think, I don’t usually pick up men in parks . . .’ My voice trailed off. ‘So, what I’m saying is that if you’d rather give this a miss, that’s okay with me.’

  ‘What, and have nothing to tell the other ice-cream van guys tomorrow morning? No way!’

  I laughed for a couple of seconds too long, having no idea what I’d say when I finished.

  ‘So,’ he said when I finally stopped. ‘It’s been a long time.’

  ‘Yeah, about fifteen years.’

  Grant nodded. ‘Whenever I hear a Phil Collins song I think of you, so I guess that dates us pretty badly.’

  I was still struggling with the concept that I featured in Grant’s thoughts at all, let alone in relation to Phil Collins, when he spoke again.

  ‘Do you look after kids for a living?’

  ‘Sorry?’ It took me a moment to follow his thoughts.

  ‘Today in the park you said you had only just started looking after the little boy – is that what you do?’

  ‘Oh no. I’m a lawyer.’

  He smiled. ‘That was all you wanted to do when we were in school. That’s great.’

  I was relieved he didn’t crack a lawyer joke or tell me all lawyers were scum. It stil
l surprised me how many people felt free to tell me their low opinion of all members of my chosen profession.

  ‘Do you like it?’

  I paused. ‘Yes, I think I do. Usually, that is. There are a few things going on at the moment that are making it all pretty tricky.’

  Silence descended.

  I had a sudden burst of inspiration. ‘Do you want a drink?’ I waved the laminated wine list at him.

  He fumbled as he took it from me and for some reason I felt better. At least I wasn’t the only one feeling nervous.

  ‘I think I’ll just have a beer,’ I said. ‘What about you?’

  ‘A beer sounds good.’

  There were no waiters in sight. ‘Why don’t I go inside and order,’ Grant suggested.

  His chair shrieked against the tiled floor as he pushed it back. As he disappeared into the bar, I wondered if he’d return.

  I’d decided that one elbow on the table looked the most natural pose when he came back with two frothing glasses. I’d also decided that I couldn’t ignore what had happened between us.

  ‘Look, I’m really sorry about what I did when we were in school. I’ve never forgotten how stupid I was.’

  Grant slowly traced a line in the condensation on his glass. Finally he looked up. ‘It’s okay. It was a long time ago – we were probably taking the whole thing too seriously anyway.’

  ‘Yeah, I guess so,’ I said without much conviction.

  ‘So how’s Bob these days?’ he asked with a smirk.

  I laughed. ‘Who knows? Probably back home charming some southern belles. Actually, he’s probably been married and divorced five times by now.’

  ‘And you’re not?’ he asked.

  ‘What, married or divorced?’

  He smiled. ‘Either.’

  ‘Nope. You?’

  He shook his head.

  It sounded unlikely that there were twins.

  ‘I thought you went to teachers’ college?’ I asked.

  Grant shook his head. ‘I was a teacher but I quit after a couple of years. I loved it at the start, but after a while I got a bit disillusioned.’

  ‘I don’t blame you. One child is more than enough for me – I couldn’t face a whole room full of them.’

  ‘Actually it wasn’t the kids, it was the system. Rules, different theories, power struggles . . . Teaching the kids felt like a bit of a distraction – not the reason we were all there. So one day I saw an ad in the paper. And here I am.’

  ‘So how does the ice-cream van thing work? Is it like taxis and you drive them for someone else?’

  ‘Well, sort of – except I’m the owner. I have three vans now and I don’t drive much any more. The guy who usually works this run broke his leg a couple of weeks ago, so I’m driving until he’s better.’

  ‘Have you been doing it for long?’

  He nodded. ‘I bought my first van about five years ago.’

  ‘And you like it?’

  ‘Yeah. Although the whole idea of doing it was that I’d be outside all day – you know, be my own boss and all that.’

  I nodded and he went on.

  ‘It was great. If business was slow I could read my book. And it’s hard to find a happier human being than a kid who has just been handed an ice-cream.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘But then a guy who had a run over the south side of town wanted to retire. It seemed like a good idea to buy his business, so I borrowed some money to do it. And then another run came up. Now I spend all day in my office. Ah, the price of success.’ He smiled self-consciously. ‘So what else have you been up to?’ he asked as if he felt he’d been talking too much.

  I realised that I had to tell Grant about Anita. They’d been friends at school as well and he was going to find out about it sooner or later.

  ‘Well, things have been a bit mad lately.’ I paused, wondering how to say it. ‘You remember Anita?’

  Grant’s smile was immediate. ‘Of course – how is Anita these days?’

  Tears started sliding down my face and his smile instantly disappeared.

  I had a sudden vision of having this same conversation with Grant a month ago and being able to cheerfully answer something like, ‘Oh, she’s great – would you believe she’s living in Italy?’ We could have complained about how jealous we were and then moved on to another topic. Instead, the reality hurt so much that I could hardly breathe. When I could speak again, I haltingly told Grant what had happened.

  ‘Oh God. I can’t believe it. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Yeah.’ I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  ‘How old is Jack?’

  ‘Just over eighteen months.’

  ‘And you don’t have any of your own children?’

  ‘No, so it’s been a pretty big learning curve.’

  A look of horror crossed his face. ‘And I woke him up – what, two weeks ago? That must have been the first week after it happened.’

  ‘Yuh.’

  ‘I can see why you screamed at me.’

  I was slightly taken aback. ‘Screamed’ seemed somewhat of an exaggeration of my strained statement of my feelings.

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  It was a great question and one for which I didn’t have an answer.

  ‘Um, more of the same, I guess – except I am going to have to make some changes. I’m discovering pretty quickly that my old weekend activities don’t mix well with a toddler.’

  ‘What did you used to do?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. Eat, drink, shop – sleep.’

  He grimaced. ‘Yeah, I see what you mean.’

  As if he could sense that I didn’t want to talk about it, Grant changed the subject and the conversation became easier.

  ‘Can I get you another?’ A waiter stopped beside our table, looking at our almost empty glasses.

  We both hesitated, looking uncomfortably at each other.

  ‘I’ll come back,’ he decided diplomatically.

  As the waiter walked away, I realised that I was actually enjoying myself.

  ‘Ah, would you like another drink?’ I ventured.

  Grant looked at his watch. ‘Thanks, but I can’t. My flatmate moved out last week and I’ve got two people lined up to come and see the house – I really should get going.’

  ‘Sure,’ I nodded, hiding my disappointment.

  I called the hovering waiter back over and paid him.

  ‘Well, I guess I’ll see you around,’ I said as we stood up to leave.

  ‘Yeah, sure.’

  Do not suggest meeting again, I instructed myself firmly. Do not. Do not. I was determined to preserve some shred of dignity.

  ‘Well – hope you find a flatmate,’ I said instead.

  We smiled awkwardly at each other and I turned to leave.

  ‘Uh, Julia?’

  I looked around.

  ‘Would you like to have dinner sometime?’

  ‘Sure. That would be good.’ I smiled.

  ‘Really? Great!’ He looked surprised but pleased.

  ‘How about you come around to my place one night during the week,’ I suggested, conscious of my limited babysitting credits.

  ‘Are you sure? You don’t mind cooking?’

  I shook my head. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll do something easy.’

  ‘Okay then, how does Wednesday sound?’

  ‘Wednesday’s fine,’ I replied. ‘Do you remember where I live from the ice-cream incident?’

  ‘How could I forget? I’ll see you about seven?’

  ‘Make it seven-thirty, that way Jack will definitely be asleep.’

  ‘Right, well, I’ll see you then.’

  I stopped at the edge of the road, waiting for a break in the traffic.

  ‘Julia?’ Grant was standing next to the table, a smile on his face. ‘Do you think you could get a perm between now and then for old times’ sake?’

  Laughing, I ran across the road. This could actually be fun.

  NI
NETEEN

  I stared at the doctor.

  Of course it wasn’t possible.

  I’d been looking and feeling very ordinary since I’d started back at work, but had just put it down to lack of sleep. Yesterday, however, a stream of work colleagues had looked at me in concern and asked if I was feeling all right. Finally I’d given in and booked an appointment with a doctor on the off-chance that he could prescribe some miraculous multivitamin that would substitute for eight hours’ sleep a night.

  In between trying to stop Jack from destroying the doctor’s surgery, I’d managed to recite the whole story to him without breaking into tears. That had to be considered progress, I thought in an attempt to be positive.

  Instead of prescribing a drug to fix all my problems, the doctor had asked if I could be pregnant.

  Although it seemed a lifetime ago, it was only about six weeks since I’d slept with Michael. And I couldn’t for the life of me remember whether I’d had a period since then.

  My feeling of blind terror must have showed, as the doctor continued hastily, ‘Look, it’s highly likely that the way you’re feeling is simply a result of the stress you’ve been under. I’d just like to do a test to rule out the possibility.’

  He handed me a small plastic jar from his bottom drawer. ‘When you’re finished, take it to the front desk and we’ll do a test.’

  I pushed Jack’s stroller down the corridor to the toilets, refusing to even consider the consequences of my being pregnant.

  Jack and his stroller wouldn’t fit into a cubicle, so I needed another plan. Deciding that as a first step the greater the distance I could put between my fellow toilet-goers and myself the better, I pushed him towards the toilet furthest from the door. If I was quick, I could leave him propped outside where I could at least see the bottom of the stroller.

  Good plan, but as soon as I closed the door Jack let out a piercing wail. Peeing into a jar is not an easy activity under the best of circumstances and I knew there was no way I’d manage it with the racket he was making.

  Opening the door, I lifted him out of the stroller, ignoring the interested glances of the two women standing at the sink.

  ‘Right, Jack. Stay right there just for five seconds,’ I commanded. I propped him on his feet in the corner of the cubicle.