With or Without You

by Shari Low

  ‘For what it’s worth, Mum, I’m thirty one. I still have well over a decade before I’m too old to carry on our bloodline. And when I do, I hope my future son or daughter hasn’t been splashing in the shallow waters of the tact section of your gene pool.’

  ‘As long as they have my voice,’ she chirped, showing all the emotional awareness of the salad tongs sitting on the table in front of her.

  ‘Hopefully they’ll know when to keep it on mute,’ I countered. My wine glass was empty so I took Sasha’s from her hand and drained what was left in it.

  The others were still resolutely silent. I was about to call Nate out too, when Chloe’s hand reached under the table for mine and gave it a squeeze of support. I bit my tongue. This wasn’t the time to tackle Nate. I’d do it at home, when we were alone, and I could be as shrill as I wanted to be. That wasn’t a spectator event.

  ‘Anyway, who’d like another sausage?’ I offered, changing the subject.

  ‘Me!’ Sasha answered, before bailing me out by telling a story about some scandal at her school.

  I gave her a grateful smile then zoned out so I could inwardly seethe about Nate and Ida’s conspiracy.

  This was their most outrageous stunt yet. Why couldn’t Nate have been just like Richard, agreed to the holiday and we’d all be planning our tour of the stars’ houses right now?

  And as for Ida, I couldn’t win with her. There was no insulting her, because she took no one else’s thoughts or opinions on board. It was impossible to embarrass her because she had zero shame, and she was completely devoid of anything even closely resembling empathy.

  In all honesty, her viewpoint wasn’t a surprise, because she’d been going on about having a grandchild for years. It wasn’t so she could care for it, cuddle it, bake cakes and pass on grandmotherly words of wisdom. Nope. It was so she’d have loads of photo opportunities and a child to stage-manage into the career she never had in show business. It was an eternal disappointment to her that my singing voice was in the same register as two camels indulging in foreplay in the middle of a dusty night in the Sahara.

  No, Ida expressing her opinion was nothing new, but Nate discussing this with her without even raising the subject with me? He’d never mentioned it. Not once. If he had, I’d have told him that I absolutely wasn’t there yet. I wanted to do so many things before I had children. I wanted to… to… I realised I had no plans or aspirations at all. None. I wasn’t aiming for another promotion or planning to climb Kilimanjaro. I really had to get myself some kind of list of ambitions. All I knew was that having a baby wasn’t anything I was looking to do in the short term. We weren’t so much on different pages as in different bloody books.

  I squared my gaze firmly on Nate. The irony wasn’t lost on me. Here he was, announcing grand desires to expand our family when we’d slipped back down to fortnightly sex. At this rate, there was more chance of me winning the tombola at the village fete than there was of accidentally falling pregnant due to spontaneous intercourse.

  A couple of hours later, the garden gate had barely closed behind our departing friends, when I charged right back on to the hot topic of the day.

  ‘So were you planning on discussing any of this with me? You know, giving me a heads-up that you wanted to change our lives forever?’

  I expected him to go on the defence, but he took the opposite route and went for enthusiasm and persuasion.

  ‘Don’t you think we’re ready? It would be incredible. If we started trying now, we could get pregnant soon and then the baby would be born just before summer next year, and I’d have six weeks off to help you look after her.’

  ‘Her?’

  He smiled. ‘Yeah. In my head, it’s a girl.’

  Holy crap. I hadn’t even got my jeans off and I was already pregnant, giving birth next June, to a girl, and Nate would be on hand to change her nappies.

  I felt a subconscious need to cross my legs.

  What about my career? My life? I loved my job and had no desire at all to take time off to start a family. Not yet. Not for a long time to come. Shouldn’t there be a consultation period before he started reading baby names books and opening a Mothercare account?

  ‘Does this baby that I’m giving birth to next summer have a name?’ I asked, with a top note of sarcasm. Of course she didn’t.

  ‘Sophie.’

  Oh for Christ’s sake.

  ‘Nate, I don’t want to start a family.’

  My mum bustled back out from the kitchen at that point. ‘Of course you do,’ she argued.

  ‘Mother, you have permission to interfere in my life, except the areas that begin with me being naked.’

  She tutted and rolled her eyes, then pretended to be busy clearing away more dishes.

  ‘You don’t want to start a family?’ Nate repeated.

  ‘No. At least, not yet. Maybe someday. I promise I’ll let you know when I do.’ Weariness sucked all the fury from my body. What was I doing? Wasn’t this what I’d signed up for? When I’d agreed to stay with him at the millennium, wasn’t I pledging the happy ever after, happy family and total commitment until the bit where death do us part?

  Was I kidding myself on? Was my subconscious refusing to contemplate having a child because I was then irrevocably tied to Nate for the rest of my life?

  Was Sasha right when she said I’d made a huge mistake?

  And would I get my money back on all those IKEA soft furnishings if I told them I’d changed my mind?

  Chapter Five

  Justin’s 32nd Birthday Garden Party

  August 2003

  ‘Another year, another party. Thank God for you two or I’d have the social life of a hibernating bear,’ I said, as I squeezed Sasha into a hug. Justin was next. ‘Here you go, birthday boy – something that’s even more death-defying than living with Sasha.’ I handed over a card, which he ripped open to reveal a voucher for paragliding. He’d been talking about doing it for years, so I’d decided to make it happen for him.

  ‘Yassss! You doing this with me, mate?’ he asked Nate.

  ‘No problem at all,’ Nate replied, without hesitation.

  Sasha rolled her eyes. ‘Action Men Glasgow – planning an adrenalin-fuelled activity while clutching a bottle of beer and an undercooked sausage.’

  Justin leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. ‘Thanks. This is great. And I’ll try not to kill your husband in the process.’

  ‘Always a bonus, because I’m fairly sure our life insurance doesn’t cover ludicrous Sunday afternoon activities,’ I replied, grinning. ‘Anyway, glad you went for intimate and understated,’ I said, gesturing to the melee in front of us. There was a barbeque. There was a bar in the corner. There was music. There were at least, oh maybe sixty or eighty people milling around. It was a full-scale spectacle and I wouldn’t expect anything less from Justin and Sasha. Any excuse for a celebration got the full treatment.

  Sasha nodded in the direction of a few people gathered in the corner. ‘By the way, just a heads up, keep Nate away from that group over there nibbling crudities like they’re bloody rabbits.’

  I laughed at her obvious disgust, but she scolded me. ‘I’m serious! See that one there with the swingy pony tail?’ I spotted who she meant immediately. Black Lycra jogging pants and an obscenely tight white T-shirt over a body that was no stranger to a work-out. I felt myself pulling in my stomach and sucking in my cheeks as she went on, ‘Justin was telling me that she has the serious hots for Nate. Been flirting with him at the gym for years.’

  ‘Who? Janet?’ Nate scoffed. ‘She does not have any designs on me at all. She’s just friendly. Stop stirring things up there, madam,’ he reprimanded Sasha, who responded with a wink. ‘She’d seduce him in a heartbeat,’ she hissed to me, making me chuckle. At the sound of my laughter, Miss Lycra Pants turned to look over and her eyes immediately locked on Nate. Maybe there was something to Sasha’s claim after all. Not that I was in the least bit flustered. Nate was so oblivious to such things
that a woman would have to be in her knick-knacks and nibbling his ear before he realised she might be interested in him. And even then, he wouldn’t do anything about it. I’d never in my life experienced feelings of jealousy, and this wasn’t changing that. I trusted Nate. Nothing to worry about. I shot the girl a smile.

  ‘Anyway,’ Nate added, ‘she’s seeing one of the body builders now and they’re getting married. She was telling me she’s already booked her hen weekend in Marbella next year.’

  Hen nights in Marbella. That was the kind of flash stuff that Nate couldn’t be arsed with. I decided my husband wasn’t about to be stolen any time soon.

  My thoughts were interrupted by Chloe and Richard, who were next to arrive. They joined us while Sasha and Justin went to greet a crowd that had just turned up. I recognised them from the last half a dozen parties as Justin’s workmates. A riotous bunch, right on cue they headed straight for the bar.

  ‘I’ve never asked you – the year we all turned thirty, why didn’t you have a party like the rest of us attention seekers?’ Chloe asked.

  She was gorgeous as ever today. Boot cut blue jeans and a white floaty top, with her ebony hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders.

  Her question, however, made me shudder. ‘That’s the stuff of my nightmares,’ I told her, honestly. ‘Could you imagine? I’d be worried that no one would come, I’m rubbish at organising stuff like that, so it would undoubtedly be a disaster, and I’d have to keep an eye on my mother the whole time to make sure she didn’t start a conga or a sing-song. Plus, you know the whole ‘centre of attention thing’ makes me itch.’ Ironic. I hated to be in the limelight in any way. No wonder Ida occasionally pondered whether I’d been mixed up with another child at birth.

  Our conversation was interrupted by one of Sasha’s brothers, Lee, who’d wandered over to join us. He was a lovely guy but as a hippy, man-bun-sporting yoga guru he had so little in common with Sasha she refused to believe they were related. Yet another child that may have been swapped at birth.

  Lee had a child strapped to his front and another balanced on his yoga-toned hip. I didn’t even need to glance at Nate to guess his reaction because he did exactly what he did every time he was with Sasha’s nephews – he scooped hip-child up, threw him up in the air, and laughed as little Oliver shrieked with delight.

  ‘Hey man, how’s it going?’ Lee asked Nate over the squeals of Oliver shouting, ‘More, more, more!’

  ‘Great,’ he replied.

  ‘Not got one of these of your own yet?’ Lee said, trying to be funny. My ovaries slapped a hand to their forehead.

  ‘Not yet. One day, Liv, eh? Hopefully soon.’

  There it was. Nate’s little dig. Just like the all the other little digs and loaded comments he’d thrown out in the last year. The more he pushed, the more I resisted. In fact, my hackles now automatically went to a standing position every time he mentioned it. I wasn’t ready. I loved my job. I was happy in my life. I didn’t feel the need to move to the parenting stage yet. The batteries were well and truly out of my biological bloody clock. Why wasn’t he getting this? Maybe I needed to be more upfront and clear. I made a note to find out how much a billboard up the high street would cost to hire.

  That said, I got it. We were both only children and he’d always wanted a big family, but we both had to be ready. It wasn’t a situation we could march into when one of us still had an adverse reaction to those Pampers adverts on the telly.

  Richard had wandered off in the direction of the buffet, so I bailed out of the joys of parenthood conversation and turned my attention to Chloe, who – uncharacteristically – had a glum expression on her beautiful face.

  ‘Och, cheer up Chloe,’ I said. ‘You look like someone has just kidnapped your favourite teddy bear.’

  ‘They have. St John’s Hospital in flippin Manchester.’

  Ah, so we were still on that. Richard, her very best friend (present company excluded), had been offered a big-time promotion to a hospital in Manchester and she was absolutely bereft. They’d worked together day and night for three years now, socialised outside work, and built up the kind of relationship that most happily married couples could only aspire to. Without the sex of course. Her nipples still didn’t react in his presence.

  No matter how many times I told her we’d visit him, she was still devastated every time she thought about it. I’d miss him too. At too many gatherings to count, he and I had ended up being the last ones in the kitchen, putting the world to rights over Irish coffees and milky teas. He’d fitted right in with our group and we’d all grown to love him.

  ‘What have I missed?’ Sasha asked, re-joining us.

  ‘Nothing much,’ Chloe replied. ‘I’m still feeling sorry for myself because Richard is going back to live in Manchester…’

  ‘You really should have one last night with him and get naked. How can you know it’s not for you if you don’t try?’ Sasha interjected.

  Chloe just kept right on going as if Sasha hadn’t said a word. ‘And Liv is feeling sorry for herself because Nate and your brother are discussing the failings of her reproductive strategy.’

  ‘Don’t have kids,’ Sasha said, with deep foreboding. ‘Those two sproglings completely wrecked my hi-fi unit last week. I’ve told Lee not to bring them back until they’re eighteen.’

  ‘Aw, being around you just makes me feel warm and bubbly and hopeful for the future of humanity,’ I teased her.

  The fact that she didn’t respond with a cutting retort made me realise that she was no longer listening. I followed her gaze until I realised it was lasered in on Justin, who was standing over near the bar chatting to his workmates. Actually, one workmate in particular. I’d spoken to her before. Outside, in the smoking area at Sasha’s party. Madeleine, wasn’t it? And I remembered something about… I racked my brain… a boyfriend who was also seeing someone else? Or had left her? Or… it was no use. My capacity for retaining gossip about people I didn’t know was close to zero. This was why I had no interest in the world of celebrities and their antics.

  Without the aid of a crystal ball, I could see what was going to happen next. Unlike me, Sasha had a fully developed jealousy gene. She would go charging over there, she’d escalate directly to Level One Bitchiness, she’d cause a scene, Justin would be furious and that poor girl would be left feeling like she’d been dragged into the epicentre of a tornado. We couldn’t have a debacle like that in front of all these friends, their families and work colleagues. Sasha’s headmaster was here. The prospect of hearing one of his senior guidance teachers calling her boyfriend a ‘cheating fecker’ (Sasha’s 31st party, when Justin chatted too long with a waitress) or a ‘whoremongering arse’ (Justin’s 30th – something to do with inappropriate limbo-dancing action) could be career ending.

  ‘Back in a minute – just going to have a word with Justin…’ she said, taking a step towards her target. How well did I know my friend?

  Emergency intervention was needed. ‘Hang on. I need you to help me first,’ I hissed urgently.

  She paused. ‘With what?’

  ‘With sorting out this one here,’ I gestured to Chloe.

  ‘I need sorting?’ Chloe asked.

  She didn’t, but it was all I could come up with right at that moment.

  ‘You do!’ I exclaimed, despite having no idea where I was going with this. I was thinking on my raffia-wedged feet. And rambling. Oh sweet mortification, the toe-curling nonsense I came out with when under pressure. ‘We think you should stop Richard from going. Take one for the team. I agree with Sasha – have a night of wild passion and see if it awakens something in you. Do it for us,’ I added. ‘We’ve very few friends and can’t afford to lose any.’

  I wished I could send her a telepathic message to tell her this whole conversation was manufactured to distract Sasha, but much as we occasionally had a psychological connection, it was more along the lines of buying the same bottle of plonk or forming the same opinion about a stran
ger.

  Chloe roared with laughter at that. ‘Liv, you’re the one who can’t be arsed socialising and, Sasha, you hate everyone, so I think you’d survive without him.’

  ‘I don’t hate Richard though!’ Okay, we had Sasha’s attention back. She was fully engaged here again.

  In my peripheral vision I could see that Justin was still chatting to Smoker Girl.

  Bugger. Come on. Surely he needed another beer by now? Or a pee? Anything to make him break up the cosy tête-à-tête before Sasha went storming over there.

  Chloe, thank God, was running with it despite being unaware of the underlying subtext. She shouted over to where Richard was having an in-depth conversation with Justin’s Auntie Doreen and Auntie Lily. ‘Richard, can I borrow you for a second?’

  The good doctor, ever the charmer, gave both women a kiss on the cheek and sauntered over to us. This gave me time to interrupt Nate’s conversation with Lee – something to do with the highlights of the toddler stage – by hissing in his ear, ‘Go grab Justin. Sasha’s about to go nuts ’cause he’s talking to that woman.’

  Nate had enough experience of the Sasha / Justin dynamic to realise it was a priority action.

  I stepped back into the conversation with Chloe and Sasha just as Richard reached them, clutching a plate of sandwiches and miscellaneous food items that suggested he’d already paid a visit to the buffet table.

  ‘Okay, I’m mildly afraid to ask, but what can I do for you?’ he said, holding a tuna vol-au-vent like a shield.

  Chloe somehow managed to keep a straight face. ‘Just want to run something past you.’

  ‘What’s that?’ he asked, somewhere between amused and suspicious.

  ‘These two think that I should ravish you in a one-off night of wanton lust, in the hope that it’ll make you realise you can’t live without me and you’ll cancel the move to Manchester.’

  ‘Would you be doing it because you’ve suddenly decided I’m your type, or just for them?’ Richard asked, entering into the spirit of it.