Then came his hints that he’d prefer lunch out. ‘Perhaps Liza would have Shona for a couple of hours? Or we can take her over to your mum’s and find somewhere to eat around Leicester? I know it’s a bit of a trek from here but –’
She’d shaken her head without bothering to go into the impossibility of Liza being free on a Saturday unless booked a century in advance, nor how unlikely a babysitter her mother made. ‘Nice of you to offer, but as I work long hours my time with Shona’s limited so I don’t want to farm her out.’ She didn’t know how to make it any plainer that Gav was no longer number one in her life.
She had love to spare and just now there was a vacancy. But the vacancy wasn’t Gav-shaped.
He assumed a wounded silence. She prepared a cheerful cheese salad with all sorts of raw vegetables cut into chunks and soft brown finger rolls because Shona liked that.
Then Gav tentatively produced a bottle of wine from his car. ‘I don’t think so,’ Cleo protested. ‘You’ve got to drive and I can’t fall into a post-lunch stupor with Shona to look after.’
‘’Course not!’ He slapped the bottle of wine on the kitchen table. Loudly. Another wounded silence.
But now that he’d got as far as the doorstep on his way out, his hair lifting gently in the breeze, he seemed to have recovered his temper. ‘I’ll let you know how I did at the interviews.’
Cleo joggled Shona on her hip, enjoying a little weak sunshine filtering through the clouds. Another few weeks and they would see the first signs of spring. ‘Will you take the job, if they offer it?’
‘Think so. I miss Peterborough. And Middledip.’
‘Would you come back here, actually to Middledip?’ The surprise in her voice was too obvious for good manners.
His lips tightened. ‘No law against it, is there? You don’t own the whole village?’
Oh dear, she shouldn’t have sounded so … well, horrified. She shifted Shona who kept leaning over to watch something in the lane. ‘I didn’t mean to sound unwelcoming. I hope you get the job if you want it, and somewhere nice to live.’
Gav took a breath as if screwing himself up to speak. Shona flung herself sideways again, Gav’s eyes dropped to her and the breath puffed out.
He’d just picked up his holdall and begun, ‘Well, it’s been –’ when Shona craned round Cleo’s shoulder again and beamed, ‘Huhyo!’
Instantly, Cleo’s attention was on her, beaming as she exclaimed, ‘Wow, a new word! She’s never said “hello” before.’ Then she saw the fury and repugnance on Gav’s face as he gazed at whoever Shona had spoken to.
And there, in the gateway, was Justin, staring at Shona. His answering ‘Hello’ dropped into a crystal silence.
Afterwards, Cleo couldn’t remember Gav’s actual departure. She had to concentrate just to stay on her feet as the world around her receded and returned sharply and her inner voice hissed, ‘It’s Justin.’ Justin, staring white-faced at Shona; Cleo staring at him and at his car pulled up beside the hedge.
She could remember walking back indoors and putting Shona down in the kitchen because her arms were shaking. Plumping down on a wooden kitchen chair, because so were her legs. Aware of Justin sinking onto the other kitchen chair and croaking, ‘Fuck …’ Then eyeing Shona and managing to turn it to ‘F’crying out loud.’
Justin’s eyes were fixed on Shona, so amazed, so staggered that it was almost comical.
Shona stretched out her fingers. ‘Gink! Gink!’
Cleo’s voice emerged high and thin. ‘Your drink’s in the fridge, Shona. Apple juice, OK?’ She managed the simple task of making Shona a drink with juice and water and secured the beaker lid. Shona found the spout with her lips, regarding Justin over the top of the cup. He bent forward and held out his hand.
For a moment, a still, poignant moment, their fingers touched. Linked.
Then Shona discarded her cup into his palm, grabbed a chunky plastic car from her toybox and beetled off into the sitting room.
Justin’s eyes swivelled to Cleo.
She gulped. ‘I was going to tell you. That night – I’d asked to see you so that I could tell you about leaving Gav, about the baby. But then we … And Liza showed up. Then Gav.’
Aghast eyes remained glued to hers. He nodded. ‘I stormed out.’
‘And you didn’t want to hear from me again.’ She nodded back, until they were nodding earnestly at each other. She made herself stop. ‘When Shona was born … I thought you had the right to know. I rang Rockley.’
‘I’d already gone?’
‘When she was about five months old, before I went back to work, I drove round and was sure I’d found your flat but someone else was living there.’
‘I’ve been working in Boston. I let the flat out.’
‘Boston? Can’t you commute from Peterborough to Boston?’
He smiled for the first time since she’d seen him in the garden and instantly came into focus, became familiar, the real Justin. ‘Boston, Massachusetts, not Boston, Lincolnshire. Where my parents live. It’s colder.’ He rubbed his forehead and screwed up his eyes. ‘This is incredible.’
Cleo sipped her drink and watched him gaze into space. His hair was shorter. Laugh lines still lifted the corners of his eyes, the same gold-brown eyes as Shona’s, full of light. His lips were still … She looked away.
‘You picked a beautiful name.’ He tried it out. ‘Shona.’ Dragging himself from his contemplation of the doorway, he folded his arms on the wooden table and gave her his attention. ‘What’s her other name? Is mine on the birth certificate?’
‘If only it had been that easy!’ Cleo patted his arm. A friendly gesture, an excuse to touch him. Then she laughed, a sudden excited bubble that slipped out and burst on the air. ‘Since I don’t know what your surname is.’ She went on to tell him about Martin and Drew at Muggie’s, about the ‘Just-in time’ crap.
‘Justin Mullarkey’, he said, impatiently. ‘You must’ve known, when you did the workshop at Rockley Image –’
He paused, because she was laughing again. Snorting with dawning pleasure that he was there. ‘If that doesn’t just suit you! Justin Mullarkey. That little sod Drew said something about “all that mullarkey”.’ As she crowed for breath, she suspected his stern frown was intended to disguise the light in his eyes. But she felt like laughing forever, enjoying the fizzing inside that might just be happy anticipation.
She wiped her eyes, steadied herself to be sensible. ‘Her name’s Shona Reece. I’ve gone back to my maiden name. I didn’t want either of us to be Callaway. And can you imagine the insult to Gav?’
‘Aren’t you together? He was here – glaring at me.’ He glanced round as if Gav might be lurking.
Gav. Justin. Shona. She had a sudden desperate need for caffeine. She carried the kettle to the sink. ‘I don’t suppose he feels particularly fond of you. But we separated and soon we’ll be divorced.’ She explained about Gav’s interviews, about the air bed, about Gav’s tentative overtures, which, she had a horrible feeling, were an attempt to resume their relationship.
‘Didn’t he ever assume Shona was his?’
She shook her head, her smile sliding smartly off at the reminder. ‘Gav’s infertile.’
The eyebrows lifted again. ‘Sorry – I didn’t know.’
‘Don’t apologise, neither did I.’
Coffee ready, she returned to her seat. Colour had returned to Justin’s face and with his golden spikes of hair he looked heart-stopping.
Maybe his initial roller coaster of shock was slowing, because suddenly Cleo had to field a stream of questions. ‘When’s her birthday? Is she healthy? Do you work? At the same place? Who has her then? Were you alone at the birth? What do your parents think? What did Gav say …?’
Among the questions and interruptions, she felt her heart settle for the first time since its sudden mad spinning at Justin’s appearance.
She tucked in a question of her own. ‘How did you know she’s yours? Most people wo
uld’ve assumed Shona was Gav’s.’
He drained his coffee. ‘She looks exactly like my kid sister did.’ He leapt to his feet, eyes hunted, patting his jacket pocket for his keys. ‘This has turned everything upside down. I’ve got to get my head round it. But I want –’ He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘I want to know her. Yes?’
She’d barely time to nod before he was heading for the door, throwing over his shoulder, ‘We must talk but I need a while. I’ll ring tonight.’
Through the window Cleo watched him hurry to his car. Her heart did a triple jump at the thought of him ringing later.
Maybe if she took Shona to the swings now she’d get tired and go to bed early.
It was the most irritating thing in the world. Any other Saturday night the phone would be silent, Shona would go to bed and the only sounds would be from the television. But tonight her phone had rung three times and not once had it been Justin.
Shona was long ago tucked in and the cottage seemed particularly empty. If she tidied out Shona’s toybox – hated job – she wouldn’t be able to reach the phone until about the eighth ring and he’d have time to wonder if she was there. Good.
But there, done already, the rainbow of plastic cars and chunky animals tidy, and no call. She even did the sad thing of checking the phone was working, which made her annoyed with herself. So. He wasn’t going to ring. He wasn’t going to ring because he’d turned up out of the blue and discovered he was a father. And though she hadn’t asked for a thing, not money, not time, not babysitting, not support, the whole huge responsibility thing had rolled over and squashed him, and he’d hidden away.
He was probably back on a plane for America. Maybe California this time, warmer than Boston. Or he was at Muggie’s with Drew and Martin, pissed probably, to blot out the horrible truth.
What an arse.
She felt tremors begin to ripple through her. How dare he blot out his daughter? It wasn’t as if Cleo had jumped into a short spangly dress and raced off partying while he did the parenting for a change. Bastard, irresponsible bastard.
The doorknocker rattled.
She snatched open the door. ‘Yes? Oh.’
‘Is this a good time? I’ve been waiting for her to go to bed so we could talk. But then I realised the phone might wake her, so I drove over.’ He was actually whispering.
Cleo grinned. ‘An RAF bomber squadron could do a fly-past and Shona wouldn’t stir.’ She stood back.
He took a matching step backwards. ‘I don’t want to keep you.’ As if she was rushing out. ‘Can we talk tomorrow? Perhaps lunch?’
‘Fine. Shona normally naps after lunch so we’ll have a bit of peace. There’s a family pub in Bettsbrough called The Cricket, I’ll meet you there at twelve.’ She added, deliberately, to give him an idea of what lunch out with a toddler involved, ‘There’s a toddlers’ play area and Shona likes their fish fingers.’
She shut the door as he hurried off down the path. Why couldn’t he talk now, where was he going next? Party? Club? Pub? His bed? Someone else’s?
Nice to have the freedom.
All right for some.
Outside, in his car, in the lane, in the dark, he sat looking at the upstairs windows. Which was his daughter’s room?
Her image was pin-sharp in his memory. The curls at the base of her neck, the soft cheeks, the tiny, feathery eyebrows above the eyes with the same golden flecks as his. The imperious little hands.
He had a child. A child! He’d dismissed the possibility. After the unprotected sex with Cleo it had occurred to him, of course. And he’d had slight stirrings of doubt – of doubt? Something, anyway – when Cleo had never actually said she wasn’t pregnant. But he’d allowed it to fade, because she’d never said she was.
And he had been so angry at that last meeting, when everything was going his way, when he’d wanted her so urgently that he’d been prepared to forget his best resolutions and her marriage. Until bloody Liza had staggered in, giggling, making stupid jokes. He could hear her now, ‘Out with the old and in with the new.’
His temper had boiled over. It did that. And he’d stamped out in fury.
Pity, because if his temper hadn’t erupted he would have discovered that Cleo was pregnant and everything would have changed. The pregnancy, the birth. He wouldn’t have taken the job in Boston on a spontaneous urge to reinvent himself.
He might even have been with Cleo all this time.
All this time.
Chapter Twenty-Six
From her post by the ball pond she’d watched Justin stroll in, scanning the noisy room for her. Together they watched Shona wallowing around in blue and yellow balls, wrinkling her bobble nose and hooting.
Then, at the table, Shona in a high chair, they talked about Boston, the day-after-day snow ploughed to the roadsides, the skiing, the ice storms. ‘It was fun, then less so, then it was time to come home. My work permit was nearly up anyway. I would’ve had to go through the months and months it takes to apply for a green card. All that shit. So.’ He shrugged.
‘You’ll find another job?’
He reached for a buttered roll, offered the basket to Cleo. Shona immediately discarded her chips and reached out a straining hand.
He hesitated.
Cleo nodded, and watched him cut a finger from the softest side of the bread and pass it to Shona. ‘Mmm-mmm-mmm.’ Shona smiled a chewed-bread smile at Justin and offered him the blob of butter on her hand.
‘No thanks, sweetheart.’ He pulled a face, making Shona laugh. He returned to Cleo. ‘Rockley kept an opening for me. Our CEO is a director of the firm in the States. His idea was that I bring all the experience back with me. I did think of trying the magazines and I’ve got a mate who draws concept bikes for Honda, he’s got a lot of contacts … But Rockley would be a safe bet.’
Cleo widened her eyes. ‘Do you worry about “safe”?’
After a moment he replied, ‘Sometimes I have to.’
Lunch over, Shona became abruptly niggly, rubbing her ears and eyes and whining.
‘She needs her nap.’ Cleo tried not to sound pleased. ‘Shall we have coffee at my place?’ Her heart skipped.
‘Fine,’ he replied, evenly.
They settled either side of the fire, their daughter asleep upstairs. Cleo felt buzzy inside with anticipation, but Justin seemed quite solemn. Enough to make her buzz fade a bit.
He began, ‘Right,’ but broke off and gazed at the stove, which Cleo had laid ready that morning and set a match to when they arrived. It was still chill enough for fires. ‘Right,’ he started again, clearing his throat. ‘I’ve got to try and get myself up to speed with what’s happened. Obviously, Shona’s been a shock. If things had been different …’ He tailed off and gazed back at the fire. ‘If I’d known, I wouldn’t have gone away.’
Cleo watched his face and wondered what significance she could attach to ‘wouldn’t have gone away’. Was it time to welcome the happy buzz back?
His eyes met hers. ‘I’m sorry she’s been just your responsibility. You’ve done a brilliant job, she’s just … lovely.’
The buzz swelled a little. She’d taken more time over Shona than herself that morning. Baby shampoo and conditioner, a twinkly hair slide, Shona’s best embroidered-denim dress to swing sassily above her ankles and a trendy pink-patterned hat. Cleo felt ridiculously pleased that he appreciated their daughter, even if he seemed scarcely to have glanced at her own smart grey trousers and soft, pale-blue cotton jumper which she knew, absolutely knew, clung in the places most calculated to please.
Justin fidgeted in his chair. ‘I don’t want to be a stranger. I want to be involved. Not just financially, either, I want to be … her father.’ He hesitated. ‘Is that on?’
The buzz grew louder and she clutched the sofa arm. ‘Of course.’
He leaned forwards. ‘It’ll give you more freedom. I can help.’ His eyes lit up. ‘It was like being touched with a cattle prod when I met her yesterday. I connected wi
th her instantly. I just fell in love. Do you feel like that about her?’
Cleo almost nodded herself dizzy. ‘Of course!’
He moved to sit beside her on the sofa. The buzz built, she was super-aware of every movement of his body, the lovely warm man-smell of him. He touched her shoulder. ‘We could be together with her, sometimes, so she gets both parents at once?’
The buzz rose to a slight, all-over vibration and she couldn’t stop beaming. ‘Brilliant!’
Justin smiled, a wide, relieved grin, and visibly relaxed against the cushions. ‘That’s great.’ He sighed. ‘Obviously, there’ll never be a relationship between you and me. That muddy water has flowed under the bridge, hasn’t it? I don’t suppose either of us would ever trust the other and we shouldn’t begin a relationship in the middle just because there’s a child. But if we can just be parents –’
The buzz died.
‘Heavy stuff.’ Drew shook his head in wonder.
Martin sagged against the bar. ‘And you’re sure the kid’s yours?’
Justin nodded, clutching his drink – grateful to be back with English beer. ‘I only had to look at her.’
‘I’d still take a test.’ Drew was ever belligerent and suspicious. ‘This Cleo woman’s not famed for being straight with you.’
Martin grimaced. ‘Yeah, she could be looking for money.’
Justin shrugged. ‘She hasn’t asked.’
‘Or someone to look after the kid.’
‘She hasn’t asked.’
Martin and Drew considered, eyes performing their habitual study of the talent in the room. Drew came up with the next minus. ‘Somewhere to live?’
‘She’s got somewhere.’
Martin tried his best, most rehearsed smile at two girls in an alcove seat. ‘Maybe she wants you to marry her.’
Justin snapped, ‘She’s already married! Or, at least, not divorced. Anyway, we agree there’s nothing like that. It didn’t work out before, and it won’t now.’ A sudden, vivid memory hit him – of the sex and fun before Cleo had suddenly remembered the little matter of her marriage. That had been such a knee in the nuts; it mustn’t happen again.
All That Mullarkey Page 17