by Jo Kessel
He didn’t dare tell her that he thought they were being watched and that’s why he’d been distracted. Again he heard rustling from the bushes and a weird sound, a bit like a muffled sneeze. Miriam was bearing up. She was being brave and, thankfully, wasn’t crying. He wanted more than anything to go back to those damn bushes to investigate but the responsible adult in him knew that it would be better to tend that wound first.
“Come on,” he led her away from the court, “let’s get some ice and Arnica onto you before it’s too late.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CLAIRE
Claire wasn’t an ‘eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth’ kind of person. She was more an ‘I can’t possibly even kill a mosquito’ type of woman who adhered to Zen and Buddhist principles that harming should be avoided in all but the most extreme of circumstances. And despite her fear of wasps, the couple of times she’d been stung by one, her instinct had been to set it free, as opposed to the more natural reflex action of thwacking it into a gooey mush with a rolled up magazine. She didn’t believe in retribution, so it was quite bizarre that she experienced a sense of satisfaction watching Anthony’s unease at being in Jonah’s villa. He hadn’t wanted to enter, but Jonah insisted, making it hard for him to refuse. Anthony was shifting uneasily from one foot to the other, surveying the property in a peculiar manner, eyes circling and darting from left to right, as if he were committing an inventory of the place to memory. Either that or he was on drugs.
“Can I get you a drink or something?” Jonah asked.
“No.”
Anthony’s tone was clipped and, quite frankly, rude. A ‘thank you’ wouldn’t have gone amiss and the lack of it seemed to echo round the room, a perfect example of how, sometimes, silence speaks louder than words. The silence didn’t last long though. The girls ran down the stairs, filling the space with peels of giggles. Their sudden appearance seemed to make Anthony appear even more awkward. He looked from one to the other, shaking his head, as if he was trying to erase the vision of them. Where was the composed man that Claire had once known? Nothing normally fazed Anthony and he prided himself on being able to fit into any milieu. Something was clearly unsettling him. Perhaps he didn’t like getting a taste of his own medicine, Claire wondered. Or perhaps it was just jet lag making him act queerly.
As soon as the girls reached the bottom step and caught the stern look on Anthony’s face, their laughter stopped. Miriam ran up to Claire, hugging her so close it was as if she was trying to wriggle back into the womb. Perhaps Anthony couldn’t accept that Claire was moving on. Well, it was tough. He’d been the first to move on and now it was his turn to face up to the situation. And he didn’t know the rest of it! This was no longer just about Jonah. If Miriam hadn’t been squishing her mother’s stomach with her nose, Claire would have placed a protective hand over it, a gesture that would have guarded the lives growing inside of her from the evil glare of her ex-husband.
“This is Martha,” Claire introduced. “Martha this is Anthony, Miriam’s dad.”
Anthony barely acknowledged the introduction. He made the weirdest of noises, as if gutturally clearing his throat.
“Hello, Sir,” Martha stepped forward, offering her hand.
Claire and Jonah made eye contact, clearly both on the same wave-length and both proud of Martha for taking the initiative and for being the bigger person of the two. Anthony was now forced into dialogue.
“Hi,” he said, reluctantly taking her hand and shaking it. It’s hard being rude to a polite child. It could almost be deemed abusive. “It’s nice to meet you.”
He didn’t suggest she call him Anthony. The deferential ‘sir’ was probably pleasing to him. In court it was always ‘My Lord’ this or ‘My lady’ that or ‘Pardon Your Honour’. So ‘Sir’ was speaking his language.
“Sir,” Martha began shyly. “It’s my birthday in two weekends’ time and I’m having a party. It would be so cool if Miriam could come.”
Martha looked towards Miriam, seeking corroboration that her new best friend would like to come but Miriam stayed still, breathing deeply into Claire’s stomach, her hot breath making her mother’s skin feel sticky underneath her t-shirt. Claire hadn’t seen her daughter act like this in front of her father before. She was normally so excited to see him. What was going on? She shouldn’t have let Anthony come here. Anthony had insisted on it for some reason and in the end she caved in.
“It’s time to go,” said Anthony, completely ignoring Martha’s question and instead walking towards a small silver suitcase which was waiting by the front door. “The others are in the car outside.”
“I don’t want to go,” Miriam whispered into Claire’s flesh.
Goddamn it, Claire didn’t want her to go either. She’d been dreading this moment and trying not to think of it these last few days but now she was actually starting to empathise with Anthony. If the roles were reversed and Miriam hadn’t wanted to return to her, how awful would that feel? Claire crouched down and nuzzled her lips into Miriam’s right ear.
“Come on darling,” she whispered, “your Daddy loves you so much. I’m sure you’re going to have a wonderful time. Mummy loves you very much too and we’ll be together again soon.”
Anthony held out his hand. Claire nudged her daughter away from her body, a manoeuvre which defied all of her maternal instincts. Miriam reluctantly unpeeled herself from her mother but she didn’t go to her father. Instead she went to Martha, offering her a hooked little finger.
“Friends for life,” she said as Martha hooked her finger with hers. Both of them looked deadly serious, as if this was some sort of ceremonial sealing of the deal.
“Friends for ever,” said Martha.
Then Miriam looked at Jonah. He crouched down and held up his hand for a high five, but she ignored his hand, instead wrapping her arms around his waist, making him wobble a little. He chuckled as he lost balance and then placed his hands on Miriam’s upper arms. She winced as he touched the sore bit where the ball had hit her yesterday.
“Oh, sorry, sorry,” he apologised, taking his hands away and leaning forward to give her a quick peck on the forehead. “Bye kiddo,” he nodded at her reassuringly as she finally stepped towards her father. “See you real soon.”
“Enjoy the rest of your summer,” said Anthony, the faintest of smiles finally creasing his lips. And then, as a subdued quiet descended upon the grand entrance hall of Lily Beach, Anthony opened the front door, took the suitcase in one hand and Miriam’s palm in his other and they trailed slowly down the garden path.
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Half an hour later Jonah left to take Martha back to her mother. “I won’t be long,” he promised before going. The silence which descended in their absence was eerie. Claire hadn’t been alone in Lily Beach for a second since their arrival and it felt alien. First she stood in the hallway, still as a statue, staring at the closed front door for perhaps five, ten minutes, barely moving a muscle, her mind slowly filling with thoughts. She was pregnant. With twins. Oh My God. Part of her was exalted by this wonderful secret. Would they be boys, girls or one of each? Would they breed tennis players or nutritionists? Would they have red hair or blond, blue eyes or brown, a dimple on their cheek? Would their accent be English or American? She smiled as she thought of this and moved to the kitchen, fidgeting with appliances, moving the scales to the right, the kettle to the left, the never-used-bread-maker to the corner. She couldn’t settle. She opened the fridge. The smell from inside caused her to gag and she quickly shut it. She needed fresh air. She opened the patio doors, sliding them apart just enough so that she could squeeze through the gap and planted herself in the hammock.
Perhaps it was best not to think of the babies. Perhaps instead she should prepare for her imminent screen test with ABC. They’d asked her to come up with ideas. Apparently they were recording a pilot and if the network liked what they saw, they might broadcast it. This was the biggest career break she would ever have in her life.
There must be hundreds, nay thousands, of struggling actors and wannabe TV presenters who would be chomping at the bit for this break and Jonah kept insisting that they wouldn’t be wasting their time on her if they weren’t interested.
What would happen if she actually got the job? Would the fact that she was pregnant affect the situation? Would they still want her? This thought sobered her. Just seeing Anthony reminded her of the practicalities. Much as she knew she would love the babies, they complicated everything. Where would they live? Claire didn’t want a peripatetic lifestyle and that had been part of the problem years ago when she and Jonah had been together. Jonah was always moving around whilst Claire preferred to stay in one place. How would Miriam feel about moving to America? How would Anthony feel? If Jonah came to London, when would he see Martha? Would Jonah agree to come to London? What about her new career on Morning Cuppa? They were expecting her back in the UK in a month. Was she ready to lose all that she’d just gained career-wise? There was so much to think about.
All this and more whirred uncontrollably through Claire’s head so that, by the time Jonah came back and found her in the hammock, greeting her with a casual “hi babe”, she’d worked herself up into such a state that she burst out crying.
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“Shush,” he calmed, wrapping his arms tightly around her as he knelt by her side. “Let it out,” he reassured. “It’s just the hormones.”
“Is it?” she sniffled, uncertain.
“That depends on what you’re crying about.”
“I’m crying about the babies.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“How did you know?”
“Because I know you better than you think. Sometimes I wonder if I know you better than I know myself.”
“So why am I crying about the babies then?”
Jonah hooked a finger under Claire’s chin and turned her face so that she was looking at him.
“Because you’re worried about how it’s all going to work out – am I right?”
Claire smiled through her tears, nodding and then wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
“And like I’ve told you, there’s nothing that we can’t work out together, absolutely nothing. Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” she nodded again.
“Right then,” he said, lifting her to sitting. “All this can and will be discussed later but, right now, we need to pull ourselves together because we’re going out.”
“Out? Out where?”
“Out to celebrate.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
ANTHONY
Anthony was starting to wonder if he was bipolar. Mostly he was a loving father who absolutely doted on his little princess. More recently, however, he was finding that he had this alarming alter-ego. He was filled with such anger and hatred and, more worryingly, he felt increasingly out of control. He never felt out of control. He considered his ability to stay cool and calm under pressure to be one of his major assets. Half the barristers in London had at one time or other tried to emulate his ‘look’, which they’d amusingly labelled as the ‘de Klerk’, after his surname. Anthony chuckled as he thought of it, although he should have been alarmed, because the ‘de Klerk’ was in itself bipolar. The glassy intensity in his eyes had the power to perform the impossible – it could simultaneously unnerve and entrust. It was a look whose harshness made witnesses for the opposition crumble under his questioning and yet, at the same time, there was sensitivity in his gaze which made juries believe every word he was saying, even if it was a load of bullshit.
This California trip wasn’t going well. He wanted to blame Ali for dreaming up the idea in the first place but he knew that was unfair. And actually, on the one hand it had been a success for all the reasons she’d suggested. To beat the opposition you’ve got to understand them. That was a maxim they swore by. It helped lawyers notch up victories. And Jonah was now the opposition although he didn’t act like it; in fact, he acted irritatingly affably and it was hard to find fault with him. But, damn it, Anthony would. Because Jonah was becoming dangerously attached to Miriam and Anthony would not risk losing his precious daughter to another man. So it had been useful to come out to San Diego a couple of days early, to case the joint, so to speak, and to create a profile of the enemy. Not to mention the enemy’s daughter. She’d really caught him off guard and her wanting to invite Miriam to her birthday party had been a humdinger. He seriously didn’t want his daughter to attend. By rights he didn’t need to. The party was during his contact time and every second of every day that he was entitled to spend with Miriam was precious. He didn’t want to give up that time, and yet by saying ‘no’ he came across as the bad guy. He had already said ‘no’, a response which went down like a ton of bricks. Miriam accused him of being mean. “You don’t care about what I want,” she accused. “It’s all about you.” She’d never spoken like this to him before. Was this all Martha’s influence? Anthony wished he’d been able to create a better profile of the enemy’s daughter, but that had been difficult. Like her father, she’d been so goddamned polite.
Catching a glimpse of Lily Beach was the only part of the trip which had so far been a success. He’d made notes of several things which could come in handy as evidence later. He even had photographs to back up some of the evidence. It had been tricky. At one point he was nearly caught in the act but he not only managed to cleverly snap photos of what he now considered to be the key incident itself, he had post-incident exhibits too. And although she didn’t realise it, his daughter was helping him as the lead witness. Who knew that such simple questions could elicit such crucial information? “Oh no,” he said, observing the large red patch her arm. “How did that happen?” Even more interesting was when she told him about the zip-line. He knew about the zip-line because he’d tried to book it up for himself to go with Miriam, and failed. “How old is Martha by the way?” he asked vaguely, not wanting to make it seem as if he actually cared about the answer. She was tall and looked older than his daughter, but that meant nothing. The reply had come back as ‘eight’. This titbit was duly added to the series of notes in his little black book.
This was all excellent stuff but, in other respects, Anthony was kicking himself for not having second-guessed how things might turn out. Why had he chosen to stay in San Diego? Of course Miriam was going to make comparisons. He’d rented a luxury two-bed property with its own small heated pool in the trendy and historic downtown Gaslamp Quarter. It was charming, brilliantly located, next to lots of restaurants, cute shops and museums, with pretty little streets and Victorian-style architecture. And yet when he asked Miriam what she thought of it she said “It’s fine, but Jonah’s place is nicer. It’s literally on the beach.”
It was hard keeping his cool. He’d spent a lot of time after hours in London creating an itinerary specifically designed to please Miriam. The day after he collected her he arranged to go to SeaWorld. “I’ve already been,” she said flippantly. “Mummy filmed there and was given special VIP passes to take us afterwards. We did this amazing thing where we got into the water with the dolphins and learned how to communicate with them using hand commands. I kissed one of them on the nose and he even gave me a ride.”
Anthony had already bought expensive, non-refundable tickets so they still went, and Miriam happily still enjoyed it. They managed to find shows and rides that she hadn’t yet done but, nonetheless, Anthony was annoyed that Claire and Jonah had stolen his thunder. That evening he suggested they visit the zoo, thinking that Jasper would enjoy seeing the animals. “I’ve already been there,” sniped Miriam, “twice.” Anthony thought he was going to scream. He wanted to scream. If he could have escaped to another room to open a window, stick out his face and shriek his frustration into the ether for the neighbours to hear, then he would have. They’d not gone to the zoo, even though Anthony and Ali wanted to see the polar bears and pandas. Instead they went to an aqua park full of water slides which Miriam loved and Jasper
disliked. He was too young to appreciate it and the noise and water made him tetchy. Jet lag was messing with his sleep patterns and turning him into one of those babies other parents used as contraception. If they had been thinking about procreating in the near future, then one look at Jasper in action made them question their plans. Perhaps they were too ambitious taking a long haul trip with a baby. Whereas Miriam used to fuss and fawn over her little brother she now appeared disinterested. Who could blame her? Whining isn’t endearing to anybody. Sensitive to the issue, Anthony suggested to Ali that he spend the following day with just Miriam. Ali wasn’t overwhelmingly in favour of the idea but she didn’t say no. Anthony found Miriam sitting in front of the television, watching an American version of Come Dine with Me.
“It’s just you and me tomorrow,” he sat down next to her. “The others are going to chill out here. Have you got any ideas?”
Perhaps giving her a choice would be more successful. She thought about it.
“Legoland,” she said, like a question.
“What, you haven’t already been to Legoland?”