Between Friends

by Jenny Harper

  Say it.

  ‘There’s something I have to tell you, Jake. I’m pregnant. You’re going to be a father at last!’ she smiled.

  ‘Bloody hell.’

  Jake’s mouth fell open. She’d anticipated surprise – but she’d foreseen pleasure too, not this blankness.

  ‘It’s happened at last.’

  Again she smiled, more tentatively this time.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Jake said again, but this time there was a note of irritation in his voice.

  ‘Aren’t you—’ she faltered, ‘aren’t you pleased?’

  ‘Well, the timing could hardly be worse, could it?’

  ‘But your contract will be up in February and the baby’s not due till mid-May.’

  The silence seemed to go on forever.

  Say something, Jake. Tell me you’re happy. Tell me this is all a big mistake. Tell me you really love me.

  ‘I’m not planning on coming back, Marta.’

  Shock paralysed her. She could hear the kitchen clock with its faint tick, tick, tick, marking out the moments of her bewilderment. Jake’s face was set. She could feel the grain of the oak table under her fingers, ripples of time across the years. At last she found her voice.

  ‘You can’t mean that. You’re going to be a father, Jake. It’s what we’ve always wanted.’

  ‘It’s what you’ve always wanted.’

  ‘Jake!’

  ‘I’ve never been able to work out what our lives would be like if we had a baby, Marta. I was just too much of a wimp to tell you.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘You’re an organiser, Marta. A very good one. You organised our home, you organised your work. And you organised me. You made all the decisions in our lives. Where we lived. Where we went on our holidays. What I wore.’

  ‘You were happy to let me.’

  ‘Yes. That was my fault. I allowed habit to take hold and as my irritation grew, I became less and less able to admit to it. But a baby, Marta?’

  ‘Our baby—’

  ‘I can see what would happen. Everything would be organised round the child and by some magical art, I would be organised into some level of the family hierarchy so deeply invisible that I would barely exist.’

  ‘No, Jake! How can you say that? How can you think that?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Sorry, love, but I’m finding I like making decisions for myself. It’s not always easy, and I make mistakes, but they are my mistakes. And anyway ... I’ve started seeing someone else.’

  Marta gasped. So soon?

  ‘Her name is Jenny and she’s in the public-relations team in the firm where I’m working.’

  She did not want to know this.

  He gave a short laugh. ‘Ironically, she’s a single mother. She has a child of three, a boy.’

  ‘You mean, you can become a father to someone else’s child, but not to your own?’ she asked incredulously.

  ‘Hang on a minute, Marta, you’ve only just told me about being pregnant, it’s not exactly something I’ve been factoring into my decisions. Anyway, it’s early days’

  ‘How could you even think of taking on another family when you’ve got one of your own on the way?’

  ‘I didn’t say I was going to “take on a family” as you put it.’

  ‘Well it sounds remarkably—’ Marta bit her tongue. A row wasn’t going to help. She swallowed miserably.

  ‘All I’m saying,’ Jake said, ‘is that at the moment, I can’t see my way to coming back to you. A baby?’ He raked his hair. ‘Christ.’

  ‘Jake—’

  Jake pushed back his chair and stood. ‘I won’t abandon you, Marta. You know I’d never ... Jesus.’

  He turned on his heel and headed for the stairs.

  Her heartbeat slowed and became sluggish, so that breathing became difficult and her limbs grew cold. She started to shiver. There must be a way round this. She would talk to Jake again when he came downstairs. That was it, yes, she would talk to him again.

  ‘I’ll phone you,’ he called from the hall.

  ‘You’re not going already?’

  He dropped his bag on the floor and pulled her into an embrace, but as her heart lurched with hope he said quietly, ‘My train’s in fifty minutes, I have to go or I’ll miss it.’

  ‘Darling—’

  ‘Listen, love, you’ve dropped a bombshell. You’re going to have to let me digest the news.’

  ‘If you don’t want to come back to Edinburgh, I could come to London—’

  He released her sharply. ‘Don’t use this pregnancy as blackmail, Marta. That’s not your style at all.’

  Her hands flew up to her face to cover the sudden heat in her cheeks.

  ‘I’m pleased you’re pregnant, Marta,’ he said more gently, ‘for your sake. I know how much you wanted a baby. But babies can’t heal broken relationships, they never could.’ He bent and kissed her cheek again. ‘We’ll talk soon, I promise. We’ll work something out.’

  He closed the door behind him.

  He had gone. And now she was alone.

  But not, this time, completely alone. Her hands shaking, she picked up her phone.

  ‘Carrie,’ she said, her voice trembling, ‘I need you. Please, please help me—’

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Carrie left Marta’s cottage a couple of hours later, exhausted with the effort of trying to stem her friend’s emotion.

  Of course Jake would come round. In time he would warm to the idea of fatherhood.

  Jake loved her, he’d always loved her, anyone could see that. In the meantime, she and Jane were there for Marta, any time.

  Difficult was too mild a word to describe the scene. Soothing Marta, Carrie inwardly wept for her. Reassuring her about the future, she had no idea what lay in store for her friend. Life as a single mother was almost certainly on the cards.

  Who could have predicted it? A few months ago they had seemed the most comfortable couple she knew, in their beautiful little cottage, with their settled lives and their good jobs.

  ‘Bye, darling. Call me any time. And Jane.’

  She waved to Marta from the gate and drove away, but stopped just around the corner. She couldn’t wait to dial the now-familiar number.

  The reception inside the Mercedes was clear as a bell. ‘Hi. It’s me.’

  ‘Hi, Carrie darling.’

  The booming sound of Drew McGraw’s voice filled her with undiluted joy. She ached to be with him, to be holding his huge hand. Since that night at her flat, she’d gone out with him a dozen times, maybe twenty. He’d been true to his word. He had brought his business to Ascher Frew, and Carrie’s standing at the office had rocketed. Surely now, surely soon, she would get the offer of the partnership? But her world had rocked and its axis no longer tilted from the office towards success. Its magnetic pull was elsewhere.

  ‘Hi love.’

  It was all so new. Not since she had been knocked out by Tom Vallely all those years ago had she surrendered herself so completely to her feelings. It wasn’t that she felt safe, though she was sure that Drew would not hurt her intentionally. He was no Tom – but neither had he made clear his intentions towards her in any way. It was simply that she was unable, this time, to help herself.

  She had fallen in love.

  Yet Drew, larger than life and twice as generous, had made no move on her. Carrie was beside herself with lust. Every inch of soft tissue ached for him. Her hands longed to stroke him. Her breasts tingled for want of his touch. She desired, more than anything, to take him inside her, to lie with him, limb to limb, skin to skin. Drew, though, had done nothing more than hold her hand. It wasn’t natural. It wasn’t what she was used to. But, by heaven, it fired her up.

  ‘You free now?’

  ‘I’m free.’

  ‘How’s Marta?’

  ‘Not good,’ Carrie said in a tired voice, ‘I’ll tell you when I see you.’

  ‘Right-o.’

&nbs
p; He had taken an apartment in Queen Street for the duration of his stay. Carrie had offered her spare room (hoping that, once he was there, he would swiftly migrate to her bedroom) but he had gently turned the offer down, pleading pressure of work and odd hours.

  ‘You wanna dine out? Or I could have something sent here.’

  ‘I’ll come round to you.’

  Was there any choice? Eating out, she would only ache to play with his feet under the table, hold his hand across it, she would have no appetite, no eyes for anything except him. In his apartment, even though she would not initiate any move, contact would be easier – and perhaps tonight (the thought kept her going) – perhaps tonight they would at last end up in bed.

  ‘How long will you be?’

  ‘Twenty minutes. Half an hour if I can’t get parked.’

  ‘Indian, Chinese or pizza?’

  ‘Anything you like.’

  She wasn’t hungry. All she wanted was Drew.

  ‘Hurry slowly, then.’

  He meant, keep safe.

  ‘I will.’

  Love you, she wanted to say, love you darling Drew – but she couldn’t. That had to come from him and though she knew he liked her, liked her a lot, she didn’t know how much.

  She met the delivery man on Drew’s doorstep.

  ‘Here. I’ll take it. What do I owe you?’

  She paid the bill and rang the bell.

  ‘Hi gorgeous.’

  ‘Hi,’ she grinned, flooded by happiness at the mere sight of him. ‘I bring goodies.’

  ‘Aw, honey, did you pay? You shouldn’t have. Here, let me.’

  He stooped to take the bags from her.

  Carrie loved it that he was twice her size, that she only came up to his shoulder and that she was like a wisp next to him. She loved it that his appetite for food, as for life, was hearty.

  Over the naan and the dhal, the tandoori prawns, plump and pink with their bright red coating, and the lamb korma – Drew had not yet acquired a taste for hot spices – she filled him in on the situation with Marta.

  ‘That’s too bad,’ he said, tearing off another strip of naan. ‘She’s a great gal, she doesn’t deserve that.’

  ‘No. She doesn’t.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking.’

  ‘Is that unusual?’ Carrie teased him. Drew was always drifting off into some dream or other, usually planning ways to make more money, build up his business. His answer surprised her.

  ‘Unusual – yeah. Thinking the kind of thoughts I’ve been thinking, at any rate.’

  ‘Go on then, spill the beans.’

  ‘Beans?’

  He looked puzzled.

  ‘It’s an expression, Drew. It just means, tell me.’

  He surprised her again by taking her hands across the table.

  ‘I’d like for you to come to the States with me when I go back next week. Think you can get away? I would like to introduce you to my folks.’

  Carrie’s heart started hammering.

  ‘Why Drew! What a lovely invitation. Thank you.’

  ‘You know how I feel about you.’

  No, actually, I don’t. Tell me.

  ‘I really care about you, Carrie. I haven’t felt this way in a long time. A very long time. You’re real special – clever, sassy, full of energy and ambition. I’d like for us to spend more time together. Maybe—’ he broke off. ‘Well, honey, what d’ya say? Will you come?’

  ‘Well now, you have surprised me, Drew.’

  ‘Yeah? You must know I really fancy you.’

  His thumbs were stroking the insides of her palms. Carrie felt as though she was melting inside.

  ‘Come here.’

  He tugged at her right hand, released the left so that she was able to slide round the table and sit on his knee.

  ‘Carrie, honey, do you think ...’

  His words faded to nothing as his lips came down on hers in a kiss more gentle than she would have thought possible from such a bear of a man. Then the kissing turned more urgent, more insistent, and she felt his hand creep up inside her sweater. Yes! Oh yes! His fingers were on her breasts, tugging at her bra, pulling it down urgently so that they could seek out her nipples. He stood, swiftly, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her effortless towards the bedroom.

  ‘Carrie? You all right with this?’ he whispered as they neared the bed.

  She didn’t answer. She just turned her face up towards him and sought his lips again, her tongue finding his tongue, her breathing quickening as her hands found the smooth warmth of his skin under his shirt.

  ‘Don’t stop, Drew,’ she whispered at last, as he surfaced for air. ‘Please don’t stop.’

  And then they were one. She felt him slip into her, heard his long ‘Aaaah’ of pleasure, heard her own sigh of delight.

  ‘Honey – is it safe?’

  ‘Fine, yes,’ she said, her hand stroking the length of his back, feeling the muscles of his shoulders, the hollow in the small of his back, the round firmness of his butt. It felt as though they had always known each other, were made for each other, fitted together as sweetly and as perfectly as though God above had designed them as a pair.

  Later, after they were both delightfully sated, he repeated his question.

  ‘How about the States, Carrie? Whad’ya think?’

  ‘I’d have to ask for time off.’

  ‘I could say I need you with me. Consultations with my US lawyers.’

  Carrie grinned. ‘Why Mr McGraw!’

  ‘I could even make that true.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘So you’ll come?’

  ‘Of course I’ll come, Drew.’

  ‘Great. That’s great.’

  And he showed her just how great he thought it was in the most personal of ways.

  The call Carrie least wanted to take came the next morning. She had got into the office early and, at nine, had already been at her desk for an hour. She needed a caffeine fix.

  ‘I’m off for a coffee, Sally,’ she said to her colleague. ‘Want one?’

  ‘Oh, yeah, great, thanks. Large latte please.’

  ‘I’ll get the money when I get back, don’t worry.’

  She picked up her bag and as she did so, her mobile started to ring. She hesitated. Work or personal, that was the question. If it was work, she should stay and deal with it. If it was personal, she might as well get on her way and talk as she went. Taking a chance, she headed towards the door, answering as she went.

  ‘Hi, Carrie here.’

  ‘Darling D.A. Delight. Hello.’

  Carrie nearly dropped the phone. Tom. Christ.

  ‘What do you want?’ she said ungraciously, signalling to Yvonne as she passed that she’d be back shortly.

  ‘Charming. Not even a “How are you”?’

  ‘Tom, I think we both know that you are unlikely to be calling me simply to pass the time of day. I take it life’s a beach, now that you’ve hit the small screen?’

  ‘Oh yes, a blast. Wine, women and song. Or to put it in a more contemporary way, sex, drugs and rock ’n roll, baby.’

  ‘So to what do I owe the honour of this call then?’

  Tom sounded pained. ‘Can I not just phone for a chat?’

  ‘You never have before.’

  His laughter rang out down the line.

  ‘How well you know me, Caroline dear. I heard a little bird tell me you’re in love.’

  Carrie’s heart skipped a beat.

  ‘In love? Moi?’ she parried helplessly.

  ‘Toi. Little Carrie. Or should I say ’Lil Miz Caroline.’ He said it in a deep drawl. ‘In love with a very interesting American, by all accounts.’

  Damn and double damn. How had he heard about Drew? She didn’t reply.

  ‘Yes. As blithe as a schoolgirl, was what I heard. That fairly sent my pulses racing, I can tell you.’

  The laugh was laden with innuendo.

  ‘Shut up, Tom. You’re disgusting.’

  ‘O
h, so now I’m disgusting, am I? So what’s changed so suddenly, huh? From bed buddy to the sweet innocent, is it? I’m guessing dear Mr McGraw would be quite interested in that. I’m guessing a respectable businessman from the American South might be a little, shall we say, surprised to hear about the sexual predilections of the new-found companion of his heart.’

  ‘Shut it, Tom. You know nothing about it. Anyway, I’ve already told him.’

  ‘Then a confirmatory call from me will come as no surprise, will it, darling?’

  ‘What’s wrong, Tom? You can’t be broke, surely. Not with your new status as a television star.’

  ‘Well actually, darling, now that you mention it, a little top-up of the funds would come in quite useful.’

  ‘Don’t expect it from me,’ Carrie said, her anger almost uncontainable. ‘The last time I contributed to your funds I discovered you hadn’t even kept your side of the bargain.’

  ‘Ah. You found that out, did you? A little time slip, that was all. I promised you I wouldn’t say a word to Janie after our conversation, and I didn’t. Actually, I’d told her before I called you.’

  Carrie was seething. ‘You’re a fucking bastard, Tom.’

  ‘I can be,’ he said. ‘Oh I agree, I can be. But I do assure you, Caroline darling, you have my absolute word for it, that if you contribute to my funds this time I will say nothing at all to your delightful new man about your unalloyed obsession with sex with any and every stranger.’

  ‘That is so not what it’s like!’ Carrie exploded. She was outside the deli now, but she could see heads turning her way, expressions curious, from inside the shop. She stepped away and said in low voice, ‘You know it’s not like that, Tom. You know it’s not.’

  ‘Ah, but will Mr McGraw? That’s the question, I think.’

  Carrie was pacing up and down the street, thinking furiously. If she could just pay him off this time, keep him quiet, soon they’d be in the States, away from his reach. And besides, she’d have got closer to Drew, taught him to trust her, love her. He would never believe Tom then. She could laugh him off as a mere troublemaker. But right now, she couldn’t risk it.

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Five grand.’

  ‘Five—! You must be joking.’

  ‘Would I jest about a thing like this, Carrie darling?’