by June Hopkins
I warm to my theme and my temper rises. I mean, it is a tad hypocritical considering that less than half an hour ago he had me on the kitchen table, legs around his neck, well waist, which means he must have thought I'd be up for it, unless of course he believes that he's the only one I've ever slept with; the only one that I'd spread 'em for, so to speak. Probably thinks I've been a nun for the past eight years. Bloody cheek!
I look back at him and give him a challenging look, "You seem pretty sure of yourself. What, you think you're the only one I'd get my knickers off for? Or pyjama bottoms in fact?" I glare at him; he looks startled.
"Um God no, of course not, I didn't mean... Annie, look, I just meant that certainly back then you most definitely were not that kind of girl: that's what attracted me to you in the first place."
My eyes widen at this statement. Gosh, he was attracted to me? My temper vanishes. My heart starts off again, bloody thing. Why can't it just be still, well clearly not still, as then I would be dead, but steady; this constant rushing off at a gallop without warning is exhausting.
I'd had no idea that he was attracted to me, thought it was all one sided, believed that one night, had been the result of too much booze. I'd obviously underestimated my charms; he must have been in love with me all along... Whoa there, hold your horses Annie. Backup; he didn't say that. Let’s not get carried away here.
"Attracted to me? Why didn't you ever say anything? You must have known how I felt about you, Tom?"
"Oh I knew, of course I knew but you were so young."
"Only by four years. Hardly cradle snatching, Tom," I jump in.
"Annie you were 17 when I met you, still at home; hadn't exactly been out there. What I am trying to say, very badly, is that you were too young for me at the time. Of course I was attracted to you, why would I not have been? Your beautiful green eyes...." He inclines his head slightly as he regards me steadily. "You are intelligent, funny, kind. What's not to like?"
"Fair enough, if you put it like that," I say grinning at him. What's not to smile about?
I try to ignore that little voice saying, “Yea, but what about stunning, gorgeous, beautiful and sexy…?” I kick the little voice firmly into the recess of my mind, and concentrate on the beautiful green eyes and attracted-to-you statements. These two are fairly lit up in my brain now, flashing at me in full on neon lights. As compliments go, they'll do for me. He grins back at me. “Enough of the compliments, you're making me blush. Back to the story please," I tell him.
"As I say you had spilt the beans to Ben and Lissa. Ben phoned me afterwards. He said that he suspected and, given the timing, it wasn't hard to work out and so we waited. Of course we weren't sure, after all you'd been quite adamant about your story, stuck to it constantly. I had to respect that. I didn't want to presume, put pressure on you. I believed that once the child was born, if you knew it was mine you would contact me. Of course you never did. For a couple of years Ben and I would speculate; I would pore over Harry's photos looking for the resemblance, but could find nothing concrete. Eventually of course he grew older and then, one day, Ben emailed me a picture from his 3rd birthday party, taken in some sort of play area. He was blowing out the candles and that was the money shot, the one where I had absolute clarity; couldn't deny what was in front of me on the screen. My son. There was no doubt."
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. I remember the photo, in fact I have it in a frame in the lounge, Ben gave it to me. God Ben, I could kill him. What was he thinking going behind my back for all these years? I'm angry again and can't wait to give him a piece of my mind, which he will be getting at the first opportunity.
"Okay," I say slowly, "so why didn't you contact me then; get on the first plane back and claim him, if you were so enraptured? I mean surely you were angry, curious? It's not like you Tom, to not go after what you want. Why leave it until now?"
"Oh I considered it, very nearly booked the ticket at that precise moment. I had the phone in my hand in fact and then in walked my uncle. He strode into my office and announced that a board meeting had just concluded. At that meeting the decision was made, that owing to my outstanding efforts they would like to offer me a Junior Partnership: everything that I had worked day and night for over the previous 3½ years to achieve. I'd put the phone down, got caught up in the congratulations and celebrations and the moment passed. I told myself that it would be prudent to concentrate on my career, at least for a year or so, and as you still hadn't contacted me I found it easier to believe that that was what you wanted. It suited the mindset, you see, seemed the right thing to do. I convinced myself that the day I came back I could introduce myself to my son as a success, bowl him over with his new, clever, prosperous father. Of course now looking back I was quite simply being selfish. I should have made that call regardless, but years passed and each time a photo would arrive I would have the same battle with myself; each time my ego would win." He looks down at his hands which are clenched in fists on the top of the table. "You have no idea how ashamed of myself I am Annie!"
Once again I feel my heart go out to him, feel the confusion he must have felt being torn between his career and his son. Some might say sod the career, he should have come back, but these people don't know Tom as I do. He is predominantly a good man and really just respecting my wishes. Everything is clear to me; he'd struggled with himself for years, punished himself even.
God how romantic! The poor man has been beating himself up for years trying to work out what to do for the best. I have an image of him sitting alone in a dimly lit room half way through an expensive bottle of brandy, staring at photos of Harry, head in hands, maudlin and quietly drunk, full of regret. My heart skips a beat. Blimey, the poor chap.
"Tom, I had no idea you knew. It must have been so terrible for you, torturing yourself all these years."
He glances up at me; I can tell from his face that he is trying to ascertain whether or not I'm being sarcastic. I'm not. I smile to reassure him and see the relief on his face. God, how adorable. A rush of love for him fills my very soul. Bloody hell, this is like something straight out of a romantic novel. Everything is going to be fine, he's come back to claim us. I have a fleeting thought of James and Melanie, but furiously shove it aside. I just know that once he meets Harry properly and gets to know his son, this glorious, gorgeous man sitting across from me in my kitchen will finally be mine. I am euphoric. Who'd have thought it? I am finally going to come out a winner.
I see myself in the penthouse in New York overlooking Central Park, I'm sure he has one, obviously three stones lighter, resplendent in my new designer gear purchased on a shopping spree on Rodeo Drive, just like Pretty Woman. Obviously we flew there first just to kit me out and take Harry to Disney World.
Clearly we won't be able to stay in the penthouse for long; we'll need a house with a garden, possibly a pool and of course, more children. Visions of Stepford Wives are creeping into my brain; me looking beautiful and homely, waving my fabulous husband off to work from the porch of our white picket fenced home in the suburbs.
"Annie are you all right?" Tom's concerned voice breaks through my dream. I pull myself up short and smile at him.
"Of course, yes fine. Just getting to grips with everything."
"Yes it must be a shock to you, a lot to take in, but Annie, I have finally, slightly late in the day I must admit, realised where my priorities lie. I would desperately like to get to know my son. If of course you are agreeable. I won't force the issue Annie; take it as slowly as you want, play by your rules." His eyes are pleading with me. So what's a girl to do?
At 3.15 am Tom finally leaves the cottage after gaining my agreement that he could come over on Saturday evening to meet Harry. He gave me a soft lingering kiss on the mouth and left me floating on cloud nine.
Now in bed smiling to myself, I am contemplating the oddities of life, having spent the last couple of years pretty much with no significant other in my life. It appears that the old saying abou
t buses is indeed correct; you wait ages for one and then two come along at once. I've just read rather a lovely text from James, telling me that he has arrived in Dubai, settled into his swish hotel room and is now out on the lash with his mates. He says that he would rather be here with me snuggled up in bed and breaking the rule. I sigh deeply and the guilt settles nicely on my shoulders.
I am torn between the two of them, but Tom is clearly winning, galloping out in front. He has been my dream for ten years. I never in my wildest imaginings could have foreseen tonight; I am powerless in the face of the onslaught of feelings which have welled up like a volcano inside me. I am 17 once again, with one all consuming desire. I cannot think straight. It appears my brain has been rewired and I am like a heat-seeking missile; my target is Tom and nothing is going to knock me off my chosen course. Harry and I deserve this; we deserve to have our rightful family life with Tom. The one denied to us both for all these years. After all, other people manage it: Lissa, Ben, Holly, my brother and Jennie, mum and dad even, so why not me? I always seem to be the loser, always second best. Well not this time.
I love James to bits but I am not in love with him. I don't have the feelings for him that I do for Tom, and as much as our budding relationship could have been fun, it isn't a patch on the possibility of being with Tom. After all, he is Harry's father; we should be a family.
James was right when he said I could still have feelings for Tom. He will understand; it’s not as if he's in love with me or anything. We've just shared two weeks of madness, that's all, and most of his conquests are that sort of length. I doubt very much that he would manage to remain faithful out there anyway, in the sun, surrounded by stunning bikini-clad babes. James has hardly been renowned for his celibacy over the last few years. I convince myself that it is highly likely that he will be relieved. These thoughts bring me some peace of mind and I feel a little easier about my decision. I will of course have to tell him ASAP. I will phone him tomorrow, explain everything. He'll be cross with me, but at least he can get it out of his system and shag his way through the next couple of weeks in peace. Yes that's exactly what I'll do.
That settled, I now have another conundrum. What am I going to tell Harry, and of course my family? Harry rarely speaks of his father; however, he did have a phase of being intrigued by the subject a couple of years ago; the whys and wherefores of who and where his father was. As you do with children so young, I had made up a story that wasn't too far from the truth, just slightly more glamorous. I’d told him that Daddy had loved me very much, that we had made him, glossing over the finer details obviously; that we had known he would have to leave to work abroad somewhere far away, and that when we said goodbye I didn't know that I was pregnant. We had decided it would be easier as we were so young not to contact each other; to try and live our lives and forget each other. I had no idea where he was and his Daddy didn't know about Harry, but that one day hopefully he would come back and what a wonderful surprise for him Harry would be. Harry had accepted this information at face value as only children can and, apart from odd times, he doesn't mention the 'D' word. I've assured him that he looks just like Daddy and that Daddy will adore him when he does come home. This, it appears, is enough to keep the little man happy. I of course told Tom this before he left as I didn't want Harry confused with different stories. Tom appeared happy to go along with it. Now all that remains is for me to sit Harry down tomorrow and tell him that Daddy has come back.
I push the thought of telling my parents to the back of my mind. One thing at a time. I'll let Harry meet Tom first and then speak to mum and dad when the deed is done. I don't want to hear everyone's 'good' advice. I can't be doing with conflicting theories. This is my life. My son and I for once will do what I want, without interference. My mind made up, I snuggle down in bed and relive the night's events, my brain concentrating on the good bits.
Chapter 10
My phone ringing by my head drags me out of a deep sleep; I open bleary eyes and focus on the clock-radio. 7.15 am for fuck’s sake. Someone better have died. I grab at the phone and grunt into it.
"Annie, Jesus. I've been awake since 5.30; I couldn't wait any longer, I'm dying of curiosity." It’s Lissa, and not the sort of dying I had in mind.
"God Lissa, what time do you call this?" I croak.
"Oh Annie, for goodness sake shape up. What the hell happened last night? Did he come over? Did he go mad?" she snaps at me.
I am bolt upright in bed now as the memory of last night returns, "Oh yes he came over. And no he wasn't mad, in fact quite the opposite. Oh Lissa, everything is going to be fine." I sigh happily.
"What?" she shrieks in my ear, "Annie, what the hell's that supposed to mean? I'm coming over. Get up and put the kettle on; I'll be there in 10."
With that the phone goes dead and I sit in the bed staring at it. For crying out loud. I sulkily drag myself out of bed and pull on my dressing gown again. I go across to the bathroom, brush my teeth and hair then check on Harry who is still in a deep sleep. I make my way groggily downstairs to put the kettle on. True to her word Lissa appears on my doorstep dressed in tight white jeans and lilac hugging vest top and tiny white jacket; her five inch heels match the colour of her top and she has large celebrity sunglasses perched on the top of her perfectly styled head.
"Bloody hell, where are you off to this early in the morning?"
"Don't be ridiculous Annie; I always dress up before leaving the house as you well know." She swans past me giving my apparel a scathing look and enveloping me in a fug of perfume that makes my eyes smart.
I boggle at her. I feel as if Cruella Deville has just entered the building. I quickly glance at the garden, but no dalmatians so I shake my head, close the door and follow her into the kitchen, where she is pacing.
"Lissa, are you ok?" I ask her wearily, "You seem, I don't know, uptight."
"I'm fine, just had a big row with Ben last night and again this morning. Sorry, I’m a bit wound up."
"Oh, ok, fair enough." I eye her carefully; definitely acting odd but I suppose if they've had a row and, knowing Lissa, that will be why she's dressed for a night on the tiles, to make Ben jealous; have him thinking she's off seeing other men.
I relax a bit. "Tea, coffee?" I offer.
"Coffee please. Can we drink it outside, only I could kill for a fag?"
"Um, yea of course. You go on out, I'll make the drinks and go and chuck some clothes on, won't be a min."
Ten minutes later we are sitting at my green plastic patio table sipping our drinks and smoking in the warm morning sun.
"Annie I'm so sorry about last night, Ben, everything. I had no idea. I'm so angry with the pair of them. They spilt the beans on the way to the pub. I'd thought we were off to the Royal Oak for dinner; I didn't get chance to warn you."
"You did have the time to warn me that he was coming back early though," I tell her accusingly. I have to say I'm still a tad pissed off about that.
"I know, I know. But honestly, I'd only found out Tuesday night and I really thought I would get to see you before but things were a bit mad. Ben's parents turned up unexpectedly on Wednesday morning and dragged us out looking at wedding stuff, then dinner. Out again Thursday morning, then they buggered off leaving a big mess as usual, which I had approximately two hours to clean up, change beds etc before Tom, and I'd thought Melanie, arrived. I had every intention of coming over this morning to warn you he was back but the next thing I knew I was in the back of the taxi heading for the Hart and being told that they knew and had always known. Well, I was stunned. They'd set us up; said they didn't want me to warn you in case you left town with Harry, or some such crap. Unbelievable. I had it out with Ben big time last night, I can tell you. Good job Holly was at my mum's. I can't remember the last time we rowed like that. I'm surprised somebody didn't call the police."
She stops for breath and takes an agitated drag of her cigarette.
"I'm telling you Annie I cannot believe the underhandednes
s of the whole thing. I am fuming with the pair of them. Anyway tell me, what happened when he came here?" she leans forward expectantly. I can see where she's coming from. Had last night not turned out quite so exhilarating as it had, I would very likely have been as angry as Lissa this morning. However, things from my side of the fence were decidedly greener and I just smile at her.
"Well..." I begin and go on to regale her with the details.
Lissa's face darkens significantly as my tale unfolds, until eventually her lips have pursed so much that they remind me of a cat's backside. I sit back and watch her carefully. "What's up Liss? I would have thought you'd be happy for me." I'm confused at her reaction.
"Bastard." she hisses vehemently.
Her tone startles me. "Lissa?" I question her again.
She lights another cigarette and collects herself. “Sorry Annie, but don't you think this is all a little convenient?"
"How do you mean?"
"Well come on, he's known all this time and couldn't be assed to get in touch and suddenly Melanie makes a decision not to have kids and immediately he's interested in Harry."
"What? What do you mean?" I'm incredulous, he never said.
Lissa has a smug look about her which she tries to hide but I catch it nonetheless.
"He never told you that did he? Whilst he was wooing you, getting you to do exactly as he wants, he's using you Annie. For God's sake, wake up. He doesn't want you, he wants Harry!" She delivers this shot straight to the heart then sits back in her chair watching me with her baby blue eyes.
I don't know where the anger comes from but suddenly I jump up and lean over the table, palms down on the top, and glare at her.
"That is a completely bitchy thing to say Lissa and you are bang out of order. You can't stand me being happy can you?" I spit at her. “Only happy when I'm playing the sad, fat, friend role. Well no more. It stops now."
She stands up now looking startled, "Don't be ridiculous Annie. I'm just watching out for you. He's dangerous Annie and you need to open your eyes and see it for what it really is."