I look at Ned’s sculpture in its new home and feel that it connects me to both the baby and Ned and, for that, I’ll treasure it for ever. I wonder where he is now and whether he’s thinking of me as I’m thinking of him.
Chris jolts me out of my daydreaming by bringing me tea and I take it, gratefully.
‘Thanks.’
‘You’re going to put that statue there?’
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘For now.’ But I suspect this will be its permanent home.
He smiles at me, uncertainly. ‘I should probably have mentioned this before now.’ He takes a deep breath. ‘I need to tell you that I cleared the baby’s room.’
‘Oh.’ That makes me feel sick to my stomach.
‘I thought it was for the best,’ he rushes on. ‘Too much of a reminder. I’ve put the stuff in storage. Just in case . . . ’
In case we need it again? I wonder if that will ever be necessary.
‘I’ll go and look.’
He puts an arm on mine. ‘Is that wise?’
‘I can’t avoid it for ever.’ So I walk along the hall and into my now-empty nursery with Chris on my heels.
The cot has gone. The one that we spent so long choosing and spent an inordinate amount of money to have a paint finish free of toxins. How stupid when we live in one of the most polluted cities in the world. Will Chris and I ever be able to try for another baby? We seem a million miles away from it, at the moment.
I feel as if I need some time alone here, but Chris wraps his arms round me. ‘We could repaint it? If you like. Or leave it as it is for now?’
The room’s still the pale yellow and soft grey that we chose with such care and such hope.
‘Say something?’ Chris urges.
‘That’s fine.’ Before it was a nursery this was our general dumping ground. I’ll expect it will become that once more.
He holds me tight. Tighter than I want to be held. ‘You’re home with me now. I’ll
make this right, Jodie. It might take a while, but I promise you I will make it right.’
I lean back against his chest and try to relax. After a few moments, I manage to find some peace and it’s nice to feel the warmth there.
‘Don’t shut me out,’ Chris whispers.
‘I’ll try not to.’ I squeeze his hands.
I have to give this my best shot too. We married, for better, for worse. It’s just that you never really appreciate how bad that the worse can be. And I can’t think of much worse than the death of a child. Even a child who was with us so fleetingly.
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Chris has booked a table at Night Owl. Our favourite restaurant and go-to place for celebrations – birthday, anniversary, any excuse. It’s ruinously expensive, but worth it as the food is great and the atmosphere second to none.
I sit and look at myself in the mirror on my dressing table. I think I look better than when I left. My skin is no longer the colour of uncooked pastry and I do believe I’ve got a sprinkling of freckles. I’ve certainly put weight on due to Marilyn’s ministrations. Everything I’ve tried on to go out in tonight is tight. The waistband of the black trousers I settle on is cutting into my waist. While I’m thinking about Marilyn, I text to say that we’re home safely and thank her again for all that she’s done for me. I get back the usual row of random emojis from her – bikini, dinosaur, taxi, sheep, cocktail glass, flamenco dancer – which makes me smile. I miss her already.
Then I text Bill that I’m back at home and I’ll be in the office tomorrow, but I don’t get one in return so I assume he’s out, probably entertaining clients, and has his phone turned off.
‘We need to get moving, Jodie,’ Chris shouts from the living room. ‘Table’s booked for eight and they’ll let it go if we’re late.’
My wedding and engagement rings are in a dish next to my hairbrush and I pick them up and slide them back onto my finger. I look down at them. We had such hope, such expectations when we signed up for all of this. And, to be fair, we’ve both had a pretty gilded existence. Everything has always gone according to plan, all swimmingly and tickety-boo. Until, of course, we decided to have a baby. Who knew that the thing which you think should come most naturally in your life could be the most difficult and emotionally painful thing to achieve?
‘Jodie!’
I slip on my jacket – unfortunately, not my cheery, yellow padded one – pick up my handbag and join Chris who’s fidgeting by the front door. ‘We’d better put a spurt on.’
He hurries me out of the building and we walk down the road to the hustle and bustle of the high street. The smell of diesel fumes makes me feel slightly queasy as we walk. Chris takes my hand which may be romantic or may be to make sure that I’m walking as fast as he is.
Fifteen minutes later and we descend the stairs into Night Owl. The place has a relaxed, sophisticated vibe which, as I’ve said, you pay handsomely for. Its décor is vintage, tasteful and I wish our company had tendered for it. I don’t know why we missed out on this one, but we did. The tables are all bathed in candlelight and they serve the most enticing cocktails. There’s usually live music, smooth jazz or something like that and it always feels quite decadent in here – a touch of nineteen-twenties Berlin in London. Chris orders a Negroni cocktail.
‘I’ll have the same. Thanks.’
When the waiter moves away, my husband says, ‘You’re drinking again?’
‘Yes. I thought I might as well.’
He leans in close to me. ‘The doctor said there was nothing wrong with either of us. Not really. There was nothing wrong with the baby either. It was just one of those things.’
‘“One of those things”?’
‘You know what I mean.’ Chris sighs at me. ‘Don’t pick me up for using the wrong words. I’m trying to be positive. The doctor said we could try again in a few months. If that’s what you want.’
‘No,’ I say. ‘It isn’t.’
‘There’s nothing to stop us. I’ll do anything you want to make you happy.’
Chris can’t imagine, with the way we are, that we could embark on the hideous circus of IVF again, could he? It’s not simply a matter of me falling into his arms once more. He seems to have forgotten all the horrors that trying for a child entailed – as we both did when I finally fell pregnant.
‘This isn’t just about you,’ he says, slightly barbed. ‘We both wanted the baby.’
I take another swig of my cocktail before I say, ‘I’d like to give our child a proper name, something other than “the baby”.’
‘What, though?’ Chris spreads his hands. ‘We never could settle on a name.’
‘I still like Charlotte.’
‘Lottie,’ he says. ‘Let’s agree on that.’
‘Lottie,’ I concur and feel a little lift in my heart. My child, my beloved child who slipped away from me, has a name and you won’t believe how much better that makes me feel. She’s someone: Lottie Jackson, a proper person.
‘Does that make you happier?’
‘Yes. It does.’ It may seem like a small, inconsequential thing to Chris, but it means the world to me. I smile across at him and say, ‘Thank you.’
He squeezes my hand. ‘We’ll be all right,’ he assures me.
If he says that enough times both of us might believe it.
So we order food and I have another cocktail. Chris has two more and we listen to the band before we walk home. We’re both more relaxed in each other’s company than we have been in a long time.
‘I’m going back into work tomorrow,’ I say as we reach our front door. ‘I texted Bill earlier.’
‘So soon? Now I’m back, I should go into the office, but don’t you want another couple of days to yourself?’
‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘I’ve already had too much time off. I know Bill’s going mad without me. I should get right back into it.’ Besides, what would I do kicking around the flat by myself?
We let ourselves in and, as we throw off our coats, Chris
checks his watch. ‘Tea or shall we turn in?’
‘It’s late,’ I say. ‘We should go to bed.’ I want to be fresh for the morning. I want everyone in the office to know that I’m back and on form. After my lazy time in the Isle of Wight, it’s going to be a shock getting up, out and in work for our daily eight o’clock breakfast meeting.
I turn for the living room. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute.’
His lips brush mine. ‘Don’t be long.’
While Chris heads to the bedroom, I go in the opposite direction. I just wanted a last look at Ned’s statue before bed. I don’t switch on the light as we left the blinds open and there’s more than enough ambient light to pick my way over to the window. The streetlights shine directly on the wood, making it glow. I pick up the sculpture and rock it gently in my arms. The shape is smooth, the perfect weight which fits so comfortably against my chest. I wonder where Ned is now? I picture the houseboats, Sunny Days and Sea Breezes nestled together, Cockleshell Bay, the moon on the water. It may not be far, but we are half a world away. I miss him. I can’t tell you otherwise. Kissing the baby’s head gently, I put it back on the windowsill.
‘We’ve called you Lottie,’ I whisper. ‘Goodnight, beautiful. Sleep tight.’ Finally, I have something tangible to remember Lottie by and I can’t tell you how much I cherish it.
Chris is still undressing when I go into the bedroom. It feels weird seeing him naked and I avert my gaze. His body is strong, toned, due to the hours he spends at the gym but, where it was once so familiar, it looks like the body of someone I don’t know any more. We’re polite, uncomfortable with each other as we use the bathroom. We have two sinks and even brushing our teeth side by side seems too intimate after our time apart.
I spend forever prevaricating over what to wear for my return to gainful employment and realise how drab my wardrobe is when I used to think it was sophisticated. All my dresses are fitted bodycons in shades of grey, black and beige. I think back to the festival and my glittery cheeks, my flirty little dress that was too short for a woman of my age. I didn’t know that fun, carefree person was lurking inside me. Despite flicking through my wardrobe a dozen times, I settle on a white shirt and black trousers. I’m going to look like a waitress in a high-end restaurant. Too late to do anything about it now. I need to find my inner Marilyn and embrace it.
When I eventually climb into bed beside Chris, I try to keep some space between us. He’s naked beneath the sheets and that’s usually a sign that he wants to make love. It’s funny how you fall into these unspoken habits when you’re married. Sure enough, when I go to turn off the light, Chris turns towards me and his hand snakes beneath my T-shirt and his mouth is on my neck.
‘Jodie,’ he murmurs. ‘I’ve missed you.’
‘Not now, Chris.’ I move away from him. ‘I have an early start.’
I can see the disappointment, the rejection written on his face, as he takes his hand from my skin. ‘It’s not just that, is it?’
‘We’ve had a lovely evening,’ I say, calmly. ‘Very lovely. I’m not ready for this. Let’s take it slowly. We have a long way to go rebuild our relationship.’
My husband flops onto his back with a sigh. ‘You’ve never going to forgive me, are you?’
‘Don’t spoil it.’
‘Wanting to make love to my own wife shouldn’t be “spoiling” anything.’
Then he snaps off the light and turns over. Within minutes he’s asleep but I lie there awake, listening to music thumping out of a house from further down the road and a couple having a full-on row outside. The language is more than colourful, but at least they are both saying what they think.
Chapter Seventy
My journey to work isn’t far, a few stops on the Tube, but I hadn’t really ever stopped to consider how hideous it is. I close my eyes and try to let the rhythm rock my body and not consider how squashed I am, how the people getting on and off jostle me as they squeeze through to the door, how bad the smell of stale food and body odour is. There’s a young man watching porn on his iPhone and another picking his nose with more enthusiasm than is necessary. I’d forgotten how disgusting it can be.
I should make the effort to walk to the office now that the mornings and evenings are light, but I wouldn’t feel safe to do so alone in the dark of the winter.
Chris was up and gone first thing. I kept my eyes closed as he moved around the bedroom. Him trying not to make a noise, me pretending that I was still asleep. He left quietly and without saying goodbye.
When I emerge from the Tube, Bill texts me. Are you on your way? B xx
5 mins, I punch in and step out a bit more.
Our offices are terribly trendy and are in an old warehouse that’s been renovated. It seems like a long time since I was last here and take a deep breath before I enter. Our breakfast meeting is laid out in the office every morning – a fine spread to set us up for the day and to give us chance to touch base with our colleagues. We have a catering company who comes in and does it for us.
I feel both excited to be back and daunted by the prospect. Yet I needn’t have worried as, when I open the door, a great cheer goes up. My colleagues are all gathered round the table and they all applaud me. One of them quickly lights a tiny candle that’s set in a holder on top of a pile of croissants.
Bill comes and hugs me. ‘Welcome back, sis. We’ve all missed you.’
And, of course, I’m instantly teary. I blow out the candle and they all hug me while I try to hold it together.
‘Thanks, guys. It’s good to be back.’ And, at this moment, I really mean it. We have a wonderful, creative, fun team here and I should be grateful that I love my work.
‘Let’s get breakfast,’ Bill says. ‘We can fill you in on where we are with various projects.’
I’m handed the croissant – minus the candle – and a cup of strong coffee. I need both. I can’t deny that I’m tired. I wanted to be firing on all cylinders today, but I slept fitfully while Chris snored next to me. We take our seats at the table and I listen as various colleagues give updates on the project they’re working on. Business is booming, which is good to hear.
When it’s Bill’s turn, he says, ‘I need to set up another meeting with the consortium for the eco-hotel. I’m aiming for next week or maybe the week after. It’ll be down in the New Forest site, Jodie. Are you OK to come along with me?’
‘Try keeping me away,’ I reply.
‘We’ll take the car rather than the train. It’ll be an early start too as I’d like to get ahead of the traffic.’
‘No problem. I can’t wait to get stuck in.’
‘I’ll show you what we’ve already been given, but this is the first time we’ll see the full plans and the site itself. If you can put some rough ideas together over the next few days, so that we’ve got something to show them, that would be great.’
‘Will do.’ I’m eager to get cracking on this as it’s been brewing for a while. I’m sure we can do a great job with the interior design. It’s right up our street and I’m glad that Bill feels able to trust me with it. If we get it, it will be a feather in our cap. Or as Marilyn would probably say ‘a feather in our eye’. It makes me smile to think of her. Marilyn won’t be wearing a drab black and white outfit today, that’s for sure. I get an unbidden pang of longing for my friend – and, of course, for Ned.
Bill must see the shadow cross my face as he frowns at me and leans in to me. He lowers his voice. ‘Sure you’re OK?’
‘Yeah.’ I nod vehemently. ‘Fine.’
The meeting breaks up and I head to my office. Bill follows me and closes the door behind him.
‘It’s good to have you back, sis,’ he says when we’re alone. We hug each other. ‘I genuinely mean that. I’m lost without you.’
‘You’re never without me.’
‘You know what I mean.’
I take my place behind my glass desk and run my hands over the surface. It seems like a long time since I’ve been here.
Bill sits on the scarlet velvet sofa that’s by the window.
‘Good to be home?’ he questions.
I wrinkle my nose. I can’t lie to my brother. ‘Parts of it,’ I admit.
‘Things still not good with you and Chris?’
‘It’s going to take time.’
‘But you felt like your break on the Isle of Wight did you good?’
‘Brilliant,’ I say. ‘I think I’ve left a little bit of me there. It’s a fabulous place, Bill. You should try going out to your own houseboat. You might like it.’
We both laugh.
‘I hope we get this eco-hotel project,’ Bill says. ‘I’ve got my eye on a chateau in France that I’d like to renovate.’
I shake my head at him in disbelief. ‘Do you never stop?’
‘No!’ He smiles at me. ‘You’re good in yourself though?’
‘Yeah. I feel a bit weird being back here, like I’ve got jet lag.’
‘It will take a few days to settle in again, I’m sure. Anything else?’
‘We’ve called the baby Lottie,’ I tell Bill with a happy sigh. ‘And I don’t want us to
ever forget her. She might not be with us, but I want her always to be part of this family.’
‘I was looking forward to being a doting uncle,’ he says. ‘I mourn her loss too, Jo.’
‘I know. We all do.’ Though I am guilty of forgetting how this has impacted on other people.
‘Will you try for another baby?’
‘I don’t think so.’ I shrug. ‘Chris and I are miles away from that. I’m going to concentrate on my work for now and see if he and I can patch up our relationship.’
‘It would be sad to see this destroy you guys,’ my brother says. ‘You were always good together. I hope you sort it out.’
‘Me too,’ I agree.
He stretches and says, ‘I’d better move or I’ll be asleep on here. This sofa is too comfortable.’
Sunny Days and Sea Breezes Page 24