‘And why does that have to be a bad thing? Why are you so against having children?’ she shouted.
‘Hang on, sorry to be harsh but it’s you that’s always insisted you were, and I quote, “definitely not cut out to be a mother”.’
‘Do not push the blame on me. If I can decide to give it a go, so can you.’ She stormed out of the room.
Upstairs, Kate threw herself on the bed. Why wouldn’t he budge on this? What if she couldn’t talk him round? She heard him answer the front door. Minutes later he stood in their bedroom doorway with a box of flowers in one hand and a bundle of letters in the other.
‘Secret admirer?’ He raised an eyebrow and laid the box on the bed next to her. ‘A letter here for you as well, from…’ he turned the envelope over before handing it to her, ‘…who do you know on the Isle of Wight?’
Oh God, Paul again. She tried not to snatch the letter from James. She had no intention of opening it in front of him, so she tucked it under her leg. And flowers? What was he playing at?
‘So when are you going to Mac’s?’
‘Today if that’s okay with you?’
‘Well it’s not, obviously.’
‘Look, I spoke to him earlier. He’s going away on business for a few days. This will give us both time to consider our options.’ He opened his wardrobe.
How could he have made plans without speaking to her? She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. They’d always been solid, hadn’t they? Surely that counted for something in all this.
‘How long do you think you’ll be gone?’
‘Let’s see how we go, shall we?’ He held up five shirts on hangers hooked over his fingers.
‘I know it’s a shock for you, it is for me too, but we’re having a baby and we need to do this together.’
He strode into the bathroom and the door clicked shut.
She pressed her hands onto her hips. How was she supposed to handle this level of stubbornness? He was usually so open to trying new things, being flexible and considering all points of view. One of his mantras was, if something wasn’t working, try a different way. But maybe that was the trouble: he loved their lives as they were, and he didn’t see the need to bring a baby in to disrupt it.
When he came back out, his washbag was zipped and bulging. The telephone rang twice before the answerphone kicked in. The message couldn’t be heard from upstairs.
‘James, just listen to me a second.’
He threw her a cursory glance.
‘I know it was really difficult for you growing up, but just because your parents—’
‘Adoptive parents,’ he cut her off.
‘Okay, adoptive parents – just because you didn’t get on with them doesn’t mean—’
‘Didn’t get on? Are you joking me? Were you there? They were downright negligent.’
Kate sighed and raised her hand in submission. ‘Okay, but I’m just saying that what happened to you doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have children of your own, that’s all.’
He turned his back to her.
‘Is that why you’re so against having children? Is it something to do with Ben, why you don’t see him any more?’
‘Enough, enough! I do not want to talk about this.’ He waved his arm aloft.
For a split second she imagined him as a child doing the same thing. She sighed and slid Paul’s letter under her pillow.
‘I’m going downstairs.’
She took the box of flowers with her and opened it in the kitchen. Inside, suspended in a plastic case and tied to a large bulb of water was a single dark purple rose. A card in an envelope was tucked inside with ‘Kate’ written on the front. She ripped the envelope open. On a small card she read the words:
Counting down the days until you die.
A gasp escaped her lips. The card dropped from her fingers and swept out of sight under the fridge. Was this Paul’s sick idea of a joke?
She shoved the box and the flower into the bin then checked out of the windows and the spyhole in the front door. There were so many bushes and trees, he could be hiding out there and she wouldn’t know. She checked her phone. Nothing. In the living room, she pressed play on the answerphone.
‘Kate, call me back as soon as you get this.’ That was it, a strident message from her mother. She would have phoned again if it was urgent, wouldn’t she? She dialled her number and stood at the window. A light flurry of snow floated to the ground, melting on impact. She counted the number of rings before hanging up: twenty. She redialled, but still no answer. Fine. She slammed the receiver down. She could not deal with her right now. Better to give each other some space. She’d call back later and try to clear the air.
James dumped his suitcase next to the sofa. He wore jeans and a polo shirt she’d bought him on their last holiday to New York.
‘Perhaps I should go over there.’
‘Have you had another row?’
‘She accused me of stealing something from her, years ago. She went a bit crazy.’
‘And did you take it?’
‘I’ve no recollection of it, but it was in our pile for the charity shop, so God knows how it got there.’
‘What is it?’
‘A tiny silk pouch, a purse she called it, with a numbered disc inside.’
James frowned.
‘It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her so upset. She said her mother gave it to her.’
‘I’m sure she’ll contact you again when she’s ready.’
‘Like you, you mean?’ Kate tossed the phone on the sofa.
‘You know you can call me any time,’ he said, coming towards her.
She pushed him away.
‘I don’t want us to not talk about things, that isn’t the idea.’
‘So why go? Why not stay here so we can work it out?’
‘Because I think the time away will help put everything in perspective.’
‘I know we said if this happened I’d have an abortion, but the reality is, I can’t. I simply can’t do it.’
‘This is so not you, Kate: being a mother. You told me so many times that it was the last thing you wanted to be. You said it was for other people, remember?’ He knelt in front of her and stroked her arms. ‘We won’t be able to fly off somewhere at a moment’s notice or go out for dinner several times a week. There’ll be dirty nappies and toys all over the place, screaming, crying and sleepless nights. Not to mention the cost, the responsibility, the worry. It’s not what we planned for our lives, is it? What about retiring early, living abroad? This will change everything we’d hoped to achieve.’
‘But I’m not sure those things are important to me any more. Susie has changed, I’ve changed, why can’t you?’
‘What about us as a couple?’ He turned back to his suitcase.
‘We can get through it, become stronger bringing up our child together.’
‘You think it will be easy?’
‘Is planning every detail of our future really living? Surely this is an unexpected gift.’ Perhaps he thought he could talk her out of it, but the attachment she felt to this life growing inside her was beyond her own comprehension. She pressed her hand to her bump. They were talking about the life of an unborn child – a person. It didn’t fit in with his Ralph Lauren tops and Armani jeans or her Karen Millen dresses and Prada handbags – suddenly everything they owned seemed pointless, worthless in comparison.
Yet everything they’d built up together could be saved in the next moment if she changed her mind, but a surprising determination had embedded itself in her heart and couldn’t be prised out, and anyway, she didn’t want it to.
He picked up his bags and headed for the door. ‘Nice single rose by the way. Who did you say it was from?’
‘I didn’t.’
‘Why is it in the bin?’
‘Because I don’t know who sent it.’
‘Maybe it is a secret admirer. Are you sure that baby’s mine?’ He grinned.
‘
I can’t believe you just said that.’
‘Sorry. Look, all I’m saying is take your time to think this through; it’s not just about the first few months, it’s about years down the line of responsibility and heartache.’
‘You can’t do this to me, James. I won’t choose,’ her voice rose as she followed him down the hallway. ‘I want this baby and I want you too.’
After James had gone, the rattle of the front door rang in Kate’s head; the invisible backdraught of all the words left unsaid swirled round her. Swallowing back the tears, she cupped her belly and reassured the baby that it was safe, Mummy could never get rid of it. She bolted the door top and bottom and checked the spyhole. There was no one around.
As she climbed the stairs she thought about the rose in the bin and the threatening note. Who other than Paul would write something so vile? What if they meant to do her real harm?
Chapter Fifteen
Upstairs, Paul’s letter lay under her pillow like a sleeping bomb. She took it out, sliding a finger underneath the flap, tearing it along the seam. She paused before taking out a sheet of lined paper.
Kate,
I’ve been more than patient. I expect to see the full amount of money in my account by the end of the week or there will be consequences.
P
Kate blinked at the words. She read it again and paced round the room. The same demand, but this time he was showing her he really did know where she lived. It was posted not hand delivered, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t lurking outside, watching her.
She thought of the time they’d lived together in a bedsit after she ran away from home, how exciting it was until they had to hide from the landlord when their rent was late. The flowery old bedsheet they’d used as a curtain had fallen down one evening. Paul pulled his boxers back on and they both laughed until they could hardly breathe as he climbed on a chair and tried to hang the sheet back up. A kitchenette and kettle in the corner of the room were their luxuries. The mattress on the floor and the shared bathroom up two flights of bare staircase were not so fun to get used to. Every night the front door banged followed by the loud voices of the other lodgers. A slippery path of junk mail littered the hallway and an arrest warrant for someone she’d never heard of was nailed to the wall. None of it had mattered because they’d been so in love. But she could never have imagined it would end so badly.
She’d have to dip into her own savings but how much more could she afford to send him?
Her mobile phone vibrated. James, thank God.
Got here okay. Cat left a dead sparrow on the doorstep, not the best welcome. Hope you’re okay, J xx.
He was treating this like one of his work trips, which strangely made her feel a little better. Should she tell him about the note with the rose and Paul threatening her? But then he’d want to know why, and she couldn’t risk it.
She padded down to the kitchen, taking the mobile with her.
Perhaps the cat thinks you need feeding
she texted. She poured herself an orange juice in a wine glass.
Flat smells of cat’s piss
came the reply.
Kate smiled.
Come home then!
She carried her drink into the living room. This time the mobile remained silent. She pushed it away and thought about texting Paul.
The mobile rang, making her jump.
‘Kate…’ James said.
‘Have you cooked your sparrow supper yet? Or are you ringing for a recipe?’
‘I prefer pigeon actually.’
‘So, what are you having for dinner?’ she asked, trying to stay cheerful and not let on how jumpy she was.
‘A bottle of wine.’
‘Oh.’
‘Kate… I…’
‘Come home, James.’
‘I… I don’t know how to deal with this,’ he said.
‘I need you here.’ How could she admit she was nervous being in the house on her own? He’d want to know why and there was too much to explain, too much for her to lose.
‘I do love you, you know that, don’t you?’ he said.
‘Then don’t do this, we can work it out.’
‘Kate, this whole parent thing… I really can’t do it.’
‘You can, I know you can. We’ll do it together.’
‘I don’t know. I’ll call you tomorrow.’
‘Please don’t go.’ She stopped short of pleading with him. If she admitted she was scared, wouldn’t he come back straight away? The trouble was she’d kept this secret from him the whole time they’d been together. Telling him might have the opposite effect; he might leave for good, especially on top of struggling to accept the baby.
‘We’ll talk tomorrow.’
‘Is it because you don’t think I’ll be a good mother?’ she rattled out before he could hang up.
‘Don’t be silly,’ he said, ‘why would I think that?’
‘You’re sure?’
‘How can you even ask that?’
‘I just don’t understand why you’re so against it.’
Silence.
‘It’s difficult to explain.’
‘Try, please.’
‘I can’t, I’m sorry.’
They said good night and hung up. Kate stared across the room with blurred vision. Her eyes rested on an early photo of them holding hands in front of a rhododendron at Kew Gardens. She’d already known then, after five intense months, that she was meant to be with James forever.
In the kitchen, she ripped up the note into tiny pieces and dropped them in the bin. She pulled the rose out and plucked each petal off one by one. Instead of smelling sweet they smelt sour, almost poisonous. Whoever it was trying to wreck her life, she needed to end it.
Chapter Sixteen
Elizabeth woke up on the sofa. The pain in her chest had left a dull ache. She pulled the sheets and blankets over her head to block out the noise of gushing tap water. She couldn’t be sure if the man had gone. Had he helped her bring down the bedding? That was kind of him. The clock said eleven p.m. How could that be? It was safer down here. They wouldn’t find her. The water slowed to an echoey drip, drip, drip. She plugged her ears with her hands and dragged herself up. At the window, she gazed at the stars in the plush velvet sky. One day she’d escape. Take Edward with her. She’d save him. Spilling through a seam in the universe came the sound of children singing, ‘Silent Night’.
She was standing in the death-cold church in her crisp white pinafore. Powder-puff breath streamed from their mouths. Edward’s robin-red chest moved up and down as he belted out each verse.
She clung to the arm of the sofa and quietly sang along. The tears came hot and fast, but she didn’t stop. Dear little Edward.
She pulled at the curtains until they covered the windows. A triangle of moonlight peeped through the crack at the top. She lay back down on the sofa and shut her eyes. Miss Dillard’s face appeared so large she could see every pore on her flaky red-veined skin. Elizabeth gave a start, but her eyes wouldn’t open. One by one the children marched to the side of the swimming pool. Joseph was first in line. He pegged his nose with his fingers, screwed up his eyes and jumped in. She shivered at the splash of cold water and prayed the line would never reach her. But each child followed in quick succession after him. A few were given a shove by Miss Dillard if they dithered too long. Elizabeth was last, as always, her knees knocking. She pressed her forefinger and thumb to her nose. The chlorine vapours smarted her eyes. Her baggy swim costume did nothing to prevent her shivering body turning to gooseflesh. Miss Dillard gave her a firm push, sweeping her clean off her feet. She entered the water with a stinging wallop. Water shot up her nose. The children’s cries deadened as she sank deep underwater.
Time stopped.
She floated towards the surface and dared to open her eyes only to see a long stick prodded towards her. The hook end jabbed in her chest, pushing her so far down her hands touched the bottom of the pool as her mouth filled with water.<
br />
The loud ring of the telephone broke in. Elizabeth’s eyes flicked open. She was sweating all over. She reached out and touched the soft lavender-smelling blanket and covered her ears until it stopped. But it started up again. Reluctantly, she climbed out of her warm cocoon, pulled the cable out of its socket in the wall and went back to bed to the quicksand of sleep.
A knock on the door woke her in an instant. She lay there unable to move. The knock came again, more forceful, in a little tune, rap-rap-rap-rap-rap. She sat up. Her eyes darted round the room. The triangle of sunlight cut through the darkness. Plates and cups were stacked on the table with half a loaf of bread and a butter knife. Had they been in while she was asleep? The knocks turned into thuds. The letterbox rattled followed by a woman’s shrill voice shouting something. She sounded familiar. Elizabeth shouted back to go away. She started to shake and pulled the blanket over her head. When the noise stopped, she finally drifted back to sleep.
Chapter Seventeen
Kate was woken by someone knocking at the front door. After a few moments it started again, more urgently this time. She stumbled out of bed, glancing at herself as she passed the hall mirror: her face was net-curtain white, her hair a backcombed mess.
She opened the front door and squinted at Susie surrounded by a halo of sunlight.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ Kate said. She had a nerve turning up uninvited. Why should she let her in?
‘You look terrible, Kate. Do you know it’s almost midday?’ Susie pushed down on the pram handle and manoeuvered the wheels over the doorstep.
Kate had no choice but to step aside. She felt stupid standing there in her pyjamas, her hands lost in her nest of hair. Susie shut the door behind her.
‘No work today?’
‘I work from home on Fridays.’ Kate spoke like a sullen teenager.
‘Sorry, I didn’t know.’
Kate didn’t like her tone. If she expected her to be at work, what was she doing here? Hoping to see James on the sly? It had been almost two days since he’d left.
A Mother Like You Page 10