Happy Endings

by Jon Rance

  ‘You don’t want me?’

  ‘I love Kate and what we did was a mistake.’

  ‘Dearest Ed, you’re talking absolute drivel. It wasn’t a mistake. Turning me down will be a mistake.’

  ‘Oh for God’s sake, Georgie, just fucking grow up!’ I found myself half-yelling.

  ‘You’re telling me to grow up? Mr “my girlfriend has abandoned me for a trip around the world”. How pathetic.’ I suddenly hated her. She wasn’t a sweet, innocent little girl after all, but an annoying, spoilt little brat. I hated myself even more for sleeping with her in the first place. ‘You’re going to regret this.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ I said, standing up. She was poison. A beautiful, angelic-looking devil. ‘Have a good weekend,’ I said, brushing past her on my way out.

  I walked outside into a dreary, wet London night. I pulled up the collar of my coat and walked towards the tube, little pellets of rain spitting against my face making me wince, but I didn’t care. I was smiling because I realised something. I wasn’t like those other men who cheated on their wives and girlfriends and bragged about it to their mates. I was different, better perhaps, and just because I’d had one weak moment, one lapse in concentration, it didn’t mean I loved Kate any less or that we couldn’t work. Kate wasn’t perfect and neither was I, but maybe we were perfect for each other and that’s all that mattered.

  The early morning sun crept through a narrow crack in the curtains and tapped me gently on the forehead. I opened my eyes and felt the warmth envelop my face. It was just past seven o’clock on Monday morning and I was awake before the alarm clock. I had to be at work by nine and so I had time for a leisurely shower and a decent breakfast in front of the television. I felt refreshed.

  It had been a good weekend. I went to the pub on my own, had lunch, read the papers and watched football, drank a few pints and it was cathartic. I chatted with a few of the locals and when I left, I felt different. I knew I couldn’t just sit around waiting for Kate to come back. I’d been wallowing, but no longer. I was going to seize the bloody day. Ed Hornsby didn’t wallow. As Hugh Whitman drilled into us from day one, there are no problems, only solutions, and if you aren’t part of the solution, you’re part of the problem.

  I strode into the office and sat down at my desk and Georgie looked across at me sheepishly. I turned on my computer and stood up to walk across and get a cup of coffee; Hugh was in his office, face like thunder, and he beckoned me over. My early-morning optimism was wiped away in an instant. It wasn’t going to be good. I walked over, trying to work out what it could be and what I’d done. All of my accounts were doing great, a couple of clients had issues with under-performing stock, but we were in a recession, it happened.

  ‘Come in. Close the door. Sit down,’ barked Hugh.

  ‘Problem, sir?’

  ‘Yes. A big fucking problem, Hornsby. Young Georgina Hays has submitted to me personally a complaint of a sexual nature against you.’

  I felt my face flush with a potent mixture of embarrassment, fear and incredulity.

  ‘What? I . . . err . . . don’t understand, sir. What sort of complaint?’

  ‘Details, Hornsby, details. Problem is I can’t let it go. I warned you about any funny business, but you couldn’t do it, could you, eh. You had to eat the bloody apple.’

  ‘But sir, what we did was . . .’

  ‘So you don’t deny it?’

  ‘I . . . I . . . I . . .’

  ‘You had intercourse with her?’ It sounded so horrible coming from his mouth. ‘And you forced yourself upon her?’

  ‘No, no I didn’t. I wouldn’t. We were drunk, it happened. It was her idea. I . . .’

  ‘Listen, Hornsby,’ said Hugh, leaning forward slightly but without whispering. ‘You’ve been a good worker, punctual, hard-working, a team player, but you fucked up big time and I can’t let it go. Now, we could have a hearing, work out the facts and all that, but this is my department, my team and I’m not going to drag Georgina through all that. I’m going to offer you a decent settlement and you’re going to take it. You don’t talk to anyone. You get up, leave, go home and I don’t want to see you ever again. Understood?’

  I was literally speechless. That evil, vindictive little bitch had got me fired and there was nothing I could do about it. I was unemployed. I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t let Hugh see me like that. ‘I just want you to know, I didn’t do anything wrong. We went out, had a few drinks and a one-night stand and now she’s lying about it. I would never do anything to cause you or the company any distress. I love my job. Please, Hugh, don’t fire me. I’ll do anything.’

  I needed this. It was all I had to keep me sane. Unfortunately, Hugh’s face didn’t waver and he just stared at me with those glassy, bloodshot eyes.

  ‘It’s already done. HR already have your final cheque. Six months’ pay. Take it and do something useful with it. Now get out.’

  For a moment I thought about fighting it. I could battle Hugh and the rest of his cronies, but it wouldn’t save my job. I could threaten to sue, take this all the way to the top, but something inside of me knew I didn’t have it in me. Instead, I stood up and walked out, my mind completely and utterly frazzled. It felt like I was living in a nightmare, my hearing seemed distorted and I moved seemingly without using my legs. I floated back to my desk, grabbed my bag and my jacket, and turned to look at Georgie one more time, but she was too busy laughing and talking to one of the new young male recruits. I’d been a bloody fool.

  I took the lift down to the ground floor and then stepped into the foyer for the last time. I took one final look up at the impressive structure they’d paid millions for. The open-plan office resembled a beautiful cruise liner crashing into a gothic cathedral and a sudden fear created a numb pain in my chest. I’d always feared failure and loneliness. I feared ending up with nothing and no one and as I walked out into the chilly streets, it became quite clear I was singularly, completely, horribly alone and, worse, a failure.

  Jack

  ‘Ready?’ I said.

  Mum was sitting at the bottom of the stairs putting her shoes on. It was the anniversary of Dad’s death and we were about to head off and lay flowers on his grave.

  ‘Ready,’ said Mum, standing up with coat, scarf and gloves on. She also wore a small, thin smile.

  ‘Let’s go and see Dad then, shall we.’

  Outside I offered her my arm and we set off on the half-mile walk. I was itching to tell her about the baby, but I’d promised Emma I wouldn’t. She wanted to wait a bit longer and do it together. I understood, but it was such a solemn day and I knew it would cheer Mum up. The promise of a new life; her first grandchild. She’d be over the moon.

  ‘How’s everything with you and Emma? All right?’

  ‘Good thanks.’

  ‘You over all that nonsense about the film?’

  ‘Yes. I was just being a bit of a prat, but we’re fine now. Couldn’t be any happier.’

  ‘That’s good to hear,’ said Mum as we turned the corner and set off up the hill towards the church.

  ‘And how are things with you?’

  ‘Oh, you know, can’t complain.’

  ‘And what about that bingo business?’

  ‘It’s a disgrace, Jack, an absolute disgrace. I’ve spoken to Greg Bishop about it, you know, he runs the bingo nights. It’s all Doris. You know Doris.’

  ‘Blue hair, small . . .’

  ‘Face like a weasel and acts like one too. Cheating she is, Jack. There’s no other word for it. I’m getting a petition together to get rid of her. Get her banned for life from the bingo hall. We’ve only got five signatures so far, but we’ll get there. Bruce has been a big help. Since his wife passed, I think he’s just throwing himself into the bingo to keep his mind occupied.’

  ‘Right,’ I said. ‘Sounds like it’s chaos down there.’

  ‘It is, Jack, it is.’

  It was nice to talk about something mundane.

  ‘Here we
are,’ I said as we arrived outside the church.

  It was a beautiful day. There was a brilliant blue sky overhead, which was only broken up by a few stringy white clouds, and somewhere nearby birds sang, almost like a choir, as we began the slow march through the graveyard. Dad’s small plot was near the back, just under an oak tree. We walked past the graves of strangers, people whose names I knew only because I’d walked past so many times on my way to see Dad. Long-gone fathers, wives and children, all remembered by someone. Eventually, we came to the small plot where my father’s ashes were buried. Mum and I stood in silence and then Mum lay the flowers down next to him.

  ‘There you go, love,’ said Mum, breaking my heart the way she always did when she spoke to Dad. Like he wasn’t really gone. ‘He would have been sixty this year,’ she said, turning to me.

  ‘I know,’ I said.

  ‘I just can’t believe it’s been fifteen years.’

  ‘Me either.’

  I kept thinking about my baby. His grandchild that was on the way. I was also thinking about my writing. I wanted it to happen so badly. I needed it to happen for many reasons: for me, for Emma, for our baby, but I think, most of all, I needed it for Dad.

  ‘He’s says he’s going to be a writer,’ said Dad in his clear, confident voice.

  Dad was in the lounge talking to our neighbours, Joyce and Karl. Karl was a doctor at the nearby hospital and Joyce taught at my school. They didn’t know I was sat at the top of the stairs listening to their conversation.

  ‘Not going to take over the family business then?’ said Karl.

  ‘Not really Jack’s strength,’ said Dad.

  ‘Must be a bit of a disappointment for you,’ said Joyce. I never did like Joyce. I didn’t have to worry though; Dad and I had already talked about my writing ambitions and he said he was proud of me. I’d been nervous to tell him because I know he’d always assumed I would go into the family business, keep the legacy going. A part of me felt guilty because I knew deep down he would have loved me to follow him into real estate, but despite his disappointment, he was happy for me. Proud I was following my dreams, just like him.

  ‘No, no,’ said Dad. ‘It took me a bit by surprise if I’m honest, and of course I worry about him.’

  ‘Understandable,’ said Karl. ‘Not a proper career, is it.’

  ‘Probably just a phase,’ said Joyce.

  ‘Hmmm, maybe,’ said Dad.

  I was seething. Why wasn’t Dad standing up for me? I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It had taken every ounce of courage I had to tell him and I thought he supported me. I thought he understood, but most importantly I thought I knew him better than anyone.

  ‘Give him time, he’s only young,’ said Karl. ‘We all have crazy dreams at that age. I wouldn’t worry, once he grows up and realises the money is in real estate, he’ll be begging you to show him the ropes.’

  ‘I wanted to be an actress for a while,’ said Joyce with a high-pitched giggle. ‘I even went to a couple of auditions back in the day.’

  ‘And what happened?’ said Dad.

  ‘What do you think? Luckily, I decided to become a teacher instead, otherwise I wouldn’t have met this one,’ she said, leaning across and giving Karl a kiss.

  ‘I’m sure he’ll be fine,’ said my father. ‘You never know, he might still take over the business when I’m old and grey.’

  They all laughed and drank their gin and tonics.

  Tears suddenly stung my eyes. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I got up, walked back to my bedroom and closed the door. I put on some music and lay down on the bed. Dad just thought I was some immature kid who had a stupid pipe dream? I’d always looked up to him. I thought I wanted to be just like him, but hearing him say those words I realised he was just like all the other adults. He didn’t understand me in the way I thought he did, and I didn’t understand him either.

  Mum got home shortly after and then Karl and Joyce’s daughter Ashleigh came over. We had the barbecue and I didn’t say anything to Dad. I didn’t know what to say. I felt determined to become a writer and then he’d be proud of me, and not because I was like him and was following in his footsteps but because I was making my own.

  Two weeks later Dad died and I never got the chance to talk to him or get over hearing that conversation. In my mind, he was still the same man to me he was when I was a teenager. I still needed to show him I could be a success on my own terms. I still needed his approval.

  Emma

  I knew Jack wasn’t telling me the complete truth about the pretty young girl in our flat. I could see it on his face. I didn’t know how far they’d gone, whether they’d had sex or not, but it didn’t matter. I knew he loved me and that was all I needed. None of us are perfect, but at the end of the day, when you close your eyes and feel the person next to you in bed, if you know they love you more than anything in the world, what does one mistake really mean? I’d kissed Rhys and Jack had made a similar mistake. The most important thing was that Jack and I were having a baby together.

  ‘Ready?’ said Jack, walking into our bedroom.

  I took a deep breath and looked at myself in the mirror, trying to see any signs of change. I knew it was silly, I didn’t look any different really, except being a bit puffier in the face, but I hadn’t gained any weight. In fact, due to the morning sickness, I’d actually lost some. I felt different though. Just knowing seemed to change everything about me. I felt like a grown up for the first time in my life.

  ‘Ready as I’ll ever be.’

  We had our first appointment at the doctors and I was terrified something was wrong. Scared to death I wasn’t pregnant at all and the brave new world we’d created would mean nothing. After I told Jack, our plans had changed so quickly. We’d discussed the film briefly, but it was over. Jack was already planning beyond working at To Bean or Not to Bean. He was going to get something better and I was going to try and get some acting parts to help. It was so much more than that though. Our relationship had evolved. Suddenly it wasn’t just about us; it was about nine months later when our world was going to be turned upside down. Jack became different too. No longer the boy I’d known; now a father-to-be and more protective over me than ever before.

  We created a bubble, our own little world, and I didn’t want it to end. For my whole life, I thought I’d needed my career so badly and needed it to be a success, but then I didn’t. All I needed was in that bubble and everything in it mattered more than anything had before. The trouble was, when you finally had something you were so afraid to lose, it laced the happiness with a terrified, over-protective sadness. I could lose the film, it didn’t matter, but if I lost Jack or the baby, I didn’t know what I’d do. Going to the doctors was the first step on a staircase that went on forever.

  The surgery was on a quiet tree-lined street near Regent’s Park. We got out of the car and stood outside the building, holding hands before we took deep breaths and walked inside. I checked in and we sat down in the waiting room. Jack held my hand and I looked around at the other women. One of them was heavily pregnant and looked like she was going to drop at any minute. Her huge belly sat in front of her making her grimace in discomfort. The other two women were in different stages of pregnancy and then there were two very young-looking girls. I didn’t dare ask if they were having check-ups or were actually pregnant. One couldn’t have been more than fourteen and both were alone, trying not to look too nervous, but they weren’t fooling anyone.

  I idly rifled through the stack of magazines on the table in front of us but I wasn’t really looking, just trying to stop my brain from cycling through the hundred or so petrifying thoughts that were clouding my mind.

  ‘Emma Fogle?’

  I looked up and a nurse was standing smiling at me. I smiled back and Jack helped me up. I wasn’t sick, but I think he just wanted to support me and it was the only way he knew how. It was only then I realised that Jack was the only man in the waiting room and I suddenly felt a dee
p pang of love for him.

  ‘Miss Fogle, let’s have a look at you shall we,’ said Doctor Simpson as I lay down on the table; Jack was by my side holding my hand. Doctor Simpson squeezed a pea-sized ball of cold jelly onto my stomach and started the ultrasound. It was easily the tensest thirty seconds of my life. I squeezed Jack’s hand so hard I could see him grimacing with pain.

  Before all of this happened I’d thought about having children. ‘One day’ seemed to be the common theme that ran through most of my thoughts. But lying on the table, waiting to hear the indescribable heartbeat of my baby, one day became now and I’d never wanted anything so badly in my entire life. Doctor Simpson moved the ultrasound probe around but the only noise we could hear was static, until eventually we heard it.

  ‘There’s the heartbeat,’ she said. ‘Sounds perfectly healthy.’

  Suddenly both Jack and I were in floods of tears. It was really happening. We still had a long way to go, but I definitely had a baby, our baby, and it had a healthy heartbeat. The relief washed over me faster than any wave, catching me quickly and dragging me along with it. I was finally able to relax. The rest of the examination went smoothly and we made an appointment for our next check-up. Afterwards we went out for an early dinner.

  We were at Pizza Express in Notting Hill, just a short walk from our flat so Jack could have a few drinks. My drinking days were over, for nine months at least, which made me realise I had so much to learn before the baby came. I would need books and to find classes, but above all, we needed a bigger place to live.

  ‘You know we can’t raise a baby in our flat,’ said Jack.

  ‘I was just thinking the same thing.’

  ‘And I know your parents will probably want to help, but I want us to do this on our own, Em. This is our baby, our life, and it’s time I supported us.’

  I’d always known Jack hated living in a flat paid for by my parents. He needed to be the man and he wanted us to be self-sufficient, but it was easier said than done. I didn’t earn much from acting and Jack’s wages from To Bean or Not to Bean would barely be enough for a studio flat in a far worse part of London. As much as I knew it killed him, we needed my parents. I felt awful for him because I knew how much it hurt him, ripped him apart, but what good were words and good intentions without anything to back them up.