‘Natalie, the reason I asked you here was because, well, I have to be honest, I didn’t really want to see you again, but then there you were standing in front of me and it made me think about that weekend we met. I just wanted to clear the air between us. It seems like the right thing to do, because I want you to know that the reason it didn’t go any further wasn’t because of you – it was me, you see . . .’
‘Jack.’ Natalie stopped him in his tracks. ‘You’re going too fast. You don’t have to tell me what happened last year – it really doesn’t matter any more, what matters is . . .’
‘It does actually matter.’ Jack was insistent. ‘To me at least – will you let me explain, please?’
Natalie wanted to say no, she wanted to say that what she had to tell him was absolutely, positively the most massive thing that he was ever likely to hear. But somehow she couldn’t bring herself to do it, partly because listening to his excuses for not being in touch would delay the inevitable a few minutes longer, but also because she thought her news deserved top billing.
‘OK,’ she said with a shrug.
Jack nodded decisively. ‘Wait there.’
He returned with two glasses and a bottle of wine. He poured out the first glass and handed it to Natalie. She looked fondly at it and wished she could drink it in one, but she knew from recent experience that any chance of her behaving with dignity and integrity would fly out of the window if she did, so instead she simply held it – like a talisman. Or an arsenic pill, just in case things got really bad.
‘So.’ Jack sat down opposite her on a low settle, his long legs folded awkwardly as he leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees and cupping his wine glass between his palms. He looked like he’d eaten too much of the wrong side of the magic mushroom from Alice in Wonderland.
‘Right.’ He took a breath and looked into his glass as he spoke. ‘Here we go. The day I met you was rather an unusual day,’ he said. ‘It was a day when I did things I would never normally do, behaved in a way I would never normally dream of. I was in shock, I suppose.’
Natalie didn’t know she was biting her bottom lip until she felt the sharp pain. She realised she was afraid.
‘In shock?’ she asked him. ‘Why?’
‘Well.’ Jack looked uncomfortable. ‘It’s still hard for me to talk about – I still find it a bit embarrassing. It’s stupid, I know, but I think it’s because men never normally discuss these sorts of things, least of all with women . . . I don’t know how to tell you this but . . .’
‘Is it that you are gay and only realised after spending the weekend with me?’ Natalie asked him abruptly.
‘God no!’ Jack exclaimed. ‘I would have thought that you of all people would have known I wasn’t gay.’ He looked rather offended.
‘Well, are you married then, have you got kids and you fancied playing away for a weekend and you regret it terribly – is it that?’
Jack looked at her.
‘It’s so strange that we don’t know each other better when I feel like I’ve known you for years,’ he said. ‘And anyway, I’m not the sort of man who would cheat on his wife if he had one, which I don’t.’
‘Jack, please, just tell me what I’m here for,’ Natalie implored.
‘OK, I will,’ he said. ‘The day I met you I’d just found out I was going to die.’
‘Die?’ Natalie couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. ‘Like be dead?’
‘Yes.’ Jack smiled fleetingly. ‘Like be dead. I was on the Tube on my way back from my consultant. I’d tested positive for cancer for . . .’ Jack blushed, clearly struggling to muster the words. ‘Um, for testicular cancer, that’s cancer of the . . . er . . . ball . . . area.’
‘Christ,’ Natalie said, because nothing else seemed appropriate, and because of all the things she had expected him to say that was not one of them.
‘I heard him say “You’ve got cancer” and I didn’t hear much after that,’ Jack went on, looking into the fire. ‘Except that it was stage two cancer, and that it had spread from my groin into the lymph nodes in my belly which would kill me if left untreated. It’s a strange thing to be suddenly faced with your own mortality, Natalie.’
He watched her for a few seconds in the flickering firelight. Natalie felt glued to her seat, unable to move a muscle, not even her face. Cancer?
‘So I was sitting on the Tube, stuck in that tunnel, and I could almost hear the wasted seconds of my life ticking away. And all I could think was, “This is it.” I was going to die. I’d never do the things I wanted to do with my life, took for granted I’d be able to because I’d always thought I’d live for ever. Take a balloon ride across the Serengeti, gamble my shirt in Vegas, be a husband one day, be a father. I was scared shitless. More than that, I kept thinking Ihad to make every last minute of my life important, make it count for something.’ Jack looked back into the fire and smiled as he remembered that morning. ‘And then I saw you, sitting opposite me on the train. I remember you looked a little pink from the heat and you had a couple of buttons undone on your top.’ Jack was almost shy as he a flickered glance in that direction. ‘Like you do now and your hair was all kind of wild and I looked at you and I thought, “Oh God, what if I never have sex again?” ’
Natalie sat back a little in her chair.
‘So I just happened to be in the right place at the right time?’ she said, finding her voice at last. ‘If another woman had been sitting there who looked halfway shaggable you’d have picked her up?’
Jack sighed and took a long, thoughtful sip of his wine.
‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘Maybe. I didn’t have anything planned. I didn’t really know what I was doing or who I was being. All I knew was that I didn’t want to go back to the office and waste more seconds of my life on spreadsheets and meetings. I wanted to do something, feel something! I didn’t plan to take you to Venice. It just sort of happened. When I started talking properly to you at lunch I suddenly really wanted you to see the city. And I wanted to be the one to show it to you. I was being selfish, Natalie – I wasn’t thinking about anything apart from what I wanted and on that day at that time I wanted you. I wanted a distraction from the truth.’
‘I see,’ Natalie managed to say.
‘I didn’t want to tell you all this,’ Jack went on. ‘I didn’t ever want to have to see you and look you in the eyes and talk to you about my gonads, or rather the lack of them. But then I did see you and seeing you made me think.’ He looked directly at Natalie for a second. ‘That time we spent together was really special.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘I mean, I didn’t just imagine it, did I? You felt it too, right? Otherwise that would be seriously embarrassing, almost as embarrassing as talking to you about my gonads.’ Jack laughed but Natalie couldn’t see the funny side.
‘It was special,’ she said quietly. ‘It really was.’
‘I couldn’t believe what was happening. I couldn’t believe that this woman, the first woman I’d ever picked up on the Tube, was so great.’
The first woman. Natalie pondered. Maybe she had been the one to start him off on his serial conquests, among whose victims Suze might have been included. She didn’t know if the thought made her feel better or worse.
‘Everything about you was so great,’ Jack told her. ‘Your sexiness, your laugh and most of all your openness. It was so refreshing to meet a woman who wasn’t into game-playing or pretending to be something she wasn’t. You made me forget everything my consultant had told me and for those couple of days I felt like I’d never have to think about it again. And then you had to go back to London and I realised . . .’ He trailed off, his face full of uncertainty again.
‘What?’ Natalie asked him.
‘Reality set in,’ Jack said quietly. ‘I was about to undergo surgery to remove my testicle and lymph glands, followed by a long and difficult treatment that would mean I’d feel really ill for a long time, and very likely lose all my hair. I had to face up to that. I knew I coul
dn’t keep running away and pretending that everything was fine, not this time. There was no more time for distractions.’
Natalie said nothing. She couldn’t rationalise what was happening. She had been right all along. Jack really was a completely different man from the one she thought she had met that day on the Tube. But he was completely different in a completely different way from what she had imagined. He’d told her all she’d had to do was to be sitting right in front of him to be whisked off to Venice. He could have chosen almost any woman to distract him from his illness. The randomness of it all stunned her. Consciously or not, she supposed that up until that moment she had always believed that she and Jack were meant to be together, if only for that weekend. That Freddie was meant to happen. And yet if he had got on a different train, or even the next carriage, everything that had happened to her in the last year would have evaporated into thin air. It seemed inconceivable that her life could be thrown so arbitrarily into total disarray.
‘I got back to London the day after you left,’ Jack said, when it became clear Natalie wasn’t going to speak. ‘I had a hospital appointment where they talked through my treatment with me, explained about the surgery and the three cycles of chemotherapy that would follow. They told me I’d be feeling like shit for the best part of a year. Look at me, I’m not exactly Mr Universe to begin with – I don’t jog or train with weights or anything, but I’d always thought that I could if I wanted to one day – and then to find out that I wouldn’t even have the strength to lift a coffee cup. Funny really. Like a bad joke.’
But Natalie was about as far from wanting to laugh as any woman could possibly be. Instead, tears were standing in her eyes as what Jack had been telling her finally began to sink in.
‘I was alone here in London, there wasn’t any family or really close friends here that I felt I could ask to care for me, so I decided to go home, to my mum and dad to have my treatment in Italy.’ Jack sighed. ‘Look, Natalie, I want you to know that if it hadn’t been for the cancer I would have called you. I would have wanted to see you again and maybe things might have been very different. And now . . . well, that’s what I wanted you to know. I know that we’ve missed our chance, our moment has passed and it’s too late to go back, even if we wanted to. But it matters to me that you know why.’
Natalie blinked and a single tear rolled down her cheek and onto the back of her hand. She was crying for Jack and for herself, but most of all for Freddie. She was crying for her baby who would lose his father before ever really knowing him.
‘And now?’ she asked him, her voice unsteady.
‘Now?’ Jack asked her.
‘How . . . how long have you got left?’ Natalie forced the sentence out with difficulty, feeling as if with each word she spoke her heart was suffering another tiny tear.
Which was why she didn’t expect Jack to laugh out loud.
‘Oh God,’ he said. ‘About another sixty or seventy years. I’m not dying, Natalie – I’m cured!’
Natalie burst into uncontrollable tears.
‘Oh no, oh God.’ Jack stepped towards her as if to embrace her and then thought better of it, his arms hovering before dropping heavily to his sides. ‘I’m so sorry, I keep forgetting that other people know as little about it as I did when I first found out. If I had really listened properly to my consultant at that appointment, I would have known then it’s ninety per cent curable. I was in the lucky ninety per cent.’
Natalie shoved him back so hard that he fell back onto the settlee with some astonishment.
‘You bastard,’ she said, her voice low with fury.
‘What?’ Jack looked confused. ‘Weren’t you just crying a minute ago because you thought I was dying?’
‘You total and utter arrogant bastard,’ Natalie said, feeling the tumult of emotions she had been experiencing throughout this evening reaching boiling point in her chest and distilling into one hundred per cent proof rage.
‘Did you even think about what effect your game-playing would have on me?’ She hurled the words at him. ‘You used me. You made me feel all these things, made me trust you and want you and all the time you were playing this game!’
‘I wasn’t,’ Jack insisted. ‘Not all the time. I just didn’t want to . . . I couldn’t tell you the truth.’
‘Why, because you’d finished needing your distraction?’ Natalie asked him.
‘No, because I didn’t want you to know that I was about to be castrated,’ Jack shouted. He took a breath and lowered his voice. ‘At least that’s what it felt like. I didn’t want you to see me as a pathetic invalid. I still don’t.’
‘What if I didn’t care about that? What if I thought that the time we spent together was the best time of my life, and that I wanted to be with you even if you were bald and sick and one testicle down?’
‘Did you really feel like that?’ Jack sounded surprised.
‘I don’t know,’ Natalie said furiously. ‘Nobody asked me!’
‘I didn’t think it was fair . . .’ Jack began, looking utterly confounded by her reaction.
‘So you were being all noble,’ Natalie said scathingly.
‘Well, yes, actually.’ Jack clambered to his feet and stood opposite her. ‘I did think I was being noble!’
‘Well, your nobility was sod-all good for me, Jack,’ Natalie told him, her voice low now but no less fraught. She knew that this was her moment at last, and she knew that all chances of her meeting it with dignity and integrity were long gone.
‘While you were swanning off being all noble, Jack, I was left wondering what had happened. You could have at least told me that you were being noble, you could have at least told me . . . something!’
‘Natalie,’ Jack said, looking shell-shocked and confused all at once, ‘I didn’t expect any of this. All I wanted to do was to get things straight between us.’
‘Don’t worry, we’re going to,’ Natalie told him.
‘What do you mean?’ Jack asked her cautiously.
Suddenly Natalie made a grab for her bag, pulling out her wallet and flicking it open to reveal Freddie’s photograph. She thrust it in Jack’s face.
‘What’s that?’ he asked her, peering at the photo.
‘Did they cut out your brain at the same time as your testicle?’ Natalie returned sharply.
‘What do you mean?’ Jack looked again at the photo. ‘Oh God, you’ve had a baby.’ He sat back with a thud on the low settle.
‘Of course, how foolish of me.’ He shook his head. ‘Here I am trying to let you down gently . . . I should have known you would have moved on, met someone else – started a family.’ He thought for a moment and as Natalie waited she could almost see him doing the sums in his head. He looked up at her. ‘You moved on pretty quick,’ he said, looking gratifyingly offended.
‘Oh, you idiot,’ Natalie seethed. ‘I told you I had something to tell you too, didn’t I? Not that you listened.’ She took a breath. ‘While you were in Italy being noble with your very curable cancer I was here on my own. Pregnant.’
There, she had said it, but as she looked at Jack she realised he still didn’t understand what she was saying. ‘About nine months after our weekend in Venice, Jack, I gave birth to a baby boy. To your son.’
Jack’s jaw dropped.
‘Congratulations, Casanova. You’re a father,’ Natalie told him.
Chapter Seventeen
Natalie had never thought she would be so glad to be awake rocking a screaming baby at five forty-five a.m. on a Monday morning. But she was more than glad, she was ecstatic because at least that meant that the worst weekend of her life was finally over and she could get back to her unreal life, the life where everybody liked her and she was in control.
The first thing Jack had said once the penny had finally dropped was, ‘Are you sure he’s mine?’
Natalie snatched back her photo of Freddie and held it close to her chest.
‘I’m going,’ she said, turning on her heel and looki
ng for her coat.
‘Natalie, wait . . .’ Jack followed her into the tiny hallway, crowding her out with his presence.
‘I didn’t mean to say that, it’s just a lot for me to take in. I didn’t expect to find out that I had a kid!’
‘No.’ Natalie looked up at him. ‘Join the club.’
‘Look, I need some time to think,’ Jack said. ‘I need time to get my head around it.’
Natalie opened the front door and turned back to face him.
‘Don’t bother, Jack,’ she said. ‘I don’t need you.’ The words felt as painful as if her mouth was full of shards of broken glass. ‘I don’t want you. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you now, and so have Freddie and I.’
‘Freddie?’ Jack looked confused.
‘That’s his name,’ Natalie told him.
‘Oh. Right.’
‘We don’t need or want you. We release you. Forget youever met me or knew about him. Stay out of our lives, please.’
She waited for what seemed like an age for him to say something; to say that he did still want her and that he did want to get to know his son. But Jack’s gaze fell to his feet and all he said with a shrug was, ‘OK. OK then.’
‘Goodbye, Jack,’ Natalie said as she shut the door on him for ever.
When she got home all she wanted to do was to find Freddie and hold him in her arms. She raced upstairs and then she stopped just outside her bedroom door.
Her mother was in with Freddie and she was singing to him. She was singing ‘Fly Me to the Moon’ and not in a drunken sort of way, either. She had a nice voice, smoky and soothing, a voice honed on a thousand fags and countless vodkas.
Suddenly Natalie remembered something: her mother always used to sing Sinatra to her when she was little. In the bath, with bubbles in their hair, they’d sing this song together and Sandy would say that one day they would fly to the moon, just the two of them on the back of a magic bird and, once they’d got there, eat all the cheese two girls could possibly want. How could she have totally forgotten something that now seemed so vivid? Could it be because it was a happy memory? Did it suit Natalie to believe that she had never been happy with Sandy?
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