Natalie, who was sitting next to her, put her arms around Meg’s shoulders. ‘If that’s what you want,’ she said.
‘But do you understand why?’ Meg asked each of them
‘Yes, we understand,’ Tiffany said, when nobody else seemed to be able to speak.
They all sat around the kitchen table until morning turned into afternoon, each forgetting or choosing to ignore their planned trip to the second Baby Music class. It seemed impossible that only a week ago the world had seemed so different.
In near silence, Frances remarked, when she glanced out of the window, that Gripper was digging up the newly emerging daffodils by the fence.
Meg seemed unperturbed.
‘So what about EastEnders then?’ Natalie tried. ‘Who’d have thought that she was a lesbian! Seriously, everybody is a lesbian these days in soaps. I don’t mind; I’m all for lesbians, but I think they should have few more gay men, don’t you? Even it up a bit?’ She looked around at the blank faces. ‘. . . Or is that just me?’
‘Um,’ Steve said.
‘Really,’ Frances muttered under her breath in disgust.
‘Hadn’t thought about it much, I have to admit,’ Jess told Natalie apologetically.
‘Sorry.’ Natalie grimaced. ‘Sometimes I just get compelled to say what’s in my head and quite often it’s extremely stupid.’
‘Why aren’t I surprised?’ Frances said loud and clear, arching one eyebrow.
Natalie was about to open her mouth in response when Steve spoke.
‘That’s what Jill says about me,’ he said cheerfully. ‘She says, “I love you, darling, but you never think before you open your mouth.” I always know if she’s about to tell me I’ve done something wrong because she always starts with the phrase “I love you, darling, but . . .”’ Steve smiled. ‘She read about it in this American book on how to have a successful relationship. Apparently it’s supposed to diffuse the build-up of anger, because it’s so much better to disagree in an “atmosphere of love”. For example, as Jill said to me only this morning, “I love you, darling, but I do wish you wouldn’t pass wind audibly.”’
This time the whole group laughed.
‘She reckons it’s that bloody book that will keep our marriage on track,’ Steve went on, happy that he had single-handedly lifted the mood.
‘Maybe you could lend it to me then,’ Meg said with a watery smile. ‘I need all the help I can get.’
Steve blushed to the tips of his ears. ‘Oh God, I’m sorry, Meg . . . Jill’s right about me, isn’t she? I don’t think.’
There was silence except for the ticking of the kitchen clock and the distant sound of Gripper’s daffodil excavation.
‘Anyway,’ Jess stepped in, smiling at Tiffany ‘How are you, Tiffany – how are things going?’
Tiffany shrugged and stirred a third spoonful of sugar into her coffee.
‘I’m going to take my exams in September.’ She glanced up at Natalie, the first look she had given her all morning that wasn’t a glare, and even smiled. ‘Natalie came round to my mum’s with me the other day. I thought it was a washout, a total waste of time – Mum didn’t want to know. But yesterday she came round while Dad was out at work. We had a cup of tea, talked about things, what’s on telly, gossiped about Mum’s neighbours. Not anything real or important. She didn’t mention the reasons why she hadn’t been before or why Dad didn’t know she had come now. But she came and we sat and talked and she even held Jordan on her lap for a little while and kissed her before she went. It wasn’t a big reunion or anything, she never said she was in the wrong – but at least she came.’ Tiffany smiled tentatively. ‘It might be a start, you know? It’ll be hard and there will be more shouting, but it’s like Meg says, things that are worth having don’t come easily.’
After that everyone seemed more relaxed. The baby group members settled back into discussing their babies, what new clubs they might join, which ones they wouldn’t go back to in a million years, and although Natalie was as resolutely chatty as the rest of the group, she couldn’t stop thinking about what Tiffany had said. Because it was the teenager and not Meg who had clarified the notion in her mind.
Things that were worth having didn’t come easily, that was what she’d said.
Just as it would seemingly be so easy to have Gary in her life, it felt nearly impossible to bring her and Freddie to a point where they could have Jack in theirs: where Freddie, no matter what had happened between Natalie and Jack, could have his father.
At some point during their last meeting, Natalie wasn’t sure why, she had become utterly furious with him, consumed with a rage that had incinerated all her common sense in one solar-strength flare. It was when he told her that he wasn’t dying, she remembered. Was she angry with him for not dying? she wondered anxiously. And then she realised it was not that. For the short time she had thought she was going to lose him without ever really having him she had been devastated. And it was such a terrible and horrific prospect to face that when he had laughed at her and told her everything was going to be fine she had snapped.
What had exactly followed then was muddy and confusing, but Natalie knew she hadn’t prepared him at all for the news about Freddie. She had literally flung it in his face; it was a selfish, vengeful act, designed to shock and scare him as much as he had shocked and scared her.
She had promised Freddie she would do the right thing by him, but she had already failed. There was only one thing she could do now to try to rectify the situation.
She had to go back and see Jack again.
And this time she’d take Freddie with her.
Chapter Twenty-four
Frances was the last to leave. Steve had gone first, leaving Meg the solicitor’s number on a piece of paper he attached to the fridge door by a Teletubby magnet.
‘Just in case,’ he said. ‘Jill says you should be prepared for everything.’ He thought for a moment and dropped a hand on Meg’s shoulder. ‘And I say you’re a bloody marvellous woman and you shouldn’t accept anything but the best. Promise me you won’t, Meg.’
Meg smiled up at him. ‘I won’t, Steve,’ she said. ‘That’s the last thing I want.’
Jess had gone soon after, when Jacob woke from his nap and wouldn’t stop crying.
‘See you all at Tiff’s,’ she had to say quite loudly to be heard over his yells.
They had been discussing when to hold the next meeting, and Frances had put into words what the rest of them were reluctant to say.
‘Well, it’s my turn of course, but I hardly think considering my current guest that it is an appropriate venue.’
‘And it’s not fair to keep turning up at Meg’s all the time,’ Steve said. ‘I bet she’s sick of the sight of us.’
‘Well, Jess and Steve have already held a group and we know Natalie currently has workmen in, so that leaves . . .’ Frances stared pointedly at Tiffany, who instantly retreated back to the shy and awkward girl she often was around the other members. Her cheeks flushed pink and she sank her head between her shoulders.
‘Oh well,’ Natalie said, keen to take the spotlight off her friend. ‘Come to mine, the work’s all but done anyway, so . . .’
‘No,’ Tiffany said, at first so quietly that no one heard. ‘No,’ she repeated. This time the others looked at her. ‘I can do it.’
‘What’s that, love?’ Steve asked her.
‘I can hold a meeting at my flat. You might as well know I live on the thirteenth floor of a high-rise and I’ve got hardly any furniture and no cups that match . . .’ She glanced at Meg’s table. ‘Or a milk jug. But I can make tea, so if you don’t mind the odd chip in your cup you can all come to mine.’
It had seemed more like a challenge than an invitation, but Natalie was pleased that Tiffany had issued it.
‘Brilliant idea!’ she said. ‘Of course it’s Tiff’s turn. Thank God I say, that means I have a few more days to evict my mother before you come round – what a relief!’
Everybody agreed to be there, and Tiffany was able to smile again, with a mixture of pleasure and anxiety. After all, the only other thing she’d hosted in her entire life had been a sleepover.
Tiffany had been upstairs changing Jordan as Natalie collected her things, instructed to wait for Tiff so they could leave together. Frances went to the loo (or possibly to surreptitiously clean it), leaving Meg and Natalie alone for a few minutes.
‘Are you OK, Natalie?’ Meg asked her out of the blue.
‘Who, me?’ Natalie sat up straight, as if she’d just been caught napping in class. ‘Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?’
‘You look a bit . . . preoccupied,’ Meg said, with concern. ‘Like you had a bit of a sleepless night too.’
Natalie hoped to God that she didn’t look as guilty as she felt.
‘Look,’ Meg went on, ‘you know that just because I’m in the middle of all of this, it doesn’t mean you can’t still talk to me if you need to. Has something happened with Gary?’
Natalie looked at Meg, dear sweet Meg with her tear-bruised eyes and red raw nose, and with all the pain that was weighing so heavily on her shoulders, and for a second she wanted to tell her everything. But how could she? It would be so unfair to expect Meg to deal with her problems. And besides that, Meg was offering to help a woman who didn’t really exist. Maybe she wouldn’t like the real Natalie at all, whoever that was.
‘No, there’s no problem,’ she said. ‘Gary and I are fine.’
‘Which one?’ Tiffany said as she walked into the kitchen.
Natalie looked at her. ‘Pardon?’ she asked.
‘I mean, which Gary? It must be confusing having two Garys in your life.’
After that Natalie had left in rather a hurry with Tiffany close behind.
Finally Meg got up stiffly from the table and walked into the living room, where James had been playing suspiciously quietly for quite some time. She collapsed on the sofa, snatching him up in her arms as she did so.
‘Mama, ’ook! ’Ook!’ James said, pointing proudly to his work of art, which appeared to have involved permanent marker pen and her best cushions.
‘I love it, baby,’ Meg told him, holding him as close as he would let her before he wriggled free.
Frances hovered awkwardly in the doorway, with Henry on one shoulder. ‘Do you want us to go?’ she asked Meg.
‘No,’ Meg said. ‘Look, Frances, I’m sorry I was so horrible to you. I didn’t mean to be – well, I did, and it was cruel of me. But what I said wasn’t true, I just wanted to hurt you. You are a good friend to me. Truly.’
Frances took a step or two into the room. ‘Shall I pick up Alex and Hazel from school for you?’
Meg knew it was the closest she was ever likely to get to Frances acknowledging her apology.
‘Yes please,’ she said. She shut her eyes and immediately felt her exhaustion swarming in and clouding her consciousness. ‘I am so tired . . .’ she said vaguely.
‘Shall I take the children home?’ Frances offered. ‘Iris and James too, if you like. I could give them tea and drop them back later, give you a few extra hours to get some sleep.’
‘I think I might sleep now,’ Meg agreed and then one last restless thought kept her awake. ‘Robert’s at yours isn’t he?’
‘Yes,’ Frances said. ‘He hasn’t been back to work since . . . it all happened. Is that a problem? Do you mind him seeing the children?’
Meg shook her head. ‘No, of course not. I just wonder what they’ll think, seeing him there. So far they haven’t noticed any difference. He’s home so rarely. If they see him they’ll know something is wrong.’
Frances nodded.
‘I’ll tell them he’s been helping me with something,’ she said. ‘You rest and I’ll bring them back after tea?’
‘Ask Robert to bring them back,’ Meg said, one last clear thought keeping her conscious.
‘Are you sure?’ Frances asked her.
‘Yes,’ Meg said. ‘We have to start talking at some point.’
‘You’re sure it’s not too soon?’ Frances sounded worried.
‘I think it’s more important not to leave it until it’s far too late.’
It was the last thing Meg said before she drifted off into the sanctuary of sleep.
‘I know, you know,’ Tiffany said almost as soon as they’d left Meg’s house.
Natalie hurried on as if she could somehow outstrip the slender teenager with her speed and strength. But of course she couldn’t, Tiffany was more than a match for her. She’d just have to get the whole conversation over with as quickly as possible. She took a deep breath.
‘What do you know?’ she asked Tiffany.
‘I know that you had sex with Gary last night.’
‘How can you know?’ Natalie asked her, scandalised. ‘Did he tell you?’
‘He didn’t have too,’ Tiffany said quite smugly. ‘You just did. It was written all over his face when he came to pick up Anthony this morning. I asked him why he was so pleased with himself and he said he couldn’t tell me. I just made an educated guess that it had to be something to do with you – and I was right.’
‘Curses! Foiled again.’ Natalie couldn’t help but find Tiffany’s satisfaction in being right quite amusing.
‘It’s not funny, Natalie!’ Tiffany exclaimed. ‘You’re totally out of order, you do know that, don’t you?’
Natalie walked on briskly; as fond as she was of Tiffany she had, in her opinion at least, far more pressing matters to think about and do just now than receive a dressing down from a surprisingly prudish sixteen-year-old.
‘Tiffany,’ she said, with more than a hint of condescension. ‘You are a lovely girl, a girl who has had more than her fair share of life experiences at a young age. But you are still only sixteen. Gary is a consenting adult and so am I. It was what we both wanted and we both knew where we stood, so really it’s not as big a deal as you think it is.’
‘It is a big deal!’ Tiffany protested. ‘Gary really likes you and you still love this Jack bloke. Don’t use him, Natalie. You’re better than that.’
Natalie stopped dead in her tracks.
‘I know,’ she said. ‘Tiffany, look . . . it was a stupid and wrong thing to do. It’s not going to happen again. Neither of us wants it to.’
‘Gary would, I can tell,’ Tiffany said. ‘Look, you have to realise he’s not just some distraction to take your mind off things or some other stupid complication to get yourself caught up in. He’s been really good to me and Anthony, really good. If he gets hurt . . .’ Tiffany trailed off before adding with a hint of menace, ‘I don’t want that to happen.’
‘It won’t,’ Natalie reassured her. ‘We made a mistake and that’s all. Look, please will you just pretend you don’t know? For my sake and Gary’s?’
Tiffany’s scowl was still quite fierce.
‘I like you, Natalie,’ she said, even though she looked as if the very opposite were true. ‘But you really should think before you act. You rush in too fast. Actions have consequences, you know.’
Natalie looked from Freddie’s buggy to Jordan’s.
‘I think you and I know that better than most people, don’t we?’ she said, with a wry smile.
‘I just don’t know what you want from him,’ Tiffany said, beginning to walk on. ‘Look at you, you’ve got a lovely baby, a ton of money, a big job, a nice house and you’re still not happy!’
‘How do you know I’m not happy?’ Natalie asked her huffily. ‘I’ve never told you that!’
‘You don’t have to,’ Tiffany said. ‘It’s written all over your face.’
Jacob was still crying when Jess got in. He hadn’t stopped once on the way home, even the lull of the bus hadn’t sent him off. She dropped her bag and coat on the floor just inside t
he front door and went straight to the armchair where she put him to her breast. But he didn’t want to feed, twisting his head away from her.
She felt a cold wash of panic well up from the pit of her abdomen. She touched her lips to his forehead. He felt very hot.
‘Oh dear,’ she said out loud to him, needing to hear the sound of her own voice calm and in control. ‘Are you poorly, Jacob baby? Have you got that nasty cold? Poor you, you don’t know why you feel so rotten, do you?’
Jess laid Jacob on the floor and removed all his clothes until he was down to just his nappy. And then she remembered that she had to keep his extremities warm, so she put socks and mittens on him. Still he cried.
Picking him up again, Jess went to the bathroom and took out the Calpol that Lee’s mother had brought round: one of the most bizarre new-baby gifts that Jess could imagine.
‘It will save your life,’ Gene had told Jess as she handed it to her. ‘It’s a godsend.’
Jess, who instinctively did not like the idea of feeding her little baby drugs, had vowed never to use it, but now . . . if it would bring Jacob’s temperature down and help him rest . . .
The label said a single 2.5 ml dose could be given to a baby aged between two and four months. Jacob was nearly three months, so she could give him a spoonful. But when she looked at him and how tiny he was, it just didn’t seem right to give him drugs. Nothing else had gone into his body yet except for her milk. What if he didn’t really need paracetamol, what if she would only be giving it to him to make herself feel better? She knew what Lee would do if he were here. Lee would just give it to him, but alone Jess was paralysed by indecision. Consult your doctor if concerned, that was what the label also said, and Jess was concerned.
She thought about herdoctor’s surgery, which was just still open and only a few yards down the road. She knew exactly what would happen. She knew the obligatory frosty receptionist would treat her like a moron and that the weary doctor would patronise and talk down to her, making her feel like an idiot for bringing her baby in with just a cold.
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