by B. A. Paris
‘How are you feeling?’ I ask Kirin.
‘Fine for now. I’m only twelve weeks. I had a scan yesterday and that’s when they told me there were two.’
‘I wish I’d been there to see Nelson’s face!’
‘He wasn’t there.’
‘Why not?’
‘I haven’t told him I’m pregnant.’
Jess glances at me: She hasn’t told Nelson?
‘But—’ She looks anxiously at Kirin. ‘Hasn’t he noticed?’
She shakes her head. ‘I haven’t put on much weight yet and I haven’t had any morning sickness. It’s always the middle three months that are the worst for me. So, any time now.’
‘Why haven’t you told him?’ I ask. ‘He’ll be fine about it, won’t he?’
‘We had a conversation about having a fourth child after Lily was born, and he said three was enough. I broached the subject again when I guessed I was pregnant, and he said definitely not.’
‘Oh, Kirin.’ I reach over and give her hand a squeeze. ‘He’ll come around to the idea, once he knows.’
‘I know he will. And despite his moaning, he loves being a dad. It’s just the fact that there are two.’ She starts laughing. ‘I don’t think he ever imagined, even in his worst nightmare, that he’d end up with five children under the age of six. He’s not going to know what’s hit him.’
Jess and I start laughing too. ‘There’s something incredibly funny about Nelson being a father of five,’ Jess says, wiping her eyes. ‘I think we need a drink.’ She hands us each a glass of champagne. ‘Happy birthday! And congratulations,’ she adds with a smile at Kirin.
‘Thank you for this lovely treat,’ I say, clinking their glasses. ‘You’re the best.’
Kirin takes a sip of champagne. ‘Maybe I’ll tell Nelson at the party tonight, once he’s had a few drinks.’
‘That’s not a bad idea. With everyone congratulating him and telling him what an amazing family he’s going to have, he’ll think it’s the most wonderful thing in the world.’
‘It’s not just the fact that I’m pregnant, though,’ she says, swapping her champagne for the glass of juice. ‘I don’t want to carry on working when I have five young children. The cost of childcare will be exorbitant and anyway, I want to be able to spend time with them. Financially, it’s going to be difficult.’ She pauses. ‘The holidays will have to go, for a start. And other things – the ridiculously expensive wines Nelson loves so much, the bike stuff. It’s my salary that pays for all those extras. His really only covers the mortgage and the household bills.’
‘I’m sure he’ll be happy to make a sacrifice for a few years,’ Jess says.
‘But it won’t be for a few years, will it? Children get more expensive with age.’
‘Yes, they do,’ I say, trying not to imagine how much university fees and accommodation for five children will cost. ‘But think of what a lovely family you’ll have. And chances are that when they’re older, some of them will at least live in the same country as you. Paula – you know, my friend at the office who retired last year – has one of her sons living in Australia and the other in Canada. I’d hate it if I ended up with both my children living abroad.’
‘Well, at least you don’t have to worry about Marnie,’ Jess says. ‘You must be pleased she’s decided to come home instead of going travelling, especially with Josh off to New York in a couple of weeks.’
I shift restlessly on my seat. ‘Yes, I am.’
‘And don’t worry,’ Kirin adds. ‘I will tell Nelson. It’s just a case of finding the right time.’
‘Good,’ I say, wondering if I’ll ever find the right time to tell Adam what I should already have told him.
‘Tell Adam not to laugh too loud and too long when he hears the news.’
‘He won’t,’ I promise. ‘I think he might even be a tiny bit jealous.’
Jess looks intrigued. ‘Really? He’s never wanted a third child, has he?’
‘Honestly, I thought it was the last thing he wanted. But last September, after Marnie left for Hong Kong and Josh had gone back to university, I think the empty house hit him a bit because he said we should have had another baby.’ I take a long drink of my champagne and laugh. ‘Can you imagine it?’
‘It’s not too late,’ Kirin says.
‘Oh, I don’t mean my age or anything.’ Kirin is only two years younger than me and I’d hate her to think that’s what I meant. ‘It’s just that I’m so far away from all that now.’
‘Relax!’ she says, laughing. ‘Although it would make Nelson feel so much better if Adam was going to be a father again too.’
‘No chance,’ I say firmly. ‘Sorry!’
A waiter brings menus, and we order lunch. While we’re waiting for it to arrive, we have another swim and dry off on the sun loungers. As I apply some of Kirin’s sunscreen, my mind goes back to the day Adam made his ‘we should have had another child’ remark.
‘Adam, you can’t say that now!’ I tried to be light-hearted, but underneath I was angry because I would have loved to have had more children.
He looked at me in surprise. ‘What? You’re a great mum, you could totally handle it.’
‘That’s not what I mean. If you wanted another child, it should have been fifteen years ago. That’s when I would have liked one.’
‘You never mentioned it.’
‘Because I knew what you would say.’
He frowned. ‘I wish you’d at least broached the subject with me. I might have said yes.’
‘Look, the only reason you think you want a baby is because Marnie has left home. I know this is harsh but if you remember, you didn’t even want a second child.’
He flinched and I wished I could take it back. It’s something he’s never quite forgiven himself for, not wanting Marnie.
1 P.M. – 2 P.M.
Adam
I start to walk back towards the car park. It’s busier now, people pushing past each other, families walking as groups. Do any of them know about the crash? Nobody seems sad, the world is still turning. Or maybe they know, but because it hasn’t happened here, they’re detached from it all. The flight was on its way from Cairo to Amsterdam so most of the people affected by the crash will be from Egypt and the Netherlands. Nobody else will really care, not after the initial shock. It seems wrong, that detachment, selfish. Marnie pushes back into my mind. I should go home, in case she calls there. I don’t want Josh answering the house phone and hearing her in hysterics.
How long will she be stranded for, alone at Cairo Airport? I can’t imagine how she must be feeling – upset, frightened, completely unprepared for this sort of situation, without any life experience to help her cope. I should be with her, I need to be with her.
I stop walking and look around. There’s a travel agent’s somewhere near here. They’ll be able to help. I can get a flight to Cairo, find Marnie there. I start walking, then jogging, breaking through the crowds of people until I reach the travel agent’s.
Inside, I’m the only customer. A young woman – she doesn’t seem much older than Marnie – blonde, not dark-haired – looks up and smiles.
‘Can I help you?’
‘Hi, yes, I’d like to book a flight to Cairo, please.’
She immediately looks uneasy. She’ll have heard about the crash, of course she will, she’ll have been on her phone. I wonder if she’s been trained for this sort of situation, where a customer walks in and asks for a ticket to the very place where a plane has come down. I keep my eyes averted, hoping she’s not going to mention it.
‘When would you like to leave?’ she asks.
‘Later today, please.’ My voice sounds strange, even to my ears. She gives me another quick smile.
‘Why don’t you take a seat while I check?’
I don’t want to sit, I feel too claustrophobic.
‘It might not be possible today,’ she says carefully. ‘There’s some disruption with flights into Cairo.’ She pauses.
‘I could see if there’s a flight to one of the other airports in Egypt.’
‘No, it has to be Cairo.’
She looks behind her towards an open office door, but there’s no one there to help.
‘There may be something for tomorrow,’ she says, turning back to her computer. ‘Would that be a possibility for you?’
I turn it around in my mind. All I want is to get to Marnie, and waiting twenty-four hours seems impossible. And what if Marnie is no longer there by the time I arrive, but has already been put on another flight? I try to think logically. If there aren’t any flights into Cairo today, there aren’t likely to be any out, so Marnie won’t be going anywhere. And I know Marnie, she’ll be too frightened to get on a plane now. She’s only nineteen, she’s too young for this. All she’ll want is to speak to me and Liv, and to know that someone is coming to get her.
‘Tomorrow, then,’ I tell the travel agent.
‘There’s a flight leaving from London Heathrow at ten-thirty,’ she says. ‘It may be subject to delays,’ she adds hesitantly.
‘I’ll take it.’
‘When would you like to come back?’
Her question throws me. I have no idea what will happen when I get there. If they put Marnie on a flight to London, I’ll need to be on the same flight as her, but I can’t know which one they’ll put her on. And what if we decide that the best thing is to forget about her coming over and go back to Hong Kong instead?
There are too many scenarios to consider. Sweat begins to pool under my arms, along my hairline. The travel agent is staring at me. Her eyes wide. Neither of us blink.
‘I’m not sure, so just a one-way ticket for now,’ I say.
She nods, checks her computer screen, then glances at me.
‘Will that be one ticket?’
I’m about to say yes when I realise that Livia will want to come with me. She’ll want to be there too. She’ll feel exactly as I do, desperate to see Marnie with her own eyes, to be with her. She won’t want to wait at home.
‘No, two tickets, please.’
She nods. ‘That will be five hundred and fourteen pounds for the two, flying with Luxor.’
‘That’s fine.’
‘Name?’
‘Sorry?’
‘The passengers’ names, for the flight.’
‘Oh – Olivia Harman and Adam Harman.’
‘Your flight gets into Cairo tomorrow at ten to five in the afternoon, local time.’
‘Thanks.’
I text Marnie.
Marnie, we know what’s happened, don’t worry, stay where you are, Mum and I are coming to get you. There aren’t any flights today so we’re leaving tomorrow morning and will arrive at Cairo Airport at 4.50 p.m. If you have to move, to a hotel or anywhere else, let us know. Call us as soon as you can. We love you.
‘Here you are.’ The travel agent goes over the flights with me then asks if I want her to print the tickets. I nod, and the printer beside her whirs. She slips the tickets into a blue wallet with the logo of the agency on the front.
‘Thank you,’ I say, pushing it into my jacket.
She smiles, and suddenly I want to tell her about Marnie, about how close she was to being on that flight. But she breaks eye contact and pulls out a card machine.
Without a word, I pay and leave.
Outside, I stop for a moment. My mobile has remained silent in my hand but I light up the screen, just in case. It’s 13.45, nearly two hours since the crash. There’s still no message from Marnie. I try calling again but I can’t get through. The message I sent from the travel agent’s is undelivered. How long are the networks going to be down for?
The walk back to the bike passes in a blur. I take my helmet from where I left it in the top case and get on my bike, the air cooler now. I should call Liv, but it would be better if I wait until we’re together. Then I can show her the flight times and she’ll be able to see for herself that Marnie can’t possibly have made the connection.
I stop. The party. I’d forgotten about the party. How the hell have I not even thought about the party? Maybe we should cancel it. I pause, thinking it through. Livia will be devastated if we do and really, there’s no reason why it shouldn’t go ahead, as long as we hear from Marnie, which we will.
Livia won’t be there when I get home, I realise, she’ll still be at the spa. For a moment, I think about phoning Kirin to find out exactly where they are so that I can go and tell Livia there. At least I’d have someone to share my anxiety with. But that’s selfish. It will ruin her time with her friends and the thought of her feeling like I do – I can’t do that to her, I can’t.
I check my phone again. No message, nothing. It’s now two o’clock.
Livia
Kirin stretches her body and sighs happily.
‘This weather is perfect,’ she murmurs.
‘It’s amazing, isn’t it? Thank you for this, Kiri, I’d never have done it myself.’
‘It’s based in selfishness because I love coming here.’ She digs in her bag for her phone and I take a quick look at her stomach. She’s right, there isn’t even the start of a bump.
I check on Jess, sitting in the shade, a book on her lap. She has her eyes closed and I watch her for a moment. She looks so frail that I have to turn away.
‘Oh no,’ Kirin says, sounding upset.
Jess and I both turn to look at her.
‘Is it one of the children?’ I ask, wondering if she’s had a message from Nelson.
She shakes her head. ‘There’s been a plane crash in Egypt. No survivors.’ She pulls a face. ‘There were 250 people on board, including the crew.’
‘That’s awful,’ I say, appalled.
‘Don’t.’ Jess gives a shiver. ‘I can’t bear it.’
My mobile is lying on the table face up and I turn it over.
‘I’m not looking at my phone for the rest of the day,’ I say. ‘It doesn’t seem right that I’m celebrating when other people are grieving.’
‘There’s always someone grieving somewhere in the world,’ Kirin says.
‘I know. But a plane crash – it’s just heartbreaking.’
‘Are people from your work coming to your party?’ Jess asks, and I know she wants to change the subject because I’m sure I told her they were.
‘Yes, all of them, I think.’
‘Wow,’ Kirin says.
‘I didn’t think everyone would come, but they are.’
‘It’s that thing, though, isn’t it?’ Kirin says. ‘You start off with friends and family and then you want to invite neighbours and the people you work with and the list keeps getting longer. It was like that for our wedding and we ended up having two hundred guests, a ridiculous amount.’
‘The best thing about tonight,’ I say, ‘is that, unlike at weddings, there’s nobody I’ve invited that I don’t want to be there.’ Except for one person, I think silently, one person who has the potential to spoil the whole evening for me. But only if I let them.
I turn my face to the sun. Before I made them ashamed of me, my parents took me to some lovely hotels, but none as luxurious as this one. Back then, I didn’t realise how fortunate I was to have parents who were comfortably off, and I’ve often wondered what my life would have been like if I hadn’t become pregnant, if I’d gone on to do what my parents had planned for me. They’d wanted me to study medicine, something I’d have been happy to go along with, so I’d be a doctor by now, possibly married to another doctor, maybe with more children and a holiday home somewhere abroad. An existence – because, with my parents heavily involved in my life, which they would have been, it would have been only that, an existence. I can’t imagine it would have been as happy as the life I live now, not with the imposed ritual of weekly lunches after church, and Christmases spent in their plumped-up-cushioned house, with its rules and regulations, no elbows on the table, no feet on the chairs, no lazing in bed past nine o’clock, no slouching or watching anything other than BBC2. I h
ad a lucky escape, I realise, we had a lucky escape. If my parents had accepted Adam and Josh, we’d have been forever in their debt, bound to them by suffocating duty and obligation.
‘It’s a shame Marnie can’t be there tonight,’ Jess says sympathetically. ‘Cleo is going to miss her. They’ve been talking about your party ever since they were little, trying to imagine being nineteen.’
‘And designing the dresses they’d wear,’ I say, smiling at the memory. ‘I used to do it too. I’d think, “On the day of my party Josh will be twenty-two and Marnie will be nineteen”, and I couldn’t imagine what they would look like, or how they would be. They were two unknown quantities, but they were always going to be there, present at my party.’ And I realise that in all my imaginings about my party over the years, it never occurred to me that Marnie wouldn’t be with us. Or that I wouldn’t want her there.
‘Cleo doesn’t mind coming?’ I ask Jess. ‘Without Marnie?’
‘Don’t worry, she wouldn’t miss it for the world.’ She looks over at me. ‘Talking of Marnie, Cleo wants to throw a surprise party for her, the weekend after she gets back, and invite all their friends. She asked me to ask you if that would be alright.’
My throat tightens. ‘That’s lovely of her.’
‘It would be the first weekend in July. You haven’t got anything planned, have you?’
‘No,’ I say, because I’ve only got as far as thinking about the day Marnie arrives. My mind can’t go any further than that, not yet. The repercussions of her return are so enormous that I can’t see past it.
‘We’re free too,’ Kirin says. ‘Gosh, another party to look forward to, amazing!’
‘I don’t think we’ll be invited,’ I say, laughing.
‘Then you can all come to me and we’ll have our own party!’
I smile across at Kirin, but the knowledge that it isn’t going to happen fills me with a desperate sadness. And what about all the other things the six of us used to do together? What about the Christmases? I need my Christmases to be filled with people, and love and laughter, because it’s at Christmas that I feel my parents’ rejection the most, something I’ve never understood as I’ve had more fun with Adam’s family than I ever had celebrating Christmas alone with my parents. Yet as soon as I open my eyes on Christmas morning, a great big hole opens up inside me that not even Adam, Josh, Marnie and every single friend we have can quite fill.