by B. A. Paris
‘I’m so sorry, Marnie. How did you feel when he told you that?’
She plucked at the sheet, desperately trying to hold back the tears. ‘Gutted. I didn’t want to have an abortion but I knew he was right in what he said. I know it worked out for you and Dad but it wouldn’t have worked out for us. Not just now, anyway.’
‘Is that why you weren’t sure about going to Hong Kong? Because you didn’t want to leave him?’
‘Yes.’
‘And now?’
‘I think it’s good that I’m going. Our relationship – it’s not healthy.’
‘Is he at university with you?’
‘Please don’t ask me about him, Mum. It’s over now, anyway. If it hadn’t been for this,’ she looked down at herself lying in the hospital bed, ‘you wouldn’t have been any wiser. But thank you, thank you for being here with me.’
We had to wait until she could be discharged and while we waited, she slept. And while she slept I wondered about the father. Her reluctance to tell me anything about him except that their relationship was unhealthy had my brain whirring. The only thing I could think was that she’d become involved with one of her tutors. Marnie was more beautiful than she knew, with her grey eyes, alabaster skin and hair the colour of autumn leaves with a natural wave I would have given anything for. I felt so upset for her, and mad at him for preying on a young girl. How dare he? It was her first year at university, her first year away from home.
Her other comment, that their relationship wouldn’t have worked out – not just now, anyway – made me feel I was on the right track. I built a picture of him in my mind, a thirtysomething year old, married with children, and wanted to kill him. I was dismayed that Marnie had allowed herself to become involved with someone who wasn’t free. I reminded myself that I didn’t know if this was the case; maybe the father of her child was a fellow student. But if that was true, she’d have had no reason not to tell me. It was the little she’d told me that made me uneasy.
I was desperate to speak to Adam but I didn’t want to leave Marnie while she was sleeping. I also wanted to check with her that she was alright with Adam knowing about her miscarriage.
‘No!’ she said forcefully when I asked. ‘I don’t want him to know. Nor Josh. Please don’t tell them, Mum. I don’t want either of them to know.’
I respected her wishes, but it was hard. I hated keeping something so monumental from Adam and it was difficult not being able to confide in him. I kept wondering about the grandchild we might have had if Marnie hadn’t had a miscarriage and had decided to keep the baby. I knew it was a useless exercise, thinking about something that would never have been, but at twelve weeks pregnant Marnie would soon have had to make that decision. And I couldn’t be sure that she’d have gone ahead with an abortion. It wasn’t something I felt I could ask her, so I mourned in secret for the baby that might have been born if things had been different.
Although I hated that I was judging Marnie, part of me was stunned that she’d embarked on a relationship with someone who presumably had a partner, and maybe children. I blamed myself. I’d never actually warned her not to have an affair with someone who wasn’t free, as it didn’t occur to me that she’d ever do such a thing. It was something I thought she’d instinctively know was morally wrong. I felt I’d failed as a mother, that it was my fault she’d had to go through the trauma of a miscarriage.
Over the next few days, I spent hours on the internet, trawling through photos of the faculty at her university, wondering if I’d be able to spot the man who had captured my daughter’s heart, then treated her so casually. There were barely any who looked under thirty; most seemed in their forties, twice Marnie’s age, which supported my feeling that she’d been taken advantage of. I reminded myself that Marnie could be just as much to blame, that she might have chased him. But it didn’t make me feel any better.
I remembered looking at Marnie on her seventeenth birthday, the age I’d been when I became pregnant, and thinking How could they? How could my parents have disowned me? I also remember thinking that Marnie could do anything, anything, and I’d forgive her.
Now, I wonder if Fate decided I was tempting it, and chose to put me to the test.
3 P.M. – 4 P.M.
Adam
My stomach clenches as I pace the floor in Marnie’s room. I need – really need – Marnie to phone before Liv gets home. If she doesn’t, and I tell Liv about the crash, she won’t believe that Marnie is safe even if I show her that Marnie couldn’t have made the Cairo flight, not with only ten minutes to spare. Nothing will stop the panic she’ll feel from spiralling out of control.
I need someone to talk to, not to tell them anything, but to fill this building void while I wait. Nelson, I’ll phone Nelson.
I sit down on the bed, about to call him, when I remember he has the kids. I think about going to find Josh, offer to help him in the garden, do something physical. That would take my mind off things. But he’s with Max and they’ll be joking and messing around as they get everything ready for tonight.
The person I really want to talk to, I realise, is Dad. I find his number and press call.
‘Hi Adam, what’s up?’ The familiar sound of his voice makes my throat tighten. ‘Adam? Adam, are you there?’
I get to my feet. ‘Yes, sorry Dad, Josh was asking me something.’
‘Do you want to call back?’
I realise too late I shouldn’t have called him. He’s always had this amazing sixth sense which picks up when I’m worried about something.
‘No, it’s fine,’ I manage.
‘So, how’s Livia feeling?’
I walk to the window and press my forehead against the glass. ‘Happy, excited. She’s out with Kirin and Jess, at a spa.’
‘Not running around like a headless chicken, then?’
‘No, it’s unbelievable how organised she is.’
‘What about you?’
‘Me?’
‘Yes. How are you?’
I straighten myself up. ‘Fine.’
‘Is it Marnie?’
Christ. ‘Sorry?’
‘Marnie. Is that why you’re feeling a bit low? Because she’s not going to be at the party?’
‘I’m not—’ I stop. ‘I wish she was here, that’s all.’
‘We all do. Have you heard from her?’
‘Yes, yesterday. She was busy revising. How are you and Mum?’
‘Looking forward to seeing everyone tonight.’ He pauses. ‘Are you sure everything’s alright?’
‘Yes, positive. I thought I’d give you a call, that’s all.’
‘Do you want to speak to Mum?’
‘No, it’s alright, tell her I’ll see her later. I’ll let you go now.’
‘Whatever it is that’s worrying you, it’ll all work out in the end,’ he says.
It almost bursts out of me, I almost ask him if he’s heard about the plane that crashed. But I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from telling him about Marnie, and I need to tell Livia before I tell anyone else.
‘I should go, Dad,’ I say and before he can reply, I cut the call.
I can’t stand the silence. I leave Marnie’s room and go downstairs. In the utility room, the washing machine has finished its cycle. I take out Marnie’s dressing gown and place it in the tumble dryer so that it’s ready for when she gets back.
Livia
I lie my head against the car seat and close my eyes. We’ve just dropped Jess off, so I’m back in the front.
‘Don’t fight it,’ Kirin says, throwing me an amused grin.
‘Sorry,’ I groan, forcing my mouth closed after giving the biggest yawn of my life. ‘It was the massage. I feel so relaxed and sleepy now.’
‘Nothing to do with that extra glass of champagne then?’ she says, laughing. ‘You may as well rest, it’s going to take us a while to get back.’ She peers through the windscreen. ‘Where has all this traffic come from?’
‘Saturday shoppers,�
�� I say. ‘As long as you get me back in time for the party, it’s fine.’
‘How do you think Jess looked?’ I hear the worry in her voice and wish I could tell her that I thought Jess looked great.
‘I’ve seen her looking better,’ I say sadly. ‘She was a bit unsteady on her feet, even with her stick.’
‘I’m really worried about her. Nelson is too.’ She pauses. ‘Actually, he’s more concerned about Rob. He told him that we thought the MS was beginning to take its toll on Jess but Rob seems to be in denial. He doesn’t think she’s gone downhill at all; he insists that she’s still very independent. But Jess told me herself that she’s having difficulty getting up the stairs and that sometimes her hands go numb. Nelson’s worried that Rob isn’t going to be able to cope if Jess’s symptoms become worse. She’ll always have me and Nelson to help her, of course, but once the babies arrive, I’m not sure how much time I’ll actually have.’
‘Which is why it’s important to tell Nelson that you’re pregnant,’ I remind her.
‘I’m going to, as soon as I get home.’ The car grinds to a halt again and she reaches for the radio. ‘I’ll put on some music, I’m sure there’ll be something to send you to sleep. You may as well have a bit of nap before the party. There’s nothing last-minute to do, is there?’
‘No, and if there is, Josh and Max are there.’
‘Relax, then.’
But although I want to, the mention of Max means that I can’t. I don’t know when I first began to suspect that he was the father of Marnie’s baby but it was probably when she called me from Hong Kong last October to tell me that he wanted to go and see her – and that she didn’t want him to.
‘Why not?’ I asked, because she’s always loved Max.
‘Because he wants to come in December and I’ll be too busy working on my assignment to be able to show him around.’
‘I’m sure he won’t mind doing some sightseeing on his own while you’re studying,’ I said, taking her objections at face value.
‘That’s what he said. So, I’m going to tell him I’m going away with friends. It’s not true but will you back me up, Mum? If Max mentions to you that he wants to come and see me in December, will you tell him that I’m going away?’
‘Well,’ I began doubtfully. ‘I’m not sure it’s a good thing to lie to him. Anyway, wouldn’t it cheer you up to see him?’
‘I’m fine now.’
She did seem more upbeat, which was a relief. It had been horrible waving her off to Hong Kong just six weeks after her miscarriage. I’d offered to go with her but she hadn’t wanted me to. Although she wouldn’t talk about it, the break-up with her baby’s father had hit her hard. Sometimes, when I passed her room, I’d hear her crying and knock tentatively on her door. She never told me to go away, so I’d go in and sit with my arms around her, not saying anything, just holding her.
‘Really? Are you really feeling better?’ I asked, mentally crossing my fingers, because there’s nothing worse than knowing your child is hurting but being too far away to give her a hug.
‘Yes. So, will you back me up? Please, Mum. I don’t want Max here.’
I couldn’t see her face because she’d audio-called, rather than video-called as she usually did, and suddenly everything fell into place. She had audio-called exactly so that I couldn’t see her face, so that I wouldn’t be able to see the look on it when she spoke about Max, her almost-brother, who was so much part of our family that for Marnie to be in a relationship with him would be – well, unhealthy. Everything fitted, I realised. She was at university in Durham, he was in his fourth year at Newcastle, twenty minutes away, and I remembered how persuasive he’d been when she had to decide between Durham and Edinburgh, where Adam would have liked her to go.
‘If you’re in Durham, I’ll be near you,’ Max had told her. ‘I’ll be able to look after you.’
And she had laughed and replied, ‘I won’t need looking after. But it will be lovely to have you around.’
I’d been making a salad while I talked to Marnie on loudspeaker, but I left the sink, took my phone over to the table and sat down heavily.
‘Marnie,’ I began, wanting to know if I was right. But maybe she sensed that I’d guessed and cut me off quickly.
‘Just back me up, Mum,’ she pleaded.
I never did finish making the salad. When Adam got home from his ride to the coast and found me staring into space, he took over.
‘You look worried,’ he said, throwing me a glance. ‘Is everything alright?’
‘Marnie phoned.’
‘Oh.’ His face fell. ‘It’s a shame I missed her. How is she?’
‘Fine,’ I said automatically because I’d just realised something else, which was that Marnie never normally phoned on a Sunday morning because she knew Adam would be out. If she had chosen to phone this morning, it was because she hadn’t wanted her dad to hear her asking me to dissuade Max from going to see her.
‘What was her news?’
‘Nothing much.’ He waited, wanting more. ‘Max wants to go and see her in December but she’s going away with friends,’ I said, aware that I was already lying for her.
‘That’s a shame, it would have done her good to see Max. I never expected her to be so homesick, not after four months.’
Because he didn’t know about Marnie’s miscarriage, or her broken relationship, Adam had always put Marnie’s low spirits down to her missing everyone.
‘She was more cheerful this time,’ I told him, wishing I could confide in him, wishing I could ask him if he thought it was possible that Marnie and Max had been in a relationship. But if I started that conversation, I’d end up telling him about the miscarriage and I didn’t want to break Marnie’s confidence. I turned it over and over in my mind, remembering how determined she’d been that Josh shouldn’t know about the baby. I’d understood why she hadn’t wanted Adam to know – she’d have been worried he’d be disappointed in her – but she and Josh were so close they told each other everything. If she hadn’t wanted him to know, it was because she didn’t want to tell him who the father of her baby was. And unlike me, Josh would have insisted on knowing.
Other things began to fall into place. While Marnie was still at home, before she went to university, Max tried to come home to see his dad the same weekend that Josh came to see us, so they could catch up with each other. But there were several occasions when he didn’t have the excuse of Josh being home, but came over anyway, pretending it was to see me and Adam, telling us that he missed my cooking or that he needed Adam’s help with something. It never occurred to me that the person he was really coming to see was Marnie, and I felt mad that I’d been so gullible. Had something already been going on between them back then? Or had it only started when Marnie left for Durham?
Stupidly, I’d felt used. And how could he have made Marnie ‘understand’ that she shouldn’t keep the baby when he knew the circumstances of Josh’s birth, and must have known that Adam and I would be supportive after going through the same thing ourselves. Had he looked at us, our family, and decided it wasn’t what he wanted? It felt like a horrible betrayal of Josh, of me and Adam.
After that, whenever he came over – always asking about Marnie, about what she was up to in Hong Kong – I could barely look at him. I lost count of the number of times I wanted to challenge him, or the number of times I wanted to tell Adam not to offer him a beer, or take him for a drink. I knew that if Adam ever found out that Max had fathered a baby with Marnie, and had more or less told her to get rid of it, he’d probably kill him.
It’s why I’m glad I didn’t tell him.
4 P.M. – 5 P.M.
Adam
I sit on our bed, the house quiet around me. Josh and Max’s voices come to me from the garden but I can’t make out what they’re saying. A few moments ago, I heard them talking as they passed under the bedroom window, something about the music for tonight, I think. But it didn’t really register.
; The house phone lies next to me on the bed, its screen dull and deactivated. Before, when I was in Marnie’s room, I suddenly remembered that she might have called the landline and as I ran downstairs, I allowed myself to believe there’d be a voicemail from her. But there wasn’t, just three messages for Liv, friends singing and wishing her a happy birthday.
My mobile lights up in my hand and my eyes fly to the screen. Not a WhatsApp message, but an email alert – an advert for a motorbike accessories sale. And I realise that stupidly, I hadn’t thought to check my emails. There might be one from Marnie.
I open my inbox and scroll through quickly, looking for her email address, her name listed somewhere. There’s nothing. I hear a car door slamming and then Liv’s voice. An emotion I can’t quite place hits me, as if I’ve been caught doing something wrong. I quickly type an email to Marnie, asking her to call or email back, and telling her that we love her, very much.
‘Mum, you can’t come up here yet, the marquee isn’t ready!’ Josh’s voice is too loud, he must be on the terrace. Liv will have come through the side gate.
I get to my feet and move to the window. Josh is leaping around, his arms outstretched, blocking her way.
‘Stay there!’ he shouts.
‘No problem,’ Liv says, laughing and tugging at the strap of her bag, which has slipped from her shoulder. ‘Can I at least sit here?’
She’s by the table, where Josh and I hid the box this morning for Marnie to hide inside when she arrives. We’ll have to delay that now. A wave of anger hits me. Liv doesn’t deserve this, neither does Marnie. How did today go so horribly wrong?
Josh’s voice pulls me back. ‘OK, you can stay there. As long as you don’t come any further and definitely don’t look in the marquee!’
‘I won’t. It’s just that Kirin gave me this.’ She pulls a bottle of champagne from her bag. ‘She says I have to have it with Dad now, before the party starts. It’s so kind of her – she had it in an ice bag, ready for us to drink.’