Pete sighed and pulled his hand away.
Jenny said, ‘Remember how you used to sing to little Adam? Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World”.’
Pete nodded. He used to love snuggling up beside Jenny on the couch, leaning his head low to her tummy and singing to the baby.
‘He used to go berserk when you started. Jumping up and down to the sound of your voice,’ Jenny continued.
Pete smiled at the memory. He did a good Louis Armstrong, there was no denying it.
‘Maybe if you sing to my bump, then maybe this little one would like it too,’ Jenny said.
Adam watched his two best friends look at each other, both in pain, both unsure, both desperately unhappy.
‘Go on, Pete,’ Adam encouraged.
And for a minute Adam thought that Pete would do it, but instead he picked up his sandwich and took a large bite.
Adam couldn’t bear it. They were going to destroy whatever chance they had to be a family again before they even gave it a proper go. He needed to get Pete on his own, talk some sense into him.
‘Pete and I are going to work on the nursery once we’ve eaten. Give it a bit of a makeover,’ Adam said.
Jenny kept her head down low and didn’t respond.
‘It might be noisy, so why don’t you go out for a bit? Go visit Karen. She’s on her own this weekend. I think she could do with the company,’ Adam urged. ‘She even offered to take Matthew, rather than be on her own.’
Jenny looked doubtful.
‘Leave little Adam here with us, he can help look after Matthew,’ Adam continued.
‘That’s a great idea, love,’ Pete said. ‘By the time you come back, we’ll have the nursery looking like a little palace, fit for royalty, you’ll see.’
And I’ll work out what sauce I like more, Pete thought.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
401 days and the Grey Goose in the room
Karen’s house, Didsbury, Manchester
When the doorbell rang, Karen didn’t move.
She didn’t know who it was or what they wanted, but she did know that she was not in the mood for company.
The irony of that thought wasn’t lost on her. It was her loneliness that had driven her to buy the alcohol in the first place.
Her landline started to ring. She let it go to the answer machine. And then she heard Jenny’s voice boom into the hallway.
‘Karen? Are you there? I need a wee. But more than that, I need a friend. I need you—’ Then the phone clicked dead.
To Karen’s shame, this plea from Jenny didn’t make her get up at once. Her eyes were fixed on the bottle of Grey Goose vodka.
She had been staring at it for over two hours now.
Her mobile rang then and she looked down, to see who it was.
Jenny. Of course.
Sighing, she stood up. She knew her friend. She would stand on the doorstep, ringing the phone for hours if she had to. Her car out the front gave her away. She knew Karen was in here hiding.
She opened the door and Jenny said, ‘I’m sorry, gotta use the bathroom. The baby is pressing on my bladder and I’m about to piss myself!’
‘Charming,’ Karen said, and moved aside to let Jenny run into the loo under the stairs.
She walked into the kitchen and put the kettle on.
‘What’s all this then?’ Jenny asked when she walked in. ‘You expecting company?’
She nodded towards the Grey Goose in the room.
Karen shook her head.
Jenny shrugged off her jacket and sat down at the dining room table.
Beside the bottle was one glass, empty, and a notepad and pencil. She hoped that meant she’d not had a drink. Jenny peered at the page and it was filled with numbers.
Karen took a seat opposite her and pointed to the notebook. ‘401 days; 9624 hours; 577,440 seconds.’
Jenny couldn’t work out what Karen was on about. Maybe she’d been drinking after all.
Karen pushed the bottle of vodka towards Jenny. ‘Those are my numbers. In the beginning when I stopped drinking, I used to mark off the days in my diary. Keep track of my running total of days sober. But I stopped doing that a few months ago.’
Jenny whispered. ‘I’m nearly afraid to ask. Are those still your numbers?’
Karen looked at her, and made a grimace. ‘Just. If you hadn’t arrived, I might be back to zero again.’
Jenny moved to stand up, and Karen put her hand up to halt her. ‘Don’t. I can’t cope with kindness. Not right now.’
Jenny sat back down. ‘I probably couldn’t have stood for long anyhow. Just as well. What do you need?’
‘Distraction,’ Karen answered. ‘I know I can’t drink this. But my body is betraying me. My head and heart don’t agree. It’s quite the contentious issue right now.’
Jenny looked at Karen and blurted out, ‘I think Pete and I are over.’
Karen looked up with a start. For goodness’ sake, they’d only just got back together.
‘He doesn’t want the baby. I can see it in his eyes. He’s like a rabbit in headlights whenever I mention it.’ Jenny rubbed her tummy tenderly.
She told Karen about her humiliation at attempting to seduce Pete a few weeks back, about his refusal to talk about their future and, worryingly, his reluctance to touch the baby bump.
‘Do you think I’m imagining it?’ Jenny asked.
Karen thought about that for a moment before answering. She wanted to reassure Jenny, but she’d noticed a distance between the two of them when they were here at the lunch. And again at the hospital. There was a forced jolliness about Pete. It didn’t ring true.
‘I don’t think you’re imagining it,’ Karen said sadly.
‘Maybe I was naive to think that I could expect him to take on another man’s child,’ Jenny said.
Karen felt a stab of pain at the image of Robyn’s face laughing joyfully as she swung her son in the park.
‘I might not be the most unbiased about that subject right now,’ Karen admitted.
‘What happened?’
‘Robyn did.’
‘Rottweiler lawyer bitch,’ Jenny said.
‘Yes! That’s exactly what she is,’ Karen replied, laughing. ‘She’s with my children right this second. Kissing them, holding them, nurturing them. And I don’t like it. I know that’s not very nice of me. But it’s true.’
‘I think it’s a fair reaction, considering the way she tried to stitch you up over the divorce, bringing up your drinking and all. I mean, the cheek of her, you’ve stopped all that ages ago,’ Jenny said.
Both their eyes turned to look at the big fat grey elephant or Grey Goose as it was in this case, in the room. And then they started to laugh, so hard till they both clung to each other, holding their sides.
When they calmed themselves down, Jenny nodded to the bottle and asked, ‘Are you going to have a drink?’
Karen shook her head. ‘Not today.’
‘One day at a time, isn’t that what they recommend?’
Karen nodded. ‘Yes it is. Right now, I’m working on one hour at a time. So more distraction please. What about the baby’s father? Is he out of the picture altogether?’
‘He’s a tosser. Even if Pete and I don’t make it, there’s no future for me and Grant. I’m ashamed that I ever let him touch me. You should see the state of him, Karen. He’s a total knobhead.’
‘Why did you let him in the first place?’ Karen asked, genuinely curious.
‘I was lonely,’ Jenny admitted.
‘We all do stupid things when we’re desolate,’ Karen acknowledged, looking at the bottle again.
‘Shall I take that home with me when I go?’ Jenny asked.
‘You could do. But if I really want a drink, all I have to do is go to the off-licence and buy another,’ Karen replied.
‘Best not add temptation though,’ Jenny said, and swiped the bottle, putting it into her handbag.
‘You have to talk to Pete, you know,’ Karen said.<
br />
Jenny nodded. The problem was she was scared of what he might say if she pushed him.
‘If things don’t work out, will you go back to the States?’ Karen asked. To her surprise, the very thought of that made her feel emotional again. She didn’t want to lose Jenny, not now that she’d just got her back.
‘I can’t take little Adam away from his dad again. They adore each other. I’ll move out and find somewhere close by and we can share custody.’
‘How did it ever come to this?’ Karen asked.
Jenny shrugged. ‘That’s life for you, I suppose. You fall in love, you fall out of love. And somewhere along the way, you try not to screw your children up too much.’
Karen leaned over and held Jenny’s hand. That gap that had formed between them suddenly felt much smaller.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Pete the worrier and an old wound
Audrey’s Residential Home, Didsbury
Audrey knew her son better than he knew himself. The moment he came into the world thirty-six years ago he’d worn a frown on his face. Like he had the weight of the world on his broad shoulders.
He had always been such a complex child – on the one hand he was gentle and empathetic; on the other, he was funny and a masterful mimic. He used to put on shows, in their good sitting room. He’d write invitations for her and his father, then push them under their bedroom door early in the morning, before they’d even awoke.
They’d sit side by side on the couch, and try to find the stomach to eat the breakfast that he would have made to accompany his show. He used to put food together based on how colourful it looked. There was the time he did a peanut butter and ketchup sandwich. Nibbling that before you’d had your first cup of tea tested even the most doting of mothers.
He’d strut into the room, introduce himself formally, saying something like, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, prepare to be amazed by the incredible, the talented, the wonderful Pete Gifford!’
And they’d clap and cheer and whistle. Then he’d go out of the room and walk back in. And his face would look different, as he became Tom Jones and started to sing, ‘It’s not Unusual!’ As soon as the last note was over, he’d switch and become Hilda Ogden from Coronation Street, singing ‘Feelings’. Then lastly, he’d go into Bruce Forsyth, saying ‘You get nothing for a pair, not in this game. Didn’t she do well?’
His comedic timing was always on point. And Audrey and his father adored him.
But despite this, he could lapse into a fit of anxiety for no apparent reason.
She remembered his first day of school. He was excited to start, but worried that the lunch they’d planned and painstakingly plotted, was all wrong. When his grandparents’ house in Kendal flooded, he’d worried for months that they would drown in their sleep if it were to happen again.
Then there was the time that he came home from school on library day. He hadn’t chosen a new book. Audrey had been puzzled and questioned him. He confessed that he’d forgotten to return the previous week’s book and couldn’t get another out. Audrey had called his teacher, annoyed that she’d been so strict, over a genuine mistake. Pete was a good boy, he never forgot to return his books. Surely he should be allowed one week’s grace? The teacher told her that she had tried everything to get Pete to pick a book, saying kids forgot to return books all the time. But he had been insistent he shouldn’t.
When he came home and told her he had made a new best friend – a young kid called Adam – she’d been overjoyed. And then when she met him, she’d rejoiced, because Adam’s happy-go-lucky attitude was the perfect antidote to Pete’s anxieties. He laughed in the face of worry. And Pete began to flourish. They were inseparable as kids and that hadn’t changed now as adults.
Watching Pete now, picking at one of his hangnails as she made them a sandwich, she saw that same frown he’d worn for three decades. She knew that something big was amiss. He’d not been himself for a long time. He’d had a lot to cope with. Rachel’s death. His imminent divorce from Jo. But Jenny and little Adam were back now and she had hoped that their presence would help bring back the old Pete.
Placing a cheese and pickle sandwich down in front of him, she poured the tea and decided it was time to get to the bottom of his worries. That was her job. As his mother, she had to soothe away his fears just as she’d been doing for decades.
She waited until he finished eating, then she asked, as she had done thousands of times before, ‘What’s up, son?’
He looked at her with such sadness that she felt her stomach sink in fear.
‘Nobody is ill, are they?’ she whispered, not sure she had the strength to hear the answer. Her biggest worry was that something would happen to Pete or his family. She did not want to outlive any of them.
He shook his head, then apologised for scaring her.
‘Then what is it that has you so worried? And don’t tell me it’s nothing. I know you.’
‘I don’t think I can love this baby,’ Pete blurted out.
‘And how on earth have you come to that realisation? You’ve not met the little thing yet! Unless you’ve got some news for me?’
‘The baby won’t be mine. It will be . . . his!’ Pete said.
‘This ex-boyfriend of Jenny’s. I thought he was off the scene.’
‘He says he doesn’t want anything to do with the baby.’
‘That’s what I thought. Are you worried that Jenny still loves him?’ If her daughter-in-law was messing her son around again, she’d swing for her. Bad enough when she disappeared off the face of the earth, going to America, with her grandson, she better not be—
Pete put his hand up, as if waving off her thoughts. ‘Jenny and Grant are over. He doesn’t want the baby, he made that clear.’
‘And does Jenny want you?’ Audrey asked gently.
Pete nodded without hesitation. While he was flooded with doubt, he knew Jenny. They’d been childhood sweethearts. Best friends. And she was honest, always had been. When she told him she loved him, he believed her. And more than that, she had showed him that time and time again since she had returned.
‘And do you love Jenny?’ Audrey was determined to get to the bottom of this.
Pete paused before answering. He’d thought of little else since Adam had told him to cop on and make a choice.
‘I never stopped loving her, Mum. Even when I was with Jo, it was always her.’ As Pete said it out loud, he knew it was true.
Audrey nodded in satisfaction. While she had some issues with Jenny and the things she’d done to her son, she knew that she was the only woman who could make him happy.
‘Why do you think you’ll not love the baby?’ Audrey asked.
Pete shrugged.
Audrey sucked in her breath and said, ‘Not good enough, son. I brought you up better than that. Spit it out.’
‘What if I can’t love this baby as much as I love little Adam?’ There, he said it.
Audrey thought about this for a moment, before replying, ‘I can see how that might be an issue. If you let it. The way I see it, you have to make a decision to love both children equally. Balance the love you have in your heart equally between the two children.’
Pete didn’t look convinced. ‘And what if Grant comes back one day and wants to get to know the child?’
‘Ah here, would you give over! What if the sun falls down and lands on your head?’ Audrey said.
Pete laughed at his mother’s words. He wished he could just snap his fingers and make his worries disappear.
‘I have something to tell you,’ Audrey said seriously. ‘Something that I wasn’t sure I’d ever share.’
She folded her napkin on her lap and opened up a wound almost as old as she was.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The beached whale and the gushing waters
Pete and Jenny’s house, Didsbury, Manchester
Jenny was irritated. Her feet were so swollen she couldn’t fit into a single pair of her own shoes. So she was reduced
to wearing a pair of Pete’s ugly Jesus sandals.
The small of her back was in competition with her shoulders and neck. Both wanted the award for most aches in a pregnant woman’s body. The baby was attempting to turn around in a space that was so cramped it had no choice but to crash into her ribcage and pelvis in alternate jabs of tortuous pain.
And speaking of her pelvis, it felt like it had split in two. Every time she walked she felt it click, clack, bone against bone. When she visited her doctor earlier today, he’d cheerfully told her that she had a condition called pelvic girdle pain. Her hormones were making her joints and muscles relax and separate. It all sounded rather jolly, the way he described it, but in fact it was anything but.
Relax, he told her. She’d like to see him relax with this pain. Her doctor assured her that it was a good thing and would help her pass the baby through the pelvis bone.
She’d left his office in a rush, knowing it would not bode well for future vaginal inspections if she told him what she really thought about his condescending and quite frankly bullshit explanation.
She’d been irritated all day. She wasn’t stupid, she knew the end result of being pregnant involved pain and huge discomfort. But she’d done a good job of ignoring that fact until he’d – quite frankly – gleefully recounted what was heading her way.
Now it was all she could think about.
She kept looking at little Adam in horror. How she’d ever managed to fit him inside her, she couldn’t fathom. Her imagination began to ramp up. When she thought about going into labour, she could only see a toddler-sized baby trying to push his or her way out. And the baby in question was singing a song – Frankie Goes to Hollywood’s ‘Relax’!
Maybe a bath would help, she thought. Little Adam was at nursery. Pete was at work. Her midwife had suggested warm baths as a means to help ease the pain. It was worth a shot.
She heaved her body up out of the sofa, wobbling for a moment, almost toppling back. She felt weak today. And tearful. The phone rang, making her start and she moved slowly to the hall to answer it. ‘Hello? Pete?’
‘Jenny,’ David’s voice replied. ‘Good. I’m glad you’re in!’
Cold Feet: The Lost Years Page 17