I nod. As I raise my head to sip my drink I see someone outside the door, nose pressed against the glass like a dog begging to come inside.
‘Is that—’ I point. ‘Aaron?’
Lisa turns her head but a family are crowding in, children whining for sweets, and the moment has passed.
‘I can’t believe I’ve seen him again.’ I wrap my arms around myself.
‘Again?’ Lisa’s brows knit together.
‘I saw him in town the last time I came.’
‘Did he say anything?’ Her voice is shrill.
‘No.’ Aaron didn’t have to speak. I could feel his hate, toxic and thick, and I had wished I could have hated him too but the emotion I felt, that I feel when I think of him, is always one of fear. ‘Do you think that’s him?’ I crane my neck.
‘Could be: he works here,’ Lisa says.
‘How can anyone employ him after?…’ I’m not sure that I believe everyone deserves a second chance.
‘I know. Let me use the loo and we’ll get out of here.’ Lisa hefts herself to her feet, and I watch her waddle towards the toilet in the corner, one hand cradling her bump.
My fluttering anxiety morphs into a fury that propels me to my feet. I don’t want Aaron within spitting distance of Lisa, as though he might contaminate my baby somehow. I slip out into the corridor, and he’s there. Studying the noticeboard as though it is the most interesting thing on the planet.
‘I thought it was you,’ I say quietly clenching my fists at my sides. ‘What are you doing here?’
He spins around and he raises his hand. I flinch, but he scratches his head instead as he studies me in that way of his. I can’t help noticing his wedding ring. Who in their right mind would marry him? Someone who doesn’t know what he did.
Despite my earlier bravado, I find myself shaking. He takes a step forward. I take a step back. He steps forward again, and my heart hammers in my chest as the distance between us closes. I can smell tobacco on his breath. See the anger in his eyes. I back up until I am wedged in a corner, with nowhere to hide.
28
Then
The manager of The Three Fishes glared at us as he frothed lager into tall glasses, making yet another barbed comment about our school uniforms, but we didn’t care. After final period our study leave would officially start and that was something we wanted to celebrate.
‘I’ve got something for you,’ Jake said, sliding a mobile phone across the bar. ‘It’s just a cheap one but I’ve topped it up with credit. Now we can text each other, and it won’t seem so bad when you’re grounded.’
I flung my arms around him, showering his face with kisses. It was utterly ridiculous to be grounded at my age. Last Sunday I had told my parents I would be at Lisa’s studying and had gone to the cinema with Jake instead. Mum had rung Lisa’s house to ask me to pick up some gravy granules on the way home. Lisa had tried her best to cover for me, telling Mum I had fallen asleep reading a textbook, but Mum didn’t believe her, demanded she woke me up, and Lisa had to admit I wasn’t there. Lisa tried to find me, to warn me, but had no idea where I was. After the film I had glided into the kitchen on a conveyor belt of happiness, with no idea I was walking into World War III.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ My dad sat at the table, his spine as stiff as the wood he rested his elbows on, hands pressed together as though in prayer, chin resting on index fingers.
‘At Lisa’s.’ As soon as the words falteringly left my lips I wanted to snatch them back when I noticed Mum’s shoulders stiffen as she chopped veg, the sound of the knife hitting the glass workshop saver. Liar-liar-liar.
‘We know you haven’t.’ Dad’s voice was measured and calm, and that was worse somehow than the shouting I had been expecting. ‘And more fool you if you’ve been out with a boy. They only want one thing, you know.’
I couldn’t keep the corners of my mouth from twitching as I thought about Jake unbuttoning my shirt, his fingers slipping inside my bra, his lips pressed hard against mine.
‘You think this is funny, Katherine?’
‘I’m nineteen,’ I said, as though that would placate them. It didn’t.
‘Kat.’ Mum wiped her hands on her apron. ‘It’s because you are nineteen that we worry. This is a real turning point for you. You’ll leave school next month and it’s important you do well in your exams. I want you to have the future—’
‘She won’t have a future at all if she’s running about, God knows where,’ Dad said.
‘In a few weeks I’ll be living away from home and you won’t be able to keep me prisoner then. I can’t wait. I hate you.’ As the words spilled from my mouth I instantly knew it was the wrong thing to say.
‘You’re grounded,’ Dad shouted.
‘You can’t ground me. I’m an adult!’
‘I don’t care how old you are. While you’re living under my roof, you’ll do as I say.’
‘I can’t wait until I’m not living under your roof. Mum…’ But she was turning away from me. Back to the vegetables. Dad picked up the Sunday Times and held it like a barrier between us and, just like that, I was dismissed.
Now, I turned over the phone in my hands and it felt like I was holding independence.
‘Shall we order food?’ Aaron asked.
‘I could eat a bowl of cheesy chips.’ I hadn’t fancied breakfast that morning and the smell of fried food drifting from the kitchen was making me ravenous.
‘Me too.’ Jake wrapped his arms around my waist and nuzzled my neck.
‘Lis?’
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘Three bowls of cheesy chips please.’ Aaron handed over a £20 note.
‘Cheers mate.’ Jake sipped his pint.
I wiped the foamy moustache from his top lip with my thumb.
‘So this is it. Our last day at school,’ Aaron said as we walked over to one of the high tables. The sun slicing through the window reflected off the stainless steel surface and I shaded my eyes as I climbed onto one of the tall stools, still listening to Aaron. ‘I can’t believe after this I’ll have five years at uni. If my mum wasn’t so proud of me I honestly think I’d be having second thoughts. She’s told everyone I’m going to be a doctor.’
‘What is it with parental pressure?’ I said.
‘Your dad picked your course, didn’t he, Kat?’ Aaron asked.
‘He did but… No, you’ve got to guess.’ My fingertips drummed suspense on the table top.
‘You’re not going to uni any more?’ The hope in Lisa’s voice was palpable, and I flattened my hand, deflated.
‘I am going but I rang up admissions and there are places on the Performing Arts course, so I’m swapping.’
‘Wow. What about your dad?’
I shrugged. ‘What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.’ In truth I was terrified of him finding out before I went, but after he grounded me, I thought long and hard. He was always going to treat me like a child while I was still acting like one. It was time to take charge of my life.
‘Hollywood, here you come.’ Jake raised his glass.
‘I’d be happy with a stage career.’ We chinked.
‘Are you okay?’ I said to Lisa. She was jabbing at her soda water with her straw. Her half-moon of lemon bobbing up and down.
‘It’s all right for all of you. Off to uni.’
‘You didn’t want to? Mum did say—’ Jake started.
‘I know I didn’t,’ she snapped. ‘I still don’t but… I dunno. In a way I thought school would last forever. It’s come round so quickly. You’re all leaving me, and now dad’s gone.’ Lisa and Jake’s dad had been having an affair and had run off with his 25-year-old mistress. Lisa vowed never to talk to him again. ‘I don’t want to leave Mum on her own,’ she said. Nancy was spitting vitriol every time I went to visit. Spewing hatred against women who had affairs with married men.
‘We’re not leaving you.’ I reached across and squeezed her hand.
‘It’s not like
you’ll never see me again, sis,’ Jake said. ‘I’ll be home every holiday and some weekends.’
‘Bet you won’t,’ Lisa said. ‘Your uni isn’t far from Kat’s. You’ll be spending all your time together.’
‘We’ll always have time for you,’ I said.
‘But it will be different. You’ll all have exciting lives, and I’ll be stuck here in some crap job in shitty Farncaster.’
‘There’s nothing wrong in staying in the same town,’ I said, although I was itching to leave. ‘By the time we finish uni, we’ll be broke, with a mountain of debt and you’ll probably have settled down with an amazing man and had a family.’
‘God, no.’ Lisa shuddered. ‘You know how I feel about kids. Horrible, whiney things. Babies aren’t for me.’
‘You might feel differently in a few years. People change,’ I said.
‘That’s what I’m scared of.’ Lisa’s eyes were glazed with tears.
‘Stop being paranoid. I won’t change. No matter how many new people I meet you’ll always be my best friend, Lis.’
‘Promise?’
‘Promise.’
And at that time I meant it.
* * *
My euphoria regarding the future was tinged with sadness as I emptied my locker. It was the end of an era. The corridor was devoid of students but was jammed full of memories. Me and Lisa shuffling along, heads down, new school shoes squeaking on the lino during our first day at a place that felt a world apart from our small, safe, primary school. Later, sprinting to the canteen, knowing they always ran out of pizza, slowing, giggling, as Mr Lemmington barked ‘walk, don’t run!’
On my way to Lisa’s locker I pressed the corner back down of the West Side Story poster that was hanging off the wall. Not long now until the performance.
‘You nearly done?’ I clapped Lisa on the shoulder. She jumped, her books clattering to the floor.
‘Sorry.’ I crouched down, gathering her strewn belongings.
‘Leave them.’ She shielded her possessions with her arms, as though they were precious gems rather than tatty textbooks.
‘It’s okay.’ I picked up a folder. A packet fell out. Yellowish powder inside. ‘What’s this?’
‘None of your business,’ Aaron said.
I hadn’t noticed him appear beside me. He tried to snatch the packet. I closed my fingers around it.
‘Aaron, what are you?…’ My eyes bounced between his face and Lisa’s. The guilt and the shock. The anger. I stepped back. My hand a tight fist.
‘What’s going on, Lisa?’
‘It’s nothing.’
‘If it’s nothing, why are you hiding it?’
Lisa caught her lower lip between her teeth.
‘If you don’t tell me, I’ll go to Mr Lemmington.’ My voice rose with anger.
‘It’s an appetite suppressant,’ Lisa snapped.
‘What exactly is it? This appetite suppressant?’
‘Stop fucking shouting, Kat,’ Aaron hissed out his words.
I started to say there was no one in the corridor to overhear, but the expression on his face stopped me.
‘It’s harmless,’ he said. ‘My sister took it.’
‘So they sell this in Boots, do they? If I took it in there, the pharmacist would know what it was?’
There was a beat.
‘What. Is. It?’ I demanded.
‘It’s mephedrone but—’
‘Fuck, Lisa. We studied that in Health class. The effects—’
‘If you take it in large amounts, yes, but I’m not taking it to get high. It’s okay to use as an appetite suppressant in small amounts. Aaron says—’
‘Aaron’s not a bloody doctor, is he?’
‘It’s perfectly safe, Kat,’ Aaron said.
‘No drug is safe.’ I don’t know whether I was furious at Lisa for taking it, or furious with myself for not noticing. ‘That’s why you’ve been having mood swings. I can’t believe you encouraged this,’ I said to Aaron. He folded his arms and glared at me, and suddenly I understood. Why he always had money in the pub but didn’t have a part-time job. How he’d ‘get by’ at uni. ‘You’re the one who gave her it. There was no “special diet” your sister was on. You’re dealing?’
‘I’m not “dealing”. I’m helping teenage girls who want to lose weight. It’s just a bit of cash for uni. No harm done. You’ve got to admit, Lisa looks great now she’s thinner. I’m doing a public service.’
‘You bastard.’ Visions of the films we’d seen during drugs ed replayed in my mind. The long-term effects on mental health. The people who had died. How could he call himself Lisa’s friend?
‘I’m reporting you.’ I had to, didn’t I? I couldn’t let him ruin lives.
‘Don’t, Kat. People will get the wrong idea. It’s small quantities. A diet aid, that’s all.’
I hesitated. Was that really all he was doing? Selling small amounts to girls? But then I remembered Perry approaching Aaron at his party: ‘Got me a pressie?’ he’d asked, clearly off his face.
‘I don’t believe you,’ I said quietly.
It happened in an instant. My back slamming against the lockers; his hands around my throat. The smell of lager as he snarled: ‘If you report me, I could get arrested. Lose my place at uni. I swear, Kat, if you tell, if you ruin my future, I’ll fucking kill you if it’s the last thing I do.’
29
Now
‘Are you sure you have to go?’ I perch on the edge of the bed as Nick pulls shirts from hangers, socks from drawers, folding them neatly into his overnight bag. He looks pale and exhausted, and I know I should be supporting him, packing for him, but the encounter with Aaron at the hospital has shaken me to the core, despite him slinking away when Lisa put herself between us and told him to ‘fuck off’. There’s something odd about that encounter that niggles at the back of my mind, but I can’t put my finger on what it is. I’ve barely slept these past two weeks. I find myself constantly looking out of the window. Convinced I can hear footsteps crunching on the gravel. I’ve taken to leaving the curtains drawn all day. The footprints in the snow much on my mind again, and I try to recall the size of Aaron’s feet. Was it him who was here? Paranoia has wrapped itself around me like ivy and, much to my shame, I have noticed Nick talks slower now, as though I might have trouble understanding, and I do. It often sounds as though he is speaking from far away. Even the weatherman predicting the fast-approaching May will be one of the warmest on record for years, doesn’t lift my mood. Someone is trying to scare me, I know, and when I insist again someone is watching the house, Nick looks at me. His eyes full of concern. Full of pity.
‘Sorry. I told you I’d have to go back to the site. It’s unavoidable.’ Nick closes the lid of the case, zipping it up. ‘Please try and relax, Kat. I’m worried about you. You hardly seem fit to look after yourself. We could have a baby here in as little as three months.’
His words are bruising, but worse than that, is the feeling he is right.
‘I’m trying.’ I know he wants me to say I am fine, but I can’t, so I say what I think I should be feeling. ‘It’s just Lisa’s pregnancy seems endless and after Dewei and Mai… I’m so scared something will go wrong this time too.’ With the words, tears come and I think perhaps I have inadvertently spoken the truth. I am scared I’ll never become a mum so I am projecting my fear onto something else, something imagined, because if I stop to think about all the things that could go wrong with this baby, I would drive myself mad.
The mattress sags as Nick sits, wrapping his arm around me. I lean my head against his shoulder.
‘Don’t you think I feel the same way? It’s hard to stay positive when you’ve been through what we have. I have those “what if” thoughts too. Something could go wrong with the birth. Lisa might bond with the baby and not sign the residency order; the court might not approve the payments, but we can’t let our doubts shadow this experience.’
‘I know. Sorry.’ I sniff hard, feelin
g closer to him than I have in weeks. ‘I could come with you?’
‘To a building site? Not much fun. Besides, you’ve got your rehearsal, and Lisa’s coming to stay, isn’t she?’
Immediately my mood lifts. I’m so looking forward to spending time with Lisa, talking babies.
Nick carries on packing, throwing his toiletries into his washbag, and I try not to mind that he’s taking the Boss aftershave I bought him for Christmas, not the Body Shop one he usually wears to work.
‘I’ll just use the loo and I’ll be off.’ The en-suite door clicks shut, and I sit on the bed, miserably picking at a hangnail. I hate goodbyes. I’m relieved as the landline starts to ring and I run downstairs.
I am puffed out as I pick up the handset; we really should get another one upstairs but we rarely use it. Even now I wait for the mechanical PPI tone to kick in, wondering why I ever bothered answering it at all. Instead there is silence, and I say hello several times before putting down the phone.
‘That’s odd,’ I say to Nick as seconds later he hefts his bag downstairs. ‘There was no one there.’
‘Probably a call centre in India; they can’t always connect.’
‘I suppose.’
‘Right, I’m off.’ Nick pulls his coat out of the cloakroom. ‘Have you seen my scarf?’
‘The one I bought you for Christmas? No. Hopefully you won’t need it. Hot weather is coming. Apparently.’ We still have our heating on for now.
The Surrogate Page 16