Jake.
My mouth formed his name and my heart ached. There was a scraping sound outside. My head jerked up, eyes drawn to the door. I couldn’t quite see and simultaneously I was praying for it to open, and equally longing for it to stay closed.
There was the soft click and light sliced through the blackness. I shielded my eyes, whimpering as a hand gripped my elbow, yanking me to my feet.
47
Then
There was a mound on the bed, Nick had thought it was a body, but as he stood over it he saw it was just a bunched up duvet. The sour smell of his father and unhappiness tainted the air, and he spun around and left the room.
Mum.
The bathroom door began to creak open before it became jammed. Something heavy prevented it from fully opening. Nick rested his forehead against the door. He felt sick. Coward. He reached inside the gap, hands gripping air until he located the pull cord of the light switch. He yanked hard. There was a pop; light. Nick shook his head from side to side as he peered through the gap in the door and saw his mum’s legs splayed out on the white tiles. The streak of blood by her side.
The knife slipped from his grasp as he gently pushed the door and squeezed through the gap, dropping to his knees in front of the too still, too silent body. Mum. He had found her – but he was filled with self-loathing as he pressed his fingers to her neck. He couldn’t feel a pulse. He was too late. The front door slammed, and the stairs creaked under the weight of footsteps.
Dad.
White-hot anger seared through him, scorching his sense of good and bad. Right and wrong.
He picked up the knife and he waited.
48
Then
‘You stink.’ Dad pulled me from the small cupboard under the stairs. My legs were stiff and I stumbled, too ashamed to admit I’d been unable to control my bladder, but the stench of urine gave me away. The look of disgust on his face made me feel smaller than I’d ever felt before. The rug in the hallway skidded on the floorboards and I lost my footing again, as Dad gripped my elbow, propelling me forward.
‘Go and get cleaned up. Mum will be home soon and then we’ll talk.’
‘What’s the point when you won’t listen?’ Every ounce of logic inside told me I should keep quiet but the words burst from me. ‘I want Jake. Jake loves me.’
‘Love,’ Dad spat as he dragged me up the stairs. It was awkward with both of us squeezed between the two wooden bannisters. I slipped, my feet scrambled for traction, but he didn’t once loosen his grip. In that moment I drank everything in, the yellowing gloss paint chipping from the rail, the way the carpet was darker at the edges, the wallpaper curling above the skirting boards. It was if I knew this would be the last time I would see them and I had to memorise every last detail.
‘I’ll tell you what love is. It’s marrying the girl stupid enough to fall pregnant. The giving up on your own dreams to support a family you didn’t want.’
We reached the top of the stairs, and I faced Dad; my eyes searched his face for some sign of affection.
‘You’re talking about Mum? About me?’ I felt winded. I knew Dad wasn’t exactly paternal but I never once thought he didn’t want me. I thought his strictness was a sign of love, not fear of me repeating the same mistakes. ‘You didn’t want me?’
‘Not just me. Mum had plans of her own but her parents were Catholic. She couldn’t have an abortion.’
‘And that’s what you wish, I’d been aborted?’ I couldn’t quite believe what I was hearing.
‘Oh don’t look all wide-eyed, Kat. We made the best of it. We’ve been good parents, haven’t we?’
‘You locked me in a cupboard!’
‘Only to stop you running off. We’ve encouraged you to work hard. Follow your dreams.’
‘You’ve encouraged me to follow your dreams. I never wanted to be a doctor. I want to be an actress.’ I was screaming.
‘Well you had us fooled running around with that layabout.’
‘Jake isn’t a layabout, he’s—’
‘Not in your life any more is what he is. We can get you into a private clinic. Get this sorted out before uni starts.’
‘This,’ I placed my hands over my belly. ‘This is your grandchild.’
‘It’s nothing but a mass of cells.’
‘It is my baby!’ My throat was raw as the words were ripped from me.
‘You will ruin your life.’ Dad’s voice raged over mine, and everything I knew I should do and say to calm him down, buy me some time, was eclipsed by one simple fact I could not contain.
‘I love Jake.’ My voice was quiet but firm and, even to me, my words rang true.
It was as though Dad aged as he ran his fingers through his thinning hair. I felt a pang of loss for the father who was slipping away from me, as well as for the father I wanted him to be, but summer-sunshine picnics and Sunday-afternoon-games-of-Monopoly were never part of our family. I vowed it would be different with my child. Behind Dad, through the landing window, I watched wisps of clouds float by, and I could almost see my ambition being swept away with them, but as strong as the pull of the stage was, the craving of applause, I couldn’t imagine anything better than days spent making potato paint prints and moulding wild animals from Playdoh. The desire to hold my baby sparked a quiet determination in me that chased away my fear. My longing grew hotter and brighter.
‘I won’t have an abortion.’ My eyes locked onto Dad’s and I thought I saw sorrow but then his eyes grew cold and hard as he clutched my elbow once more.
‘You’ll do what I bloody well tell you.’ He began to shake me. I tried to push him away but his grip was strong. A primal urge to protect my baby kicked in. I shook my arm free and placed both hands on his chest. My palms were burning hot and tingling as I pushed as hard as I could.
The world slowed and stopped. I became keenly aware of the thickness in the air, the terror on Dad’s face as he began to fall backwards down the stairs, his arms windmilling. Automatically, I sidestepped so he couldn’t drag me down with him. Each bump was sickening. His body bounced and twisted and, as he landed at the bottom, his head cracked against the hard wooden floor. I covered my face with both hands. The silence was weighted with guilt as I waited for a groan, the sound of movement, for redemption, but there was nothing except my heart punching my ribs. It took an age before I splayed my fingers and looked at my father lying face down on the floor below me, his leg at an awkward angle, a trickle of blood seeping from underneath his head.
There are so many things I could have done. So many things I should have done. But as I descended the stairs – my legs trembling, my palms still hot and tingling – and stepped over his motionless body, it wasn’t to reach the phone and call for help. It was to reach the front door. I was numb to everything except the thought of reaching Jake. And it haunts me to this day that I didn’t hesitate on the step for a single second.
I didn’t look back.
I ran.
49
Then
In my rush to leave the house I had left my bag and purse, but I couldn’t go back. What if Dad was conscious? What if he wasn’t? I jogged along our street. The bright red postbox where I had posted applications to universities I didn’t want to go to; Mrs Phillips’s bungalow – she had always given me an apple as I walked past on my way to school; the cherry tree that coated the pavements with a pale pink blossom, obscuring my chalked out hopscotch. Dad would never forgive me, neither would Mum once she knew. It looked like his leg was broken, sticking out at one of the odd angles we’d had to learn for GCSE maths that I thought I would never come across again. It would be incredibly painful when he woke. I slowed, thought I should go back, at least to call for help, sit with him until the ambulance arrived, but then Mum would know about the baby, and the inevitable tears, the guilt I felt over Dad’s accident, might cloud my judgement. They might force me into an abortion just as they forced me onto a degree course I never wanted to do. It was best this way; b
ut still my sense of right and wrong raged until the edges were blurred and I didn’t know what the right thing was any more. I stood on the corner, lungs sucking in air. My palms hot and tingling as though they could still feel Dad’s chest beneath them, the beating of his heart, before I pushed and he lay broken and bleeding on the floor. Mum would be home any minute; it wasn’t like he would lie there for hours, in pain and alone, but I had never felt so conflicted before. I lay my hands over the baby I could not yet feel, Jake’s baby, and I carried on running.
By the time I reached Jake’s house there was a stitch jabbing my side and, after I had banged on the door, I pressed both hands against my ribs trying to ease it.
‘Hello, Kat love. Are you okay?’ Nancy looked concerned. ‘Of course you’re not. Come in.’
In the lounge we sat on the sofa and I longed to pound upstairs and throw myself into Jake’s arms but I couldn’t stop trembling, didn’t think my legs would make it. Nancy handed me a tissue, and I wiped my eyes, blew my nose.
‘What’s happened?’ Nancy took my hands in hers. ‘Between you and Lisa. It breaks my heart you’ve fallen out. Tell me everything.’
‘It’s not Lisa I’m crying about.’ I fell silent. Where would I even start to tell her what’s wrong?
‘Whatever it is, I can help.’
I longed to tell her I was carrying her grandchild, but she couldn’t be the first person I told.
‘Is Jake here?’
‘No. He’s gone to The Three Fishes with Lisa.’
I stood. ‘I’m going to find him.’
‘I’d give you a lift but he took my car.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ I said, but I could see by the concern in her eyes she didn’t believe the words any more than I did.
‘Jake.’ My voice was too loud as I called across the wine bar. Heads swivelled but I didn’t care my clothes were crumpled, my face streaked with tears. I flung myself into his arms.
‘Do you mind? I’m supposed to be having a night out with my brother!’ Lisa kept her voice light, as though she was joking, but her tone didn’t quite coat the resentment festering underneath her words.
Stung, I tugged at Jake’s hand. Now was not the time to start to repair my relationship with Lisa, although I wanted to. ‘We have to go.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Lisa sidestepped so she was standing between us and the door. ‘The world doesn’t revolve around you, Kat.’
‘I know but…’ The image of Dad, lying like a rag doll at the bottom of the stairs, was burned onto my conscience but I couldn’t say what I had done in public. ‘I need to talk to Jake, in private.’
‘Private? I’m your best friend, or have you forgotten? But then you don’t have any loyalty to me, do you? You could have got me into huge trouble.’
‘What’s she talking about?’ Jake asked me but the hostility in Lisa’s words had rendered me mute. His gaze shifted to Lisa ‘What have you done?’
‘Nothing as bad as she thinks.’ She spat out the words. ‘Nothing as bad as dating your best friend’s twin without even talking to her about it first.’ Lisa pushed her face towards mine. I could smell white wine, cheap and sour. ‘My own fucking brother.’ She was shouting now.
I could feel the curious gaze of the other customers and wanted to scream at them to mind their own business, but instead, I said quietly: ‘My dad locked me in a cupboard.’
‘What?’ They both looked at me in disbelief.
‘All day. I’ve been locked in a tiny cupboard all day. In the dark. I thought I was going to suffocate. I was so scared.’ I started to cry again.
‘Let’s get out of here.’ Jake put his arm around my shoulders. ‘I’ve got the car outside.’
‘No! You said you’d leave it here and we’d get a taxi back. You’ve been drinking, Jake.’ Lisa held his arm.
‘I’ve only had one pint and I feel fine.’
‘We were going to talk. I have something to tell you. It’s important.’
‘You can see what a state Kat is in. You can tell me later.’
‘Don’t go.’ She was pleading now, and I felt horrible for Jake as though he had to choose.
‘I have to.’ There was finality to Jake’s words.
Lisa looked wretched as she said: ‘Fine. I’ll call you a cab.’ She stalked outside, already punching numbers on her mobile.
‘Are you okay?’ Jake cupped my face between his palms.
‘Not really. There’s something else you need to know.’
‘Come on.’ Jake took my hand and led me out the back door to the car park.
‘What about Lisa?’ I climbed into the passenger seat.
‘She’ll be fine.’ He eased the car out into the street, and sheltering in the front entrance Lisa turned, phone to her ear. ‘Wait!’ she shouted but Jake drove off, and as I looked in the side mirror I saw her standing there and she looked so distraught I felt terrible. Is there anybody I haven’t hurt today?
We didn’t speak as we drove for the short journey out of town. Jake’s mobile rang, Lisa’s name flashing up, and Jake switched it off. He slipped his mum’s car into the lay-by outside the woods and silently we both opened our doors and stepped outside. Dusty earth rose, tickling my nose as I planted my feet on the ground. Wordlessly Jake took my hand in his and we fell into step together, both instinctively knowing where we were going. Jake hadn’t asked any questions, as though he knew what I had to say would irrevocably alter our lives forever, and I hoped he would see it as a beginning and not an end. Splintered wood snagged my dress as I climbed over the wooden fence, goosebumps sprung up on my arms. It was colder under the canopy of trees and I hesitated, wondering whether we should turn back, but Jake rested his arm over my shoulders and I drew warmth from his presence.
Twigs cracked underfoot, and high above the treetops the moon shimmered its hello as the sun bid good night. It grew darker and darker until we reached the clearing where Jake first made love to me. It felt fitting I would tell him here. Jake shrugged off his jacket and spread it on the ground and we both sat, bodies pressed tight against each other. I could feel the heat from his skin. His forehead was damp with sweat. He looked scared.
‘I know,’ he said.
My stomach plummeted. ‘What do you know?’
He took my hand, gently rubbing my knuckles with his thumb. ‘You’re pregnant,’ he said, and he didn’t sound sad, or angry, or any of the things I thought he might. He stated the fact as though it were inevitable.
‘Yes.’
Time was suspended as I waited for him to speak. The wind stopped blowing, the leaves stopped rustling. I crossed the fingers on the hand that was hanging by my side, praying he would tell me it would all be okay. Instead he let go of me and stumbled as he stood. The first step he took away from me almost broke my heart.
50
Then
Jake took another step forward and it felt as though everything was being ripped away, but then he turned and dropped to one knee.
‘Marry me, Kat.’
‘Don’t be stupid.’ I looked into the eyes of the boy I loved and I knew I’d have to tell him what I’d done to my dad. He’d probably never look at me the same way again.
‘Stupid?’ He began to tickle me. ‘Handsome, funny and oh so sexy but stupid? No. Madly in love with you. Yes. We can make this work.’
‘Can we?’ More than anything I wanted to believe him.
‘We can.’
‘But—’
‘But nothing. It may be sooner than we’d hoped but you and me, Kat, we’re written in the stars.’ His arm arced towards the sky, a big, sweeping gesture. ‘A baby! A family of three. It would have happened eventually anyway. You can still act. I can still be an architect. It will be fine. Better than fine. You’ll see.’ His words tumbled out, one mad rush, and his euphoria crashed over me, washing away my doubts. ‘Here.’ He unclasped the gold cross he always wore. I lifted my hair as he fastened it around my neck. ‘I’ll get you a ring, of course. We ma
y be young but we’ll do it all properly,’ he said, and this time, when he made love to me, it wasn’t against the tree, hard and fast, but on the floor of the forest, soft and sweet. I didn’t care if we never made it to a bed as long as I spent the rest of my life in Jake’s arms. If it wasn’t for the drizzle I’d have been happy lying, limbs entwined, for hours, but as the cold drops of rain fell heavier, we ran to the car, holding Jake’s jacket over our heads, and I felt as though we were running into our future.
* * *
‘I can’t go home.’ I chewed my thumb nervously as I sat in the passenger seat.
‘You can stay at mine. Mum will be cool.’
On the verges, rabbits ventured out now darkness had fallen, despite the rain bouncing off the car roof, making the road look even darker. Jake was driving faster than usual. The radio was tuned to the old-fashioned station Nancy loved. The Monkees sang ‘I’m a Believer’. I glanced at his profile – the sheen covering his skin, his torso hunched over the wheel as if he could make the car go even faster.
‘Are you okay?’ Part of me wondered whether he’d gone into shock. Whether the news was too much. He turned to me, his eyes glinting in the gloom.
‘I’m feeling a bit sick actually. My head’s spinning. You’re sure, aren’t you? About the baby? I’m really going to be a dad?’
‘Yes. Pull over and get some air. You’re going too fast anyway.’ I placed a hand over my stomach. The heater was blasting out warm air but the windscreen was fogging. I fished a tissue out of my bag and tried to wipe it clean, but I spread the dampness, making it worse.
The Surrogate Page 24