by Dani Atkins
‘How will you manage? Will you get a nanny?’
Ryan’s eyebrows rose slightly, and I clumsily tried to remove the foot I had effectively rammed into my own mouth. Would I even have thought of making that suggestion if Maddie was the single parent left to care for their baby? No, of course I wouldn’t have.
‘I don’t mean that you’re not perfectly capable of—’
Once again Ryan’s hand reached out and squeezed mine. ‘It’s okay, Chloe. And for the record, I don’t think you’re going to be the only one who questions whether I’ll be able to manage.’
‘I didn’t—’
His smile silenced me. ‘I read all the books you left in Maddie’s room. And the midwives here have been pretty fantastic. They’ve been on a mission to train me. I think it’s safe to say that if they put a nappy-changing event in the next Olympics, I’ll be coming home with a medal.’
I gave a small laugh which the wind tried to whip away.
‘I can bathe, bottle feed, and burp. All the Bs in fact . . . except breastfeeding, of course. That one is still beyond me.’ I wasn’t sure if I was meant to laugh at that or not, so I just smiled weakly.
‘What will you do about work?’ I asked, wondering if that was too personal a question, although Ryan didn’t appear offended by it.
‘My company has a pretty good paternity scheme, and because of my unique circumstances I should be okay for the next three months or so. After that . . .’ he shrugged. ‘I guess I’ll just have to see how things go and look into day care – or see about getting my own Mrs Doubtfire.’ I knew he was teasing me now, but I was okay with that.
‘I’m obviously still going to bring Hope to the hospital every day, because she needs to be near her mum.’ My eyes felt a little watery as I filled in the part of that sentence that Ryan didn’t complete: As do I.
‘But I’m definitely going to need some help making this work,’ he admitted, looking straight at me. My heart started to beat faster, while something that felt like a snake writhed in the pit of my stomach. ‘Ryan, I’m not sure I’m the right person to ask. I really don’t know much about babies.’
His blue eyes clouded in confusion for a moment, and before they cleared I’d realised my mistake. ‘Oh, no. What I meant was that I’m not going to be able to spend as much time with Maddie as I’ve done up until now. So I wanted to ask if you’d be willing to carry on visiting her.’
If a sudden convenient earthquake had decided to strike the hospital grounds at that precise moment and swallow me down into a yawning chasm, I wouldn’t have minded one bit. As it didn’t, I just had to put up with feeling like the world’s biggest idiot.
I forced my lips to form a smile, which must have done a passable job of hiding not only my feelings of embarrassment, but also the lingering disappointment I was still struggling to understand. ‘I’d be happy to.’
I trained for the next major career change in my life without ever knowing I was doing so. I was on an interview for over four months, and still didn’t have a clue. Sometimes it’s the things you can’t control that shape your future, like a van driving too fast on a busy road; or a local authority making cutbacks.
Over the weeks and months that followed I saw and shared a great many moments that weren’t mine to treasure, but they were there, happening all around me. I never set out to take something that wasn’t mine. I never expected to feel love like that. Never. But Hope stole my heart, and I gave it to her with a willingness that scared me.
I saw those early smiles – the ones you knew had nothing to do with wind. I felt the surprisingly strong grip as her tiny hand, with its miniature shell-pink nails, held on to my finger. Ryan was partly to blame. His reluctance to leave Maddie’s side meant there was frequently a crossover period between the end of his visits and the beginning of mine. He would linger and chat, asking me about my day as he packed away the extraordinary amount of equipment one small person appeared to require for travel. He sounded surprisingly interested when I rambled on about my job at the library and the continued threat of further cutbacks, and even I was bored with that topic.
‘Actually, Chloe, there is a favour I’d like to ask,’ Ryan said one day, expertly collapsing down Hope’s travel cot single-handedly while balancing his daughter on one hip. He’d come a very long way from the man who took several minutes carefully positioning his hands before daring to pick her up.
‘You don’t work at the library on Thursdays, do you?’
I shook my head, thinking, And possibly not for the other four days of the week, the way things are going.
‘There’s a conference I need to attend before going back to work next month, and I’m not sure how comfortable I feel about leaving Hope at the day-care place when she hasn’t been for her trial session yet.’
I nodded and looked over at Hope, who Ryan had now tucked up securely against Maddie’s side. There was a wall of blankets and the bed’s guard rail keeping her safe, and yet I still worried about her falling. I wasn’t normally a paranoid kind of person, but when it came to Hope’s well-being I turned into the worst kind of psychic, seeing a world of disasters just waiting to happen. What on earth was I going to be like when I had kids of my own?
‘Would you be willing to look after her for the day?’ asked Ryan, with an engaging smile.
My reply was one hundred per cent enthusiastic. ‘Of course I would. I’d love to.’
It was early. Shortly after seven o’clock in the morning, and yet several of Ryan’s neighbours had already passed me in the hallway. They were all dressed smartly, in formal office-style clothing. My old but comfortable jeans and thick jumper made me look even more of an outsider than I already felt. This was the kind of building where the residents had careers rather than jobs. And it didn’t look particularly child-friendly, I decided, doing an unconscious risk-assessment of the hallway as I pressed the button to summon the lift to the fifth floor. In fact, I was willing to put money on Hope being the only baby in the entire building.
Ryan was waiting for me by the open door of his apartment. He was dressed in the same uniform as his neighbours: smart grey suit, crisp white shirt and pale blue silk tie. His companion was more casually attired, in teddy bear pyjamas.
‘I’m sorry,’ Ryan apologised, transferring his sleepy daughter into my arms as soon as I crossed the threshold. ‘For the first time in . . . well ever, actually . . . she didn’t wake me up at the crack of dawn. So I’ve not given her a bottle, or sorted out her things, or done anything.’ He took a worried glance at his watch. ‘And my train is due to leave in twenty-seven minutes.’
‘Go,’ I said, urging him towards the door, with a gentle shove.
He looked hesitant and uncertain. ‘But I haven’t even shown you where everything is kept, or—’
‘It’s not a big place. I’m sure I’ll figure it out,’ I said with surprising confidence.
It appeared to fool him as much as it did me. He paused, nodded, and then reached into the pocket of his suit and drew out a small bundle of keys. ‘Door key; car key; and fob thing to get out of the underground car park. You’re sure you’re okay about driving to the hospital later?’
‘Yes. No problem. The ban was lifted a couple of months ago.’
It was too cruel really, watching his expression change. Then he realised I was joking.
‘You’re hilarious,’ he deadpanned, bending his head down towards me. For one crazy moment I thought he was about to kiss me goodbye. But the cheek which received the touch of his lips was Hope’s, who was nestled in my arms. We were so close I could feel the warmth of Ryan’s breath on my face. I saw the fleeting flare in his cobalt eyes, and knew he’d been as wrong-footed by the move as I’d been.
He straightened quickly. ‘I should be back by no later than seven this evening. You have my mobile number if there’s any problem.’
‘Twenty-four minutes now until that train,’ I advised, watching him pick up a leather briefcase and heavy top coat that were
waiting by the front door.
‘See you tonight,’ he said, disappearing out of the door in a blur of expensive suit and subtle aftershave.
I leant back against the closed door, cradling the sleepy infant in my arms. To be fair, she seemed totally unconcerned that the only parent she’d ever known had walked out and abandoned her.
‘Just you and me then, kiddo,’ I said, dropping a kiss on the same cheek her father’s mouth had grazed. That felt all kinds of wrong, and I wiped my fingers furiously over my lips as though erasing any lingering trace of the man who today had entrusted me with his most precious possession.
Buoyed up by the false confidence I had effectively sold to Ryan, I set off in search of a bottle for Hope. I passed through what once must have been a fairly spacious living room before it was overtaken by all manner of baby paraphernalia. I bounced a slightly grizzly Hope on my hip as I surveyed the room, which bore a striking resemblance to the shop floor of a Mothercare store. I counted a stroller, a Moses basket, a baby swing, a rocker chair, a multi-activity play mat, and a travel cot.
‘You need all this, do you?’ I asked the increasingly grouchy infant. Hope’s small gummy mouth opened like a baby bird’s.
‘Okay, let’s go find you some breakfast.’
Ryan’s kitchen told an equally interesting story. I particularly liked the wine rack in the fridge where a neat line of prepared bottles of formula sat, where once I imagined the Chardonnay might have lived. A very fancy-looking coffee maker that wouldn’t have been out of place in a Starbucks was currently unplugged and decommissioned in order to make space on the worktop for an enormous electric sterilising unit.
‘You really have turned your daddy’s life upside down, haven’t you?’ I asked the happily guzzling baby in my arms, as I sat on Ryan’s black leather settee and fed his hungry daughter. While Hope made short work of the bottle, my eyes travelled the room, looking beyond the masculine decor and catching glimpses of the small touches I imagined Maddie had left behind. The vibrant multicoloured scatter cushions relieving the sombre funereal furniture were surely hers. And I couldn’t see Ryan putting those brightly patterned throws on the back of the sofa, or the tall scented candles in the holders. You didn’t need a degree in forensics to be able to find Maddie in this place. She was everywhere.
After eliciting a burp from Hope that a burly lorry driver would be proud of, I set off in search of the place where her belongings were kept. The flat had two bedrooms, but when I opened the door to the smallest of them, I found only a room that was part home-office and part storage facility. There was a desk, piled high with files and folders, and a wall full of carefully stacked and labelled cardboard boxes: Maddie’s Winter Scarves; Maddie’s DVDs; Maddie’s Books. Much of Maddie’s life and a great many of her personal belongings were catalogued and stored in this room, just waiting for her to open her eyes and reclaim them. I touched the top of one box and my finger left a visible trail in ten months’ worth of accumulated dust. For some reason that made me incredibly sad.
I found where Hope slept easily enough. I should have known it was the only place Ryan would consider suitable. The cot was pushed up close against the left-hand side of the large double bed. The pillows on that side were undisturbed, and bore no indent of a head, unlike their mangled counterparts on the other side of the mattress. Ryan was clearly an extremely restless sleeper. Knowing that made me feel strangely uncomfortable, like I’d been caught prying.
I changed Hope and found her clothes in one of the deep drawers of the dresser. Pushed far into the back of the drawer were a few items of women’s underwear. Maddie’s obviously, unless I’d accidentally uncovered a secret that Ryan really didn’t want to share. The thought made me smile, and Hope happily mimicked it as she watched me from the changing mat. ‘Oh, so you think that’s funny, do you?’ I asked, scooping her up into my arms. I’m glad I had a good firm hold of my tiny wriggling charge, because when I turned around to leave the room I suddenly found myself face-to-face with Madeline Chambers. Or as close as I imagined I was ever likely to be, with her eyes wide open.
The photograph had been enlarged, placed inside a light oak frame, and hung proudly on the wall. I could see why. Maddie looked absolutely gorgeous in it. She must have been on holiday somewhere, for a palm tree and a glimmer of ocean were visible beyond her shoulder. She was certainly dressed for the beach in the photograph, which cut off just below two impossibly tiny triangles of her bikini top. It was the kind of swimwear Nature had decided I would never be able to wear – at least not without getting arrested. But I couldn’t deny that on Maddie it looked amazing. Her long dark hair was blowing in a gentle breeze, and was held back from her face by an oversized pair of sunglasses perched on top of her head. But what elevated the photo above that of any attractive young woman on holiday was the happiness radiating out of her sparkling blue eyes. That was what turned beautiful into something ethereal. I didn’t doubt for a moment who had been on the other side of the camera taking that shot. The love Maddie shone back at him was breathtaking to see. And Ryan had captured it perfectly.
Of course, once I’d noticed that photograph, I realised that images of Maddie were everywhere in Ryan’s flat. There was one in a silver frame on the bedside table by Hope’s cot, making it the very first thing she would see whenever her head was turned that way. There was another on Ryan’s bedside table, presumably for exactly the same reason.
I carried Hope back into the lounge, passing a few other smiling Maddies on the way. Of all the dangers I ever feared for Hope, not knowing who her mother was could safely be scratched off the list. I laid Hope down on the activity mat, and sat cross-legged on the floor beside her as she amused herself swiping at the colourful mobiles hanging above her. The day stretched out before me, and I felt like a learner driver who’d accidentally strayed onto the motorway and now had no idea what to do next.
Sunlight slanted in through the glass of the floor-to-ceiling balcony doors. April was giving an impressive audition and pretending to be summer, and the idea of taking Hope out for some fresh air seemed like a perfect solution for how to spend our morning.
Fifteen minutes later I was beginning to question that decision as I struggled to turn the intricate collapsed framework propped up against the wall into a working pushchair. Convinced it must have been designed by a rocket scientist, I would probably have given up if it hadn’t been for Maddie’s watchful eyes staring down at me in judgement from a dozen photo frames. Finally my fingers found a small silver lever and then, as if by magic, the jumbled conundrum of gleaming chrome turned into a stroller.
Ryan lived in an area of town I wasn’t particularly familiar with, but following the directions from a particularly chirpy traffic warden, I headed to the nearest shops. I’d never pushed a pram before, so I had no idea if everyone always smiled at young women who did so. I must have received at least four good mornings from random strangers, and countless warm glances from many of the women I passed. It was as if I had gained entry to some exclusive sisterhood that I didn’t even realise existed.
I spent an enjoyable few hours window-shopping, before returning to the flat with a very sleepy Hope and a carrier bag full of ingredients that I’d purchased from a small delicatessen. Besides the bottles of formula, Ryan’s fridge held nothing more than a stack of microwaveable dinners, making me wonder how often he bothered with a home-cooked meal. That at least was something I could do with my time today. It would be a nice surprise for him when he got back from the conference.
Hope obligingly fell into a deep sleep as soon as we were back at the flat, which lasted just long enough for me to look up a recipe on my phone for a foolproof Beef Bourguignon and then prepare it. From the pristine state of Ryan’s oven I guessed he was either seriously OCD about kitchen hygiene, or his oven saw even less action than mine did.
I set the timer so that it would be ready for seven thirty that evening, and then after eating the sandwich I’d bought in town and feeding
Hope, it was time to head for the hospital.
I drove along the familiar roads as nervously as an eighty-year-old woman on her driving test, and hadn’t realised how tightly I’d been gripping the steering wheel until I felt the cramp in my fingers when I eventually unfurled them in the hospital car park.
‘Hello, Chloe. Is that little Hope you have there?’ asked Jerry with a warm beam as we passed him at the hospital entrance. Ever since the incident with the intruder, I had more time and respect for the friendly security guard. I never did get to find out what he’d said to the reporter after we’d left, but I did know that he’d never pressed charges about his smashed camera. In turn, Ryan had chosen not to pursue an official complaint; a decision which I found more than a little dissatisfying.
‘It would be pouring even more petrol onto a fire that I’d just as soon burnt out,’ he had reasoned. It was the one and only time I had raised the subject, and all I could do was simply shrug and let it go. It was his decision to make, not mine.
‘Have you got yourself a new job there?’ Jerry asked, gently chucking Hope under the soft folds of her chin.
I’m sure I must have looked a bit bewildered for a moment before I corrected him, but his innocent enquiry had lit a spark, and it flickered and grew throughout my afternoon at the hospital with Maddie and her daughter.
The sound of Ryan’s key in the door alerted me. I swivelled around, holding Hope securely against my shoulder. It was almost dusk, and although I hadn’t drawn any of the curtains, I had turned on all the table lamps, giving the room a warm and welcoming glow. The door opened and Ryan stood for a moment in its frame. He looked tired. He’d loosened his tie, revealing the open top button of his shirt. The coat, which probably cost more than I made in a month at the library, was carelessly held in one hand, its sleeves dragging along the floor.
For a very long moment Ryan didn’t move, and I saw his gaze taking everything in. I’d tidied up a little, but nothing to warrant the startled look on his face. I wondered if I’d done something wrong, because whatever he was seeing was clearly causing him pain. And then I saw it all through his eyes. The flat was warm and welcoming; the fragrant smell of bourguignon was wafting from the kitchen; and his fed, bathed and sleepy daughter was smiling at him . . . from the arms of the wrong woman. What a fool I had been. What I was showing him was a painful glimpse of all the things that could have been, that should have been . . . and might never actually happen.