The One That Got Away

by Lucy Dawson

  I put my mobile in my lap for a moment while I try to scoop everything else up off the floor without causing a fuss, but unfortunately, a tinkly girly sound – which sounds like it’s coming from my crotch – announces the arrival of a text message. Antony sighs pointedly.

  ‘Sorry.’ I try to get myself together and hurriedly grab the phone. ‘I’m, er, waiting on an important feedback call from a GP who is about to place a large order. That’s his answerphone message buzzing in I expect.’ I make a show of inspecting the screen in a businesslike fashion, but stupidly open the text menu. Sandra is there like a flash. ‘No, it’s a text,’ she cranes over my shoulder. ‘Subject matter “You’ve not been away from my mind …’” she reads out loud. ‘Ahhhh!’ Her beautiful face contorts into a nasty smile. ‘How sweet.’

  ‘Who says that wasn’t the GP?’ Pearce jokes and everyone laughs, except me, because I know exactly who the text is from and I need to read the rest of it, but now I can’t. ‘Molly has them all eating out of her hand.’ Sandra looks incredibly pissed off that Pearce has stood up for me in public, pursing her blow-job gob into a sulky pout.

  ‘Yes, well let’s just turn our phones off shall we?’ Antony says crisply, like the school teacher who is perfectly capable of losing it, but hasn’t quite hit the irritation level required yet.

  Sandra hasn’t given up though and tries a different line of attack. ‘I expect that’s hubby checking up on you, isn’t it? Are you feeling better now, Molly? You’ve been really poorly, haven’t you? Ill all yesterday.’ She flicks her long blonde hair back and fakes a look of concern. Everyone shifts awkwardly in their seats. Its tantamount to actually saying, ‘So did you get so wasted on Wednesday night you couldn’t be arsed to drag yourself out of the hotel bed?’

  Antony turns to me in surprise.

  ‘Did you manage to get to the doctor’s?’ Sandra asks innocently, and takes a sip of her tea.

  ‘Yes, I did,’ I say, keeping my voice steady. ‘It’s always sensible to get checked out after a car accident, and what with spending all afternoon in the doctor’s waiting room it was just like being at work really.’ Why did she have to do that? I’m no threat to her. And while it’s a relief to have such a convincing excuse, its not so great to have to remind everyone I bashed up my company car the day before yesterday. She’s such a bitch.

  Antony looks at me worriedly. ‘Right, well, if you’re quite finished, Sandra? You know you might think about directing some of that concern and energy towards improving your rather low call-back rate.’

  That wipes the satisfied look off her face and he launches into the conference debrief and then the territory reports. When we finally arrive at lunch, Sandra and I are the only ones still alert; me because of the text I’m dreading reading, and Sandra because she’s been angrily simmering in her seat waiting for her big moment. Sure enough, she snatches her bag up dramatically and makes a show of flouncing out in a huff.

  Pearce sighs and grabs his stuff. ‘You OK?’ he says hurriedly, to me.

  I nod and he looks relieved. ‘Sorry about her,’ he mutters, ‘I’ll sort it,’ and like the White Rabbit, hastily disappears after Sandra.

  Antony, who has watched the little episode keenly, clears his throat. ‘Molly,’ he calls out. ‘Can I grab a quick word?’

  We wait until everyone else has drifted out of the room, staring at us curiously, trying to work out if I’m about to get a bollocking or not.

  ‘Everything Jim Dandy?’ Antony says once we are alone, half sat on the table, half off. ‘Nothing I should know about?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘Look, I couldn’t give a monkey’s about your car mishap or you missing yesterday, as long as you’re all right – but Sandra did have a point. It’s not like you to be off sick full stop, and you were a bit dicky earlier this week too. Obviously, from an HR perspective, I’m not supposed to ask you if there’s something I should know … but we’ve worked together so long now that if there were anything that might have a nine-month lead time …’ He looks gloomily and pointedly at my stomach. ‘I’d appreciate the nod. I suppose it’s going to have to happen sooner rather than later.’

  ‘I’m not pregnant,’ I say uncomfortably. ‘If that’s what you mean.’

  He looks very relieved. ‘Thank Christ for that. My budget can’t cope with any more maternity cover. Sorry, I put two and two together and …’

  I say nothing. I like Antony a lot, he’s a nice bloke and a good boss, but I just want to leave. Never in all my life have I had the level of interest in my reproductive potential as I have this week. He looks embarrassed now too.

  ‘I hope I haven’t overstepped the mark.’

  We both know he has, massively.

  ‘It’s just we value you, I value you. So sue me for caring eh?’ Antony laughs then says uneasily, ‘Don’t though. Please. You make us more money than most of them put together, Moll.’

  ‘Antony, there’s no problem. Honestly.’ I reach for my bag. I really have to go and read that text.

  ‘I could sack Sandra to fund a salary rise?’ Antony jokes inappropriately, although that is a tempting offer. ‘I take it her little outburst means she and Pearce are, you know,’ he looks at me for confirmation and I just shrug, but don’t deny it.

  ‘Oh great,’ he sighs. ‘Should I say something to them, do you think?’ He looks at me anxiously. ‘Her particularly. I can’t have her savaging every female staff member who so much as says hello to Pearce, if this is going to be an ongoing thing.’

  ‘Ignore it and maybe it will just go away.’

  He nods thoughtfully and then looks cheered. ‘You’re probably right. Thank goodness for you Molly.’

  Walking smartly out to the car park, having switched my BlackBerry back on, it begins to update and there is the message. I take a deep breath and open it.

  You’ve not been away from my mind, I swear. I wanted to call yesterday but Helen around literally all day, couldn’t even text. Am so, so sorry. Did you go to the doctor’s? Sorted? Are you OK? Can you talk? Xxx

  No, I’m not, I’m not OK at all, but I definitely don’t want to talk to you.

  Then in amongst some random work emails a Facebook notification appears.

  A message from Leo Williams, sent about an hour ago. Oh God …

  Well Molls, I don’t think grand reunions of passion are meant to be quite like that are they?! It occurred to me that perhaps email is a better way to get hold of each other than mobiles going off and prompting questions? We need to chat though, don’t we? Let me know a time that works for you and I will do my absolute best to call. I promise you are what is important, I just don’t want anyone else caught and hurt in crossfire xxx

  Grand reunions of passion? A seagull cries mournfully over my head before it wheels off in search of scraps. He’s got to be joking. I just lean back heavily on my closed car door. I delete the email and then get into the driver’s side and sit there quietly. I need to think.

  Why does he keep going on about needing to talk to me? What more is there to say? I would have thought he’d want to forget what happened as much as I do. After all, he’s clearly terrified Helen is going to find out … and that’s several times that he’s asked me now if I’ve been to the doctor’s …

  Oh – I get it … that’s what all this interest and concern is really about; he’s making sure this isn’t going to come back and bite him in nine months’ time; or even sooner. He’s probably wetting himself. If I reassure him it’s all dealt with – all over – I bet he’ll not be able to vanish fast enough.

  Been to doctor’s. Am fine. Best we leave past in the past now.

  There. Done. I should never have disturbed it in the first place.

  Back at home, Dan is incredibly cheery. It’s as if his happiness from last night, when I said I wanted to have a baby, has spilled over and simply washed everything away. As if all the painful words we said to each other were only scrawled in sand. Everything feels clean and energis
ed, ready for the new start, the new adventure.

  He chatters away happily. ‘So because it was a lunch meeting and they always order too much food for the clients there were two whole plates of it, just sitting there, outside the boardroom. So I walked past it a couple of times …’

  ‘You scoped it out?’ I laugh. I’m working on the basis that the more I force myself to joke like this the happier I WILL feel. Also, the familiarity of us laughing together as we have done many times before in the past is helping to make everything feel more normal again. ‘Did you whistle carelessly in a “nothing to see here” sort of way?’ I make a supreme effort to concentrate on his smile.

  He chuckles. ‘Yeah, pretty much. Anyway, it was still there half an hour later so I scoffed the lot and I still feel a bit sick. But I’ll make some food for you anyway.’ He stretches and yawns. ‘What a day! You took the car into the garage this morning then?’ he asks. ‘I saw the hire one outside. When do we get ours back?’

  ‘Monday.’

  ‘Fair enough. So, what do you fancy then?’ he wraps his arms round me.

  ‘Apart from you, of course?’

  ‘That goes without saying. For tea, I mean. Oh – I got some stuff for you today, by the way,’ he becomes almost shy. ‘Want to see?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I nod, my heart swelling as he happily jumps from the sofa and fetches a small plastic bag. He sits back down, pulls out a big jar of vitamins and rattles them before passing it to me and reaching into the bag again. ‘And some folic acid,’ he passes me another jar. ‘I don’t know what it’s for and it sounds horrible, but apparently it’s good to take if you’re, er, trying for a baby.’ I take it from him. ‘And finally,’ he looks a bit uncertain as he pulls out a pregnancy test, ‘ta da! Obviously this is for a lot further down the line.’

  I put the jars in my lap and take the test from him.

  ‘Too much?’ he says worriedly. ‘I really don’t want to freak you out, I know this is such a new thing and—’

  I stare at it and then look up at him with a dazzling smile on my face. ‘You’re not freaking me out,’ I insist. ‘This is all good.’ I take a deep breath. ‘Really good. In fact I’ll take one of these vitamin thingys with the cup of tea you’re about to make me.’

  He looks delighted and gathers the jars up. ‘I’ll put this little lot upstairs in the bathroom drawer, shall I?’ he says.

  ‘Please,’ I say faintly.

  ‘You’ve gone a bit pale,’ he says in concern. ‘You OK?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ I say. ‘Just a long day. I feel a bit tired and achey actually, but I’ll be fine. A biscuit with that tea might help.’

  He chuckles, kisses me and gets up. ‘I think I can manage that. So how was the regional debrief today?’ he calls over his shoulder conversationally as he walks to the kitchen. ‘Exciting as ever?’

  ‘It was fine.’ My BlackBerry bleeps with a text. I pick it up absently but then the expression falls from my face. Leo again. I know his number now.

  Sorry – been in meetings. ‘Best we leave past in the past now’ What? Check your email and call me when you have! X

  Shit. Does he mean the one I read earlier? Has he sent another since then?

  As if on cue, my phone buzzes with the arrival of a new email.

  Leo Williams sent you a message on Facebook …

  Babe, I just got your text? I understand why you’re pissed off, I really do. I can quite see how my taking off from the hotel opened old wounds, but I don’t want to leave the past, in the past, Molly. OK, so the night before last was in some ways, not the best, but in others, amazing. When can I see you again? Call me/text me/email. I’ll wait to hear from you. Best times for me are evening and first thing in morning as Helen usually tied up with her kids then. Probably best to delete this once you’ve read it xxx

  The expression just falls away from my face. When can he see me again? He seriously thinks this has restarted something? Oh no, no, no, no … And ‘best delete this once you’ve read it?’ You bet I’m deleting it!

  My head begins to throb, in an all too familiar way, like a distant war drum beating ominously … I’m getting another migraine.

  ‘I think I’m going to have to go upstairs—’ I say as Dan comes back in.

  ‘Oh really?’ he replies suggestively.

  ‘—because I’m getting a migraine.’

  ‘Oh I see,’ he looks disappointed. ‘Never mind. Two in one week though – that sucks. Do you want one of the vitamins before you go up?’ He reaches out for the jars and starts to peel off the tight plastic casing, concentrating so much he doesn’t notice that I’ve gone completely mute. Something else has just occurred to me.

  If Dan and I are going to start trying for a baby, how on earth am I going to explain needing to use a condom for the next seven days, until I’ve had the STD tests done?

  ‘Jesus, it’s like getting into Fort Knox,’ Dan says, attempting to unscrew the tight jar.

  We can’t NOT use one – there’s no way I’m putting him at any risk and moreover, if he gets something he’ll know he caught it from me … and how would I explain that? For the first time ever, as I try not to panic, I am beyond grateful for my migraines, at least I have a cast-iron excuse for tonight.

  But it’s not going to last for a week is it? What am I going to do tomorrow, and the day after that? This is horrific …

  I’ll have to say I’ve come on, I’m due any day as it is. But I’m always a little irregular, what if I don’t actually come on until Tuesday or Wednesday of next week? No one gets a period that lasts that long, except maybe an elephant.

  The security plastic finally gives way with a crack and Dan says ‘Aha!’ triumphantly as he pulls the lid off and removes the small bit of foam from within the jar, tossing it aside. He tips a horse-pill-sized tablet into the palm of his hand and passes it to me. Sniffing it curiously – it smells of metal shavings and burnt grass – I almost gag and look at him worriedly. ‘I’m not sure I can take this right now.’

  His face falls. ‘You’re having second thoughts?’ He looks so gutted that I can’t bear it. I push the pill in my mouth and take a sip of hot tea – a mistake. I should have used water, the pill tastes even worse than it smells. I swallow painfully, but smile at him determinedly. ‘Nope, of course not. Come on; folic acid, please.’

  My mobile, lying next to me on the sofa, starts to vibrate. Terrified, I grab for it – if it’s Leo again … but Dan gets there first. ‘Your dad’s ringing.’

  Thank God it’s only him. ‘I’ll talk to him later,’ I say as I swallow the next pill. ‘I’m going to go upstairs now.’

  ‘Sure,’ he reaches for the remote. ‘I’ll try and keep it down.’ The bashing in my brain is getting louder. Upstairs, sitting on the edge of our bed, I have to squint to glance at the mobile screen while I still can. Dad has left me an answerphone message and I’ve also got another separ ate, new text that arrived while I was walking upstairs.

  Meet me tomorrow. Urgent. x

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘I’m not even sorry, so don’t bother getting uppity,’ Joss says defiantly, sitting back on her chair and crossing her legs.

  ‘I thought you meant something urgent was up with you,’ I look at her wearily.

  ‘It is. One of my best friends has gone crazy.’

  ‘Joss, I had a migraine last night, I could have done with staying in bed this morning, I feel shattered.’

  ‘Can someone explain to me what’s going on?’ Bec, understandably mystified, looks between Joss and I, who are glowering at each other across the slightly grubby Starbucks table. The place is full of Saturday Christmas shoppers, and a lot of UGG-clad teenage girls screeching ‘OHMIGOD! Look at this!’ as they wave iPhones about.

  Joss deliberately says nothing, just raises her eyebrows pointedly, waits for me to speak and sucks on the straw in her iced coffee, not an awful lot unlike the girls at the next table. It’s sometimes quite hard to remember that she is directly respo
nsible for the finance team of a respectable blue-chip company.

  ‘Dan and I have decided to start trying for a baby.’

  ‘But that’s great!’ Bec looks confused. ‘Am I missing something? What’s the problem?’

  Joss grits her teeth. She puts down her drink and eyes me unflinchingly, sending me a look that says, ‘Tell her about Leo. Now.’

  I stay quiet.

  ‘Well, I think,’ Joss says, ‘that’s a really big decision, one that you wouldn’t want to make if you were, let’s say, emotionally stressed out.’

  ‘It’s not like Dan and Molly haven’t talked it through … and sometimes we make our biggest and bravest decisions when we’re under the most pressure,’ Bec suggests. ‘And they turn out to be the best ones of all.’

  ‘What?’ Joss wrinkles her nose and gives her a look. ‘Bec, this is going to affect the rest of her life.’

  ‘Yes,’ Bec says patiently. ‘It is. And?’

  ‘And so how about she thinks about it properly?’ Joss explodes. ‘Rather than just … doing it!’

  ‘Joss, most women don’t have anything more than a vague idea that having kids is the right thing to do.’ Bec says. ‘They just take the plunge – and it works, honestly it does. I’ve yet to meet a woman who regretted having her children.’

  Joss says nothing, just kicks her chair back and marches off to the toilets crossly.

  Bec watches her, troubled. ‘She’s absolutely entitled to not want them herself, but she can’t go around trying to influence other people that she’s right and they’re wrong. That’s not on.’

  I wriggle awkwardly in my chair. Leaning over my mug of hot chocolate that has so much cream on it the chocolate underneath is now lukewarm, I spoon a bit off and wonder if I should come clean about Leo. But I just don’t want to. I want to pretend it never happened. Some things are allowed to stay private mistakes surely? Even from the closest of friends.