by Lucy Dawson
‘Anyway, I’m really happy for you Moll,’ Bec grins. She stands up and gives me a warm and very genuine hug. ‘You’ll just have to tell me to back off if I get all in your face with tips and stuff once you get pregnant.’ Then something occurs to her and she looks a bit alarmed. ‘Please don’t ask me to be your midwife though – that’d be weird.’
‘I won’t,’ I smile.
‘Phew.’ She looks relieved, sits back down and takes another sip of her coffee. ‘While we’ve got a minute on our own, can I ask you something?’ Taken aback by the seriousness of her tone, I nod warily.
‘I’ve been looking at this internet dating site. The idea is you nominate a single friend that you think is great, you describe them in their profile and then other people can contact them if they’re interested, and I just wondered,’ she looks a bit embarrassed. ‘Will you describe me?’
‘Of course,’ I say instantly. ‘I’d love to!’
‘Thanks,’ she says gratefully. ‘Here’s the website,’ she reaches into her bag, pulls out a pen, scribbles on a bit of paper and slides it over to me. I tuck it in my jeans pocket. ‘I’ve finally realised I’m never going to meet anyone at work … not who hasn’t got a pregnant wife in tow, or isn’t a doctor – and I’m certainly not going down that route again. I don’t want you to think I’m desperate for a bloke though. I’m not. I just thought it might be nice to – you know – expand my social circle a bit. That’s all right, isn’t it?’
‘Of course it is, but,’ I hesitate, thinking about the trouble the internet has landed me in over the last few days, ‘it is safe, isn’t it?’
She nods earnestly. ‘Very. There are lots of safety tips on there. Can we keep this just between us, though?’
‘Of course.’
We fall quiet as Joss comes back and sits down. No one says anything for a minute.
‘So what’s Dan up to today, Moll?’ Bec gamely tries to restart conversation.
‘Gone to watch some football with Ed.’
‘Ed, as in his best man Ed?’ Bec asks, and looks at Joss teasingly, but she’s misjudged the moment.
‘Jesus Bec, that was flipping years ago,’ she says crossly. ‘It was one snog for crying out loud – it’s what you do at weddings – and it wasn’t even a good one. He had a chin like a bum.’
‘I just wonder what might have happened if you’d have let him take you out like he wanted to,’ Bec muses. ‘He might have surprised you.’
‘What, and also had a bum like a chin?’
‘Fine,’ Bec sighs and turns back to me.
‘He’s married now anyway.’ I reach for my coffee. ‘Had a whirlwind romance, they’ve got a baby on the way now too.’
‘Bully for him and Mrs Bum Chin,’ Joss says shortly. ‘I couldn’t care less.’
‘Well anyway Moll, I’m really pleased you and Dan are back on track now.’ Bec decides to ignore Joss. ‘I didn’t like it when you two were all stressed out, it’s like my mum and dad having a row. Worse actually, because I like both of you. I know it sounds a bit soppy,’ she gives an embarrassed shrug, ‘but you two are sort of my relationship benchmark.’
Not even Joss has the heart to take the piss at that. Bec’s bleeper goes off in the silence, breaking the moment. ‘Ohhhhh,’ she groans. ‘What now? I’ve just come off nights. Leave me alone! Hang on girls, I’ll be right back.’ She picks up her bag and walks out of the coffee shop, digging around for her phone. Joss and I watch her begin to talk animatedly on her mobile through the window.
‘Remember, you’re not actually her parents,’ Joss says eventually. ‘And you’re only human, benchmark or not.’
‘Why are you so cross with me?’ I say. ‘I didn’t do all of this to piss you off.’
She sighs. ‘I’m not pissed off, I’m worried about you. I just don’t want to see you make a decision in haste that you might repent at leisure, as my grandmother would say, if she weren’t dead.’
‘Honestly Joss, this is what I want.’
She just sighs again.
I’d actually really like to tell her about Leo emailing and texting yesterday, his suggestion that we meet again, but she’s only just calmed down. I don’t want her to get all cross and riled up – I worry about her blood pressure at the best of times given that she has a considerably more demanding job than me, and mine is stressful enough. Anyway, I suppose it’s not like I don’t know what to do. I’m going to ignore him, and if he contacts me again, I’ll just spell it out for him.
‘It would be much easier to keep quiet and not tell you what I really think,’ Joss says suddenly, to my surprise. ‘And Bec’s wrong. I’m pretty sure if you asked my mum, she’d tell you that actually she does regret having had children – and I’m not saying that for the sympathy—’ she holds up a hand as I open my mouth, ‘—I’m just telling you the truth. I’m also not saying that I’m worried that Dan’s going to find out what happened between you and fuckhead and leave you in the lurch. Even if that did happen – which it won’t,’ she says quickly, catching sight of my face, ‘you’d cope. I hate to bring her up again, but even my mum managed – twice – and second time round she had the twins, remember?’ she says, referring to her half-sisters.
‘Joss—’ I begin.
‘Hang on, let me finish. My saying all this hasn’t got anything to do with selfish motivations on my part either; just because I don’t want kids doesn’t mean I won’t be one hundred per cent behind your decision to have a baby now, if you’re sure it’s what you really want.’ She sits up with energy. ‘I just want you to know, this whole baby thing is a choice you’re making. You don’t just have to do it, OK? Not if you don’t want to. Have you even asked yourself if you want children full stop? Do you not think there could be a reason why you’ve been putting off having kids? Because I’m not so sure that you—’
‘I know this is a choice Joss.’
‘But do you, really?’ she looks at me seriously. ‘As long as you’re happy I’m happy, but there’s one person you can’t lie to Moll, and that’s yourself.’
I’m thinking about what she said, and sort of wishing that she hadn’t actually, as I get back into the car and my phone rings. To my complete horror, Leo’s number flashes up. This time, he’s actually calling me.
I pick up.
‘Is now a good time?’ he says straightaway, without even waiting for me to say hello.
‘What are you playing at ringing me like this?’ I say instantly. ‘Suppose Dan had been with me?’
‘Fair point,’ he exhales. ‘But – you got my email last night, right?’
‘Yes I did.’
‘So why haven’t you mailed me back, or texted me?’
‘I didn’t want to.’
‘What?’ He can’t keep the note of surprise from his voice. There’s a pause. ‘Moll, sweetheart, I can’t keep saying sorry for buggering off. I’m here for you now though – one hundred per cent.’
Incredulously, I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at it. ‘Leo, I was very drunk. I know I kissed you and I know we …’ I trail off awkwardly but then become determined again. ‘The thing is, none of it should have happened. I don’t even remember most of the night.’
‘Yes, I gathered that,’ he says icily. ‘Flattering – naturally, but I know you felt something when we were sat in the bar. You can’t tell me you didn’t.’
‘We’re both married! I can’t speak for you and Helen, but Dan and I – we’re happy. I don’t want anything else.’
‘OK,’ he says quickly. ‘I get that this has really upset things, I understand. But you can’t pretend that there isn’t something still there, Molly. There is. We both know it.’ He lets the words linger. ‘I have to see you again. Come and meet me now. I know it might be difficult to get away but please come. We’ll talk this through.’
‘Meet you now?’ That completely throws me. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I’m in Brighton.’
What? My eyes wide
n and I look around me nervously, as if I half-expect him to leap out from in between the parked cars, which is just ridiculous. ‘Leo, I can’t.’
‘You can!’ he interjects eagerly. ‘I’m not asking for promises, I have no expectations, I just want to talk to you, that’s all.’
‘I’m not meeting you! I’m not even in Brighton!’ I add quickly.
There’s another long pause.
‘Oh?’ he says sharply. ‘Where are you then?’
‘At a friend’s in London, for lunch.’ I lie.
‘Well … that’s bad luck isn’t it?’ he says tightly. ‘You all the way up there when I’ve come down here.’
‘But Leo, I never asked you to do that!’ I burst. ‘I wouldn’t have come anyway, even if I had been here – there,’ I correct myself quickly. ‘I’ve got a husband. You’ve got a wife. We made a huge mistake! It should never have happened.’
‘Well it has,’ he says quietly. ‘It has happened, and I have to see you again Molly, there’s something very import ant I need to tell you.’
‘What do you mean?’ I’m instantly suspicious. ‘Important in what way?’
‘I can’t do it over the phone,’ he says softly. ‘It wouldn’t be fair. Something I told you on Wednesday which, trust me, you very clearly don’t remember.’
‘A bad something?’
‘You need to come and meet me. I can wait until you’re …’ he gives a short sharp exhalation, ‘back from London.’
‘Just tell me now.’ Oh my God – has he got Aids or something? ‘Is it something I need to know? Are you ill?’
‘Would you care if I was?’ His voice takes on an incongruous teasing tone, which draws me up short.
‘There isn’t anything is there?’ I say slowly.
‘There is,’ he insists, serious again. ‘And I have to tell you in person.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘No! Molly, I swear—’
‘Goodbye Leo.’
I hang up, get into the car, and begin to drive home.
Chapter Fourteen
But fuck it all to hell, just as he intended, I’m still thinking about him – what it could be that he has to tell me – when I get back home, roaring on to the drive and stopping the car with a jerk before getting out and slamming back into the empty house.
I’d forgotten this about him. How good he is at twisting things. For example, ask Leo outright if there is something going on between him and the new girl at work, Cara, who he keeps mentioning, and he’ll laugh and say of course not. He’ll say that she’s just lonely having moved down from Cambridge, she misses her boyfriend back at home … Honestly – can’t someone just be nice to a new colleague without getting it in the neck?
He hasn’t got anything to tell me; he’s bluffing. He just wants me to go and meet him, that’s all, so he can start wearing me down.
Marching into the kitchen, I yank a kitchen cupboard door open and grab a mug. Having filled the kettle, I lean against the side as I wait for it to boil.
Something he should have told me a long time ago? Something he told me on Wednesday?
He forgets that four years is a long time to be with someone. If it was something that vital, that important, I’d already know about it.
I cross to the fridge and get the milk out.
Why is he even doing this at all? I’m not naïve enough to believe that people who were together and separated for very good reasons, then meet up again and it’s as if the intervening years never happened. That’s bullshit. I’m not the person I was when he first met me, and on Wednesday I was so drunk I don’t even remember most of the night. There’s nothing romantic about that, it’s just vile. He’s clearly not as happy with Helen as he made out, but whatever it is that’s making him think we should start something up again – boredom, him convincing himself he feels something again for me, or simply that he thinks he sees a chance for easy extra-marital sex – he can forget it.
To think I believed him. I actually believed he just came to see me because he was worried about me … He hasn’t changed at all. How stupid would I have to be to want to revisit that ground, even supposing I wasn’t happily married – which I am.
I pour the milk into the cup, but overshoot and it spills on the side. Gritting my teeth I grab for the cloth, wipe it up swiftly and throw the cloth in the sink. The bubbling hot water in the kettle grows louder until it switches itself off with a click. Something important to tell me … yeah, right. Important would be … discovering he was adopted at birth, tracing his biological family and realising Dan is his long-lost brother, which I seriously doubt is the case. Or perhaps a confession that he robbed a bank while we were together, and hidden in a locket he gave me is a key to hundreds of stashed millions.
And as for him having some sort of illness, something that he could have passed on, but chose to keep quiet about? I don’t buy that either. Leo is many things, but he wouldn’t do that to me.
I put the kettle back down and reach for a spoon. Although of course that would be the ultimate irony, all this stalling having a baby and it turns out I actually can’t have one anyway, because Leo’s given me chlamydia or something and made me infertile.
I pause for a moment. That wouldn’t be it, the real reason why he came to the hotel on Wednesday? Surely.
I almost reach for the phone to call him—
No! That’s exactly what he wants me to do! Even if I do have something, I’m getting tests done on Thursday. I’ll find out then, there’s no need to ring him. No need at all.
Resolve hardened, I grab my tea, break a bit off the gingerbread man I brought back for Dan from Starbucks and make my way upstairs to my office. I’m going to block Leo on Facebook, so at least he can’t email me again.
It’s actually easy to sort, even for someone like me who may spend a lot of their time on computers, but is not exactly technologically gifted. Thank God Dan told me not to put my email address on my profile and made me protect it from the outset. After a moment or two of tinkering, all that shows on my settings is that I’ve blocked Leo Williams, and if Dan were to see that – which he wouldn’t anyway; he’s never even shown so much as an interest in what Leo looks like – what problem would he have with me blocking an ex? None.
Anyway, Leo now won’t be able to email me. Good. I’m surprised by quite how relieved that makes me feel. Next, I go through my phone and delete all of my call lists and texts, just to be on the safe side, although Dan would never dream of looking through my phone, because he trusts me implicitly.
The stab of realising how horribly I’ve abused that trust makes me feel so bitterly sad, I need something else to concentrate on quickly. Remembering Bec’s website address in my pocket, I fumble for the piece of paper with trembling hands; trying to pretend I don’t have Leo’s fingerprints all over me and that I still have a right to Dan’s trust – that I haven’t somehow stolen from the person I love most in the world.
The dating website does actually seem fine, with some pictures of normal-looking men and women scrolling along the bottom of it. I click on a couple of blokes I could see Bec with and from reading their summary information, and what their friends have said about them, I can understand why Bec thinks she’d like to sign up. So … I click ‘add a single friend’ and start to fill in the details.
Bec is … thirty-three, straight, no kids, but yes definitely wants them, she’s a midwife, lives in Brighton, Christian, not practising. Height … hmmm. Average I guess. Build? Better put slender.
Right, ‘choose the attributes that best describe your friend’ … Enthusiastic about life, a hopeless romantic and … pretty sexy. Perfect.
Oh – I have to add a picture of her. She didn’t tell me that.
It takes a little while, but I get there eventually and move on to the limited number of characters I have to describe her.
It turns out to be the hardest bit. What I want to say is:
Imagine you’re with someone for seven years
who finally decides although you’re his ‘best friend’ he doesn’t, after all, want to marry you. He then gets engaged to some random girl six months later – who your best friends assured you was just the rebound fling – and moves to Canada. He then also has a baby (which is what you want more than anything), rather than the decency to get eaten by a bear. The very least he could have done is fall off a mountain bike and break both his legs.
Because you’re a midwife, you don’t get to meet many blokes through work, except the odd random doctor; one of whom you risked dating only to discover he sucked his thumb at night. That was enough to almost tip you over the edge completely.
Well, this is one of my best friends, Bec; she’s the loveliest, kindest, most open-hearted person you will ever meet, and the person she falls in love with is going to be the luckiest man in the world. I have to warn you though, if you’re stupid enough to ever hurt her, I will hunt you down and kill you. Or worse still, I’ll send Joss round.
Hmm. Perhaps not. Threats are probably not the way forward. I sweat over it for the next forty-odd minutes, because I really want to get it right for her, and when I’m finally satisfied, I upload it, just as I hear the front door go downstairs.
‘Moll?’ Dan shouts.
‘I’m up here!’ I call and moments later he appears in the doorway, which is when I remember Bec asked me not to tell anyone about the dating site. Hastily, I pull down the screen of my laptop.
‘Hello,’ he says and crosses over to the desk to give me a kiss.
‘Did you have a good time?’ I tilt my face up to him.
‘Not bad,’ he kisses me. ‘What are you doing? Working?’
‘Yup – just finished,’ I say quickly and shut the lid completely. ‘Want a cup of tea?’
‘Yes please.’ He follows me back downstairs. ‘How about you? Did you have a nice coffee with the girls?’