The One That Got Away

by Lucy Dawson

  Antony looks at him, like he’s thinking Pearce is sometimes too sharp for his own good. ‘No Pearce. I don’t think it is.’

  ‘Riiight. But I suppose it’s no coincidence that we were told this at,’ Pearce pointedly checks his watch, ‘half-four on a Friday night, when there’s pretty much bugger all we can do about it?’

  Antony shrugs helplessly. The poor guy looks shattered.

  For once after the meeting, no one feels like going to the pub; even though it’s Friday night. It doesn’t seem right somehow. Instead, we all start to drift back to our cars. I’m back in mine when I get a tap on the passenger window. It’s Pearce. I undo my seatbelt and lean across.

  ‘Don’t take this the wrong way,’ he’s trying to look cheery, ‘but for someone who has just been told they might be about to lose their job, you seemed pretty smiley in there.’

  ‘I know,’ I groan. ‘That was such bad timing. I was waiting for someone to call me back with some news and … well, I had to take the call.’

  He nods. ‘It was, I take it, good news?’

  I nod emphatically. ‘Very.’

  ‘Well, that’s great,’ he makes an effort to look enthusiastic. ‘Congratulations. Have a good weekend won’t you?’

  ‘Pearce,’ I say, as he starts to straighten up. ‘Are you OK?’

  He hesitates. ‘You know how sometimes you realise things aren’t turning out the way you want them to? You had a plan in your mind but somehow you just sort of manage to mess it up anyway?’

  I smile sadly. ‘Yeah, I do.’

  ‘I shouldn’t even be doing this job, this isn’t how I want to spend the rest of my life, so why am I crapping it now that I’m going to lose it? It doesn’t make sense, none of it makes—’

  ‘Pearce!’

  He jumps and turns, revealing Sandra, just standing there, tapping her foot impatiently.

  ‘You ready to go?’ she says pointedly. It’s less of a question and more a command.

  He rolls his eyes, stands up and gives me a disparate wave. ‘See you next week. And congratulations again.’

  It’s only once I’ve driven out of the car park I realise he probably thinks I’m pregnant. Balls. I’ll have to text him later, set him straight before he ends up letting that slip to Sandra, who will take great delight in spreading it around as fast as she can.

  On the spur of the moment; probably because I am so buoyed up by my all-clear and feeling equally reckless in the face of an uncertain professional future I can do nothing about, I decide to drive into the town centre and catch the last half-hour of the shops. I want to see if I can find something nice to wear to dinner with Dan, make an effort for him, and I also need to get a baby shower present for Rose.

  In the changing room of a clothes shop, as I am trying to see what I look like from the back in the main mirror, a little girl of about four emerges round the edge of the curtain to the cubicle next to mine. She curiously watches me inspect myself and starts to twirl slightly on the spot, pulling on her bubbly blonde hair, before wiping a small red button nose on her sleeve. I smile at her, a social invitation which she immediately accepts.

  ‘My mummy,’ she says matter-of-factly, while gathering a bunch of the velvet curtain and twisting it, ‘is forty-two.’

  ‘Thank you,’ says a rather weary voice from behind the curtain.

  I try not to laugh and seconds later a woman emerges from the cubicle doing up her coat and clutching a couple of items that are slipping off hangers. She looks at me, smiles, rolls her eyes and says to the little girl, ‘Come on then, Trouble,’ as she holds out her hand. The little girl takes it and they disappear back into the shop. I watch them curiously as the mum hangs up the clothes. The little girl is skipping happily, bunches bouncing, asking ‘Mummy, do you remember when we went to Granny’s and I …’ but I don’t quite catch the end of what she’s saying before they disappear out of the door. But I find myself wondering what it would be like to hold the hand of a little girl like her and have her call me Mummy. Would we be heading back home to tea? Maybe on our way to my mum and dad’s – her granny and grandpa’s house – before her dad got home from work?

  I pay for my dress. It’s not unpleasant, but a little weird to think of myself as someone’s mum. I walk out of the shop carefully trying to balance the bags because one of them contains a box of cupcakes for Rose, while trying the word out for size in my mind, like I used to with Dan’s surname before he proposed to me. Mummy, Mum … this is my daughter … of course it might not be a girl. It could be a boy. I think Dan would like a boy, although I’ve never actually asked him. I imagine Dan holding a tiny baby – me lying there shattered having just given birth, both of us crying with happiness like they do in the films. I have fleetingly imagined this scenario before, but it’s the first time I have properly considered what it might really feel like to hold my and Dan’s baby. I have no doubt in my mind that Dan would be a wonderful father. In fact, it’s something I can only imagine doing with him because it’s him. It’s the only way I think I can imagine it would feel – right.

  My thoughts are interrupted however when from my pocket, or my bag, or somewhere … I hear my phone bleep. I have to fumble around for it, while trying not to drop my bags.

  You look incredible today. Do you even know what you do to me? X

  Oh Leo … I look incredible today do I? Aside from the fact I am in a very ordinary black trouser suit with shoes that frankly need re-heeling and hair I’ve deliberately left so I can wash it before dinner, how exactly does he know what I look like? Even the cleverest cheats slip up occasionally I suppose … he’s sent me a text meant for someone else. That’s how much in love with me he is. I vaguely remember seeing the name Amanda flashing up on his mobile phone at the hotel. Didn’t he say that was his stepdaughter’s name? I’d bet good money it isn’t.

  I delete the message stonily. And just for a moment, I feel a flicker, a reminder of how much I used to want and wait for messages like that from him. How very stupid I was.

  Well, maybe at least now I won’t have to go to the bother of changing my number after all. I’m sure Little Miss ‘looks incredible’ will be flattered enough to respond to him. Maybe then he’ll leave me alone, he’s obviously got plenty of irons in the fire.

  Whoever she is, I feel sorry for her.

  Over dinner, Dan tells me I look very nice and I tell him truthfully so does he. I tell him about the cute little girl in the changing room and he smiles and kisses my hand. Over my second glass of champagne, I find I actually can’t stop looking at him and telling him repeatedly that I love him.

  ‘I love you too, Moll,’ he says. ‘So, you want to talk about what happened today yet?’

  ‘Um,’ I try to focus my thoughts on the meeting. ‘Well, we got the “could be redundancies, folks” chat. At the moment, they’re muttering about voluntary but …’

  Dan listens carefully.

  ‘… I don’t know. You just can’t tell these days can you? It could be all something and nothing …’ I take another mouthful of drink ‘… or it could be everything.’

  ‘We just better hurry up and get you pregnant, hadn’t we?’ Dan grins. ‘That way you can go on maternity leave and hope it’s all blown over by the time you go back!’

  Hmmm. It’s a bit more serious than that, Dan … and it’s usually me that makes that sort of comment and him that reins us in. I look at him, feeling a bit unsettled and think about that sweet little girl in the changing room again. She was lovely, but really, having no job, no second income … that wouldn’t be funny. Shit – would we even be able to get a mortgage just on Dan’s salary? I suddenly see myself in our rented house with a small baby. What if the landlord severed the contract? What if we had a month to move out, or whatever it is. ‘You’re sure you really think now is the best time for us to start trying?’ I say hesitantly, not sure if I’m saying it because I’m being sensible or if it’s me being the baby and freaking out again. ‘Should we maybe give it six
months and see where we are financially then? I’m not trying to stall you Dan – honestly I’m not – and I know you say you’d look after us if I lost my job, but I don’t really want to put all that pressure on you – on us. Wouldn’t it be much more responsible to wait?’

  Dan shakes his head firmly. ‘This is the right time for us. I know the rest of the world seems to be going crazy and jobs are going left, right and centre but everyone manages, people keep on having kids. No one stopped during the Second World War, did they? They really did have something to worry about.’

  I’m not really sure what to say to that. It’s a point of sorts, I suppose.

  ‘Molly, it will be OK,’ Dan insists, pouring the last of the champagne into my glass. ‘We might have to cut back a bit, but I will make it work, I promise. You’re right to be pragmatic, but you don’t need to worry. I’m not – I’ve never felt happier, in fact, we really should celebrate tonight, because we’ve actually got so much to look forward to; we’re really lucky.’

  That’s true – we are very lucky. I think about getting the test results back, the completely different conversation I could be having with Dan right now, and take a very large gulp of my champagne indeed.

  By the time we both fall into a taxi, much later, giggling away drunkenly together, for the first time in a while, I’ve pretty much stopped worrying about everything altogether. Dan’s right, this is all going to be OK. It has to be.

  There is no alternative.

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘Thank you,’ croaks Dan as I stand over him, holding out a cup of tea I’m in danger of dropping because my joints are all alcohol-achy. ‘Urgh. I feel rotten. We were away with the fairies last night, weren’t we?’ he yawns as I get back into bed. ‘How come you’re up already?’

  ‘I’ve got Rose’s baby shower in London.’ I climb carefully back in next to him, trying not to spill my own drink.

  ‘Oh really?’ he sounds surprised. ‘Since when?’

  I twist to look at him. ‘Didn’t I tell you? Sorry, sweetheart, what with all the work rubbish I must have forgotten. I’m all over the place at the moment, I really am.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ he says. ‘I’ve got plenty of stuff I can do today. How are you feeling?’

  ‘Like my head is lined with fur on the inside,’ I confess and yawn again. ‘It was fun last night though.’ I lean over carefully and give him a quick kiss.

  He smiles. ‘Yeah, it was. Hey!’ he sits up a bit more, suddenly excited, ‘I wonder if we made a baby?’

  Abi chuckles when she catches me pausing to glug another couple of mouthfuls from my bottle of water in the hotel foyer, while making her way back from the ladies. ‘Ah! You’ve arrived! Oh I see – big night last night, was it? Why am I not surprised?’

  ‘I don’t know how you still do it,’ she continues comfortably, having given me a vigorous hug. ‘I’m so dead on my feet once I’ve got everyone through baths and into bed, one glass of wine is enough to finish me off, it’s pathetic. Thank God you’re still holding the side up. Rather you than me though. Was your train delayed?’

  ‘I didn’t allow enough time for the tube and the walk. I’m so sorry. Am I the last one to get here?’

  ‘Oh don’t worry about it,’ she waves a hand airily. ‘Actually quite a few people can’t make it today after all, so …’

  ‘Oh! Who can’t come?’ I can’t help my disappointment. I was feeling cheered on the train at the thought of a nice lunch with them all.

  ‘Eloise has come down with some grotty cold thing,’ says Abi, in reference to Nula’s little girl. ‘She’s OK, but she was very hot all last night, and really grizzly so Nula thought she’d better stay put. May’s not coming because she’s going through that shattered phase, when you’re only a few weeks gone, she couldn’t face the trek all the way from Islington …’ She rolls her eyes. ‘You can tell it’s her first; actually that’s mean of me, you do feel completely exhausted, but you just get on with it second time round because you’ve still got number one dashing around like a mad thing! Ha ha! Anyway, Jacquie isn’t coming because, well, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind me telling you but she’s not in a good place right now, she just sees babies everywhere at the moment, today would have been hell for her. They’re going to start IVF next month.’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t realise. Poor thing.’

  ‘Yeah, well,’ Abi shrugs. ‘There’s a lot of it about un -fortunately. Fingers crossed it’ll work out for them. So, everything all right with you?’ she says as we start to walk towards where the other girls must be. ‘Dan OK? Any news your end?’

  ‘No,’ I say carefully. ‘Well, except …’

  ‘Except what?’ Abi pauses, sensing something out of the ordinary.

  ‘We’ve sort of started trying.’ It’s strange to hear myself say it out loud, as strange as it was when Dan wondered aloud if we’d made a baby this morning. Are you meant to tell people this? Or is it something you just keep to yourself until it actually happens?

  Abi lets her mouth fall open and then laughs. ‘I knew it!’ she exclaims. ‘It catches up with all of us eventually eh? Oh Moll, that’s brilliant!’ She gives me a brief hug and a rather smug, knowing grin, as if all along it had just been a question of time. Just like that I’m bumped from one team to the other, with no transfer questions at all. ‘Oh God, you’re going to be my friend who leaves their baby in changing rooms because they forget they’ve got them, aren’t you?’

  We both laugh, although mine is less hearty than hers. ‘Well, that’s assuming everything is straightforward.’ She doesn’t really think I’d do that does she? ‘Like you said, it may not happen at all.’

  ‘Of course it will! Thirty-three is nothing these days, you’re not exactly over the hill, love,’ she says briskly, completely changing her tune from seconds earlier. ‘That’s really great news.’ She resumes her walk to the restaur -ant. ‘So, what are you going to do about your house? You’ll start looking for somewhere to buy now, surely?’

  ‘Abi,’ I say urgently, grabbing her arm. ‘Don’t tell the others yet, will you?’ That suddenly feels very important. I can’t very well expect Dan not to discuss it with people but go around shooting my own mouth off. That’s not fair. And today is about Rose, not me.

  ‘Of course!’ she says instantly. ‘Trust me, you don’t need that pressure, everyone asking how it’s going all the time.’ She grimaces. ‘It’ll really stress you out and that makes it even harder to conceive. I’ll keep it zipped, promise. Come on, we’re all over by the window look, there’s Rose waving.’

  As the last one to arrive I have to dump my stuff on a chair between two of Rose’s friends I’ve not met before. Abi and Rose are right up at the other end of the table. Luckily though, no one has drinks or food yet, so I can’t be that late … but all my thoughts vanish as I go to give Rose a hug, she stands up and I get the shock of my life. I haven’t seen her for three months – and she’s quite simply enormous. ‘This is just a little something for you,’ I say, handing over the wrapped present and a ribbon-clad box as I make an effort not to blurt ‘Jesus Rose, have you eaten a baby?’

  ‘Did you get me new ankles?’ she deadpans, trying to peer into the box as everyone immediately jumps in with the obligatory ‘Don’t be silly! You look great!’ And ‘Nearly there! Not long now!’

  ‘So how are you feeling?’ I ask sympathetically.

  ‘I’m OK,’ Rose concedes. ‘Tired, but OK.’

  ‘Oh you just wait!’ crows one of her friends, ‘this is nothing!’ and everyone laughs good-naturedly, me included.

  ‘That’s true Rose, you should be trying to enjoy the last few weeks or so of normality before the madness begins!’ calls another. ‘Trust me, I actually found doing two marathons easier than getting Charlie into a routine!’

  ‘I have to confess, when my first was tiny I once went out with only one eye made up because I was so tired I forgot to do the other one,’ admits Abi and everyone chuckles again.


  ‘At least you attempted make-up, I couldn’t see the point of even getting dressed in the morning, not when I’d be plastered in baby puke and sobbing by ten in the morning anyway!’ says another girl. ‘Mind you – my post-natal depression was still undiagnosed at that point.’ She smiles brightly. No one knows if they should laugh at this or not.

  ‘Let’s do the presents!’ says Rose’s younger sister quickly, because Rose looks a bit like she wants to cry, as you would if you’d just been told what you’d been working towards for nearly nine months is going to be completely shit.

  The gifts are largely lotions and potions designed to stop bits of Rose dropping off or expanding beyond repair – ‘Anything’s worth a go Rose! Believe me!’ – practical things like Cook! Vouchers – ‘So you can stock up the freezer and pull something out when you’re so knackered you just want to kill yourself’ – or baby clothes, over which we all coo. They are properly sweet and tiny. I can’t help but pick up an especially small cardigan to marvel at as I sit back down. An actual real baby is going to wear that. ‘Oh! That’s Baby Gap, isn’t it?’ says a woman knowledgeably, looking at it.

  One of Rose’s friends from work swells with pride. It must have been from her.

  ‘They’re so great for basics,’ the first woman says, ‘although I do find their organic cotton range a bit limited.’

  I watch as Rose’s friend deflates slightly, but the woman doesn’t notice. ‘What changing station did you go for in the end Rose?’ she calls up the table, turning away.

  ‘Still deciding – I know, I know – if this baby is early I’m screwed – but I’ll just have to make do if that happens. A friend of mine at antenatal class told me about this really great reviews site and I want to read everything on that first before I commit to a decision.’