by Lucy Dawson
No! No – he wouldn’t do that. He just wouldn’t. Leo would never deliberately hurt me, surely? That’s a very, very dangerous mind-leap too far. I know that I had too much to drink well before he turned up. I have only myself to blame for the effects of that, and in all honesty I do remember feeling glad that he was there when I woke up. And I did kiss him, I know I did … before we …
I tighten my coat around me again and start to walk a little faster, head down, staring at my feet as they march along the pavement. I just want to get home.
The traffic starts to lessen as I make my way into the quieter streets. My paranoid thoughts have made me feel uneasy, and I speed up to a brisk, no nonsense march. There aren’t that many people around now, just an old man with a small dog out for an early-evening leg stretch, and as I glance over my shoulder, a tall teenage goth ambling along; headphones in, overcoat swinging from side to side.
I turn off on to another street – and then I’m alone entirely. All I can hear is the echo of my fast footsteps. I dig my hands more firmly into my pockets. I should have got a cab. I’m walking so quickly I’m in danger of breaking into a run, past some dark houses where no one is home, no one to hear me. ‘Nearly there,’ I mutter to myself under my breath. ‘Nearly there.’ My heart is thumping, which is ridiculous, because I’m fine. I’m fine … it’s barely seven and what am I even running from?
A cough nearby makes me jump horribly – seconds before a car drives past – but when I look sharply to my left, a man is simply unloading bulging Sainsbury’s bags from the boot of a Mini, the front door to his house already open and his wife with her arms crossed, shivering in the open doorway, light streaming out into the street.
Their normality, and presence, relaxes me slightly. By the time I reach the end of the street I’m a little calmer, breathing more easily and feeling very stupid for being so melodramatic. I’m a grown woman and yet I’m scaring myself silly despite being perfectly safe.
I turn into our road. A car with its lights on, indicator flashing, has pulled up on the left-hand side of the street towards the far end – but it’s the one that comes up behind me so slowly I don’t notice it until the last moment that makes me leap out of my skin.
‘Get in.’ The passenger door flings open hard enough to almost hit me in the leg.
‘How many times do I have to tell you, you shouldn’t walk home on your own?’ Dan asks in exasperation as I clamber inside, pulling the seat belt on. ‘Why didn’t you ring me? I could have picked you up!’
‘I thought you were still in Chichester,’ I protest and we drive literally feet up the road before turning left on to our drive.
‘So get a cab!’ Dan says. ‘Always get a cab.’
‘I’m fine,’ I say, forgetting in an instant how vulnerable I felt a second ago, now that I’m safe with him.
He switches the engine off. ‘I don’t care how much it costs,’ he says more patiently, ‘it’s important. Promise me next time you will?’
‘I promise.’
‘Good,’ he says with the pleased air of having resolved a bothersome problem. ‘Have we got anything to eat inside? I’m starving.’
‘There’s a pizza in the freezer I think.’
‘That’ll do,’ he says cheerfully as we get out of the car.
‘Can you turn the oven on?’ I call down from our bedroom once we’re back inside and I’m putting my feet into the furry warmth of my slippers.
‘Already done it,’ he calls up. ‘Want a drink?’
‘Yes please,’ I shout, crossing the room to pull the curtains. Outside, a car is slowly reversing past the house, I just catch the end of the bonnet disappearing to my right before it’s completely hidden away by the hedge. I pause for a moment. Probably just someone parking up.
Dan comes into the room. ‘Is my phone charger up here?’ he says, passing behind me. ‘I can’t find it and my battery’s running low.’ He glances up from beside the bedside table to see me still standing there just staring out into the street. ‘What you looking at?’
The car suddenly reappears, but pulls away and drives off so sharply I don’t see anything more than a pair of hands holding the steering wheel before it roars off up the road.
‘Nothing. Just closing the curtains.’ I yank them shut quickly.
Once Dan has gone back downstairs, I check my phone. I don’t want to, and I want to be wrong, but I’m not. There is a message waiting for me.
I love you. How many more times? How many more ways to say it? This is starting to hurt now. I can’t stop thinking about you. Think I need help! – think I need you. No, I KNOW I need you. I have to see you
As I am deleting it with trembling fingers, telling myself that it was just a random car outside, that’s all, another one comes in.
MUST see you. In dark place right now. Just want this all to work out. Want us to be happy. Want what we had. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The lines of kisses just go on and on … and on.
Chapter Twenty
‘You’re so sexy,’ Dan murmurs in bed the next morning.
Much as I love Dan there is nothing sexy about any of this. The thin drizzly wail of an unwell little boy out of sorts is coming through from next door. It’s all I can hear and I’m already horribly tense as it is because try as I might, I can’t put Leo’s text last night from my mind … It almost sounded pissed. Either that or he’s getting carried away with his own sense of drama. I can’t allow that to happen to me though – it wasn’t him at the bar, and it was a random car outside the house. People park and reverse up and down roads, that’s a normal thing.
But I still can’t help glancing – for the hundredth time – at the curtains, to make sure they’re still tightly shut, then at my mobile to make sure it’s not somehow switched itself back on.
Urgh! I have to stop this. I’m doing this to myself and I have to stop! I’m letting this get completely out of hand; they’re just text messages – that’s all. So what if Leo says he’s in a dark place? With a bit of luck he’ll stay there.
Next door, Jack winds up for gold.
‘Can they not just take him downstairs?’ It’s finally getting to Dan too. He stops, waits – but when the crying doesn’t ease, gives up and collapses back on to his pillow, to my guilty relief. ‘We have to move …’ He sighs and looks at his watch. ‘We should probably think about getting up anyway to be honest, it’s gone nine. Should I pop out and get some croissants, do you think? Or have we got a cake or biscuits in the cupboard?’
I drag my mind back to the room and stare at him in confusion, he might as well be talking in code. ‘What do we need a cake for?’
‘Well, I think we ought to give them something, don’t you? They’ll probably have had breakfast but it’s an hour’s drive there and back, and that way we don’t have to ask them to stay to lunch.’ He looks at me and then says, ‘You’ve forgotten, haven’t you? Mum and Dad are popping over for a cup of tea. I told you last week.’
‘Did you? But you only saw them yesterday …’ I stare at him blankly, mentally running through each room in the house, seeing them through my mother-in-law’s eyes; the bathroom needs cleaning, there’s washing drying all over every surface in the dining room, the whole place needs hoovering and the kitchen floor is actually sticky underfoot …
‘But they want to see you too,’ he looks surprised. ‘Is this because of what happened with Dad two weeks ago? Don’t worry about it, he’s fine. He’s not even going to mention it, I promise. He’s just looking forward to catching up with you. Do you want to go through the shower first or shall I?’
Mother of fuck … my stress levels ratchet up yet another notch as I leap from the bed, flinging the covers back. ‘You can. I need to straighten up everywhere.’
>
‘So is that yes to a cake then?’ Dan calls after me.
He wanders back in about an hour later, as I’m feverishly chipping something unidentifiable but disgusting off the draining board in the kitchen, clutching the car keys and a Shell petrol station carrier bag, which – what with them not being famed for their pastry skills – doesn’t bode well. ‘What did you get?’ I nod at the bag suspiciously.
He takes in my flushed face, tied-back mad hair and saggy T-shirt over pants and ignores my question. ‘Why don’t you go up and get dressed?’ he says calmly, removing the knife from my hand. ‘I’ll finish up in here. It’s only Mum and Dad … they’ve come to see us, not the draining board. I wouldn’t have invited them if I’d have known it was going to stress you out this much.’
I start to pull the rubber gloves off.
‘Oh, by the way, have I got any clean shirts for tomorrow?’
‘I don’t know, Dan!’ I explode.
‘Hey!’ he reaches out for me in surprise as I try and blast past him, catching my arm. ‘What are you flipping out for?’
I feel tears pricking at the back of my eyes. I try to look away, but I know he’s seen them. ‘Come here,’ he pulls me to him and starts rocking me gently, but for once it doesn’t help. I don’t feel comforted, I actually want him to let go of me, but saying that would be very unfair to him …
‘Tell me,’ he says quietly. ‘I can’t help unless I know.’
… given none of this is his fault, it’s mine.
‘Are you worried about work and the money situ -ation, like you said on Friday?’
And if I don’t get a grip – fast, I’m going to be in serious danger of messing this up completely. I’m already making it all much worse than it is.
‘Yeah, pretty much,’ I say and pull away from him. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gone off on one like that.’
‘You sure there’s nothing else?’
I shake my head.
‘I mean it Moll. Dad’ll be on his best behaviour. Go and have a shower,’ he says. ‘I’ll finish up down here. Go on.’
Standing under the hot water I let my head hang heavily.
This whole thing is nothing more than man seeks easy repeat of sex – hardly shocking. I’ve bumped into him in the street once and had a few texts. End of. Get over it. There are other, far more important things I ought to be thinking about than him.
I climb out of the shower wearily and wrap myself tightly in a towel, shivering slightly on the bath mat before going through to our bedroom. I’m about to get dressed when I hesitate and cross the room to make sure the curtains are still properly drawn, only to see through the gap, my father-in-law’s very shiny car pulling up outside. SHIT! I glance wildly at my watch. They are forty minutes early.
‘They’re here!’ I yell at the top of my voice, dashing to the top of the stairs, clutching my towel about me. Dan appears at the bottom, holding the unread paper in one hand and a full mug of tea in the other. ‘I thought you said they’d be here at eleven?’ I say accusingly.
‘Aren’t you going to put some clothes on?’
No, I’m going to have coffee with your parents wearing a towel. Of course I was going to get dressed, but they are forty minutes early.
‘You disappeared off up there ages ago. What have you been doing?’
The doorbell rings shrilly.
‘I’ll let them in,’ he says unnecessarily, ‘you just come down when you’re ready. Seriously Moll, calm down … what’s wrong with you today?’
Five minutes later, I appear in the sitting room ready to do the ‘Sorry about that, I was just coming down when the phone rang’ fib, but the words die on my lips as I see Dan has plonked a box of Jaffa Cakes and Mr Kipling bakewell tarts in the middle of the carpet, alongside a plastic milk carton and a couple of side plates. He is happily munching a tart, and getting crumbs everywhere. Michael is busily attempting, unsuccessfully, to prize his from the foil case and Susan is delicately sitting on the edge of the sofa balancing a chipped mug on her knife-creased trousers.
I look at Dan in despair. ‘What?’ Dan says through a mouthful. ‘They didn’t have any croissants.’
‘I’ll just nip and get the milk jug …’ I make a lastditch attempt at the pretence that I have everything under control. ‘Would you rather have some toast with your tea?’ which is, let’s face it a more normal thing to eat at twenty past ten on a Sunday morning.
‘No, no, this is lovely, Molly, thank you, don’t worry about the milk jug,’ Susan carefully puts her tea down and stands up, giving me a very genuine smile. ‘How are you?’ Is it my imagination or does her warm hug last a little longer than normal?
Michael abandons his cake and gets to his feet as well. ‘Hello,’ he says gruffly, clearly extending an olive branch. He plants the obligatory brief kiss somewhere in the region of my left ear. But then inexplicably he pats me on the head twice too, as perhaps the Master of the hunt might do to his favourite hound. Astonished, I look at him as he sits back down, carefully negotiating not stepping on any of the boxes or the milk. It’s as close to an apology as Michael will ever get, and it’s big of him, especially given I was the one who was so rude.
‘It’s nice to see you again,’ I say sincerely.
‘It’s lovely to see you too,’ Susan says, moving things on quickly as she picks up her mug again. ‘Had a busy week Molly?’
I’m trying to think of an appropriate answer to that question, when from next door, we all hear Mel shriek ‘No, Jack! Very bad. Give it to me!’ followed by a thump – presumably her son flinging himself to the floor in protest – and an angry bellow a baby buffalo would be proud of. Susan stoically pretends it hasn’t happened. ‘Dan was just saying it looks like there are some troubled times ahead at work for you. I’m sorry to hear that.’
Michael, however, cuts across her. ‘What the bloody hell is wrong with that child?’
‘He must be ill,’ Dan says. ‘It’s never normally this bad.’
‘I should hope not! Good God!’
‘He’ll stop in a minute,’ Dan says. ‘Anyway, we might need them on side soon, when we have our baby.’
Susan gasps with delight, unsteadily puts her tea down and then covers her mouth with both hands. ‘You’re pregnant?’ she turns to me, her eyes shining and dancing with excitement. She spins back to Dan. ‘But you said yesterday—’
Oh? What did he say yesterday?
Dan doesn’t quite meet my eye. ‘I said we’re trying Mum, she’s not actually pregnant, yet.’
‘Oh,’ Susan looks visibly disappointed, but almost immediately perks up again. ‘That’s still wonderful news though! We were saying yesterday, Molly, my dad will be so excited about being a great-grandpa! There’s only one other at his home. And I’m going to start knitting again!’ she beams. ‘I’ve actually got a pattern I bought a while ago. It’s a cardigan – with such dear little socks and a hat that goes with it.’
She looks at Dan and to my huge surprise I realise her eyes are bright with tears. ‘Oh, just look at me!’ she says, hurriedly searching for a tissue in her sleeves but not finding one. Michael silently passes her a neatly pressed hanky from his pocket. ‘Silly old woman. Good grief, what will I be like when you actually have your baby!’ she does a high little laugh and blows her nose. ‘I’m just so excited!’
‘Mum was totally blown away, wasn’t she?’ Dan says to me later, as he flicks through the papers in bed. ‘Dad’s reaction I could have predicted, Mr Practical with his “Is this sensible if Molly’s job is so uncertain?” You two have got more in common than you realise, but Mum, wow,’ he shakes his head in disbelief then smiles at me. ‘It was amazing.’
I just lie there, staring up at the ceiling. ‘I didn’t realise that this would be so important to other people.’
‘Well, it’s only because Mum doesn’t have any other family bar us, Dad and Grandpa.’ Dan says reasonably. ‘It’s probably more of a deal for her than it would be for say, your
parents. I’m not saying it won’t be special for them too, but they’ve already got your brothers’ kids, haven’t they? This is first time round for Mum. It’s huge.’
‘Was it really a good idea to tell them, do you think?’ I say slowly, also thinking back to my blurting it out to Abi and wishing I hadn’t.
Dan looks at me in surprise. ‘Why wouldn’t we tell them something like that?’
‘Because it’s private,’ I say. ‘Between you and me.’
‘We told your mum and dad,’ he shrugs. ‘Why wouldn’t we tell mine?’
‘I get that you’re excited, but—’
He puts the paper down. ‘What’s wrong? Is there something you’re not telling me?’
‘No! I just mean suppose it doesn’t happen?’ I say quickly. ‘Everyone will ask questions and feel so let down and …’
His face relaxes. ‘Oh I see. Don’t worry about it Moll. It WILL happen, you’re not that old.’ He winks at me and picks up the paper again.
He sounds just like Abi.
‘It’ll all be fine.’
And Bec.
‘Mum’s just excited, that’s all. She’ll calm down. She would have liked a whole tribe of kids herself.’ Dan says conversationally turning a page.
Yes, I got that impression.
‘But I’m not sure Dad even really wanted me, he only did it for her—’
I turn to him sharply but he stays behind the paper. ‘Your dad adores you.’
‘I know,’ he says lightly, putting the paper down, and says after a pause. ‘So it turned out all right for them in the end, didn’t it?’
I look up at him. He smiles hopefully back at me, his words just hanging there in the air with all of their unspoken meaning.
I nod and reassured he bends and kisses me; then kisses me a little more … and a little more still … and this time there is no baby crying next door. It’s just the two of us.
Chapter Twenty-One
‘Sorry, love,’ shrugs the builder, ‘I don’t know what to say. He told us it was all systems go. We’d never have just let ourselves in like that if we’d have known you were in the dark about it.’