by Lucy Dawson
‘I love you Dan,’ my voice crumples. ‘Don’t you love me?’
‘You know I do!’ he cries. ‘You know I do! Why would I be doing even this if I didn’t? I just – it’s just too fucking much!’ He pushes past me suddenly and takes the stairs two at a time.
I rush up after him to find he’s grabbed a bag, into which he is shoving things wildly.
‘You’re packing?’ I say in disbelief – it’s utterly, utterly incomprehensible. ‘You’re leaving me?’
His eyes fill with tears at that, he throws the bag away from him and then he breaks down completely.
I scramble round the bed, horrified. I’ve never seen him cry, except at the odd soppy movie. I try to wrap my arms round him and just for a second he lets me – but then he gently pushes me off, not unkindly, but as if my touching him is unbearable. ‘Please don’t,’ he says. ‘Please.’
He picks up the bag again and slowly begins to put some bits and pieces in it. I stay on the floor, just watching him, unable to believe what I am seeing. All sense of time starts to slip, it is both the longest and shortest moment of my life.
He closes the bag and straightens up.
I have no feeling in my arms and legs, nothing. Everything falls away around us as he takes a step towards the door.
‘Please don’t do this,’ I say, barely able to see him through my own tears. ‘Let’s just talk about it.’
‘But I don’t know what more there is to say. I thought I could do it, but …’ He shakes his head.
Neither of us move, we just look at each other and then, to the sound of me collapsing into sobs, he disappears round the door and is gone.
Chapter Thirty-One
Bec and Joss rock me in their arms as I do great heaving, gulping sobs. Bec was completely horrified when it all came out – every last horrible detail – and I can tell she’s also very hurt indeed that she knew nothing about any of it, although she assures me it’s OK, when I put a desperate hand on her arm and try to justify my reasons.
Both of them gasp out loud when I tell them about the doctor at the party. Dan punching Pearce. That I’ve left my job – what our last two weeks have been like.
‘He’s going to come back,’ says Joss fiercely, arms round me, ‘because he loves you. And when he does, I’m going to kill him.’
I look at her exhaustedly through red eyes and blow my nose. ‘It’s not his fault Joss. He really has tried – he can’t even touch me. It’s eating him up and it’s my fault. I brought the whole thing on myself.’
‘Molly!’ Bec looks appalled. ‘You were so drunk you don’t even remember half the night! Leo should never have taken—’
‘Bec,’ Joss says quietly. ‘Don’t. It’s not going to help. He’s irrelevant now.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ I scramble around for a tissue. ‘You should be with your families, not here with me, I’ve ruined everything.’
Joss snorts. ‘You’re all right. The twins and I were about to murder each other. My flat is way too small for all three of us.’
‘And I hate turkey curry, you know I do,’ Bec tries to make me smile. ‘Anyway, you need us. End of.’
‘But your blokes – you might have wanted to see them today.’
‘Er, hello weirdo, I’ve been dating him less than a month,’ Joss says. ‘Why the fuck would I be seeing him on Boxing Day?’
‘And I’ve dumped mine,’ Bec shrugs. ‘Turns out he wasn’t that funny after all. Let’s just say he found himself unable to reach the required standard.’ She hesitates. ‘Molly. I’ve got something to tell you. I wasn’t going to mention it because it upset you enough when I told you he turned up on Facebook, but you know that internet dating site I was on?’
I nod, as Joss looks at us both blankly.
‘Leo contacted me through it. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, he just asked after you, said did I have an email address or home phone number for you? I didn’t give them to him, but if I’d have known what was going on, I’d have told you, I promise.’
‘So he’s been surfing around internet dating sites too?’ Joss shakes her head in disbelief. ‘What a nice guy – he really has had each of his bases covered, hasn’t he?’
We’re silent for a moment before she speaks up again. ‘And I can’t believe what else has happened over the last two weeks – that you didn’t say anything to either of us?’
‘I promised Dan.’ I shrug, and can’t help starting to cry again.
Both of the girls insist on staying the night, taking turns to pop home and collect their stuff while the other sits with me. I hear them whispering while I’m sat on the loo, staring into space as I get an uncomfortable lower abdominal twinge. Staring dully down at the packet of Tampax I keep by the loo, I reach out for it automatically.
Joss looks up from the magazine she’s found as I come back in to the bedroom and says, ‘Finally! We thought you’d fallen in!’
‘I’ve just come on.’
She gives me a sympathetic look. ‘I’d send today back if I were you,’ she tries. ‘Get a refund.’
‘I’ve made you some hot chocolate.’ Bec comes back in clutching a mug. ‘You should try and drink some, it’ll help you sleep.’
‘I’m going to kip on the sofa bed,’ Joss gets up. ‘You two can stay in here.’
‘No, I’ll sleep downstairs,’ Bec volunteers. ‘I don’t mind. Plus I snore.’
It doesn’t matter to me in the slightest which of them I get, although Bec is right, she does snore. I lie silently next to her, on Dan’s side, getting tears in my ears as I smell his aftershave on the pillow and wish with all my heart that it could be him lying next to me instead.
‘Did you manage to sleep at all?’ Bec asks me the next morning as she stretches.
‘A bit,’ I lie, getting up stiffly. ‘I’m just going to the loo.’
When I come back in she’s sitting up in bed and yawning.
‘Do you think you could drive me over to my mum and dad’s?’ I ask her, feeling dazed. ‘In a bit?’
‘Of course,’ she rubs her face, trying to wake herself up. ‘Would you rather be there than here?’
I nod.
‘I understand totally,’ she says and swings her legs out of bed. ‘I’ll wake Joss up and we’ll get on the move, OK?’
In the car they both chatter away earnestly as I numbly stare out of the window. ‘I honestly think Moll, that he’ll come back,’ says Joss, ‘really I do. You just need to give him some time.’
‘I know you’re in shock now,’ says Bec, looking at me in the rear-view mirror, ‘but I promise you – you’re going to survive this. Trust me. You think you won’t but you do. Look at me, I did – and I’m happy Moll, really happy.’
‘And we’re going to be here for you every step of the way,’ Joss grips my hand tightly. Which is lucky, because she actually does have to help me out of the car when we arrive.
‘Girls! What a lovely surprise!’ Mum exclaims happily, swinging the front door open as the dogs barge out into the crisp air, barking excitedly. Her smile falls away as soon she sees my face. ‘Molly? What’s wrong? What’s happened?’
It feels like my legs are giving way under me at the sight of her, I can’t hold it together a moment longer. The dogs, sensing drama, leap up around us madly – nearly knocking Bec over. ‘Is someone hurt?’ Mum helps to prop me up as I stumble. ‘Has there been an accident? Is it Dan?’
Once we’re inside and the girls have gone, my parents are amazing. They ask me no questions, just tuck me up on the sofa and wait until I am ready to talk. I manage to tell them that Dan has left me, and why – although I don’t discuss the circumstances, or disclose that it was Leo.
They are incredibly kind and pass no judgement. Neither do they say things like ‘He’ll come back,’ because they have never lied to me before, and they’re not going to start now.
But what I haven’t told them is that this morning, when I went to the loo, I discovered I hadn’t come on a
t all. Which was really confusing, because I’d had that weird crampy feeling the night before, as well as other signs – my boobs were massive … I was certainly due on … In fact, I was more than due on. I was pretty late.
If it hadn’t have been for the fact that I knew the test Dan had bought me was right there in the bottom drawer, less than three feet away from me, I probably would have just dismissed it as a skipped period entirely due to stress overload and not given it much more thought. But it was there. So I did it.
And it came up positive.
I’m pregnant.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Dad comes back into the living room. ‘Are you warm enough love?’ he asks kindly. ‘You didn’t have much at tea? You’ve got to eat. Shall I make you a snack?’ He tucks the blanket in round my feet like I’m an invalid as I shake my head, silently doing myself up in knots.
‘Mum’s just putting some clean sheets on the bed for you.’ He sits back down comfortably in his chair.
Despite knowing that I could ring Dan right now, as I clutch my phone, something is stopping me. How horribly emotionally manipulative would that be? I may have the one thing that could bring him back to me – a baby – but can I really do that to him? Can I pull him back when I know how hard he’s struggled with the knowledge of what I’ve done, how impossible he’s found it? I know that infidelity can kill relationships. If he never knows about this pregnancy he’ll be free, free to eventually get over all of this hurt.
But then a baby is also the one thing he’s wanted more than anything. Doesn’t he have a right to make the decision, to come back or not, himself?
And then again, what about me? What sort of person would bring a child into the world just to glue their marriage back together? Now that the chips are really down, and I’m really thinking about it, I can’t honestly say all I’ve ever wanted is a baby. I don’t not want it – but they are hardly one and the same thing, are they?
But do I even have a right to make THAT decision full stop? Of course I know the arguments for and against abortion, both scientific and religious – which I can’t pretend I am especially – but I’ve never properly considered them in relation to myself, never questioned what I would really do. Until now. What AM I going to do? What on earth am I going to do? I feel absolutely numb. I’m pregnant. Actually pregnant …
I let out a shaky breath and Dad looks up from the TV. ‘You all right?’
I nod.
‘Are you sure? Have you got—’ but before he can finish the dogs suddenly sit up, on alert. Then they both woof and jump to their feet.
‘Shhh! Silly old things!’ Dad scolds. ‘There’s no one there!’
But they both rush over to the French windows and start whining, sticking their noses under the curtain edge and barking imperiously.
‘What?’ Dad says. ‘Heard a fox, have you?’
He wanders over to the window, pulls back the curtain and stares out into the garden. I let my eyes flicker back to the TV.
‘What the …?’ Dad says suddenly and then he quickly starts to fumble with the door lock.
‘What is it?’ I sit up slightly, but he doesn’t answer, just slides the door back furiously, upon which the dogs burst out; barking madly, disappearing off into the dark. Dad hastens after them.
I get up and move to the window, waiting on the threshold, the freezing air snapping at me. I can’t see anything, all I can hear are the dogs. ‘Dad?’ I call.
A moment or two later, he reappears out of the gloom, clouds of breath forming around his head, as he walks stiffly up the garden back towards the lit-up sitting room, dogs trotting at his heels.
‘So silly,’ he puffs, wiping his brow, ‘but for a moment, I thought I saw—’ he tries to catch his breath … ‘Hang on a minute …’ He stops, bends slightly, and rests his hands on his knees. ‘That’s better,’ he straightens up and smiles at me, but then the colour simply drains from his face like someone emptying out a sink and he sits down very heavily and suddenly on the grass.
‘Dad!’ I rush out. The dogs are prancing around him, confused, barking crazily again. ‘Are you all right?’
He tries to swallow and puts a hand out to me. It’s all clammy. ‘I feel a bit funny,’ he says, blinking, and still breathless.
‘Don’t move,’ I say, trying to stay calm. Shit – shit! I dash back into the house and shriek ‘MUM!’ at the top of my voice, then grabbing my mobile from the sofa, I stumble back out.
I take his hand in mine and he sways slightly. I can hear his breath coming in short, fast little gasps. ‘Please don’t try and move, Dad!’ I plead, dialling 999.
Mum appears by my side as I’m giving the operator our details and, eyes widening with fear, she takes off her cardigan and bunches it up on the grass as she kneels down next to him. ‘Lie back darling,’ she says. ‘We’re just going to wait for the ambulance together.’ I dash inside to get my blanket and tuck it over him as he did moments ago for me.
He stares up at the sky and tries to steady his breathing. I’m clasping one hand and Mum is holding the other. The dogs have gone quiet and the only sound is the sharp effort of his breath.
Then, without moving his head, he looks first at me and then at Mum, and barely squeezes our hands as he says in between gasps, his gaze flickering between us, ‘I – love – you.’
‘We love you too, my sweetheart!’ my mum tries to smile but her voice has gone all high and frightened. ‘Just try to rest Mark, they’re on their way.’
Chapter Thirty-Three
Sitting on the swing in my parents’ back garden, on which I have seen Dad push Oscar and Lily countless times, I grip the cold rope with my hand and fix unseeing eyes on a tuft of grass, blades blowing in the fresh wind. I glance at the kitchen window across the lawn. Even though it’s early morning, they’ve had to put the kitchen light on and I can see Mum, Chris and Stu moving around inside. Mum is getting cups out of the cupboard. She glances up at me briefly and I think I see her say something to one of my brothers.
I turn away and stare at a couple of the bare trees against the grey heavy sky, my feet pushing automatically into the damp ground as I swing very lightly, looking at the spot where she and I were kneeling last night.
What are we going to do without him? Who is going to listen to me when I have things I want to ask, that won’t make sense to anyone but him? Who is going to kiss the top of my head and say things like ‘What’s the drama, Molly Malone?’ And where is he right now? Why can’t I feel him here?
I think about Mum, tiny, sitting in the hospital surrounded by us, smiling through tears as she clutched a very small piece of tissue to her. ‘He really was very calm you know.’ She reached out and firmly clasped Stu’s hand as he gave way. ‘I promise. Wasn’t he Moll?’ Everyone looked at me as I stood there rigid and silent. ‘He just closed his eyes. He wasn’t frightened.’
I don’t want him to not be here, he’s always been here. I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready at all. And I don’t want him to be on his own without us.
I’ve got things I want to tell him, things I need to talk to him about. I close my eyes and I can see myself as a little girl, lying in bed giggling with delight as he tells me and the boys stories with funny voices. Him holding me over water and letting me dip my toes in rushing waves, but I can’t remember that really, can I? I’d have been far too young. Maybe it’s just something I’ve imagined from seeing photos … Then I see him doing his speech at our wedding. You can’t bloody die Dad; I need you! You’ve got too much to do, too much to see.
How? How can this be? And why am I not crying? My eyes are completely dry and I find myself wondering, almost abstractly, how weird that is. My dad has just died. Cry. You should be crying.
I hear the back door close and one of the dogs bursts into the garden, gambolling around happily. Mum follows, walking slowly in my direction, smiling but teary as she holds out open arms to me.
I stand up automatically to go to her. My head f
alls on to her shoulder and she holds me to her. We both just stand there rocking lightly on the spot, the cold wind blowing around us. ‘I want my Dad,’ I blurt, stunned to hear myself say the words and voice cracking she says ‘Oh my darling girl, I know. I want him too’ as she strokes my hair.
‘I shouldn’t have let him run out there like that, I should have—’
She pulls back sharply and takes my shoulders. ‘There was nothing you could have done to stop this. It could have happened at any time.’
‘He thought he saw something and, then—’
‘Molly, this was not your fault. The aneurysm was there, we just didn’t know it.’
I don’t know what to say. I can’t think straight, I feel hollow, like there’s a gap where my middle used to be and my head is floating in space.
At the hospital, they told me Dad’s body was just a shell, that I needn’t be afraid, what was him had gone … that I might find it reassuring to see him, it might help me say goodbye.
But I didn’t want my last picture of my Dad to be him lying in a hospital covered by a sheet. And I don’t want to say goodbye.
‘Molly, please come inside,’ Mum says. ‘It’s so cold out here. Come on.’ She tries to take my hand. ‘You’re shaking. Please sweetheart.’
I look at her. She’s devastated, completely overwhelmed – shattered. I should be looking after her. I suddenly want to tell her about the baby, but she will only worry – she knows about Dan leaving. It will be yet more load and I can’t do that to her. So I say nothing, just follow her into the house obediently.
I simply want to make it all go away. Make it all unhappen.
Chapter Thirty-Four
In the last two days I have learnt that if someone dies within twenty-four hours of admission into a hospital there may be a post-mortem. That the post mortem can take up to three weeks, depending on how busy the coroner is. Also, that the middle of winter is not a good time to die, because it’s busy. Lots of elderly succumbing to flu, which will mean the funeral directors – once the post mortem is done and the body released to the relatives – will be busy too.