Don't Want To Miss A Thing

by Mansell, Jill

  In fact, and it had taken Dexter some time to discover this, Henry had been bullied at his tough inner-London school for being highly intelligent and refusing to fight. He’d eventually graduated from university with a first in Maths, was terrified of predatory women and had battled to overcome a stammer all his life.

  As a rule, he made a good job of it.

  But, unlike the rest of the team at work, Henry was quiet, domesticated, conscientious and . . . well, kind. He was a gentle giant, a good bloke. Which, right now, was the very last thing Dex needed.

  Dammit, he didn’t want anyone else making him cry.

  ‘You haven’t been into work,’ Henry was saying now. ‘And your phone’s been switched off. We were worried about you.’

  Of course they were. ‘Don’t worry.’ Dex shrugged. ‘I’m still alive.’

  ‘How did it go yesterday? Sorry,’ said Henry with a grimace. ‘Dumb question.’

  Dexter exhaled slowly. The funeral had been every bit as horrific as expected. But it was over now. He and Laura’s friends had said their final goodbyes to her and afterwards there had been a certain sense of closure. For the rest of them, if not for him.

  ‘It was awful. Everyone was crying, saying what a tragedy it was for Delphi. Then they asked me what was going to happen to her and I said I hadn’t decided yet but she was being looked after by a foster family. And they all told me it was the best place for her, she’d be fine, there were loads of families out there who’d love to adopt Delphi and give her a wonderful life, because obviously I couldn’t do that myself.’ Dex paused and massaged his aching temples. ‘So then it started to get me mad and I asked them why I obviously couldn’t do it, and they came out with all these reasons . . . excuses . . . and it was everything I’d been telling myself for the last week, plus it made sense, but there’s one thing I can’t stop thinking about.’ He was on a roll now, all the thoughts that had been churning around in his brain tumbling out. ‘She chose me, Henry. Laura chose me to be Delphi’s guardian. If I don’t do it, I’ll be letting her down. So I said this to her friends after the funeral and you should have seen the looks on their faces. When I said maybe I could take Delphi on, they were just humouring me. It was like I was a kid announcing that I was going to play football for England when I grow up.’

  ‘So basically they’re right,’ said Henry, ‘and you know they’re right. But you don’t like hearing other people say it.’

  And now Henry was joining in, taking their side. For fuck’s sake. Dex said, ‘If I want to do this thing, I can.’

  ‘Hey, don’t get mad with me. I’m just being honest.’ Henry raised his hands. ‘You wouldn’t be able to cope.’

  ‘I could if I had to.’

  ‘It just isn’t you.’

  ‘So you’re basically telling me I’m too selfish and shallow.’

  ‘I’m not,’ Henry said mildly. ‘But as someone with a psychology A level, I can tell you that what you’re actually doing there is describing the way you view yourself.’

  ‘Henry, fuck off.’ It was exactly how he’d described himself last week when he’d been talking to that girl down in Briarwood.

  ‘I’m trying to help,’ said Henry. ‘The thing is, you don’t have to feel guilty and beat yourself up about it. Some people are cut out for this sort of thing, and some aren’t.’

  ‘And I’m not.’

  ‘Exactly. Apart from anything else, you work sixty hours a week.’

  ‘I’d get a nanny.’

  ‘You’d need two nannies. One for when you’re working, one for when you’re out on the town.’

  ‘Fine, I’ll do that.’

  ‘And then you’d start sleeping with one of the nannies and the other one would get jealous. Then after a huge fight they’d both walk out and you’d have to turn up at work with Delphi strapped to your chest in one of those sling things . . .’

  ‘They sent you over here to find out when I’d be back,’ Dexter interrupted. ‘Didn’t they?’

  Henry nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘They don’t give a stuff about me, do they?’

  ‘Well, they do . . .’

  ‘Because they need me there to put deals together, schmooze the clients, work like fuck and make shedloads of money for them.’

  ‘You make plenty for yourself too,’ Henry pointed out reasonably.

  Dexter, who wasn’t in the mood for being reasonable, made up his mind in that split second. He took a bottle of Perrier out of the fridge and drank some. When he’d finished he said steadily, ‘Tell them I’m not coming back. I quit. As of now.’

  Henry sighed. ‘You don’t mean that.’

  ‘Oh yes I do. There are more important things in life.’ All the guilt and indecision slid away as he said the words. This feels fantastic.

  ‘OK, now listen. This isn’t like deciding to pick up a takeaway,’ said Henry. ‘You can’t just turn up and announce to these fostering people that you’re going to be taking Delphi home with you.’

  ‘I know that.’ Dex’s neck prickled with panic. He hadn’t known that.

  ‘They don’t give out other people’s children to just anyone,’ Henry went on. ‘You have to prove you’re up to the job.’

  ‘Shit. How?’ And why was Henry choosing today of all days to give him such a hard time?

  A glimmer of a smile appeared around Henry’s mouth. ‘Well, probably by not swearing so bloody much for a start.’

  ‘I think you’ve got yourself a fan,’ said Molly.

  ‘What?’ Amber, who helped out in the café on Saturdays when it was busier, was energetically wiping down the next table.

  ‘That boy over there. I’ve been watching him. He’s keeping an eye on you.’

  ‘Hm. Not my type.’ At seventeen, Amber’s interest was currently captured by skinny tattooed types with long hair and a taste for heavy rock. Evidently amused that Molly would think she might be remotely attracted to this one, she said, ‘Too clean for me.’

  He did look a bit as if he should be starring in a toothpaste ad. He was the kind of groomed, handsome lad any mother would want their daughter to bring home. Sadly, whenever Amber brought her boyfriends back to Ormond House, the only thing Frankie wanted to do was throw them fully clothed into a hot Dettol bath.

  Amber headed through to the kitchen and Molly carried on working; for a change of scenery she liked coming over to the café to sketch out ideas for the next instalment of Boogie and Boo.

  Ten minutes later the perfect punchline came to her and she broke into a smile of relief, looking up and startling the clean-cut boy who’d been watching her.

  ‘Sorry!’ Molly flapped her free hand by way of apology. ‘It’s OK, don’t be scared, I’m not smiling at you.’

  ‘That’s all right. I wondered what you were doing.’ He had a nice voice and an easy manner. ‘You’re drawing something, but I don’t know what.’

  ‘Comic strip.’ She briefly held up the sketch pad.

  ‘Really? Can I see?’ When Molly nodded he came over to her table and had a look at what she’d done. ‘Hey, that’s Boogie and Boo. You’re good.’ He peered more closely at her sketches. ‘That’s almost as good as the real ones. You should let the artist know, so if he’s ever off sick you could be his stand-in.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Molly, who always signed her work as M. Hayes, kept a straight face. ‘Actually, the artist is me.’

  ‘Oh God, I’m sorry.’ His cheeks coloured up and he looked mortified.

  ‘Hey, it’s fine. You’d only have to be embarrassed if you’d just said I was rubbish. Everyone loves a bit of praise.’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry anyway, but that’s really brilliant. I love Boogie and Boo.’ His brown hair flopped forward as he leaned down for another look. ‘I wish I could draw like that.’

  Molly didn’t make a habit of touting for custom, but seeing as he’d mentioned it. ‘If you’re interested, I run evening classes.’

  ‘You do? Cool. Where?’

  ‘Right
here.’

  ‘Oh.’ The boy looked torn.

  ‘Monday evenings. It’s good fun. Amber?’ Twisting round in her seat, she called over, ‘Are there any of my business cards behind the counter?’

  The boy tensed up at the sound of Amber’s name then pretended not to pay attention as she rummaged in the drawer next to the till.

  ‘Yes, still a few left. Do you want one?’

  ‘Please.’ Molly nodded at the boy. ‘There you are, she’s found one for you. Why don’t you go and get it from her?’

  The boy headed over to the counter and mumbled, ‘Thanks,’ as he took the card from Amber.

  So sweet.

  ‘Whereabouts do you live?’ said Molly helpfully.

  ‘Um . . . not far from here.’

  ‘Well, if you want to come along, you know where to find us. Mondays, seven till nine.’

  ‘Right. OK. Well, I’d better be off now.’ Still unable to look Amber in the eye, he drained his black coffee and flashed a brief smile at Molly as he tucked the card into his jeans pocket. ‘Thanks for this.’

  ‘You’re welcome. And Amber quite often joins us too. It’s not all boring grown-ups. Maybe we’ll see you next week,’ said Molly. Well, a little matchmaking never went amiss, did it? Frankie would be overjoyed if Amber started seeing someone who didn’t sport a dizzying selection of piercings and tattoos.

  ‘Nice try,’ said Amber, watching through the window as the boy headed off on foot down the high street. ‘But I still don’t fancy him.’

  ‘He seems so charming.’ OK, she knew that was the ultimate kiss-of-death thing to say.

  Amber rolled her eyes. ‘And that’s why I never will.’

  Chapter 12

  Dex was shattered. Henry hadn’t been kidding about social services; they didn’t just hand out small children willy-nilly. Instead they asked hundreds of questions, made pages and pages of notes, filled in many complicated forms and drank the countless cups of tea he made for them in his gleaming, space-age kitchen.

  Were they secretly marking him out of ten on his tea-making skills too?

  Some of the social workers had been jolly pretty, but Dex sensed he should reign in his natural inclination to flirt. Taking responsibility for a nine-month-old baby was a serious matter and they needed to be convinced he was up to the task. Accordingly, he was giving an excellent impression of a serious and completely responsible adult.

  Apart from when they’d asked how he’d cope with Delphi and a pushchair if all the lifts in the apartment building happened to be broken and he’d said, ‘Maybe tie her to a bungee rope?’

  But other than that he thought he was managing to acquit himself pretty well. And they were nice people, that was the thing; on his side and keen to do all they could to help. They even took it in their stride when they discovered the oven was full of crockery and Dex was forced to admit he didn’t know how to switch it on.

  When in doubt, eat out. That had always been his motto, and it had served him well.

  ‘You won’t be able to take Delphi out to the Ivy every night,’ the younger social worker, Jen, had teased him.

  Which was an alarming thought, although Dex thought he probably could. Children weren’t actually banned from restaurants, were they? Train them up from a young age, surely, and they’d be OK.

  He had to stretch the truth on a few occasions of course. It hadn’t occurred to him that he’d be asked to provide character references from three different people who’d known him for at least five years. Luckily that excluded most of the girls he’d dated, who might have been less than complimentary about him if they’d been asked. He’d gone for Henry in the end, and a kind-hearted married friend who could always be relied upon to say nice things. The third reference had come from Phyllis, the dear old lady who had lived next door to Laura and liked to bake cakes for Dex, who in her mind was still the cheery helpful boy who had walked her dog for pocket money as a teenager. She’d got a bit flustered at the prospect of constructing a reference so he’d ended up having to dictate the words himself.

  Well, didn’t everyone like to portray themselves in a flattering light?

  But, bit by bit, it was all beginning to come together. The requisite hoops had been jumped through, hurdles were steadily being overcome. As the weeks passed, what had initially seemed impossible was now actually starting to take shape. Having already walked out of his job, the days took on a holidayish glow. Delphi was still being cared for by the foster family in Islington and was palpably happy there; visiting her and being recognised made his heart expand every time. When her face lit up at the sight of him, Dex knew he was doing the right thing.

  And when she drank too much milk too quickly and it made an untimely reappearance down the front of his shirt . . . well, he was still doing the right thing. It wasn’t Delphi’s fault the shirt was Ozwald Boateng.

  It wasn’t her fault her mother had died either. Thankfully, she was blissfully unaware of what had happened, at least for now.

  Dex knew he’d made an impulsive decision that would change his life for good. One minute he was excited, the next minute terrified by the enormity of what he was taking on. But he couldn’t back down now. This was what Laura had wanted.

  Well, obviously it wasn’t what she had wanted; she’d have far preferred to have carried on living and bringing her daughter up herself. But since that wasn’t possible, he was just going to have to step up and learn how to be second best.

  And no one could say he wasn’t making sacrifices along the way. When eyebrows had been raised at the sight of him pulling up outside the foster family’s house in the canary-yellow Porsche, Dex had said at once, ‘Don’t worry, I’m selling it.’

  Mel, the social worker facilitating the initial meeting, had been visibly relieved. ‘I think that’s probably a sensible plan. Get yourself something a bit more appropriate.’

  ‘I will.’ Dex had nodded in agreement. ‘I’ve always wanted a Ferrari Testarossa.’

  But Mel, who was getting wise to him now, just said good-naturedly, ‘How about a nice Fiat Panda?’

  That had been a fortnight ago. He hadn’t sold the Porsche yet but he would. Today his apartment was being checked over from a health and safety perspective. He was entering a world of fridge locks, electric-socket covers and unclimbable stair gates.

  The intercom went and Dex pressed the button. ‘Hi, is that Mel?’

  ‘No it isn’t, it’s someone much nicer than that! Hey, babes, it’s Bibi!’

  Who? Oh God, the one with the boobs. From that fateful night.

  ‘How did you know where I live?’ He frowned.

  ‘Just clever.’ She giggled. ‘Actually, I bumped into your friend Kenny from the party, said I needed to contact you again urgently, so he gave me your address. Can I come in?’

  ‘Not really. I’m expecting a visitor. What’s so urgent?’

  ‘It’sh a shecret!’

  OK, that was a definite slur. From the sound of it, Bibi had been enjoying a long and liquid lunch.

  ‘Maybe some other time,’ said Dex. Like, never.

  ‘No no no, I need to see you now! Let me in,’ Bibi wheedled. ‘Pleeeeease?’

  ‘Look, it’s really not convenient.’

  ‘Fine then, but I’m not going anywhere. I’ll just wait here until you change your mind.’

  Oh God. ‘Hang on, I’m coming down.’

  Stepping out of the lift on the ground floor, Dex’s plan was to get rid of his unwelcome visitor as quickly as possible.

  Unfortunately, Bibi had other ideas.

  Even more unfortunately, Mel had arrived and had evidently just pressed the buzzer for his flat. As Dex made his way across the grey marble hallway he could see Bibi through the glass doors, talking to her. Whilst clutching a bottle of champagne . . .

  ‘Hi, Dex! Oooh, it’s so lovely to see you again!’ Launching herself at him, Bibi kissed him noisily on the mouth sink-plunger style and clanked the bottle against the glass door as it
tried to swing shut. ‘It’s OK, don’t worry, I asked this one if she’s your new girlfriend and she said she definitely isn’t. So I did check. Mind you, she isn’t your type at all.’ Lowering her voice by one decibel, she added, ‘Have you seen the shoes? Sooo frumpy.’

  ‘Bibi, you can’t come in. I have an important meeting with—’

  ‘Hang on, hang on, just hear me out. The thing is, you don’t know what you’ve done to me!’ Shaking her head and exhaling alcohol fumes all over him, Bibi said, ‘Since you left that night I haven’t been able to forget you, Dex. You know how sometimes you meet someone and you just know? That’s what it’s like in here!’ She clapped her hands dramatically to her chest. ‘I just knew! And that other girl was being such a cow before, you didn’t have the chance to appreciate me, so we need to start again, properly this time.’

  ‘Mel, I’m sorry about this.’ Dex grimaced apologetically at her.

  ‘No problem at all.’ Mel had her professional nothing-shocks-me face on.

  ‘See?’ Bibi clapped her on the shoulder. ‘I knew you wouldn’t mind! It’s like one of those romantic movies, isn’t it? Sometimes you just have to seize that moment and tell the man how you feel about him. Or you end up missing out! Can we go up to your flat now?’

  ‘No,’ Dex said firmly.

  ‘Oh pleeease, just for a bit, I’m bursting for the loo!’

  ‘Look, I really can’t—’

  ‘Dex, I’m desperate! I’m not going anywhere till you let me in. And if you leave me down here,’ Bibi’s voice rose and her eyes widened, ‘I swear to God I’ll wee on the floor.’

  ‘I think we’d better let her in, Dex.’ Mel’s voice was calm. ‘Don’t you?’

  Were the black marks stacking up against him? Behind that calm exterior, what was going through Mel’s mind?