‘I didn’t mean this to happen.’
‘I bet you didn’t. I’ve come along and spoiled everything, haven’t I? The cat’s out of the bag, thanks to me. Oh shit, I still can’t believe it. I really can’t. My mum’s going to die when she finds out about this.’
‘Look, it’s not what you think . . .’
‘No, don’t go making excuses.’ From not wanting to speak to him, Amber now found herself unable to stop, the words spilling out in a torrent. ‘You have no idea what you’ve done. Because my parents are happy together, can you understand that? They love each other. They have the best marriage in the world, they really do. And now everything’s ruined.’ Her voice had begun to wobble; thank God there was no one else queuing at the bus stop. ‘Your bloody mother has no shame; she thought she’d have an affair with a married man so she stole my dad . . .’ Even while she was saying this, Amber knew she was concentrating her anger on Shaun’s mother, when her own father was just as much to blame.
As they stood there staring at each other, it started to rain.
‘You don’t understand,’ Shaun said helplessly.
‘Oh, I do.’
‘My mum isn’t like that.’
‘No? Take another look at her.’ Amber felt the drops of rain hit her face. ‘I think you’ll find she is.’
‘I already said I’m sorry. But you’ve got this wrong,’ Shaun insisted.
‘Did I? Did I really? You came over to Briarwood when you knew my dad wouldn’t be there because you were curious. You wanted to check out his family.’
Brakes creaked, the bus pulled up alongside them and the doors concertinaed open. The rain was coming down harder now. Amber narrowed her gaze at Shaun and waited for him to admit this much at least.
He exhaled, then said, ‘His other family.’
The world tipped again.
‘What?’
‘You keep calling him your dad.’ Shaun bowed his head, then lifted it again and said defiantly, ‘But he’s my dad too.’
‘Hell-ooooo?’ bellowed the bus driver. ‘Anyone at home? Are we getting on or staying off?’
Amber could still hear Shaun’s words swooshing through her head. ‘He can’t be.’
‘He is.’
‘Three.’ The driver was starting a countdown. ‘Two.’
‘I feel sick,’ said Amber.
‘One,’ the driver announced. ‘Bye!’
The doors closed and the bus pulled away, leaving the two of them standing on the pavement in the rain.
Chapter 19
It was possible, Joe Taylor had discovered, to be essentially a good person but to end up in a situation that might – OK, probably would – cause others to think you were bad.
And he wasn’t bad, he really wasn’t. He’d just made one mistake a long time ago and had been paying the price ever since. The last seventeen years had been an exercise in damage limitation purely because he didn’t want to hurt those he loved and make them miserable.
And, unbelievably, he’d managed it.
Joe closed his eyes. Until now.
It had been one of those unexpected, out-of-the-blue situations that you had no idea was about to happen. He’d been working in Bristol at the time. As a result of visiting the café across the road most days, he’d ended up bumping into Christina who worked at the firm of solicitors next door. Over the course of the next few months they’d become friendly, but only in the most innocent of ways.
Until a combination of events had conspired to change all that. A rare argument with Frankie had shaken him; being accused of not bothering to post a birthday card when he knew he had posted it had been unfair. And then, leaving work that day, he’d bumped into Christina in the street and asked how she was. In response she had promptly burst into tears. He’d taken her into the café and the whole story came tumbling out; her mother had been diagnosed with stage four cancer, she’d just handed in her notice at the solicitors in order to be able to care for her during her last months; she couldn’t bear it, first thing tomorrow she was leaving . . .
She was all on her own in Bristol; how could he abandon her in such a terribly distressed state? Joe had driven her home to her flat in Clifton and they’d talked for hours, his own emotions heightened by the realisation that he would miss seeing Christina, miss her friendship.
And somehow tears and hugs had ended up leading to more. He’d wanted to make her feel better. It was wrong, of course it was, but for that brief period in time it hadn’t felt wrong.
‘Oh God, this is bad,’ Christina wept afterwards. ‘I’m so sorry. We shouldn’t have done that. Your poor wife . . . it was all my fault.’
It had been a one-off event, never to be repeated, they mutually agreed. Tomorrow she’d be gone. Neither of them would say anything about this to another living soul. No one would ever know what had taken place here tonight.
Arriving home at ten o’clock that evening, he’d been greeted by Frankie throwing her arms round him. ‘I’m so sorry. I never want us to argue again. I love you so much.’
The guilt had been overwhelming. But he’d known he was just going to have to live with it, in the sure and certain knowledge that it would never happen again.
‘Shaun’s got his phone switched off,’ said Christina. ‘Should I leave a message?’
Joe was sitting at the kitchen table with his head in his hands.
‘Leave it for now. Amber’s not answering hers either. I can’t believe this has happened. Bloody hell, I don’t even know how it has. What are we going to do?’
Christina licked her lips and put down the phone. ‘I don’t know. But I think you need to go to Briarwood, get there before Amber does.’
It was such an appalling prospect Joe couldn’t even begin to process it. ‘And then what?’
‘Put it this way. Do you think Amber will keep quiet about all of this?’
Hopelessly, Joe shook his head. ‘Not in a million years.’
‘In that case,’ said Christina, ‘you’re going to have to tell Frankie.’
Fifteen months after their last encounter, Joe saw Christina again. It was December and he was Christmas shopping in a mall in Bristol. One minute he was looking at silk scarves in John Lewis, the next he glanced up and saw her heading his way.
Joe’s heart gave a jolt of recognition. She hadn’t seen him; he could turn away and let her walk on by, but where was the harm in just saying hello? They’d been friends, hadn’t they? It was Christmas.
‘Hi.’
‘Oh! Oh my goodness!’ Christina jumped, her face registering a mixture of emotions when she saw who’d just greeted her. ‘Um . . . hello, how are you?’
‘Fine. Good.’ Joe smiled and nodded at her reaction. Her fine blond hair was tied up in a high ponytail and she was wearing a heavy emerald-green coat over a black sweater and trousers. ‘And you?’
‘I’m . . . great, thanks. Just, you know, buying some things for Christmas.’ She had armfuls of bags and a sheen of perspiration across her forehead.
‘How have you been really?’ He lowered his voice in sympathy. ‘I mean, how did it go with your mum?’
Christina paused. ‘Well, she died. Three months ago. Which wasn’t a surprise; we knew it was going to happen . . . quite a tough time though.’ Trailing off, she took a couple of deep breaths. ‘Gosh, it’s hot in here . . .’
‘Give me your bags.’ Joe held out his hands; it was hot in the store and she looked as if she might keel over. ‘Take off that coat,’ he ordered.
Nodding, she did as he said and briefly leaned against the glass-topped scarf counter. ‘It’s OK, I’ll be fine. Thanks for asking about Mum. I miss her, but life goes on. Anyway, how’s everything with you?’
‘Good, good.’ So much quivered, unsaid, in the overheated air between them.
‘You and Frankie are still together?’ She sounded as if she hated herself for asking the question.
It was his turn to nod. Without elaborating, Joe said, ‘Yes, we are.’
For a moment Christina’s eyes glinted with tears. She looked away, then down at the bulky coat in her hands. Shifting it so it was over one arm, she reached out to take back the bags he was still holding for her.
As he returned them, Joe inwardly debated whether a polite kiss goodbye would be OK or out of order. Best not. He wanted to, but he wouldn’t. Mustn’t.
‘Nice to see you again,’ said Christina, her smile over-bright. ‘Happy Christmas!’
‘You have a good one too.’ Joe watched fondly as she turned to leave, to squeeze her way back through the December present-buying crowds. There was something on the left shoulder of her black sweater, as if a big bird had flown overhead and pooed on it. Since he knew Christina well enough to know she took pride in her appearance, he put out a hand and said, ‘Hang on a sec, there’s something on your shoulder that needs cleaning off.’
Christina stopped, twisted round to see what it was and instantly flushed deep red.
‘Hey, it doesn’t matter, we can get it sorted.’ He was already pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket but Christina was backing away. In that split second Joe realised the splodgy white stain on the shoulder of her jumper hadn’t come from a bird flying overhead.
And then he knew. He just knew from the look of panic and embarrassment and pain on her face. Because what other explanation could there possibly be?
In the very next split second he also knew he had the opportunity to let it go, to allow her to slip away. The choice was his. He could turn and pretend he hadn’t made the connection. Carry on with his shopping, carry everything back to the car, drive home to Briarwood and Frankie and his familiar everyday uncomplicated life.
But when it came down to it, he found he couldn’t.
‘Stop. Christina . . . oh my God.’ Catching up with her, fighting his way through the crowds, Joe reached for her arm. He heard himself say, ‘We need to talk.’
Without another word they left the shopping mall, made their way past the fairy castle housing Santa’s Grotto and the snaking queue of small children lined up to see Santa.
Small children.
Christina’s red Mini was parked at the far end of the huge car park. Unlocking it, she piled her bags into the boot then sat in the driver’s seat, trembling with emotion rather than cold. Her hands were tightly clasped in her lap.
Joe, sitting next to her in the passenger seat, said, ‘It’s obviously mine, then.’
She nodded jerkily. ‘Yes.’
‘You got pregnant and it didn’t occur to you to tell me.’
‘Oh Joe, of course it occurred to me.’ There was despair in her eyes. ‘I thought about it a million times. But what would it have done to you? You’d have been appalled. You had your life, you were happily married, this was never meant to happen . . .’
‘I don’t understand how it did. I mean, you said it would be OK . . .’
‘I thought it would be, I was so sure the timing made it safe. Obviously it didn’t. Please don’t think I got pregnant on purpose,’ said Christina. ‘Because I really didn’t, I can promise you that.’
There was a defensive edge to her voice. Joe believed her. OK, and now there were other things he needed to know. ‘Boy or a girl?’
‘A boy.’
‘What’s his name?’ Not Joe, please.
‘Shaun.’
‘Is he . . . OK?’
‘He’s perfect. Actually, this is the first time I’ve ever come out without him. Any other day and he’d have been with me.’
‘You didn’t want a baby, but you went ahead and had it.’ After a moment’s pause, Joe said, ‘Why?’
‘I know. That wasn’t part of the plan either. It was Mum, basically.’ Her eyes were sheeny with tears again. ‘She was in hospital, I was spending all my time there with her. She knew she didn’t have long to go. One day she said the worst part of dying was never getting to meet her grandchildren. It was her biggest regret. She told me what a great mother I’d make and how she’d always dreamed of seeing me with a baby of my own.’ Christina paused as a squabbling family trooped past the car. ‘And that was it, really. It was her dearest wish and there I was, already pregnant. I had the power to make it come true.’ Tilting her head and using the back of her hand to wipe her wet cheeks, she said simply, ‘That’s when I knew I was going to do it. She was my beautiful mum and I loved her so much. If I could give her one last fantastic present, I would.’
Joe nodded. It was a decision that had just made his own life a whole lot more complicated but he could understand her reason for making it.
‘And did it make her happy?’
‘Oh God, so very happy. You have no idea. For a few weeks I thought she was going to be miraculously cured, she was so excited. Even the doctors were amazed by how much better she seemed.’ Christina smiled briefly. ‘It turned out to be a blip, of course. But a fantastic blip. She came home from hospital, started knitting baby clothes, started coming along with me to all my antenatal appointments. It was a whole new lease of life for her. She was even there when I gave birth to Shaun. It was just the most amazing day. I have a video of her holding him in her arms. I’d actually done it, made her dream come true.’ There was another pause while Christina rummaged in the glove compartment for a pack of tissues and wiped her nose. ‘It didn’t last, of course. We always knew it couldn’t. She went downhill again and died when Shaun was three months old. But she got to meet him and she loved him so much. It meant everything in the world to her. And that’s why I’ll never regret doing what I did.’
They sat together in silence for a few seconds more.
Finally Joe said, ‘What did you tell your mum about me?’
‘The truth. Without any incriminating details. I just said you had someone else so we couldn’t be together, but apart from that you were a really nice person.’
Hearing these words brought a lump to Joe’s throat; he had always thought of himself as a nice person. If he hadn’t been nice, he would never have gone back to Christina’s flat and tried so hard to console her in the first place.
‘And what did she say?’
‘She said most men were useless buggers anyway and I’d manage perfectly well without one.’
He swallowed. ‘Do you have a photo?’
‘Of my mum?’
‘Of . . . the baby.’
‘Oh sorry. You mean in my bag? No, I don’t.’ Christina shook her head. ‘Like I said, I’ve never needed to carry one before. Shaun’s always been with me.’
‘I want to see him,’ said Joe.
She hesitated. ‘Why? Don’t you trust me? He’s definitely yours.’
‘It’s not that. I just need to see him. He’s my son.’
‘Are you doing this to make me feel better, Joe? It’s OK, you don’t have to. We’re fine.’
‘That isn’t it. I’m doing it to make me feel better. I have to see him.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Now?’
‘Maybe. I don’t know. Where are you living?’
‘Chepstow. In my mum’s house. I let the flat in Clifton go.’
Chepstow. Twenty-five miles from here . . . in heavy traffic . . . he couldn’t manage that. Joe said, ‘I can’t, not today. Frankie’s expecting me home.’
‘Of course. It doesn’t matter.’
‘Tomorrow. I can tell her I have to work late. How about that?’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely.’ He was sure. He also knew he was treading a dangerous line.
‘OK. Great.’ Christina looked as terrified as he felt, and as excited; her tentative smile was heartbreaking. ‘Um . . . let me write down the address.’
She scribbled it on a scrap of paper. ‘Shall I put my phone number too? Just in case you can’t make it?’
‘Yes, do that.’ When she’d handed it over, Joe climbed out of the car. He didn’t hug or kiss her; it would have felt wrong. ‘I’ll see you around six o’clock tomorrow.’
‘Yes.’ Christina nodded.
�
��There’s something else I haven’t told you.’ It was no good; he had to say it now. ‘Frankie’s pregnant.’
A mixture of shock and disappointment flickered across her face. Followed by resignation. Finally she said, ‘Right. Well . . . congratulations.’
Joe swallowed. ‘Thanks.’
On the way home Joe recited Christina’s address and phone number over and over again until he knew them off by heart. Then he ripped up the scrap of paper and threw the bits like confetti out of the car window.
You could never be too careful.
Back in Briarwood, Frankie welcomed him home with a kiss, her watermelon-sized bump pressed against his own stomach.
‘Honestly,’ she chided, noting the lack of bags. ‘I thought you were meant to be getting loads of Christmas shopping done!’
‘Too crowded, too hot, couldn’t handle the queues at the tills.’ That wasn’t a complete lie, was it? ‘The place was manic.’
‘So does that mean I shouldn’t expect any presents this year?’
‘Don’t worry.’ Joe stroked her face; he loved her so much. ‘I’ll go again another time. How have you been today?’
‘Great. Swollen ankles, indigestion, getting kicked from the inside. Couldn’t be better.’ Frankie’s eyes shone. ‘But it’s all going to be worth it. Ooh, did you feel that?’
Joe nodded and placed his hand on the bump between them as their baby kicked again.
His baby.
One of his babies.
Oh God, what had he done?
The gabled house stood at the end of a cul-de-sac, large and detached, with a steeply sloping garden at the front and a For Sale sign outside.
The first thing Christina said when she opened the front door was, ‘I should have said this yesterday, but don’t worry about maintenance. Having him was my decision and I’ll never ask you for a penny. I just want you to know that.’
Joe felt simultaneously guilty and relieved, because contributing money was something he certainly couldn’t afford to do without Frankie finding out. Following his impulsive decision yesterday, he’d lain awake last night panicking about it.
‘Thanks.’ He wanted to hug her but didn’t. ‘It’s not that I wouldn’t want to help . . .’
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