by Lucy Daniels
‘At least he isn’t on the birth certificate.’ Miranda was looking through the letter again. ‘He says himself he’d have no legal case to force you.’
‘It can’t have been an easy letter to write,’ Mandy pointed out. She reached out to Susan. Her fingers were warm and strong as she squeezed Susan’s hand. ‘As long as you feel safe, I think it might be worth trying to find out what he wants. Talking to him won’t hurt Jack. If it all goes wrong, Jack doesn’t have to know.’
Susan squeezed Mandy’s hand in return. Susan was glad she was there. Mum was amazing, but Susan needed someone neutral to help her with this. She had never felt unsafe with Michael. But then he’d put himself before Jack once before – what was to stop him from doing it again?
Reluctantly, she realised she needed to speak to him. If there was a chance that he really wanted to become a part of Jack’s life, then she had to consider it. And she couldn’t do that without knowing more.
Chapter Eleven
Susan tucked a holly stalk into the base of the wreath she was holding and tilted her head, looking at her creation. She couldn’t tell if it was good or not; her mind wasn’t really on the job. She was finding it hard to shake the sense of impending doom that had settled on her since she had seen Michael. It was like she was standing on the edge of a ravine and if she took one wrong step, she could go tumbling down into places unknown. It wasn’t a feeling that lent itself easily to Christmas spirit.
She reached for another sprig of holly and pricked her finger on a leaf. ‘Ow!’ she exclaimed, sucking the hurt fingertip.
‘Careful, Mummy!’ Jack giggled as he looked up from the paper chain he was making. ‘Remember: “Leaves that prick, berries make you sick!”’ He repeated the rhyme Susan had made up that morning when they had gone to collect the holly from the woods.
‘That’s right!’ Susan smiled back at him. ‘Silly Mummy!’ She carried on looking at him as he went back to his paper chain. His hair needs cutting, she thought, fondly. He looked ridiculously sweet with his hair falling into his eyes. His head was bent forward, and he was concentrating hard as he smeared glue onto the paper. She wished that she could just enjoy this moment but it felt impossible. In two hours’ time, she was going to be meeting Michael. For all she knew, that could be a moment when everything changed. It had felt important to her to spend a morning doing fun activities with Jack, even if her mind was elsewhere. Besides, they had promised Mr Gorski some Christmas decorations.
Jack looked up again and grinned, his brown eyes shining. ‘Look how long it is now, Mummy,’ he said. He held up the chain for her to inspect.
Susan put her head on one side to assess his handiwork. The chain didn’t quite reach the ground yet, but he was working hard. ‘It’s lovely,’ she said. ‘Mr Gorski will be pleased.’
‘Mummy?’
He sounded more hesitant and thoughtful this time. ‘Yes?’ she asked.
‘Is Coffee all better now? Can we go visit soon?’
Susan paused before replying. She had to think what to say. Coffee was home again after her operation. Her wound had healed well, but Mr Gorski still seemed worried about her. She wasn’t her usual self, he said. ‘She is better after her operation,’ she said carefully. ‘But in doggy years, she’s a very old lady. When we go visit, you should check with Mr Gorski if you can play with her.’ She didn’t need to add that he should be gentle. She knew he would.
‘Can we go to see her today, Mummy?’
Susan shook her head. ‘You’re going round to see Herbie and Kiran,’ she reminded him. Herbie Dhanjal was in Susan’s class at nursery. Susan was friends with Roo Dhanjal, Herbie and Kiran’s mum.
Jack’s face lit up. ‘Oh yeah! We can play with Somia and Shahu!’
Susan knew Jack loved the Dhanjals’ cats, whom they had adopted from Hope Meadows over a year ago. She had a sudden urge to fold him in her arms and hold him tight: protect him from everything. He was so innocent, she thought. He knew he was going to Herbie’s, but it had not crossed his mind to wonder what she would be doing.
Was she doing the right thing? she wondered. She had never once mentioned Michael to Jack. It didn’t seem to have occurred to him yet that he must have a father, but one day it would. The last thing Susan wanted to tell him was that she had denied Michael access when he’d asked. And she wouldn’t lie; she tried always to be honest with him. So there was nothing else for it; she had to meet Michael to try to find out what he was offering. There was a slightly sick feeling in her stomach. Up until now, all decisions about Jack had been hers to make. If Michael became involved, that would change.
‘Mummy?’ Jack’s voice startled her out of her reverie. He was gazing at her, looking very serious.
She found herself wondering whether he could divine her thoughts. Or her feelings, at least. Can he sense I’m nervous? ‘Yes, sweetheart?’ She managed a smile, though her heart was beating faster than usual.
‘Can I have a glass of milk, please?’
Susan stifled the relieved laugh that bubbled up. ‘Of course you can, lovey,’ she said.
I just need to stay calm. If it all goes wrong, Jack will never know.
It was almost as if time had stood still in Zio Toto’s. The scents of freshly baked garlic bread and sweet tomatoes met her as she opened the door. When she stepped inside, the ancient wooden tables with their rustic cloths greeted her like old friends. And there he was, sitting at their old table beside the window, as if the four years that had passed had been compressed into a bare week. He stood up as the waiter ushered Susan towards him. He was wearing smart beige trousers with a green jumper. His dark brown hair was neatly combed, and his strong face was smooth-shaven. He’d always been a very stylish man and Susan felt glad that she’d chosen one of her smarter work dresses. The last thing she wanted was to feel frumpy and flustered.
‘Susan.’ He smiled at her.
‘Hello, Michael,’ she replied, attempting a smile back.
He reached out a hand to grasp hers and leaned towards her for an air kiss near her cheek. Even his aftershave smelled the same. It was like being in a strange dream; a mix of memories and the present, although her dry mouth and thumping heart made her certain that she was very much awake.
As he stepped round and pulled a chair out for her, Susan tried to calm herself. The anger from her first meeting had dissolved into nerves. She had no idea how a meeting like this was meant to go.
She sat down in the chair, then watched as he whisked round to his own place. I have the power here, she reminded herself.
The waiter handed over the menus and for a few moments, they sat across the table from one another, in silence. What was she going to say to him? She pretended to concentrate on the menu, even though she didn’t feel hungry at all. The words on the page in front of her blurred as she stared at them.
When she looked up again, he had put down his menu and was waiting. He seemed to be watching her intently, but he’d made no effort to speak yet either. Was he nervous too? He had always been difficult to read.
‘See anything you fancy?’ he asked. He was smiling, a little tentatively. Susan was acutely aware that the last time they had been face to face, she had yelled at him. She hadn’t regretted it, but she supposed an apology was in order if they were going to make any progress today. Besides, now that the shock was over, she found that she didn’t feel angry at him any more. She’d felt that for so long when they had first broken up, and then it had faded over the years, until she’d never bothered to think of him. She had finished mourning for the future she’d never had.
‘Are you ready to order?’ The waiter had arrived and was looking her way.
Michael too was gazing at her. She scanned the menu quickly. ‘I’ll have the chicken and mushroom risotto,’ she said.
Michael smiled up at the waiter. ‘I will too,’ he said. ‘And a bottle of the Pinot Grigio, please.’
Ordering without asking me, just like he always used to, Susan thought.
She remembered how she’d found it charming at the time, like he was taking care of her, but now, it irked her.
She cleared her throat. ‘I don’t want anything alcoholic,’ she said. She had arranged to stay with James, but she needed a clear mind. ‘Just some sparkling water, please.’
She waited for Michael to object. He’d always insisted on wine with every meal. He looked up at the waiter. ‘In that case, I’ll just have the water too,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’
Susan couldn’t help raising her eyebrows in surprise as the waiter took their menus.
Well that’s a change …
‘How have you—’
‘I wanted to—’
They both started speaking at the same time. Susan closed her mouth, feeling her face redden and then he nodded with an unusually gentle smile. ‘You first,’ he said.
She closed her eyes for a second, gathering herself, then looked up. ‘I wanted to say I was sorry,’ she said. She paused for a moment, searching for the right words. ‘The last time we met, I was …’ She stopped.
He held up a hand and shook his head. ‘Please don’t apologise,’ he said. ‘You didn’t say or do anything that wasn’t totally justified. Not after …’ It was his turn to trail off, but he took a deep breath and began again. ‘You must have been surprised to see me again, after all this time,’ he said. ‘And I’d have to be a fool to expect you to welcome me with open arms.’ He smiled, his eyes crinkling with self-deprecation. Another small wave of curiosity ran through Susan. Even amongst his law student friends, Michael had always had a confidence that made him stand out. Would that Michael, the one she remembered, have admitted he had been in the wrong? She didn’t think so.
That unusual smile was still in place. He seemed even more handsome than she’d remembered. To her younger self, he had seemed impossibly glamorous. She’d been so happy when he had chosen her. He could have had anyone he pleased.
He was gazing at her still. There was admiration in his eyes. ‘You haven’t changed,’ he said. ‘How have you been?’
For a moment, Susan was about to say that she’d been fine. But then she thought of all the sleepless nights, the stress, the money worries that had become part of her life since becoming a single parent. That hadn’t been fine; that had been difficult. Then, she thought of all the delicious cuddles, the magical moments of discovery and all the laughs she had shared with Jack, ever since the day he’d been born. How could she convey all that to someone who hadn’t been part of it? Who had never felt those things?
Take it slowly, she thought to herself. ‘I’ve been okay,’ she replied.
‘And where are you working now?’ he asked.
‘I’m working in the nursery in Welford,’ she replied.
‘Oh yes?’ He sounded as if he was genuinely interested. ‘How did you end up there?’
Under the table, Susan rubbed the edge of the tablecloth between her fingers. It was linen and smooth under her fingertips. ‘Well … before Jack was born,’ her voice had the tiniest of tremors as she mentioned Jack’s name, but Michael’s face was open and encouraging, ‘I had a flat in Walton,’ she went on. ‘But it was tiny and Jack and I were going to outgrow it in no time. I needed to stay near Mum, so that she could babysit. So, when Moon Cottage came up for rent in Welford, I moved in there. Then the job came up at the nursery and I applied. Luckily I got it.’
The way she said it was casual, but it had been a stressful time before she had found work. It had been the perfect position for her. Mrs Armitage, the nursery owner, had immediately offered Jack a place. Without her and Miranda, Susan would never have managed.
‘That was lucky,’ Michael replied. ‘It’s good to live so close to your work.’
Susan felt a spike of annoyance at his offhand comment. It wasn’t just good for her to live near her work. It was essential. She couldn’t have afforded the time or money for a long commute.
He doesn’t get it. But then, how could he? At least he seemed interested now and maybe, in time, he would grow to understand.
The waiter arrived with their water and Susan took a sip. ‘So how about you?’ she asked, following his lead. ‘Are you working at Chalk and Manders?’
It had always been Michael’s plan to join his father’s firm when he qualified. ‘I am,’ he said. ‘I’ve been there since I qualified. I’m going to become a partner shortly.’
He stopped. Susan could see the muscles in his jaw working. She’d hit a nerve, she realised. Perhaps the partnership had only come up due to the death of Michael’s father.
‘I was sorry to hear about your father,’ she said, and she knew as soon as she said it, that she’d hit the nail on the head. He frowned a little, staring down at his side of the tablecloth, his jaw still clenching. ‘I know you were …’ she paused, ‘you were close,’ she finished. It hadn’t been easy to say. She had long suspected their break-up had been closely related to his father’s expectations for Michael’s career and for her part, she had found Mr Chalk to be a cold, judgemental man. She stopped fiddling with the tablecloth and rested her hand on the table instead.
Michael looked back up at her. ‘Thank you for saying so.’ He sounded sincere. His hand twitched, as if for a moment, he’d thought about reaching out and taking hers, but then it stilled again. ‘It’s not been easy,’ he admitted. ‘I wasn’t thinking straight when I just turned up on your doorstep. I should be the one apologising. There’s nothing I want less than to force anything on you. I just want to talk.’ His brown eyes were steady. ‘I know it’s probably too late,’ he said, ‘but I’ve realised opting out of Jack’s life … and yours … well it was a mistake.’
There was a tremor in his voice, but he took a deep breath and started again. ‘It sounds stupid,’ he said, ‘but until my father was gone, I hadn’t realised how important it was to have him there. It made me think about Jack.’ He stopped again, lifted a hand to his mouth and pinched his top lip between his finger and thumb. Then he sighed. ‘I have thought about him in the past … of course I have. I thought he was better off without me. But when Dad died …’ again the slight spasm, ‘… I think it was wrong of me to deny Jack the bond that I had. He deserves more.’ This time, he really did lean forward and put a hand over Susan’s, gazing into her eyes with calm solemnity. ‘But I only want it, if you feel it’s the right thing. You’re his mum and you know him best.’
Susan couldn’t help but feel astonished. This was the most sincere and vulnerable she could ever remember Michael being. Perhaps he really has changed? Maybe losing his father had caused him to grow up.
His hand was warm. They’d sat there like that so many times in the past. It was too intimate and unease washed through her. She shifted her hand: tugged it away and let it fall into her lap, away from his grasp.
‘Can I ask you,’ she said, ‘… honestly …’ She paused, thinking hard. ‘Did you leave me because of your father? Did he tell you to …’ She had been going to say ‘abandon us’, but she pulled up short and frowned. ‘I know you’re remembering your relationship with him,’ she amended, ‘but isn’t it partly because of him that you and Jack don’t have a bond?’ Despite her best efforts, she could hear the tone of bitterness that had crept into her voice. The old Michael would have been furious that she had even implied such a thing. Would he douse her with cold anger, as he had four years ago?
But he only looked sad. ‘You’re right,’ he replied. ‘And I do see the irony. I know he was far from perfect. I was too. But it’s made me realise that I want to be a father as well. I want to do better … if I can, that is.’ The sides of his mouth twitched upwards, though the sadness was still there.
Of all the things Susan had expected from this meeting, this wasn’t it. This man was apologetic, gentle, humble and open about his feelings – the complete opposite of the ambitious, suave, alpha that she had known four years ago, who could never accept criticism of himself or his family.
He must have misread her silence, because he
rushed on. ‘You don’t have to decide right now. We can just … catch up today. I want to know about Jack and about you and what you’ve both been doing.’ He smiled now. ‘What are Jack’s favourite things?’ he asked. ‘What does he like to do?’
She had forgotten this about him, Susan thought. He had always been easy to talk to. Always filled with questions, even faced with someone shy. He’d been a great asset when they were out together. Susan sometimes found herself tongue-tied in strange company. Michael could talk to anyone.
There were so many things to tell him. All about Jack’s love of animals and about the birds in their garden that he fed every day. Jack knew so much about them. They had learned together, looking at pictures in books Susan had bought. If she’d thought that Michael would quickly become bored, she needn’t have worried. He listened intently, asking questions that showed he was paying attention. The food arrived but they ate slowly as they chattered.
‘Football eh?’ Michael said, looking pleased. ‘Which team does he support?’
‘Manchester United,’ Susan told him. ‘His shirt is his favourite thing to wear. If he had his way, it would never be washed!’
Michael’s eyes were shining. ‘Manchester United was my favourite team when I was small! That’s who I wanted to play for when I grew up. I spent hours and hours out on the playing fields, taking pretend penalties.’
He laughed and Susan could tell he was relishing the small point of contact.
Dessert had come and gone. Susan had barely noticed it, though she had eaten it all and they’d even stayed for a coffee. Susan glanced out of the window beside her and realised that it was already late afternoon. Soon it would be dusk, and the Christmas lights that were strung between the houses were swaying in the wind. Just as well she was staying over.