by Carrie Elks
“I love you.” I say it because I can’t think of anything else. Because it feels as though my chest will explode if I keep it in any longer.
This time he has the good grace to look surprised. “Because I told you to call your ex?”
“Because you’re you. I wanted to tell you before, when we were at your studio but...”
He starts to laugh. “You had your mouth full at the time?”
I hit him on the arm but the grin doesn’t slide from his lips. So I lean forward to kiss it away, brushing my mouth against his. He kisses me back and I feel the curve of his lips as his smile widens.
“I love you, too. So fucking much. And that’s why we’re going to sort this out. You, me and a whole army of ex-husbands. Whatever it takes.”
When I call Simon the first thing he does is offer me his house. Of course I decline, telling him I couldn’t afford to run it. The truth is I can’t even picture us there. It’s Simon’s house and always will be.
He sounds relieved when I say no, then starts telling me about a friend of a friend who has a tiny cottage to rent in Brighton. For a minute I think he’s making inane conversation and I feel myself start to bristle. Only then do I realise he’s offering it to me.
“Brighton?” I sound sceptical. “You think I should move there?”
Niall looks from his phone, his expression unreadable. His eyes stay on me as I listen to Simon.
“It’s just an option,” Simon continues. “The cost of living is cheaper than London and children love the sea.”
For a minute I can picture Allegra on the pebbled beach, wind lifting her hair and pinking her cheeks. In my imagination she looks happy and that makes me start to wonder.
“Brighton...” I say again. Niall smiles and looks back down at his phone. “What’s the rent like?”
We talk for a while longer. Simon promises to email some more details of the cottage, and then tells me he’s going to speak with the family law section to find out what I can do. He doesn’t mention last night, or his pleas for me to return.
Maybe he really has accepted it this time.
When we say goodbye I feel almost hopeful, enough to smile at Niall when he stands up and walks toward me.
“What’s that for?”
“What?”
“That smile?”
“You mean this one?” I bare my teeth at him, grinning like a loon. “I’m smiling because you’re lovely. And not at all macho.”
He looks affronted, though I think it’s a ruse. “I’m macho.” When he pulls me into his arms and lifts me off my feet I start to giggle. “And later, when you’re ready, I’ll show you just how macho I can be.”
* * *
Later that evening I’m standing in Niall’s shower, letting the powerful spray wash away the stress of the day. It took some persuasion to take me away from the home, but the support workers promised I could come back after dinner and spend the night with Allegra again.
After I rinse the conditioner from my hair, I step out and wrap a towel around my body, shivering slightly in spite of the summer heat. It’s not the first time I’ve been in Niall’s bedroom, but it’s the first time I’ve been in here alone. I can’t help but be a little bit nosy as I wander around his space.
Glancing in his wardrobe, I see he’s just as messy at home as he is in his car. The floor is covered with a myriad of different trainers and shoes. A couple of t-shirts lie on top of them, having fallen from their hangers. The disorder isn’t limited to his clothes, however. The rest of his room is filled with canvasses and paints, propped against walls and stacked in corners. I have to give it to him: he’s managed to use every available space.
On the dresser next to his wardrobe is a photograph of his family. His arm is slung around his mum. Next to him are two men that look so alike they must be his brothers. They share the same inky-black hair and piercing blue eyes. I remember from our first time together that they are younger than him, but for the life of me I can’t remember their names.
There’s still so much to learn.
Sitting down on the edge of his mattress, I use a second towel to dry my hair. At some point he’s taken his watch off and has laid it on his bedside table, and I lean over to check the time.
That’s when I feel the urge to look in his drawers. I’m not sure what I’m expecting to see, other than a lot of boxer shorts and socks, but it takes everything I have not to pull at the handle, even though my fingers are lingering there.
“What are you doing?” Niall walks in, holding a spatula in his hand. He looks amused rather than affronted, grinning as he stares at my guilty expression.
“Nothing.” Quickly, I pull my hand back. “Just drying my hair.”
“Did you need my boxers to help you do that?”
“I wasn’t looking in there,” I say. “I was just… resting for a little while.” What a stupid explanation. But it’s true, I haven’t looked at his pants.
Yet.
“What did you expect to see?” His voice softens as he steps toward me, placing the spatula next to his family photo, on his chest of drawers.
My eyes widen. “I don’t know. Pants, socks… condoms.” I start to babble, trying to think what the hell men actually keep in their bedside drawers. Mine is always stuffed full of books and chocolate, but Niall doesn’t need to know that.
“Condoms?” His voice is as amused as his expression. My throat goes dry as he comes to a stop in front of me. His height makes me feel tiny in comparison, and I shiver again, but this time not because of the cold.
“And pants,” I say.
“You’ve got a strange obsession with my pants and condoms.” He drops to his knees in front of me, wiping my wet hair out of my face. “Should we investigate this further?”
I swallow hard, but my throat remains parched. When he’s this close I find it hard to think. The sensation of his rough hand against my cheek makes me sigh.
My skin is still damp from the shower when he runs a finger down my neck, trailing it across my chest. He unhooks my towel with a flick, so it falls open, crumpling onto the bed.
His eyes are dark and narrow as he looks at me. I reach out to him, running my fingers through his hair. Then his lips are on mine, hard and frantic, moving desperately as we kiss.
“Is this okay?” He pushes me back onto the bed, and my wet hair fans out behind me.
“Yes.”
He drags his lips across my throat. “I know you’ve had a hard day.”
“I have.” I’m still answering in monosyllables. It’s hard to think of anything except the way he feels, how good he smells. Then his hands are cupping my breasts, fingers brushing against my nipples, and any sentient thought is chased away.
His lips capture one of my nipples, his teeth pulling softly at my aroused skin. It’s all I can do not to rub myself against him.
All I can do to breathe.
“We could make it a bit harder,” he murmurs into my chest. Then shows me what he means, pressing his erection against my thigh, and I push back, desperate to feel him, needing to give as good as I get.
We’re a mess of wet towels and dry clothes. My fingers shake as I unbutton his shirt and pull down the zipper on his jeans. A minute later we’re both naked and needy, our skin hot, our breaths fast. I marvel at how he feels as good as I remember.
Sinewy and smooth, all hard muscles and soft skin. I can feel the definition of his chest as he presses it against mine, and the tautness of his stomach as I run my hand down it. When I wrap my fingers around him, it’s his turn to sigh, and he closes his eyes, his mouth falling open as I start to move my hand up and down. His hips move to the rhythm I’ve created, undulating softly as I drag my palm over him.
I’m so consumed that the sensation of his finger dragging against me is a shock. I open my eyes to see him staring right at me as he caresses softly, gently. Enough to make me moan.
“Is this okay?” he asks again.
“Yes, yes.” I can
barely keep a breath. Looking down I see his hand pressing against me, his tanned skin a contrast to my pink flesh. I watch the tendons and knuckles flex and contract, and I feel the sensation shoot straight through me, my toes curling every time he passes over my clit.
Then he’s on top of me, body sliding on top of mine. We are wet and hard and nothing but sensation. My head falls back on the bed as I rock my hips up, and he’s a moment away from slipping inside.
It feels so different yet it feels like home. Because we have changed, Niall and I, and yet we’ve come full circle, back together. When he thrusts against me, his tip touching my aching flesh, I have to bite down on his neck to stop myself from screaming out.
“God,” he sighs, squeezing his eyes closed. “Oh God.”
“Please.” I don’t even recognise the voice as mine. It’s needy. Desperate.
“Beth, I just…”
“What?” My breath is coming fast. I can feel my muscles contract even though he’s not inside yet. I rock again and the way he slides against my hot flesh almost makes me come.
“Condom. Top drawer.” He barks it out. There’s a look of concentration on his face, and his whole body tenses against mine.
Though it takes a minute to locate the condom and roll it on, I’m still trembling when he finally lines up with me. I can feel his pressure, hot and thick. My thighs wrap around his hips, afraid to let him go.
Before he’s even inside I’m on the cusp, my breath captive in my throat as he slips easily through my slick flesh. Then he’s filling me, surging into me in the most delicious way. I start to tighten against him, my whole body stiffening, waiting… waiting for that moment to explode.
I let out a whimper as the pleasure takes over, flames licking at me from the inside out. I’m pulsing and crying and scraping my nails against his flesh as Niall lets out a low-pitched growl.
And it’s his turn to freeze, as he pushes inside me one last time, breath catching in his throat. I cradle him in my arms, and he presses his whole weight against me, kissing me with soft, desperate lips.
“Beth…”
He buries his face against my shoulder, breathing rapidly. I can feel his heart hammering in his chest as it pushes into mine.
“Is that what you were looking for?”
I close my eyes and let the smile pull at my lips. He kisses me one more time and I nod.
“I think it was.”
30
It takes three days for a case conference to be arranged. Three days that I spend at the group home, sitting with Allegra, holding her when she cries, teasing her when she’s ready to smile. I take my cues from hers, watching her expression with a wary eye. Waiting to see what she’ll do next.
We meet outside the social services building: Lara, me and the family lawyer that Simon has recommended. Rafiya—the lawyer—advised that it would be better if Niall wasn’t present for the first meeting. She’s ruthlessly efficient, and explains she doesn’t want to complicate matters with explanations of my love life.
We’re called into a meeting room just after eleven. I sit in another hard, plastic chair, my hand firmly folded in Lara’s, and listen to the discussions as if I’m not really involved. Rafiya goes through a list of events that show I’m part of Allegra’s support network—the classes, the trips out, my involvement with Daisy. She explains about the move to Brighton, telling them why a new start would be so much better in the long term. And I marvel that all these people who don’t know Allegra or me get to make decisions about the rest of our lives.
This isn’t the only time we’ll be subject to this kind of scrutiny. In time, I plan to adopt her, and the rigorous investigations that it will require make this look like a walk in the park. I’ve already had to listen to Rafiya explaining all the pitfalls, and now I’m being lectured all over again.
This is right, I tell myself. We’re talking about a child’s future here. No amount of scrutiny could be too great.
“It’s very important that Allegra receive counselling.” Grace addresses me directly, ignoring Rafiya altogether. “Have you investigated provision in Brighton?”
My lips twitch because Grace knows I have. We had an hour-long telephone discussion about it last night. I wanted to make sure I’d covered every base.
“Yes, I spoke to a child counsellor this week. We’ve made a provisional appointment to see if a relationship can be built. I’ve also spoken to the local school and explained the situation. They’ve confirmed there’s a place available for Allegra.”
Lara squeezes my hand and I manage to breathe a little easier.
The meeting continues with talk of my suitability as a foster carer. Rafiya presents them with a report from my doctor and three testimonials from friends. The room is quiet as everybody thumbs through the documents, and I find myself scrutinising their expressions, trying to see if I’m standing a chance. When Grace catches my eye she gives me the smallest smile. Even though we’ve had our differences we both want what’s best for Allegra. I can live with that.
Toward the end of the meeting I’m asked if I want to add anything. I clear my throat, shuffling through my papers to find the statement that Rafiya helped me to prepare. But then I have second thoughts, knowing how cold and clinical reading words out loud would make me sound. Instead I look around the room, catching the eye of everybody sitting opposite me.
I want to be heard.
“I know we’re all here for the same reason: because a little girl has lost her mother. The mother she saw die in front of her eyes. I understand you have to make sure that wherever she goes she will be cared for. I don’t want to leave any of you in doubt about my feelings for Allegra. I love her. It’s that pure and simple. You may want to tell me that love isn’t enough, and I couldn’t agree more. In the clinic where I work we see children who suffer every day, regardless of how much their parents love them. So I can also promise I’ll dedicate myself to bringing her up well, to providing her with a stable home. One where she doesn’t have to wonder whether she’ll get any dinner that night. One where she can feel safe enough to feel sad, feel happy, feel whatever she needs to. Where she can push the boundaries and be pulled back from them.” I take a deep breath, trying to loosen the tightness in my chest. “I want to give her back the right to be a child again.”
When I look at Lara she’s beaming at me, even though her eyes are glistening. There’s silence in the room, and I wait for a response, looking down at the speech I never made. Finally, somebody clears their throat. Grace smiles softly and looks at the rest of the panel.
“Do you have any more questions?”
There are murmurings of no, accompanied by the frantic shaking of heads. I breathe a sigh of relief. It has to be good news, I hope, if they don’t want to question me further.
“Very well, we shall end it there. I believe you’re having a visit from Brighton and Hove children’s services tomorrow?”
“That’s correct.” Rafiya answers for me. Perhaps she’s decided I’ve talked too much.
“Barring any issues arising from that, I can confirm we will be supporting the application for kinship foster placement.”
It takes a moment for it to sink in. Then I realise all eyes are on me, and I glance up to see five expectant faces. But relief turns me mute; I’m unable to say anything that approaches coherence. Instead I nod and concentrate on trying not to cry.
Allegra’s coming home with me. To our home, where I can take care of her and watch her grow. A place where we can go to the beach and breathe in the fresh air and pretend we can see France. Somewhere that Darren Tebbit and guys like him can’t touch her.
She’s coming home.
The next few minutes are a blur. Rafiya talks in hushed tones with Grace, while Lara hugs me and tells me how proud she is. I nod in the right places, holding her close as I try not to get hysterical. When we leave the office Rafiya shakes my hand, explaining she’ll be sending over some paperwork before the visit to Brighton tomorrow. Then she
’s gone and it’s just me and Lara, two giddy women unable to complete a sentence.
“Oh my God, I’m so happy...”
“Thank you so much for being here. I couldn’t have done it...”
We both laugh and try to calm down. Lara takes a deep breath and starts again. “I can’t believe we’re both going to be mums.” I glance down at her stomach and see the small bump rising softly from her belly. “And I can’t believe you’re leaving me. Brighton is so far away.”
“It’s an hour by train,” I say. “You can come and visit as much as you like.” I try not to show it, but that thought is the only disappointment. I’m so used to seeing Lara every day at the clinic, even if it’s only a few minutes, and now our interactions will be by telephone and email. “I promise I’ll be there for the birth.”
“You’d better be. Alex is scared by the sight of blood. I’m half expecting him to run out screaming when the first contraction starts.”
I laugh at the image this conjures up. Alex always seems so cocky and in control. Maybe the baby will soften him a little. “I’ll be there.”
We walk out of the building and a fine mist of rain covers our hair, leaving water clinging to the strands like dew on a cobweb. Lara hugs me for a final time and heads for the Tube, while I lean against the wall and pull my phone out. I need to call Niall, to let him know how it went, before I head back to the home to spend time with Allegra.
A movement to my left catches my eye, making me look up. That’s when I see him. Dark hair turned black by the rain, pasted to his forehead. Droplets run down his cheeks, falling onto his shoulders. Even though he’s soaking I run into his arms, letting him hold me as I tell him everything that’s happened. Niall’s hands tighten around my waist as I tell him she should be coming home in a couple of days.
He presses his face to my hair and breathes in. “You still smell of rain.”