And Baby Makes Two

some language when he suddenly grabbed a nearby boy and dragged him into the conversation.

“Jake,” said Gary. “Isn’t Shinola an American shoe polish?”

Jake grinned. “Can’t tell shit from Shinola,” said Jake.

Gary started cracking up but I just stood there, looking blank.

“It’s a saying. It means you’re really stupid,” Jake explained. “So stupid you can’t tell shit from Shinola.”

“I suppose that means it’s brown,” I said.

Gary spluttered. “Is your baby brown?”

“No,” I said. “Not last time I looked.”

*  *  *

I didn’t feel much like partying after that. I watched Gary and Jake stagger off, still laughing. It’d take them about two minutes to make sure that everybody knew I’d named my baby after a shoe polish that looks like shit. I got Shinola and went home.

I walked through my front door just in time to hear Les say, “Well, Happy New Year! See you soon!” And then the answering machine started to whirr.

I couldn’t believe it! I’d been at home practically every minute since Christmas Day and the one time I leave the house he rings! I stood there holding Shinola, staring down at the answering machine. A couple of tears slid down my cheek. But then desperation inspired me and I did something I’d never even thought of doing before. I picked up the phone and dialled one-four-seven-one.

It went so fast I wasn’t sure I got the number right. I hung up, got a pen and a piece of paper, and dialled it again.

It wasn’t a Norwich number at all. It was a London number.

Les must be at home. He’d phoned me as soon as he got back. He did want to spend New Year’s Eve with me. It was his surprise. Me and Shinola still had our coats on. I didn’t think twice about it. Thank God my nan’d given me a tenner for Christmas. I just turned right round and went back outside and got a taxi.

I know exactly what I was expecting. I was expecting Les in his yellow shirt with a happy grin on his face and a bottle of champagne.

“I was just about to ring you again,” he’d say when he opened the door. “I reckoned you must be putting the baby to sleep.”

A woman answered the door. She was about Hilary’s age, but her hair was grey. I got this really bad feeling when I saw her. The time me and Hilary got robbed, a coldness came over me the second I stepped through the door. Because there was a cassette on the floor, and I knew it shouldn’t be there. That was how I was feeling now. This woman shouldn’t be here.

“Yes?” She looked from me to Shinola and back again. “Can I help you?”

“Oh,” I said. She was wearing an apron and slippers. It had to be the wrong house. I told the driver Number Seventy-one, but he must’ve misheard me. And I didn’t think to check. “I-I’m sorry to bother you… I was looking for Les. Les Craft? He lives on this road.”

She smiled very slightly. It was a familiar smile. I could feel myself really start to panic. Trillions of thoughts were shooting through my brain.

“Yes? You’re looking for Les?”

No, shrieked one of the voices in my head. Les is looking for me!

“Do you know him?” Maybe she was the mother of one of his flatmates. Or he helped carry her shopping in sometimes. “If you could just point out his house…”

That made her laugh. “I think you could say I know him. I’m Les’s mother. And this is his house.” Her eyes moved from me to Shinola. “Are you a friend of his?”

“Oh…” It was like I had this tower of cards built up inside of me and someone had taken out one of the cards at the bottom. Everything was collapsing at once. I could feel it. I could even see it. I tried to stop it. “You’re Les’s mum?” I forced myself to smile. “Les didn’t say you were coming down to London.”

She gave me a puzzled look. “But I live in London. Here. I’ve lived in this house for thirty years.”

Crash went why Les never gave me his home phone number. Crash went why his mobile was never on. Crash went why I could never go to his. Crash went the flu Les had last year. Crash went why he couldn’t spend any of Christmas with me. Crashcrashcrash. But I still tried to stop it.

“But you can’t,” I blurted out. “Les – I mean, I thought you lived in Norwich.”

“Norwich?” She smiled like she thought I must be on drugs. “My sister lives in Norwich, but I live here. With Les.” She pushed the door forward just a bit. “How do you know Les?” She gave me and Shinola another once-over. “You are a friend of his?”

I was standing on her doorstep with a baby in my arms on New Year’s Eve. What did she think I was, a Girl Guide? But I couldn’t say anything like that. I knew that once I started, I’d never stop. And the crashing cards would never stop either.

“Yes,” I said. “Of course I am.” I bounced Shinola gently in my arms. “A very good friend.”

Her smile was polite at first, but now it was just kind of there.

“A very good friend who doesn’t know that he lives with his mother?”

“Well, I—” No wonder the kitchen was so tidy. No wonder I never saw any room but Les’s. I made my voice not shake. “Is Les at home?”

She held the door steady. “I’m afraid you just missed him.” She sounded anything but sorry.

“Well, will he be back soon?”

She shook her head. “It’s New Year’s Eve.” In case I’d missed that. “He’s gone to a party.”

“Oh, right,” I said. “So there’s no point in waiting.”

“No,” said Mrs Craft. “No, there’s no point in waiting. I believe he’s spending the night at a friend’s.”

I didn’t cry while I was talking to Les’s mother, and I didn’t cry after she went back inside and turned off the outside light either. I just stood there, staring at the door. It was a wooden door, painted white. It had a brass letterbox and four tiny windows of coloured glass. I stood there until the shock wore off enough for me to feel the cold. Then I turned round and headed home.

There was nothing inside me except this big hole. This big, cold hole. It made me numb from the inside out. I remember looking up at the sky to see if there were any stars, but Dollis Hill wasn’t like the hospital ward with its shiny silver stars. The sky was browny pink and blank, as if we were underground.

I don’t remember the walk home. Maybe Shinola was awake, and maybe she was sleeping. Maybe we walked on the main road, and maybe we stayed on the side streets. I do remember the Christmas decorations and faraway laughter.

I wasn’t scared. There were lots of drunks out, and probably lots of muggers, too, but I couldn’t give a used tampon. So what if someone attacked me? What could they do? Beat me up? Kill me? Big deal.

Anyway, I was really sure God wouldn’t let anyone rape or murder me. It was too easy. My life was punishment enough.

I was in one of those films I didn’t like to watch. The sort of film that Charley liked. He thought they were realistic. “Sit down and watch this with us,” he’d say. “This is about real life.” But they weren’t realistic, they were depressing. They never had happy endings, and most of the time somebody died, or might as well have. Even if they were in colour I always felt like they were in black and white.

And that was me, walking through the dark on New Year’s Eve with my baby in my arms and about a trillion things in my mind all at once. All the lies Les had told me. All the half-truths. Even all the truths. Nothing was how I thought it was. And nothing was going to be how I thought it would be. I could see that now. I could see it really clearly. Like I should’ve seen it all along.

It was like I’d been sleeping for about a hundred years, and now I’d woken up. But it wasn’t the Prince’s kiss that woke me. It was the toe of his boot in my face.

Les had never really been interested in me. Not really interested. Not like I was in