‘I need you now, Dad,’ she cries, floored by the unexpected grief that washes over her. She’d always known how proud of her he was; he’d shout it from the rooftops whenever he was given half a chance. But this . . . this would have made him so happy. His little girl finally getting the one thing that will make her feel complete. Her heart breaks that he’s not here to see it. ‘He’ll never be here to see it,’ she whispers, wiping a tear away.
‘Excuse me,’ says a voice, interrupting her thoughts. She instinctively moves aside, imagining that she’s holding someone up from where they want to go. What other reason would there be for unsolicited interaction between strangers in London?
‘Er, hi, excuse me,’ says the voice again.
Kate sniffs and drags a tissue under her eyes.
‘I’m really sorry to intrude, but you look upset and I just wanted to make sure you were all right.’
Kate looks from the girl to the empty place in the coffee shop window and back again.
‘Are you okay?’ asks the girl, with a sympathetic smile.
‘I’m pregnant!’ says Kate, feeling a warmth wrap itself around her, though she’s not sure if it’s the knowledge that she has a baby inside her or that her faith in human nature has been restored.
‘Congratulations?’ says the girl hesitantly, as if waiting for confirmation that it is, indeed, good news.
Kate instinctively pulls the girl into her, hugging her tight. ‘Thank you,’ she says.
‘For what?’
‘For not being afraid to show you care.’
15
Lauren
Lauren had cited an unnecessary food shop to her mother to get a child-free half an hour to make the call. Now, she sits in the car outside her own house, staring blankly at her phone, as if willing it to ring. But she doesn’t suppose Justin’s telepathic, and anyway, that wasn’t the agreement. She’s supposed to call him. If she’s brave enough.
Her hands are shaking as she looks at ‘Sheila’, unable to believe that just eleven digits separate her from a past she never imagined she’d have to face again. When Justin dumped her, it was the start of a downward spiral that she feels she never truly escaped from. She’d got in with the wrong crowd when they moved to London and started experimenting with drugs. She lost all sense of self-respect, sleeping with anyone who showed an interest, in the misguided belief that sex was love. And when she’d run out of ways to punish herself, she decided to get control back over her life, in the only way she knew how; by limiting the food she allowed herself. She thought she was being clever, that nobody would notice, so when her dad put her into hospital for two weeks, it only made her hate him even more.
But he’s gone now, she says to herself, with her thumb hovering shakily over ‘Sheila’. And I’m an adult. But even as she’s saying it, she knows that no matter how old you are, you’re still your parents’ child.
She’s almost surprised when she presses the number, as if somebody else has done it on her behalf.
‘I didn’t think you’d call,’ says Justin, before Lauren even hears it ring.
‘Hi,’ she says, not knowing what else to say, before adding unnecessarily, ‘it’s me.’
‘How are you?’
‘I’m good,’ she says. ‘You?’
‘Better now,’ he says. ‘I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the other day.’
I haven’t stopped thinking about you for the last twenty years, thinks Lauren.
‘I want to see you again,’ he says.
Lauren feels like she can’t breathe. How can this be happening? After all this time. And why now? It’s as if it’s a sign.
‘I’d like that,’ she says, hesitantly.
‘When?’ he asks. ‘What about tonight?’
‘No, I can’t, not tonight.’
‘Tomorrow?’
She suddenly feels claustrophobic, as if he’s crowding her, demanding something she can’t give. But then she reminds herself that he doesn’t know any different. Why wouldn’t he think she might be available tonight or tomorrow? That’s the short notice that single, unencumbered people can work to.
‘I might be able to do something tomorrow,’ she says, though her brain’s already registering how unfeasible that is. If Simon’s working, he’ll go to the pub straight from the job. If he’s not got any work, he might stay at home. She panics when she realizes that it doesn’t matter, as either way she can’t go anywhere.
‘When will you know?’ he asks.
‘I, er . . . I don’t know. I’ll need some time to sort things out.’ She imagines him asking what there is to sort out and her telling him that it’s just the small problem of getting rid of her controlling husband and drafting in her mother to look after the three children she’s denied having.
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ she says. ‘I’ll call you later.’
‘Okay,’ he says. ‘But Lauren . . .’
‘Yes?’ she says, feeling as if every word she utters is catching in her throat.
‘Do your best.’
She puts the phone down, his urgency resounding in her ears, not knowing whether it’s that which is causing her stomach to flip or the nostalgia that hearing his voice evokes. They were so young, too young to be able to cope with the responsibilities that came with a teenage relationship turning into an adult one. If only they’d met later, when they both knew who they were and what they wanted.
‘Mum, can you do me a favour tomorrow night?’ she says as she walks into the house. She puts the solitary bag of shopping on the counter and absently clicks the kettle on.
‘Is that it?’ Rose asks, nodding towards the half-full bag.
Lauren can barely remember being in the supermarket, let alone what she’d bought.
She nods. ‘I might nip out and if Simon’s not about,
