The Lost Ticket, page 19
Frank and Esme started toward the kitchen. Dylan stayed where he was a moment longer, glowering at Simon; then he turned and followed the other two inside.
In the hallway, they all found their coats and Libby opened the front door to let them out.
“Thank you for a lovely party,” Esme said, giving her a tight hug.
“Are you free for a walk on Monday?” Frank asked, and when Libby nodded, he gave her a kiss on the cheek and stepped outside with Esme.
Dylan was the last one to leave. She felt him squeeze against the wall as he moved past, so as not to accidentally brush against her. All the intimacy of earlier had disappeared, and he wouldn’t even look at her as he stepped outside.
“Good night, Dylan.”
He faltered on the doorstep and then turned back, their eyes meeting. “You know you don’t have to do this, don’t you?” he said in a quiet voice. “You don’t have to do anything for him anymore.”
“I know.”
Dylan stood still, staring into her eyes, and for a second Libby wondered if he was going to kiss her again. Then he turned and made his way down the front steps, not looking back.
CHAPTER
33
Libby was woken the following morning by clattering sounds from the kitchen. She’d gone to bed shortly after her guests had left the night before, leaving Simon in Hector’s room with a glass of water and one of Tom’s old T-shirts to sleep in. She’d been hoping that he’d have left before she woke up, but from the sounds coming from downstairs, it didn’t seem like Simon was going anywhere in a hurry. Libby showered and dressed slowly, putting off the moment she had to face him.
When she did eventually head down to the kitchen, she walked in and did a double take. All the mess from last night’s meal had been cleared away, the dishes washed and the surfaces spotless. Simon was over by the mixer, weighing flour into a bowl. He was wearing Rebecca’s silk dressing gown, which barely reached his thighs. When he saw Libby, he did a little shimmy.
“What do you think of my outfit? Sexy, huh?”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m making pancakes. Although I couldn’t find any normal flour in this place, so I’m afraid they’re gluten free, god help us.” He broke eggs into the flour and reached for a measuring jug filled with milk.
Libby crossed her arms. “You need to leave.”
Simon didn’t look up at her. “Look, I’m sorry about behaving like an idiot last night. You know what I’m like when I’ve had a few drinks. I didn’t mean any harm.”
“You were a complete arse.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’ve got a storming hangover this morning and my head feels like it might explode at any minute. I need food.”
“Why did you come last night?”
He hesitated and then turned toward her. “When I woke up yesterday and realized it was your birthday, I started thinking about all the amazing times we’d had together. Do you remember that time I surprised you with a trip to Paris on the Eurostar? And when we did the Star Wars marathon in bed and didn’t leave the house all weekend?”
“So what?”
“Well, the memories just made me realize how much I’ve messed everything up with you, especially how I reacted to the pregnancy news. And then I went to the pub for a drink, and somehow I ended up having five pints and then getting on a train to see you.” He added a pinch of salt to the batter with a flick of his wrist.
“Why are you here, Simon?”
“I told you. I got drunk and sad, and I wanted to see you on your—”
“No, I mean, why are you still here now, making pancakes? You’re living with another woman.”
“I know, but it’s all so complicated. I mean, look at you . . .” He pointed at Libby. “You’re pregnant, with my child.”
Libby let out a bark of a laugh. “Well, I’m so sorry this is complicated for you, Simon. What a nightmare it must be for you.” She opened the fridge, took out some orange juice, and then slammed the door shut, wishing it would make a more satisfying bang.
Simon shook his head ruefully. “I know I’ve handled this all so badly, Piglet.”
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped.
Simon frowned but carried on. “When you called me the other week, I panicked. Olivia had literally just moved her stuff into my house and there were boxes everywhere. But that’s why I’m here now, because I want to apologize. And I want to try and make it up to you.”
He reached out to touch Libby’s arm and she recoiled. “No! You can’t do this, Simon. You can’t turn up drunk, cook me a pancake, and then expect me to forgive you.”
“I know that. But if you’d let me explain—”
“What is there to explain? You dumped me, made me virtually homeless. Then when I discovered I was pregnant, you told me you wanted nothing to do with me or the baby. That’s all pretty self-explanatory, no?”
“But that’s what I’m trying to say. I was wrong when I said that, Libs. I was freaking out but I didn’t mean it.”
Libby could feel a headache coming on, and she pinched the bridge of her nose. “So what are you saying?”
“I don’t exactly know,” he said. “But I do know that I want to be involved in my child’s life. At this point I have no idea how that might work, but I would love the chance to talk to you and see if we can come up with some kind of a plan.”
“Does Olivia know you’re here?”
She watched Simon cringe. “Olivia’s . . . We broke up. She’s moved out.”
Libby wanted to laugh out loud. So that was why Simon had turned up at her front door drunk. He’d been dumped.
“But look, this isn’t about Olivia; this is about us and our baby. Please, can we sit down and talk over breakfast?”
“Simon, I asked you to leave.”
“Please, Libby. Please, hear me out, and then you never have to see me again if you don’t want to.”
Libby inhaled. She desperately wanted Simon out of the house, but she knew from experience how stubborn he was. “Fine, let’s get this over and done with, then. But for god’s sake, put some clothes on first.”
* * *
• • •
LIBBY sat in silence at the kitchen table while Simon cooked the pancakes. While he did so, she checked her phone. Frank had texted her first thing this morning, a brief message saying he hoped she was okay and he was looking forward to seeing her tomorrow at Parliament Hill. And Esme had sent a message this morning too, all in caps, pronouncing, I DON’T LIKE YOUR EX. DYLAN IS MUCH NICER.
Yet the message Libby really wanted to receive hadn’t arrived. She thought back to last night and their moment in the kitchen—the bus onesie . . . Dylan’s words . . . that extraordinary kiss—and she picked up her phone to compose a text. But as she started to type, Libby remembered the look in Dylan’s eyes when Simon had walked into the garden, the way he’d strained across the table as if he wanted to kill him. Libby had seen Dylan angry before, but that had been nothing compared to his fury last night. No wonder he hadn’t texted her; he probably never wanted to see her again. She put the phone down as the baby gave an unsettled squirm.
“Here you go.” Simon placed a plate of pancakes in front of Libby. “I even found some syrup at the back of the cupboard; I’m amazed your sister allows this stuff in the house.”
“Okay, so, what is it you wanted to say?” Libby said. There was no way she was going to let him sit and make small talk as if they were two friends having a social breakfast together.
Simon ate a mouthful before he answered. “Well, for one, I wanted to apologize about the way I reacted when you told me.”
“You’ve done that already. What else?”
Libby saw anger flick across Simon’s face. He’d never seen this version of her before, the one who spoke up to him, and he clearly didn’t like it. But when he opened his mouth again, his tone was light.
“I’ve done a lot of thinking over the past few weeks, and I realize that I was wrong when I said I didn’t want anything to do with the baby. You know how much I’ve always wanted to be a dad, and I can’t just walk away from my own child.”
Libby took a deep breath. This had been what she’d hoped for originally, for Simon to say he wanted to be involved. But now she was hearing these words, they filled her with dread. “So what are you proposing?”
“For one thing, I can help you financially. I know you’ve not worked in three months, so you must be running out of savings. I’m happy to pay my share of costs, and there’s always your old job at my company if you want it.”
“Okay. What else?”
“Well, I’d like to be part of the baby’s life. I’d like to see him or her regularly, have them for weekends and holidays when they’re a bit older. I’ve got a spare room, as you know, so I can turn that into a bedroom for the little one. I don’t want to be some distant dad the kid never sees. I want to be there on the football sidelines cheering them on, you know?”
Libby put a small piece of pancake in her mouth but her throat was dry and she couldn’t swallow it. She sipped some water so she didn’t gag.
“Have you thought about where you’re going to live?” Simon said, helping himself to more syrup.
“I’m not sure yet. I’ve been looking online for places to rent round here.”
He sucked in through his teeth. “You won’t find anything you can afford in this part of town.”
“I’m looking farther out as well.”
“Have you thought about coming back to Surrey?”
“No, Simon. Surrey is pretty much the last place I want to live right now.”
“Ouch!” Simon said, and he grabbed his chest dramatically as if he’d been stabbed.
Libby smiled before she could stop herself. She quickly straightened her face, but Simon was smirking in triumph.
“Surrey’s not that bad, is it?” he continued. “There’re great schools, lots of outdoor space; you have family and friends there . . . Plus, I’d be nearby, an extra pair of hands in those difficult early months. I’d love to be able to help you.”
“That’s not what you said before.”
“I told you, I made a mistake.”
“And what if you change your mind again?”
“That’s not going to happen.” Simon looked across the table, his blue eyes fixed on her face, and Libby had to look away. “I really do mean it, Libs. If you’re nearby, then I can be there to support you and the baby, as much or as little as you want.”
Libby pushed her plate of food away. “So, what are you suggesting, that I move in next door? That would be nice and cozy. The kid and I could pop round for Sunday lunch with you and whichever girl you’re dating at the time.”
She saw Simon wince.
“Come on, I’m being serious,” he said. “Rent is so much cheaper round us. Plus, my parents are there, and yours too.”
“If you’re trying to encourage me, that’s not helping.”
Simon laughed. “Okay, we wouldn’t have to tell your mum, then. But look, having a baby is bloody hard. And you’ve always been a bit nervous around kids, haven’t you? Do you really wanna bring one up on your own?”
“I’m not on my own,” Libby said as Dylan’s face flickered into her mind. What had he said last night? I want to be there for you. But that had been before Simon turned up, before she’d pretty much thrown Dylan out of the house.
“I know you’ve made some friends here, and that’s great,” Simon said. “But seriously, do you think some old dude and a guy wearing fancy dress are really going to give you the same support as your family?”
“Don’t you dare be rude about them,” Libby said sharply. “I can’t imagine they’re that impressed with you either after last night’s performance.”
“Sorry,” Simon said, raising his hands. “I just want you to think about it, all right? I know it might feel a bit weird at first, but people make things like this work all the time. And it has to be better for the baby to have its father nearby, right?”
“Have you finished?” Libby nodded toward his empty plate.
“Sure.” There it was again, that twitch of anger, although Simon hid it quicker this time. He stood up, gathering up his phone and keys. Libby stayed sitting.
“Right, well, I’ll see myself out, then.” He turned to leave and then stopped. “Promise me you’ll think about what I’m suggesting. I know things have been difficult between us these past few months, but we have to move beyond that, for the sake of the baby. Yeah?”
He stared at Libby, his eyes so piercing, she felt he could see right into her mind. For a moment neither of them moved; then Libby gave a small nod of her head.
Simon smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Good. I’m the father, after all. I have rights too.”
CHAPTER
34
Libby had arranged to meet Frank at the top of Parliament Hill on Monday morning, and as she approached the summit, she saw him sitting on his usual bench and staring out at the view. He turned to look at her as she sat down.
“Libby, how are you? You look tired.”
“I’m fine, thanks. I just didn’t sleep very well last night.”
“Tell me about it. I can’t remember the last time I had a proper night’s sleep.”
“How are you feeling about the assessment tomorrow?”
Frank shook his head. “I have to admit, I’m pretty nervous. What if the social worker asks me to do something difficult?”
“I’m sure they won’t. Besides, you’ll have Dylan with you for moral support.”
“Thank god. Clara’s coming down too.” Frank grimaced as he said his daughter’s name.
“Try not to worry too much, Frank. It’s not an exam.”
“It feels like one, though.” He exhaled. “Anyway, enough about me. How did everything go with Simon after we left?”
“About that. I wanted to apologize about his behavior.”
“Don’t you apologize; you did nothing wrong.”
“Simon’s not usually like that, I swear. He’d had too much to drink and—”
“Libby, it’s fine. You don’t have to make excuses for him.”
“But I feel terrible that he ruined the evening. Poor Esme looked petrified.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about her; she’s a tough cookie. Was Simon okay after a night’s sleep?”
“He was fine.” Libby stared out at the view in front of them. There was a heavy gray haze hanging over London this morning, and the Shard was barely visible through the fog.
“Did you have a chance to talk about the pregnancy?” Frank asked.
“Simon says he’s changed his mind and wants to be part of the baby’s life. He’s suggested I move back to Surrey, so he can be near me to help.”
Frank let out a long, low whistle. “Goodness. And how does that make you feel?”
“I don’t know. I’ve got used to the idea of having this child on my own, here in London, so this has completely thrown me. And what if he changes his mind again?”
“Do you think he might?”
Libby thought before she answered. “No, I don’t think so. He seemed genuine when he talked about it yesterday.”
“And what about you? What do you want?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. I saw how hard my sister found having a baby, and that was with a husband and a nanny, not to mention a massive house and plenty of money. I’m not sure if I can do it on my own.”
“Of course you can. I’m not saying it will be easy, but you’re stronger than you think, Libby.”
“But Simon does have a right to be involved if he wants to. He’s the biological father.”
Frank nodded. “Sure, but that doesn’t mean you have to move back to Surrey. You could stay in London and still let Simon be involved.”
“But maybe it would be easier to move back to Surrey, though? I could afford a bigger place there, and my parents are nearby as well as Simon. I’d have more of a support network there.”
“And what about Dylan?”
Libby looked across at Frank, surprised to hear him say that name. “Did he tell you what happened on Saturday night?”
“No, but I could tell from your flushed faces when you came out with the cake that something had happened.” Frank smiled at her, and Libby felt herself blush.
“It wasn’t just that. Dylan said some things . . . some amazing things. He offered to be part of my and the baby’s life.”
Frank was staring out at the view, but Libby could tell he was hiding a smile. “Dylan is a good man” was all he said.
“I know he is. Which is why this is all so confusing.”
“Yes, it must be. What’s that saying about buses? You wait ages for one, and then two come along at once.”
“Except in this case, I fear that one of the buses may no longer be willing to have me on board.”
“Why do you say that?” Frank said.
“You saw Dylan when Simon turned up. He was furious at him, and with me when I let Simon stay.”
“He wasn’t furious with you, Libby. But he was angry at Simon; there’s no doubt about that.”
“I’ve never seen him like that.”
“Dylan won’t tolerate bullies. Especially not when the person being bullied is someone he cares about.”
“Simon’s not really a bully, though. I mean, he behaved appallingly the other night, but he’s not a bad person.”
“Did Dylan ever tell you about his parents?” Frank said.
“No, why?”
“I’m afraid it’s not my story to tell. But I will just say that Dylan’s reaction to Simon makes a lot more sense when you know what he’s been through with his family.”
