The Runaway Bride, page 29
The caravan… suddenly I remembered what I’d said to Aunty Julia the day I’d come home. Waste of money in the end… I only slept in it a few nights.
A few nights! That’s right, I only slept in it… I fumbled for my phone in a panic and shot a glance at the calendar.
‘Shit! Oh, shit!’ I stared at my ridiculous robot face in the mirror, the silver face paint patchy and smudged.
‘Shit,’ I whispered.
37
When I answered the door the next day, Laurel was outside, looking anxious.
‘What the hell’s the matter, Kit? I drove up as soon as I got your voicemail.’
‘Oh God, am I glad to see you,’ I said, throwing myself at her for a hug.
‘Is something up? You sounded terrified. Where’s your aunty?’
‘She’s away in Yorkshire for the week, sorting out some legal stuff to do with Nan’s flat. Are the boys with you?’
‘No, they’re at home with Andy. You sounded like you needed grown-up time. Come on, what’s up?’
‘Here, come in. Something to show you.’
‘Are you poorly?’ she asked as she followed me inside. ‘No offence, but you’ve looked better.’
‘Sort of, yeah.’ I chucked myself down on the sofa, Laurel parking her bum next to me. ‘I was throwing up most of the night.’
‘What was it, dodgy curry or something?’ She was smiling, but she looked nervous. It occurred to me that she might’ve sussed what I was about to tell her. ‘Or… is this about Duffy? You haven’t had a message from him?’
‘You could say that.’ Wordlessly I reached under the cushion and handed her the white stick with its telltale twin pink lines.
She stared at it.
‘Shit,’ she said quietly.
‘That’s what I said.’
‘When did you—’
‘Yesterday.’
She blinked again at the little stick, as if hoping to change the result with sheer strength of will.
‘You know, these things aren’t always right,’ she said at last.
‘I know. But the four I did before that probably are.’
‘Oh God. Then it’s really…’ She shook her head, anger biting through the shock. ‘For Christ’s sake, Kitty! How did you let this happen?’
‘I didn’t let it happen. It just… happened.’ I stared blankly straight ahead, struggling to feel.
‘Weren’t you using protection?’
‘Course I was. Mini pill, I went on it as soon as we started… when it got physical.’
‘And did you take it every day? You only need to skip one, you know.’
‘I don’t know!’ I said, anguish hitting me at last. I buried my face in my hands. ‘I don’t know, Laur. I thought I did, but we were on the road, you lose track of the days. And I was in hospital a while…’ I shook my head, disgusted with myself. ‘Ugh. What does it matter? It’s too late now.’
‘How far gone are you?’
‘God knows. We were at it pretty much constantly, could’ve been any time. It’s nearly six weeks since my last period.’
Her eyes widened. ‘What, and it took you this long to bloody notice?’
‘Well I was upset, wasn’t I? Wasn’t paying attention to time passing. It was only yesterday, with the sickness…’ I burst into tears. ‘What do I do, Laur? Oh God, what do I do?’
‘Take some time to let it sink in, to start off with.’ She stretched an arm round my shoulders and squeezed me. ‘Wish I knew how you manage to get yourself into these things, Kitty Louise.’
I shuddered. ‘Please don’t call me that. My mum calls me that – my other mum, I mean.’ I paused. ‘How’s she doing?’
She grimaced. ‘You really want to know?’
‘Might as well.’
‘She’s put her house on the market and moved into your old place. With… I mean…’
‘With Ethan.’ It was funny, but I didn’t feel anything.
‘Yeah. The family’s totally closed ranks on them since it all came out.’
‘They won’t care.’ I let out a bleak laugh. ‘They’ll end up throttling one another if they’re not careful. You don’t think they’ve genuinely fallen for each other, do you?’
‘I think they’re lonely more than anything. It’s so weird, Kit. Like they despise each other, and at the same time they can’t stay away from other.’ She shook her head. ‘God, can you imagine? What a fucking life.’
‘Well, the pair of them deserve each other.’
‘Are you okay, love?’ she asked quietly.
‘No. I’m knocked up and I’m single and I don’t have a job and my life’s a dystopian nightmare.’
‘But other than that?’
I looked at her. Suddenly, we both burst out laughing. It was so depressingly absurd, what else could you do?
‘You know, you could come home,’ she said after a minute, when we’d finally managed to get the hysterics under control. ‘They can’t hurt you now. And if a baby comes… it does, that’s all. I’ll be there for the two of you, and Andy, and my mum. And the boys ask for you nearly every day.’
‘I think… maybe for a visit. But I want to stay with Aunty – with my mum.’
‘Okay, I get that,’ she said gently. ‘So do you think you’ll… you know, keep it?’
‘To be honest, I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I’m still trying to get my head round how I’m going to tell Aunty Julia.’ A tear trickled out of one eye. ‘I hope she’s not too disappointed in me.’
‘Don’t forget Duffy.’
I frowned. ‘Jack?’
‘Well, yeah. You have to tell him, Kitty.’
‘But he left me. This was exactly what he said he didn’t want.’ I swallowed a sob. ‘How could he be a dad, the way he lives? He told me he couldn’t change. That he wouldn’t.’
‘That was then. Things are different now.’
‘He told me the day I met him that he hated to feel trapped above anything. If he changes, it has to be because he makes that choice. It won’t be me doing the trapping.’
‘Still. He’s got a right to know. That’s half of him growing in there, you know,’ she said, casting a glance at my tummy.
That’s right. It was, wasn’t it? Half of me, half of him. A little piece of Kitty and Jack made into a completely new, unique human being, long after Kitty and Jack were over.
That was deep stuff.
‘So? Will you ring him?’ Laurel asked.
‘I… probably. When I’ve decided what I’m going to do about the baby. Right now what I really need is time to think.’
*
Laurel managed to wangle it so she could stay a few days, which was all the time she could spare before she needed to be back for her business and her boys.
She tried to take me out of myself, dragging me round the shops in all the nearby towns as we looked for Christmas presents for Toby and Sam. Still, it felt like there were reminders of Jack everywhere we went. Tilly and Billy books were in every bookshop window as they put their most desirable wares on display for the Christmas-shopping season.
And there’d be a permanent reminder coming along soon enough. I rubbed my tummy as I stared at yet another Tilly and Billy display. Maybe it was my imagination, but it felt like it was already swelling.
‘You need to talk to him, Kit,’ Laurel said, watching the movement of my hand.
‘Not yet. Look, he made his views on the impossibility of a future with kids in it pretty clear the day he dropped me off. This doesn’t change anything.’
‘A baby always changes things.’
‘I know. But it doesn’t always fix things.’ I stared at my tiny, possibly imaginary bump. ‘It shouldn’t be used to fix things.’
‘Well, no matter what happens, you’re not in it alone,’ Laurel said, putting her arm around my waist. ‘I’ll always be there for you. And your Aunty Julia. She’ll be pleased as anything she’s going to be a nana, wait and see. Us mums need to stick together, eh?’
I flashed her a grateful smile. ‘Thanks, Laur.’
But the word ‘mum’ sent a stab of panic through me. It sounded so grown up, so real. Could I really do this, all on my own?
*
When Laurel had gone back home, I threw myself into work with a vengeance, desperate to think of anything but my pregnancy. I still had a couple more weeks of PA work before my notice period was up and I was free of Jack for good.
Well, not quite free, I thought, rubbing my tummy.
Aunty Julia was still away. I was desperate to talk to her, tell her the whole story, but first I knew I needed a plan. And I had no idea where I was supposed to find one of those.
The stuff Di sent me – always Di, never Jack – was heartache and sweetness in equal parts. A synopsis for his next book, so I could put a press pack together. Some images I could use as teasers on his social media pages.
I was reading an email from her and coping all right, I thought, until the very last image I opened. Flora, the nanny who looked like me, now in full colour. And it carried Jack’s familiar signature – our two dogs, sketched into a corner. When I saw the little cartoon Muttley there with her mum, I buried my face in my hands and wept like a baby.
We’d been such a perfect family, for a while. So happy. I found myself angry with Jack, with his stupid problems and his stupid grief and his stupid… campervan. And then I felt angry with myself, for telling him I loved him and making him go away. God, if I’d only kept my mouth shut, I’d be there now: reading while Jack cooked, Sandy’s head in my lap. Or taking an autumnal stroll in some pretty place, maybe…
But that was Ethan’s training, making me blame myself as usual. This was on Jack, not me. He was the one who’d run away, like the coward he’d finally admitted he was. Given up on happiness, future, love, because he’d rather hide than face his problems. And now there was a baby coming.
And that made it so much fucking worse, because it was no good now. The baby meant an end to any dreams I might’ve still been cherishing about us getting back together.
I mean, supposing I told him, and he said he’d try to make it work? I’d always know it was for the sake of the baby; that he was willing to fix himself for our child and not for me. How could I not resent him for it, in the end? You couldn’t build a healthy relationship on a start like that.
Ugh. Well, so much for distracting myself from my personal problems with work. Jack Duffy had intruded into my thoughts again, just like always.
I shut my laptop with a click.
It was getting late anyway. There was nothing in the fridge – I’d been doing a rubbish job of looking after myself since Aunty Julia had been away – and I needed to find food. I was eating for two now, I remembered with a grimace.
I wasn’t quite sure how it happened. I rang for a taxi, intending to go somewhere local to eat. But somehow I ended up at the Shepherd’s Rest, the pub in Keswick where I’d met Jack for the second time. The Shepherd’s Rest, forty miles away. I don’t know what I was thinking. It cost a small fortune, and I wasn’t far off being jobless. With a kid to support.
They did do an excellent Cumberland sausage. That was obviously the reason I was there. And if I happened to hear some news of Jack at the same time, well, I couldn’t help that.
The place hadn’t changed much, even though I felt I was a whole other person than the last time I’d set foot in there. It was still full of old tat and badly spelt signs. Young Ryan was still serving behind the bar, this time accompanied by a portly middle-aged version of himself who I guessed was his dad, Jack’s friend Matty.
‘Hi,’ I said to Ryan, claiming a stool at the bar. ‘Remember me?’
‘Yeah. Hiya, Ballgown,’ he said with a grin. ‘Looking a bit less scary than last time. What can I get you, another tap water?’
I shot a longing look at the wine fridge.
‘Just an orange juice,’ I said at last.
‘Hey, Dad,’ Ryan said as he poured, nudging the older man. ‘This is the one I told you about. Jack’s girlfriend.’
‘Just a friend.’ I ran a finger glumly around the rim of the glass Ryan had placed in front of me. ‘At least, I was a friend.’
‘Dumped you too, did he?’ Matty said with a sympathetic smile. Even his Irish accent sent a pang of sadness through me.
‘Something like that.’ I glanced up at him. ‘How do you mean, me too?’
‘He’s given us the brush-off as well. Not heard from him for ages.’
‘Did you used to hear from him a lot?’
‘We’d speak on the phone every once in a while. Can’t seem to get hold of him for love nor money now though.’
‘Do you think he’s okay?’
‘Oh, he goes through these spells,’ Matty said, waving a hand dismissively. ‘He’s back at home, most likely.’
‘In Scotland, you mean?’
‘No, Wicklow. Helping his brother Mikey out on the farm. That’s what he usually does when he gets down.’
‘What, you think he’s in Ireland?’
He shrugged. ‘Just an old man’s guess.’
A dull metal taste flooded my mouth. Oh God, he was out of the country! That meant a whole ocean between us. Would he come back when I told him what had happened? What if he decided to move back there for good?
It was horrible, thinking of him so far away. Even when he’d left me, it still felt like there’d been a bond; some invisible thread binding us. If he was across the sea, perhaps it had snapped. Permanently.
See, now I was starting to sound like him: all that nonsense about stars and the universe fixing things. I gave myself a mental slap for being so ridiculous.
Still. Thinking about him so far away, out of my reach, there was a sickness lurking in the hollow of my tummy that I suspected had nothing to do with my pregnancy.
Over the next few days, while I was waiting for my aunty to come home, I settled into a sort of routine. In the morning, I’d set myself a strict diet of not thinking about Jack while I sat on the banks of the lake I’d once sat on with Jack. After an hour of that, I set myself a strict diet of not thinking about Jack while I went through some of the publicity for Jack’s books. Then I went to bed and cried because I was an emotional pregnant lady who missed Jack.
The future still felt like a formless shadowland, the baby an unreal thing, even as I felt it growing inside me every day. Whenever I tried to think about it, my brain did a double somersault in my skull. Every night I went to bed hoping the answers would have become clear by morning, and every morning they never had.
At least I was doing a good job not thinking about Jack, I lied to myself. My broken heart was a million times better. A million. Maybe even a zillion. I was so focused on putting Jack out of my mind completely, I got a bit of a shock when I answered the door one evening to find him on the step.
‘Hi, Kit. I missed you.’
38
‘Jesus! How’re you… you’re here.’ I stared at the seemingly solid figure that had risen up before me. He’d been on my mind so much lately… ‘You are really here, aren’t you?’ I asked, narrowing one eye at the possibly spectral Jack.
‘I’m here.’
And I could see the mellow orange of the camper behind him, still with my little caravan hooked to the back. So I knew it had to be true.
Unable to help it, I threw myself at him. He gave a muffled ‘oof’ as my body collided with his.
Jack wrapped me in his arms and held me tight against him. ‘Oh Kit, I’m so sorry,’ he whispered in a cracked voice. ‘You were right. You were right about everything.’
He sounded so different. So drained. I held him back from me to take in his appearance.
He was pale, the stubble flecking his jaw longer than usual, and there were heavy purple bags under his eyes. He looked like a man who hadn’t slept in weeks. I felt a twinge of pity for him, pickled in the van with just his grief for company.
Then I remembered how he’d knocked me up and buggered off, and my hormone-addled emotions veered from sympathy to anger. On a sudden impulse, I swung back my arm and brought my palm crashing into his cheek.
‘Fuck!’ he said, rubbing the angry red mark on his face where I’d slapped him. ‘Christ almighty, Kitty! That hurt.’
‘You absolute bastard!’ I yelled, paying no mind to a couple of walkers who’d stopped to stare at this cosy domestic scene playing out in front of the classically Lakeland cottage. Well it wasn’t exactly At Home with the Wordsworths. ‘Do you even know what it’s been like, this past month?’
‘I know. For me too.’
‘Well good, since it was all your bloody fault! And then you turn up with that hangdog face on like I’m just supposed to fall into your arms. Is that it, Jack?’
‘You did just fall into my arms.’
‘That was reflex. Doesn’t mean I’m not fucking furious.’
His shoulders drooped. ‘So do you want me to go?’
‘Don’t you bloody dare. Get inside. I’ve got a few things to say to you.’
He hung back, looking nervous. ‘You promise you won’t slap me again?’
‘I won’t slap you.’
‘Promise? Because for a little lass you pack quite a wallop.’
‘You deserved quite a wallop. Come on, get in. I promise.’
‘Let me get the dogs first. They’ve been cooped up for hours.’
He opened the door of the camper, and Sandy and Muttley jumped out.
My little puppy looked very grown up, as big as her mum now. But she wasn’t too big to forget her old friend Kitty. She went ballistic when she saw me, bounding over and barraging me with a series of yaps that I suspected were Doggish for ‘Oh my God oh my God oh my God I MISSED YOU SO MUCH!’ Sandy tried to headbutt her errant child out of the way to get her share of my attention, wagging her tail so vigorously her bum was a blur.
It certainly lightened the mood. I couldn’t help laughing at their excitement, and Jack laughed too.
