Not Your Child, page 3
But fortunately she gave a little snort of laughter.
‘Well, for one thing I feel like I never want to let another man into my life for anything other than servicing my car or my boiler – and definitely not for servicing me—’
‘I know, I get that, I shouldn’t have said—’
‘And before you mention IVF or using a surrogate—’
‘I wasn’t going to. Honestly, I’m sorry, I just wish I hadn’t shown you the photo.’ I sighed, thinking that she probably wouldn’t want to have lunch with me again. I was surprised to realise it mattered to me. I hardly knew her, but I liked the idea of having a friend from work, someone who wasn’t exactly a colleague but was the same sort of age, as well as being in a similar situation as me.
‘Don’t be daft,’ she said, putting a hand on mine, and managing a smile. ‘I wanted to see your little girl. It’s nice to hear about her, too. She’s lovely.’
‘Thank you.’
Crystal took a bite of her avocado sourdough roll and seemed to give herself a little shake before changing the subject, talking about her job, about the flat she lived in and the fact that her parents were both dead, her only close relative a younger brother who visited her from London occasionally, with a different girlfriend every time.
‘I’m an only child,’ I said. ‘But my mum and I are close, and she only lives in Exeter so she helps out with Poppy. She has her every Friday so I can catch up with – everything.’
I explained about my self-employed work, and Crystal looked impressed.
‘You design websites? That’s quite a change – quite creative – for someone who works as a number-cruncher!’
‘I suppose that’s why I enjoy it: it’s completely different. I was always comfortable with tech; I like fiddling around on computers. So while I was on parental leave, I thought it would be a good time to see if I could make a go of it. I write copy, too, if clients want me to – for websites, and media like newsletters or blogs.’
‘Wow, quite an entrepreneur, aren’t you! I’m glad. I was worried you were going to have a real struggle – on your own with Poppy – if you could only work here two days a week.’
‘I will be struggling,’ I said quietly, and I put my sandwich down, suddenly losing my appetite, thinking about the spreadsheet I’d made that I still didn’t want to look at. ‘The mortgage is in my name – it’s my house; Jack moved in with me. My parents helped me get the deposit together, but of course, after I had Poppy and had to cut down my working hours, he paid far more than I did. Not only the mortgage repayments, but the bills, too. I don’t know how I’m going to manage, to be honest.’
I could feel myself shaking, panic threatening to overtake me again. What the hell was I going to do? I’d have to sell the house, but I had hardly any equity in it.
‘The bastard could at least have cared enough about his daughter to make some sort of arrangements, even if he didn’t give a toss about me,’ I went on. ‘He ought to be paying maintenance.’
‘The child support people can force him to, surely?’
‘They’d have to find him first.’
‘So that’s what they need to start doing,’ Crystal said, surprising me with the intensity in her voice. ‘They need to find him; he needs to pay. You’ve got to get everyone looking for him, Gemma. Seriously, he might have gone AWOL but unless he’s changed his name—’
‘I wouldn’t put it past him,’ I said bitterly.
‘Keep going with that anger. That’s what you need, girl, to get you through this.’
‘I’m angry, all right. With myself as much as anything – for ever thinking I loved him.’
But of course, I knew perfectly well that the trouble was. I had loved him. And if I hadn’t done, I wouldn’t have had Poppy.
6
CRYSTAL
That photo! That child! Oh my God. I almost wished I hadn’t asked to see it. I didn’t expect to react quite that way, but then, I hadn’t expected Poppy to look like that; to be quite so stunningly beautiful. I’ll admit it: it brought me to tears, seeing that beautiful little girl and knowing her father had turned his back on her, leaving her without a second thought. How could he do that?
Poor Gemma; I really felt for her. The anger that had almost destroyed me when I was deserted, came rushing back again. Her ex was not only a liar, he was a coward, running away from any confrontation, avoiding any consequences, not giving a damn about his responsibilities. I wanted him to be found, to be dragged through the court and forced to pay up. I wanted him to suffer. I was almost incandescent with anger on Gemma’s behalf.
But I knew I needed to calm down. If I was going to be friends with Gemma – and I now wanted that desperately – then I had to keep my feelings to myself. To have me ranting furiously to her about her situation wouldn’t exactly have helped her, it would have made things worse – and would probably have scared her off. She didn’t need to know about my own story, my own suffering. Even if she asked me, it’d be best not to go into details. She needed me to be supportive, not make her feel worse!
Of course, that wasn’t the whole reason I was going to be reticent about myself. If she knew everything, she’d have probably started to feel uncomfortable about me – about my motives, my reasons for wanting to be her friend. She might have not wanted me to meet Poppy. And I wanted that, now, of course. I so badly wanted to meet that little girl and spend time with her. And I could only do that by becoming Gemma’s best friend – without her ever knowing my full story.
7
GEMMA
Mum called me several times that week but I still didn’t tell her about Jack, even when she asked how he was. I said he’d been busy, thinking to myself that yes, he’d been busy all right, busy cheating and busy lying his way out of my life and into someone else’s. But then it was Friday again – how had the world kept turning for ten whole days since I got that fatal Instagram message? – and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to put it off any longer. I knew that when I saw Mum in person I was going to break down again.
‘Get your shoes on, Poppy,’ I told my daughter after breakfast. She’d been busy playing with the toy laptop Jack had misguidedly bought her at Christmas (personally, I thought kids started pleading for phones and tablets and laptops early enough, without us encouraging the interest. Or perhaps I was just finding fault with everything that reminded me of Jack, all of a sudden).
‘Not a nurs’ry day,’ Poppy said without looking up. I had no idea how she’d managed to work out, at such a young age, which days she went there and which she didn’t, but she was usually right.
‘No, not nursery today. Nanny’s today. Come on, you can bring that with you.’
‘Going to Nanny’s!’ she said happily, getting to her feet. She loved my mum – I guessed all children liked going to their grandparents, and getting all the extra attention and spoiling that we parents hadn’t got the time or money to indulge them with. ‘Come on, Mummy.’
She was putting her shoes on already and beat me to the front door, the miniature plastic laptop in her hands.
‘OK, Pops, I’m just getting the car keys.’
On the drive to Exeter she always looked out of the window, singing to herself and guessing the colours of traffic lights and cars. She was good by now with blue, or boo as she called it, always pronouncing it in the same way you’d do if you crept up behind someone. She was good too with black and white, and with red, lello, and green, although understandably, shades of blue and green – like turquoise – confused her, and grey, brown and purple were a bit beyond her comprehension.
‘White car!’ she shouted as one passed us. ‘Back lolly!’
‘Yes, black lorry, well done, Poppy,’ I called back to her.
A bus passed, and instead of any comment on the colour, we got the usual hearty rendition of her favourite song: ‘The Wheels on the Bus’. We always sang it together every time we saw one – and until very recently, Poppy had firmly believed a bus was actually called an All Day Long, because we’d sung that final phrase of every verse so many times. I already knew I wouldn’t be too sorry when she finally got bored with the song. There were a lot of buses on the roads around Exeter! But at least it kept my mind, for now, off the conversation I had to have when we arrived.
Mum was bright and breezy, as usual, when she opened her front door to us, giving me a hug and a kiss and sweeping Poppy up into her arms.
‘How’s my little Poppy-Pops now?’ she said, inspecting Poppy’s face for signs of any lingering illness. ‘Is she completely better, Gemma?’
‘Oh yes, completely,’ I said, and went on quickly before Poppy could start wondering what was supposed to be wrong with her. ‘How are you, Mum?’
‘I’ve got this,’ Poppy interrupted, pushing the toy laptop into Mum’s hands before she’d had a chance to answer. ‘It’s my fav’rite.’
‘Your favourite for today, is it?’ Mum laughed. ‘Come on in, both of you. Have you got time for a quick coffee, darling, or do you need to get home and crack straight on with work?’
‘I could have a quick one. Oh, look, Poppy. Nanny’s got the doll’s house out all ready for you.’
Mum kept some toys at her house, especially for Fridays, so there was always something different for Poppy to play with. She trotted over to the rug where Mum had put the doll’s house, sat down and started to take out and rearrange all the furniture. I followed Mum into the kitchen and pulled the door half-shut behind us.
‘I’ve got to tell you something,’ I said – and already my voice was wobbling, tears not far away.
Mum turned, her eyes searching mine.
‘What is it? Oh, darling, don’t cry! Whatever it is, I’m here to help – come on, sit down, tell me all about it. It’s not Poppy, is it? What was wrong with her last week? Did you have to take her to the doctor, or—’
‘No – no, not Poppy, she’s fine, Mum. I’m sorry, I need to tell you quickly, I don’t want her to see me upset.’ I wiped my eyes and blew my nose. ‘It’s Jack. He’s… left us. I had a message; he’s with someone else, he doesn’t want us to go over there – it’s—’
‘What?’ Mum demanded – and I put my finger to my lips, reminding her to keep her voice down. ‘What the hell?’ she went on. ‘He can’t stop you and Poppy going over there, surely? What, is he involved in some fling with some girl? Once you get out there, he’ll—’
‘We’re not going, Mum. We can’t. He doesn’t want us. He’s actually hiding from us – I don’t even know where he is, he’s changed his phone number, his email address, come off his social media, there’s no way I can even—’
‘That’s ridiculous!’ Mum exclaimed. ‘I mean, I know you were getting worried that you hadn’t heard from him recently, but – he’s changed his number? Changed his email? He can’t do that! He’s got responsibilities!’ I was glad, really, that she was so angry. If she’d started crying with me, it would have been too hard to pretend to Poppy, who might burst in at any moment, that everything was fine – as I’d been trying so hard to do. ‘He can’t hide away from everyone! We’ll find him. Leave it to me, Gemma: I’ll track him down, and when I do, I’ll give him a piece of my mind. He can’t just abandon you! And his daughter, for God’s sake.’
‘Mum,’ I said wearily, ‘Australia’s a big place. Even the Child Support Agency’ – yes, I’d contacted them the previous day – ‘doesn’t hold out very much hope. They say that if he’s stayed in New South Wales, there’s a chance he can be found – they’ve got a reciprocal arrangement, with Australia, apparently, but—’
‘There’s no but about it!’
‘But,’ I went on regardless, ‘he’s not stupid, Mum. He’ll surely have realised that if he doesn’t want to be tracked down, he’ll have to move to another state; go completely off grid.’
She stared at me, shaking her head. ‘I can’t believe this. He always seemed so… well, you seemed so…’ She stopped, lost for words. Then, shaking her head, said, ‘You’re surely not just going to let him get away with this? Did you have any clue? I mean, I know you hadn’t heard from him recently, but did he hint at anything earlier, in his calls, or messages – anything to make you suspect he was carrying on with someone?’
‘I haven’t had any calls or messages,’ I admitted, looking away from her. ‘It’s not just a recent thing. I haven’t heard from him for weeks. Over a month.’
‘Oh, Gemma,’ she said, softening, holding out her arms to me.
‘Don’t. Please, I don’t want to cry any more. I want to stay angry. Stay angry for me, please, Mum. It’s the only way I can cope – by hating him.’
‘I can’t believe it, Gemma. I just can’t believe someone can change so suddenly like this. Surely, whatever he says now, he’ll get in touch with you soon, and you can at least talk it all over?’ She paused, thinking about it, before adding, ‘But how did you find out, if he’s changed all his contact details? Did he contact you from a different number? Can’t you—’
‘His brother messaged me, without Jack knowing. The brother thinks he’s a disgrace – but even so, he still closed his Instagram account, straight after sending me the message, so I can’t get back to him. So, basically still loyal to his disgraceful brother, whatever he says.’
She nodded. ‘I see.’ I supposed the truth – that Jack really had dumped me without a second’s regret – was beginning to sink in. ‘And you’ve gone to the CSA. He hasn’t set up any child support. You’re going to need some help.’
‘I’ll… find a way to manage. I’ll have to. Working extra hours or—’
‘No. I’ll help you, obviously. So will your father. Have you told him? Would you like me to?’
‘No. I will, Mum – I’ll call him. Tonight, when Poppy’s asleep. I wanted you to know first. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you any sooner. I… had to pull myself together. And I’m not expecting you – or Dad – to help me. That’s not why I’m telling you.’
‘I know you weren’t expecting it. But we will do, obviously. We’ll pull together, Gemma, like we always have done. We’ll have a meeting, the three of us. Sort out your bills, and—’
‘I’ve made a spreadsheet,’ I admitted.
‘Of course you have,’ she said, smiling. ‘Ever the accountant – just like your father.’
Finally, I let her hug me, and we both tried – and somehow managed – not to cry.
‘I’d better go,’ I said. ‘I’ve got a lot of work to get through.’
‘I didn’t even make the coffee!’
‘It doesn’t matter. It was just an excuse to come in here, so Poppy didn’t hear.’
‘I’d better check she’s all right,’ Mum said, bustling past me into the living room, back in nanny mode, putting on her nanny voice to sing out to Poppy that the doll’s house looked lovely, weren’t they lucky little dolls to have all their furniture tidied up so nicely?
‘Thanks, Mum,’ I said. ‘Let’s talk later.’ I gave her a kiss, and bent down to hug and kiss my daughter. ‘Bye, Poppy. Be good for Nanny, won’t you?’
‘Bye bye, Mummy.’ She waved me off like a queen dismissing her courtiers.
‘I’ll bring her home after her tea,’ Mum added quietly. ‘So you can get as much work done as possible while it’s quiet.’
‘Thanks. I appreciate it.’
I thought about Mum as I was driving home: how she’d managed to stay on good terms with Dad after they’d decided to split up. I never really knew whose decision it was to divorce; they’d always kept to the narrative that it was mutual, that they’d simply wanted different things and decided they’d be better apart – but it had never really made sense to me. Neither of them had left for someone else. Dad had since had a girlfriend or two, but they hadn’t lasted, and he’d even admitted after the last one, that he’d kept comparing her to Mum and it could never be the same with anyone else. So why? What had they achieved from the break-up? Mum said she liked her independence, but I’d never been aware of Dad stopping her from doing anything she wanted. And it wasn’t as if they’d argued a lot. But I supposed nobody ever really knew what went on in other people’s relationships, even their parents’.
Jack and I hadn’t argued often, either. Just the occasional silly, minor dispute over whose turn it was to do various chores, like everyone does – especially once there’s a baby to look after, making more washing, more mess, more meals to prepare. Children do put a strain on a relationship, I knew that, but Jack had always seemed to love Poppy so much, and had always played his part as much as he could. He’d been gentle with her, never seeming frustrated by her crying, always happy to pick her up and pace the floor to get her settled. If we’d always been at each other’s throats, if he’d seemed unhappy with me or bored with life as a parent, it would have made it all so much easier to understand. But this – the callousness of it, the absolute lack of any care with which he’d apparently just moved on – moved beyond us – it didn’t make sense. It would never make sense. I was never going to get over it, I realised, and this did at least give me back the anger I needed. He’d ruined me. That was the only way I could think of it. I’d never be whole again.
8
CRYSTAL
I knew I had to take things slowly. I knew Gemma would think it was weird if I let her see how desperately I wanted to meet Poppy. But I was finding the days when I wasn’t able to see Gemma, to chat to her and hear her mention Poppy, more and more slow and empty. It felt as if Gemma had come into my life at exactly the right time, just as I was feeling so much better in my own head, able to cope better with how it might feel to be in the company of a little girl like Poppy, when just a few short months earlier it might have made me slip completely out of control.
