A Million Dreams

by Dani Atkins

  I ran through a list of possible responses, from an inquisitive Where are you going, and who with? to a breezy Have a good time. In the end, I settled for a neutral ‘Okay’.

  Absently, I plucked up the envelope from our lawyer, turning it over in my hands as though I might be able to kaleidoscope the numbers in the total box to a figure I liked a little better.

  ‘Don’t worry about that bill, Izzy. We’ll find the money from somewhere.’ That was easy for him to say, as he stood there with his head full of his evening plans, but for me it was a vivid moment of déjà vu. Had Pete developed selective amnesia? Had he forgotten all those rows about money and unpaid bills? I hadn’t, not when they’d been the axe striking the final blows to our marriage.

  I shook my head, determined to replace an unpleasant memory with a happier one, which shimmered before me like a mirage. It had been a fortnight earlier, in this exact spot, when we’d given Noah the news that Pete was moving back home.

  ‘Temporarily’, we’d both emphasised in perfect unison, as though we’d rehearsed it. We were wasting our breath. Noah was focused only on the headline news.

  ‘Dad’s coming back?’ He had practically danced around the kitchen with joy. ‘This is the best news. The best news EVER. Can I tell everyone at school?’ he’d asked, running excitedly between us, not sure who to hug first.

  I had nodded meaningfully at Pete over the top of Noah’s head, which was buried deep against my chest, and he’d taken his cue. ‘It’s only while they do some repairs to my building, champ,’ Pete explained, using the lie we’d agreed on to explain his return. ‘It’s not forever.’

  Noah’s dark brown eyes had sparkled with joy, hearing only what he wanted to hear. ‘I don’t care why it’s happened,’ he declared, his small pointed chin – which he’d inherited from neither of us – jutting out determinedly. ‘You’re coming home, and I hope they never fix your mouldy old building.’

  Here, here, I echoed silently.

  *

  Apart from Maggie, no one at work knew about what had happened. Frankie had recommended that we tell as few people as possible, and that was fine by me. ‘These things have a nasty habit of circulating like Chinese whispers,’ she’d told us. ‘It’s better for everyone if we keep this on a strictly need-to-know basis.’ So when the call came through just after lunch and the lawyer’s name flashed up on my phone screen, I was reluctant to pick up at my desk where I could be easily overheard. I swept up my mobile and went in search of a quiet spot to take Frankie’s call.

  The only room I could find wasn’t empty, but I was pretty sure its occupants wouldn’t spill my secrets. I opened the door and slipped into the canine hospital room. Only two kennels were currently occupied: I walked past one containing an elderly Jack Russell, who’d eaten something she shouldn’t have, and stopped beside a forlorn-looking spaniel, who’d lost her litter of puppies. The dog looked up at me with sorrowful, watery eyes as I answered the call.

  ‘Oh, good, you’re there,’ began Frankie Burrows, sounding relieved. ‘I hadn’t wanted to leave this on your voicemail.’

  ‘Is something wrong?’ I asked, already knowing there had to be, to have put that worried note in the lawyer’s voice.

  She answered my question with two of her own. ‘Can you talk? Are you somewhere private?’ I didn’t think it was possible for my anxiety levels to climb any higher, and yet they managed to do just that.

  ‘I don’t want you to panic,’ Frankie began uselessly. A sentence that started like that was a self-fulfilling prophecy. All bets were immediately off the moment those words were spoken.

  ‘What’s happened?’ My voice was low and already quivering with emotion.

  Frankie was blunt. ‘We’ve got a problem. Someone has tipped off Bio Mum; she’s been given Noah’s name.’

  I swayed on my feet, bumping clumsily into the cage beside me. The spaniel looked up and then got unsteadily to her feet.

  ‘By who? How? I thought you said our identities would be protected – that she couldn’t track us down?’

  ‘To be fair, I don’t think she did. Someone appears to have sent her an anonymous note. It looks very much like we’ve got a mole somewhere.’

  Anonymous notes and moles; they were phrases out of a spy film, and had no place in real life. Except nothing about my life felt real anymore.

  ‘I had a phone call from their family lawyer a little while ago,’ Frankie continued, sounding more rattled than I’d ever heard before. I remembered her description of the bigwig lawyer the other couple had engaged, and wondered if he was responsible for the nervous timbre in her voice. David versus Goliath is a great story, but far less so if Goliath ends up slaying David. Once again, I seriously questioned whether we were with the right lawyer. ‘They’ve requested a meeting with all the parties present.’

  ‘But you said we shouldn’t do that. You said our case deserved to be heard in a court. You told us we wouldn’t have to meet the biological parents yet.’ Despite my best efforts, I could hear the accusation in my tone.

  ‘I know. And I still stand by what I said. We’re not rolling over and giving in to their demands. This doesn’t mean we’re going to accept their proposal for shared contact. But I do think we need to hear what they have to say, and sooner rather than later. The next anonymous tip-off might not be to Bio Mum, it could be to the press.’

  I felt cold, and then hot, and then very, very sick. I was leaning heavily against the kennel, one hand splayed against the wire mesh, as though to hold me up. Through the grid the spaniel’s damp nose gently touched my palm. They say animals know things, that they can sense when people are in distress. I was a stranger to this small dog, and yet despite her own loss it felt like she was reaching out to comfort me. Was that why I started to cry, or was I always going to do that anyway?

  ‘I don’t want to see them. I don’t want to see her,’ I said irrationally. ‘I don’t want to meet the woman who’s trying to steal my child.’

  I liked how Frankie didn’t tell me that I was being overly dramatic, or hysterical, even though I’m sure that was exactly what she was thinking. ‘I know, Izzy. I’m so sorry. I just don’t see there’s any way we can avoid it now.’

  I closed my eyes and laid my head against the dog’s cage. Everything was beginning to spiral out of control; I could feel Noah already slipping from my grip. It had been my recurring nightmare when he was a toddler whenever we’d been anywhere crowded. It was the reason that every pocket or handbag I owned had at least one EpiPen in it. Stupidly, I’d thought those hysteria-driven fears were a thing of the past, but today they felt frighteningly close again.

  ‘Would you like me to phone Pete and give him this news, or would you rather tell him yourself?’

  ‘I’ll tell him,’ I shot back, surprising myself by the assertiveness of my reply.

  ‘Okay. I’ll be in touch then, as soon as we’ve fixed up a date for the meeting.’

  ‘Fine,’ I said, my voice flat. ‘You do that.’ There was nothing left to say, at least not to Frankie.

  The spaniel’s eyes held a look of reproach as she lay back on her blanket and drew the toy she’d been given against her belly. She nuzzled it, as though it was one of her lost pups, and then looked up at me with almost human understanding.

  ‘I have to disappear. You understand that, don’t you?’ I whispered, my eyes so full of tears the dog was now just a blurry outline. ‘They can arrange as many meetings as they like, but we’re not going to be here to attend them.’

  17

  Izzy

  ‘What sort of surprise?’ questioned Noah again, from the back seat of the car.

  I concentrated on pulling out of the tight parking space, before glancing back at him over my shoulder. ‘If I told you that, then it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?’

  I was driving a little too fast and probably erratically, so I forced myself to slow down. I didn’t want to prang the car on our way home or, worse, get stopped for speedin
g. Although I managed to slow down my driving, the pulse throbbing at the base of my throat refused to do likewise.

  I’d been the first mum at the school gates, pacing anxiously backwards and forwards across the playground as I waited for the bell to ring and the doors to open. For once, Noah had been the first one out, a practically unheard-of occurrence, which I took as a sign. I’d been looking for them all along the familiar route from the veterinary surgery to the primary school. If every traffic light on my journey is green, then fate is telling me I’m doing the right thing. If they’re red, I should stop and rethink. I shaved a good ten minutes off my usual journey time, for every single light had read ‘Go’.

  There was a voice of reason screaming in my head saying that what I was about to do was madness, but I refused to listen to it.

  *

  I left Noah in the kitchen with a tumbler of milk and free access to the biscuit tin as I pounded up the stairs two at a time. The suitcases were kept in the spare room, and as I hauled them out from beneath the bed I could almost hear Pete’s voice pleading with me to stop. His belongings were all around me; the smell of his aftershave still lingered in the air.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I told the empty room. ‘I have to do this. I have to keep Noah safe.’

  I shut Pete’s bedroom door firmly behind me, as though his possessions were watching and judging me, and ran to my own room. There was no sign of the woman Pete had once laughingly accused of packing with military precision, as I darted between wardrobe and chest of drawers, pulling out random items of clothing and throwing them into the case. When the bag could hold no more, I dashed to Noah’s room and did it all over again.

  Whatever I left behind we’d have to manage without, and in truth there were only two things I needed. I reached for them now, my hands scrabbling through the detritus of my bedside drawer until I found them. Noah’s brand-new passport was like an unread book; its spine unbroken, each page a mystery of where it would take him. A mystery to me too actually, for I still had no idea where we were going.

  I stuffed both our passports into the back pocket of my jeans. Just weeks ago, I’d have had no means of fleeing the country with our son. The only reason Noah had a passport was because Pete had been planning to take him to Cyprus. Unwittingly, he’d given me the keys for our escape. Everything happens for a reason, he’d once told me. I hadn’t believed him at the time, but I did now.

  It was only in the bathroom, when I stood before the open medicine cabinet, that I forced myself to slow down the supermarket-sweep-style packing and focus on what I was dropping into the toiletry bags. My eyes ran along the cupboard’s glass shelves, scooping up inhalers, steroid sprays and an assortment of antihistamine medicines and creams. Noah hadn’t needed most of them in months, but I was taking no chances. Who knew how difficult it would be to find an English-speaking doctor where we were going?

  ‘And where exactly would that be?’ asked the slightly crazed-looking woman staring back at me from the bathroom mirror.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I confessed to her in a terrified whisper. ‘Somewhere far away.’

  Noah was young enough to feel only excitement as I thumped down the stairs carrying two bulging suitcases and announced we were going on a mystery holiday. By the time I was done, his case weighed considerably more than mine, because I’d squeezed in as many of his toys as I could until the zipper had protested ‘no more’. But separating Noah from his belongings wasn’t what was worrying me.

  I tore a single sheet of lined paper from a ruled pad and began to compose my note. Even if I’d had hours to write it, I doubt I’d have been able to explain my actions to Pete in a way he would ever accept. I was under no illusions here. I was about to do something truly terrible: I was going to separate a boy from the father who adored him, and I’m not sure my reasons would ever justify my actions in Pete’s eyes. He’d probably hate me forever for this.

  I kept imagining the moment when he’d walk back into the house that night and find it empty. It would probably be late. Whoever or whatever had been occupying his time lately had been keeping him out until almost midnight. Would he assume we were both in bed when he let himself into the darkened house? Would he look in on Noah… and find him gone? It was hard to dispel the horrible image of Pete tearing through the house, throwing wide every door and calling our names into the echoing silence. It felt so horribly vivid, my breath was starting to hitch as I drew the paper towards me and began to scribble the short note that would break my husband’s heart.

  I can’t risk letting these people take Noah away from us. Frankie will explain what’s happened. I’m going to the airport and catching the first flight we can get on. I’ll message you as soon as we’re settled. I’m so sorry, but I can’t think of any other way I can keep him safe.

  My pen hovered above the lined page. Should I tell him that I still loved him? Was this my very last chance to do that? But how could I write those words when what I was about to do was certain to make him hate me? I settled instead for signing my name with a single X beside it, and two fat tear drops that would have dried long before he read the note.

  *

  ‘Planes!’ exclaimed Noah excitedly as we drew closer to the terminal. ‘Is one of them going to be ours?’

  ‘Maybe,’ I said, my hands tightening on the steering wheel as I followed the confusing direction signs to the various airport car parks. Drop Off? Short Stay? Long Stay? Curiously, there didn’t appear to be one named Never Coming Back. A bubble of almost hysterical laughter rose up in my throat and I quickly swallowed it back down, afraid that if I lost control now, I’d probably never regain it.

  It was early evening, but the terminal was still buzzing with activity. I found a trolley for our cases and let Noah push it as I studied the overhead departure board. The whole world was up there on the screen. We could go anywhere; disappear off the grid completely if we were lucky, but then what would we do?

  I scanned the board, my eyes flitting from one destination to the next as I tried to imagine each one as our new home. Sweden? Italy? Istanbul? I knew no one in any of those places, and standing in the terminal among the bustling crowds of travellers, I’d never felt more alone in my entire life.

  We joined the first line we came to. In the end, my decision was that random. Two passengers away from the check-in desk, I pulled us out of the queue.

  ‘Let’s go and get something to eat first, and then we’ll buy our airline tickets,’ I said, with the false cheeriness of a morning TV presenter.

  I ordered burgers from a well-known chain and watched Noah devour his, while my own remained untouched. I nudged my bag of fries towards him. ‘Help yourself, kiddo.’ He munched contentedly on the chips, pausing only to ask the one question I’d been dreading all afternoon. ‘What time is Daddy getting here?’

  ‘I’m not sure, sweetie. Later, I think.’ The lie stuck in my throat like a swallowed marble, and felt just as dangerous.

  *

  It’s impossible to say when I finally realised I couldn’t go through with it. Was it when the young family in the second airline queue innocently asked us where we were going on our holiday? Was it seeing families say goodbye at the gates, tears rolling down their faces as they waved off their loved ones? How could I do this to Noah? Or to Pete?

  The sun was low in the sky, painting the huge picture window in a mural of reds and golds. Noah was nose to glass, transfixed by the constant flow of landing and taxiing planes. We’d been standing there for quite a while, and eventually I knew we’d have to move – locate whichever car park I’d dumped the car in, and go back home. But not just yet. As long as I remained inside the terminal, the future I had planned to protect Noah was still possible. Even though I now knew I could no longer claim it.

  Noah was spreadeagled against the window, a small boy-sized silhouette, but he spun around instantly the moment his name was called. My head shot up, as did my heart rate, as the name rang across the distance of the terminal once a
gain, cried out with an emotion I don’t think I’d ever heard in his voice before. A second name was called out. Mine. I got shakily to my feet, as Noah shrieked out in delight.

  ‘Daddy! You’re here!’

  Pete wasn’t a runner, but he covered the distance of the terminal like an Olympic sprinter. Noah took off like a rocket towards him, cannoning into his dad, who’d dropped to his knees, arms outstretched to catch him. Pete was crying. I could see that even though I was too far away to hear him. His broad shoulders were shaking, and his face was burrowed into the soft fabric of Noah’s T-shirt.

  Eventually he released Noah from the hug, but remained on his knees as I joined them. I had a crazy flashback to the day he’d suddenly dropped down in the middle of a busy shopping centre and proposed. Tears had been in his eyes then, just as they were right now.

  ‘I thought I was too late. I thought you’d already have gone.’ His voice sounded broken, and the guilt hit me like a bomb blast, rocking me on my feet. I’d done this. I’d caused him this pain.

  Tentatively, I reached out my hand and rested it on his shoulder. ‘I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go. I couldn’t take him away from you.’ Pete turned his head and buried it against the back of my hand. I could feel the wetness of his tears against my skin and heard him whisper huskily: ‘Thank God.’

  ‘Aren’t we going on a plane, then?’ asked Noah, clearly disappointed. He looked lost and confused. Join the club, my love, I thought miserably. I definitely had no idea what I was doing anymore.

  Pete got to his feet and swept the back of his hand roughly across his eyes. ‘You can still go,’ he said, his voice low. ‘If you feel it’s the only option, then you should go.’