by Karen Swan
‘So you don’t regret it?’
Lee hesitated. ‘Not for a second. I’ve gone through a lot for my son, but he was worth everything, all of it. I’d walk through fire for him. I have walked through fire for him.’
Gisele looked over at Jasper, resting her head in her hand, her eyes soft and hopeful. ‘Jasper, what were your best presents from Zwarte Piet?’
‘I liked the chocolate J best. It was as big as my arm.’ And he traced a line from his wrist to his elbow.
‘Wow!’
‘We ate it in three days. I had it for breakfast.’
‘Breakfast?’
‘None of my friends are allowed to have chocolate for breakfast. Their mamas say it’s bad for you. They’re boring.’
Lee gave a tight smile as she heard the sleight of judgement that was passed along in such comments; she could only imagine the arch to the eyebrow as the other mothers heard about her lax parenting style, her son’s reprobate breakfast habits. She knew those women already found her ‘odd’, as though her past life was inked like a tattoo on her face, warning them away. Was she too tough? Rough? Dusty? Did she intimidate them? She was never invited to coffee mornings, she wasn’t part of the dinner-party circuit. ‘Well, it’s all about perspective, Jazzy,’ she said breezily, drawing herself up and passing Gisele a bowl of olives. ‘What if chocolate was all you had to eat? Would it be bad then?’
‘No,’ he replied earnestly. ‘Then it would be good for you.’
‘Exactly. And besides, what do we always say?’ Lee continued. ‘There’s no point in delaying good things for later, is there? Later might never come.’
Jasper looked at Gisele. ‘Because you could get killed.’
‘Oh.’
‘Mama says we have to live for every single moment. I could get hit by the tram or fall in the canal and all the chocolate would be wasted.’ He looked over at his mother for a moment. ‘If I got killed, I’d want you to eat my chocolate.’
Lee smiled, feeling herself softened – rescued – by his words. ‘Thank you, my sweet boy. I feel exactly the same.’
‘Can we do the poems now?’
Lee groaned. ‘Only if I get to go first. I spent ages writing mine.’
Gisele looked embarrassed. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t—’
‘Stop,’ Lee demurred. The tradition of writing and reciting a tongue-in-cheek poem about the people sharing Pakjesavond with you was a charming one, but time-consuming. ‘There is no way we expected you to write poems for us. I need several days to do one as it is, so I certainly didn’t attempt another.’
‘That’s a relief,’ Gisele smiled.
Lee pulled the poem from under the chair where she had stowed it for safekeeping earlier. She shook out the piece of paper and peered at Jasper through her thick-rimmed glasses. ‘Okay. Ready?’
He nodded excitedly, wanting all the insults.
‘Alrighty then,’ she sighed with a weary shake of her head before glancing at the sheet and then back at him, over the tops of her glasses.
‘He sings like a trapped mosquito.
And his favourite food is a Dorito.
He has never made his bed.
And sometimes he forgets his head.
He loses all his socks.
And cripples his mama with his building blocks.
But his kisses are the best.’ She winked at him.
‘And he does remember to put on his vest.
So, Sint, please visit this good boy
And be sure to bring his favourite toy.’
Jasper laughed, wriggling into her. ‘I’ve never forgotten my head.’
‘Only because I put bolts in your neck when I was making you. See there?’ she grinned, tickling his neck and making him squeal.
‘Right, now mine,’ he shouted excitedly, springing up and tearing out of the room again, his footsteps thundering overhead as he ran into his room, before returning a moment later with a sheet of paper in his hand. He handed it over for her to read with a look of delight and she took it with a wary smile.
‘The Sint was just thinking, What for mama he should be gifting . . .’ She gave him a wink, knowing this was the kindergarten’s stock opening for all the parents’ poems. ‘She is often—’ She faltered as she saw what was written there, the words immediately blocking her throat, but she made herself go on; it was supposed to be a tease, after all. ‘She is often sad. He wants her to be glad. The answer it flew. And then the Sint knew. She does not need a toy! Mama must have another little—’
She looked up at him, dumbstruck, seeing all the excitement on his face, and the pride. ‘Do you like it, mama? I wrote it nearly all on my own!’
‘. . . Jazzy,’ she whispered, not sure what to say, painfully aware they had a guest. He had never mentioned anything about having a sibling before. She had thought he was happy, like her, with the way things were. ‘You’re such a clever boy,’ she stammered. ‘I can’t believe you wrote that nearly all on your own. Your teachers really didn’t write it for you?’
He shook his head excitedly, Lee’s gaze sad at the happy sight of him.
He wanted a baby brother? They – just the two of them – weren’t enough?
‘It’s wonderful, Jasper,’ Gisele said, stepping in and saving her, seeing how she was reading and re-reading the words, falling into regrets about things that could never be. ‘You must have spent so long working on it.’
‘I did. And my teacher said I was the best at sitting still.’
Gisele shifted position and planted her feet on the ground, sitting erect. ‘Show me how. Uncle Harry always says I have ants in my pants—’
Downstairs, there was a hard rap against the door and they all fell quiet. Then Gisele and Jasper looked at Lee, and her gaze fell to the clock, pulling her back into the moment. It was time.
Jasper knew it too, his body going rigid with excitement. Lee watched, seeing how real it all was for him as he jumped to his feet and began running victory laps around the chairs, unable to contain his glee. He still inhabited a world where good children were rewarded, where magic lived amongst the mundane, where little brothers could be plucked from shelves like teddy bears. ‘It’s Zwarte Piet!’
‘Or it might just be old Pabe having locked himself out again,’ Lee shrugged, by way of a bluff. ‘We’d better answer it quickly, just in case he’s getting cold out there.’
‘I’ll do it!’ Jasper knew he wasn’t normally allowed to open the front door onto the street by himself, but – as with Sinterklaas’s visit – she let him run ahead down the stairs. It gave her enough time to remove the carrot and drawing from his shoe and hide both in a high cupboard he couldn’t reach. She downed the milk too in three gulps, much to Gisele’s amusement.
‘Who is it?’ she asked, as the two of them joined him a few moments later on the doorstep.
‘It was Zwarte Piet!’ he cried, almost overcome with joy.
‘No, it couldn’t have been,’ she pooh-poohed.
‘It was!’
‘Well, did you see him? Which way did he go? Are you sure it was him?’
‘Look!’ He hoisted in a sack that had been left against the wall. It contained just one very large box.
Lee popped her head outside, pretending to look for him, and saw her neighbours Lenka and Gus letting themselves back into their basement apartment next door. ‘Oh, hi guys,’ she said in feigned surprise. ‘You didn’t see Zwarte Piet running past here a moment ago, did you?’
‘No, sorry,’ Gus said with a grin. ‘We just got here.’
Lenka looked up at her with her large round eyes – shy to the point of apology, she was nonetheless strikingly pretty – and Lee had to suppress a squeal of her own. Jasper’s excitement was contagious.
‘Oh well, never mind, maybe next year,’ she said, mouthing ‘thank you’ to them as she closed the door. She had asked Gus to help her out, when she’d been taking the bins out earlier, and he had timed the knock perfectly; being a single parent was
never harder than on an evening like this when she needed to be in two places at once.
She and Gisele followed Jasper back upstairs to the large open-plan living area, where he was kneeling on the floor, his empty clog in his hand and a look of disbelief on his face.
‘My God, he is quick, that Zwarte Piet!’ Gisele exclaimed with a shake of her head, coming to join him. ‘He must have been on the roof when we were downstairs.’
Lee smiled, ruffling his dark hair. ‘So, what have we got here? That’s a very big box to have just one present in it.’
‘I know what it is! I know what it is!’
‘How can you know? The box is wrapped. Did I accidentally build you with X-ray vision eyes?’
‘It’s the Nerf gun, I put it on my letter,’ he said, tearing at the wrapping paper so that it came away in scraps. ‘The Elite Alpha Trooper blaster with darts.’
‘Yes but Jasper’ – Lee frowned, her stomach lurching as she heard the joyous anticipation in his voice, saw it in his beautiful chocolatey eyes – ‘do you remember what we talked about? Sinterklaas doesn’t believe in guns and rifles and crossbows. He doesn’t want children playing with toys that glorify violence—’
She put her hand on his arm to get his attention, but it was too late. The paper was off and the contents lay revealed. He looked down in bafflement. ‘What’s Scal . . .’
‘Scalextric Extreme Speed? Oh wow!’ she gasped, trying to rescue the situation. ‘It’s a race track with remote-control cars. And look – there are four track options! I always wanted one of these. These are the coolest.’
He looked back at her, tears shining in his eyes; they didn’t fall, but that was almost worse. ‘But I don’t want a race track. I want the gun. Me and Sander and Espen were going to have battles.’
‘But Jazzy . . .’ Lee felt crushed. Had she got it all wrong? Imposing her views over his wants? ‘We’ve talked about this.’ Jasper pushed the box away. He didn’t throw it, but that, too, was almost worse. ‘Why don’t we open another . . .?’ But there wasn’t another. She had wanted the ‘wow factor’ of one big present; she didn’t subscribe to the overt commercialization of giving dozens of gifts.
She wondered desperately how to rescue the situation, catching sight of the gift Gisele had brought with her. It was wrapped with snowman-printed paper and topped with a red velvet ribbon and bow. It never occurred to her to buy ribbons and bows. ‘Why don’t we open the one Gisele brought for you?’ she suggested.
Gisele handed it over with a nervous smile, and Jasper took it with big, sad eyes. ‘Um . . . Lee, I just happened to have this already for my nephew. He’s eight. I was planning on getting another when the shops reopen; I won’t be seeing them till they get back from skiing anyway. If I’d known—’ Gisele whispered to Lee as he began opening it.
‘I’m sure it’ll be fantastic.’
‘Well, the thing is, I—’
There was a shriek of joy. ‘A Nerf gun!’
Gisele looked back at Lee apologetically. It wasn’t as big and fancy as the one he’d wanted, but it was still a Nerf gun. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she grimaced. ‘If I’d known about the “no guns” thing . . .’
Lee gave her best attempt at a dismissive shrug. It wasn’t Gisele’s fault. She didn’t know what it was like to have a rifle pointed at her; she didn’t know what it was like to run from a spray of bullets. She didn’t know. That was why Cunningham loved her.
‘I should have thought it through.’
‘Of course not,’ Lee whispered back, forcing a smile. ‘How could you possibly have known? I’m just an overprotective mother with an irrational hatred of guns. Honestly, I’m glad you got it. He loves it. You’ve saved my bacon.’
Gisele regarded her, knowing her hatred of guns wasn’t irrational. ‘You know, Harry always says you are the bravest person he knows. He says you would keep snapping right until the last moment; whenever any of the men he’d worked with would have stopped and run, he said you’d stay there to get the shot.’
Lee was taken aback by the sudden compliment, the unexpected foray back into her past. ‘Hmm, it’s called insanity.’
‘No. He said you were so determined to show the world the real horror of what innocent people were going through, you’d risk your own life.’ She smiled, remembering something. ‘He said one time he had to rugby-tackle you out of the way of a tank?’
Lee remembered the moment instantly. Kabul, 2012.
Gisele shook her head in wonderment. ‘You just look so . . . normal. And yet you’ve done these incredible things.’
Lee turned away, wanting neither the compliments nor the reminders. ‘Well, I was young, impetuous. I had all these high ideals. I wouldn’t do them now.’
‘Because of Jasper?’
Lee nodded. ‘He needs me to stay safe for him.’
Gisele looked down, cradling her bump. ‘Yeah. We said that to this one’s papa too.’ She looked up with sad eyes.
‘He’ll be back. He loves you.’
‘Yeah – but does he love us enough? I thought we were his reason to stay.’
Lee swallowed, her face hot as she felt a rush of guilt. This wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t his reason to go. She’d never asked him to go. She would have told him not to if . . . if she’d just heard him out, just opened the goddam door.
All she’d had to do was open the door.
She got up from the sofa with a tight smile. ‘I’ll just check on the salmon. I think we must be nearly ready to eat.’
Chapter Fourteen
‘Good morning!’ Bart said, swivelling round in his chair as Lee strode in. ‘Have we recovered?’
‘I don’t know, have we?’ she replied tartly, swinging her bag over her head and dangling it over her chair. She unbuttoned her coat, finding it surprisingly hard to meet his eyes. She had never let her guard down at work before and she hated that her assistant had unequivocally and absolutely seen her kissing Matt Hofhuis, his suspicions about them confirmed. She was never going to hear the end of it.
‘How was your St Nicholas weekend?’ he asked benignly.
‘. . . Mixed. A quiet day yesterday with Jasper but we ended up hosting last-minute on Pakjesavond.’
‘Oh! That’s not like you. Was it fun?’
‘It was . . . interesting. I’ve certainly never worked so hard on a meal for three.’
‘For three . . . Hmm,’ Bart mused, his eyes narrowing interestedly. She knew exactly what he was thinking and decided it was easier to let him keep thinking that. The truth was far harder to explain. ‘And did Jasper like his presents?’
‘Eventually. But let’s just say victory was snatched from the jaws of disaster.’ She had spent most of yesterday setting up ‘targets’ around the house for Jasper to hit with his foam darts. She looked at Bart coolly, batting the ball back to his side of the court. ‘Yours?’
He deflated like a balloon on a blackthorn bush. ‘Total nightmare. We went back to Katrin’s parents’ in Utrecht where, in no particular order’ – he held up one hand and began counting off his fingers – ‘their cat died, our car got a flat, the Christmas tree caught fire and my mother-in-law slipped on ice and broke her ankle.’
‘Oh God!’ Lee said, shocked and trying not to laugh.
‘Honestly? I’m just glad to be back here in one piece. I was beginning to think I was in an episode of Final Destination.’
She did laugh out loud at that, relaxing into his company again. She knew Bart was always far more interested in tales of chase than conquest anyway. ‘And has everything been okay here? No disasters on Friday?’
‘Not unless you consider the taxidermy shipment getting caught in customs a disaster.’
She stopped and thought for a moment. The stuffed animals were props for a Marie Claire shoot in the new year. ‘No. I don’t,’ she said, shrugging off the coat; she had far bigger matters on her mind than worrying about a stuffed hawk sitting in a crate for a few extra days. She wandered over to the coffee machine
. ‘Want one?’
‘Can’t. I’m on a detox,’ Bart said, proudly holding up a bright turquoise-coloured juice.
‘You?’ she scoffed. ‘Oh my God, that looks rank.’
‘I’ll have you know it’s spirulina, kale, parsley, apple and lime.’ He brought the cup to his face and dry-heaved as the smell hit him again. ‘Oh God. You get used to it. Apparently.’
‘I give it an hour before you break,’ she laughed, making herself an espresso and sinking into her chair, swinging side to side as she waited for her emails to download.
‘So, come on then. Put me out of my misery – am I fired?’ he asked, his eyes gleaming confidently. They both knew perfectly well he wasn’t. He just wanted to hear her say it, to admit the exhibition launch had been an unmitigated success. The reviews had been glowing, social media was alight with buzz about it, there had even been a report on it on the evening news . . . He’d outdone himself.
She looked straight at him. ‘Only if you mention the “new Bond”.’
A wicked smile made his face shine. Her instruction was also a confirmation of his greatest suspicion. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ he replied solemnly. ‘My attention is solely on these fantastic contacts from the “new Eckhart Tolle” shoot.’ He held up a folder and waggled it at her, walking over.
‘Oh . . . Any good?’ she asked casually, even though her heart rate had spiked at the mere mention of Sam.
‘See for yourself,’ he sighed, sitting against her desk and folding his arms as she took the file. ‘There’s not a bad shot in there. He’s a photogenic fella.’
‘Or I’m a photographer who knows how to get the best out of her subjects,’ she jibed, steeling herself as she flipped back the cover to look. She reminded herself she and Sam were, if not friends exactly, then at least not sworn enemies any more, either. She could look at the pictures of him with a professional eye; she could do her job . . .
