by Karen Swan
‘When I went out to Syria that last time, I already knew that it was going to be my last time out there. Because I already knew I was pregnant.’
He stared at her, processing, catching up, understanding finally. ‘Harry.’
She nodded.
‘You love him?’
‘Yes.’
He exhaled and looked down, then back at her again. He looked broken. Exhausted. Her hand went up to his face. ‘But I’m not in love with him. I never was. Never will be. He’s my best friend, Sam, he was my safety. But it was a mistake, we both knew it. We’d just come out of a particularly bad shelling – three days, four nights in Raqqa, constant bombardment. Barrel bombs. We were out of our minds with fear, we had to drink whisky from the bottle to stop shaking. It only happened the one time.’ She looked up at him. ‘Things happen out there, when you’re living minute to minute. They don’t mean anything. Sometimes it’s just proof you’re still alive.’
His face was so marbled with emotion she couldn’t tell if he was about to laugh, cry or shout. ‘. . . Does he know? About Jasper?’
She shook her head, feeling a wave of shame. ‘No,’ she swallowed. ‘I’d gone back out there to tell him. I knew he didn’t want kids, and frankly I wasn’t ready to become a parent either. I was pretty sure I was going to terminate but I felt we should . . . talk about it. It was his baby too. I wanted him to have a say.’
She pressed her tongue behind her teeth as the memories rose up again; they would always be horrific but now – in her third telling of them – they were a little quieter than before, less vivid in colour.
‘But before I could tell him, the ISIL attack happened and . . . it changed everything between us.’ She exhaled slowly. ‘I blamed him for what happened to me. I felt he had made choices that put me at risk. I was deeply traumatized and, for a long time afterwards, I couldn’t pull myself back from it. I never spoke to him after that day.’
Sam’s hands tightened around her arms. ‘He must have understood though.’
‘Yes. But also no. I don’t think he fully realized how his actions felt like a betrayal to me – how he’d endangered me – until he finally accepted that we’d been ambushed. He denied it for a long time and that just made it so much worse. I think it was easier for him to believe it had been bad luck – wrong time, wrong place; just one of those things that happen in a war zone. He couldn’t accept that his ambitions had played a part.’
She shook her head, feeling the familiar pressure in her chest. ‘So I never told him about the baby. I’m not proud of it now, but at the time, it felt . . . it felt like the only thing I could control, the only part of me that was pure. I needed that baby; he was the only thing that gave me the strength to keep going.’
She swallowed. ‘I came to live here, tried to build a new life and put all of that world – and him – behind me. But when Harry heard I was pregnant, he followed me here. He assumed, like you, the rapist was the father and I let him believe that, because I didn’t want him back in our lives; every time I looked at him or thought about him, it brought it all back. Jasper felt like my second chance at life and I didn’t want to share him, not even with his own father.’ Her face fell as she said the words out loud for the first time, the enormity of what she’d done, not just to Harry but to Jasper, hitting her finally. ‘I deprived my child of knowing his father, because of my selfishness.’
‘Lee, no, you were traumatized.’
‘But Harry moved back here to try to protect me, he wanted to make things right. And I wouldn’t let him. I was terrified he would take one look at him and know . . .’
‘That wouldn’t have happened.’
‘But it did. His wife knew. She saw it.’
He frowned. ‘. . . Really?’
‘I went to tell her everything – I felt I owed her the truth about why her husband had gone – but she had already guessed it. She had spent Pakjesavond with us, and although she didn’t fully process it at the time, she had a gradual realization back home that they shared certain mannerisms, a particular look. And once she’d had the thought, she could just . . . see he was Harry’s son.’
It was why Gisele had brought the letter over several days later, why she hadn’t had to read it. Much of it she had been able to guess.
Sam grazed the back of his hand down her cheek sadly. ‘And now Harry’s back . . . are you going to tell him?’
‘I don’t know if he’ll even want to see me. But he deserves to know the truth.’
He swallowed. ‘. . . And Jasper?’
She was quiet for a moment, feeling another pitch of nerves. ‘I’m going to sit him down tonight and tell him. An edited version, clearly. But it’s the right time – before anything gets out. He just wants to be like all his friends, he wants a father.’
Sam looked down. ‘Well, that’s . . . yes.’
She watched him swallow, saw the tension in his face. He had no claims here. He wasn’t Jasper’s father, he’d got it wrong and made one terrible, awful mistake. And yet fathers were made, not born – and didn’t she make mistakes too? She couldn’t deny the bond between them was natural, instinctive, close. If she deserved a second chance with Harry, didn’t Sam deserve one too? ‘So, as for letting you back in his life . . .’ she murmured.
He looked back at her.
‘I can’t make any promises; the cut might be too deep,’ she said quickly, before he dared to hope too much. ‘We’ll have to take it slow. Jasper gets to decide. It’s going to be a lot for him to take in, finding out about his biological father. There may not be space for you too. Not yet.’
Sam nodded, drawing back. ‘Yes.’
She saw the apprehension in his eyes and wished she could kiss him. She could see the longing in his eyes too and she wished it could be as easy as that. But she would not fall further than this point, not unless Jasper fell with her.
‘. . . So how do we do this, then? I just wait . . . give you space?’
She stared at him, thinking, desperately trying to think of how they could stitch themselves back together again. ‘. . . Well, what are you doing tomorrow?’
‘Tomorrow?’
‘Yes. Do you have plans?’
‘No – it’s Christmas Day. My father would never let us go in for it. He said it wasn’t Dutch so we never celebrated it.’ He shrugged.
‘Even better, then,’ she quipped, her smile broadening and a dark gleam in her eyes. ‘I think I’ve got an idea.’
Chapter Thirty-Three
‘Ah! I see you got the memo!’ Liam exclaimed as Sam stood in the doorway.
Sam looked down at his bottle-green reindeer jumper, complete with red pom-pom nose. ‘This was an emergency purchase.’
‘Was it, though?’ Lee teased, stepping forward from her spot at the island with Mila, drying her hands on a dishcloth. She saw the light in his eyes turn up at her voice, knew that he wanted to step forward to kiss her, but he didn’t dare – Jasper was on the floor across the room, doing a puzzle with Noah. ‘Are you sure you didn’t really have that lurking in your wardrobe, just waiting – hoping – for the right occasion?’
Liam pulled at his own jumper, raising an eyebrow. His had an almost-tasteful intarsia polar bear, Jasper’s a snowman with a sewn-on scarf, Noah’s a jolly Santa stretched over his own round stomach; even Pabe had been game for wearing the reindeer cardigan she had presented him with when he arrived, complete with jingle bells on the shoulders. ‘Apparently it’s an English thing.’
‘It’s not really,’ Lee whispered with a grin, patting Liam’s chest. ‘I just thought it would be amusing to put you in acrylic for the day.’
Liam showed her the bird.
She laughed, throwing the dishcloth over her shoulder. ‘Everyone, this is Sam.’
‘Hi Sam!’ they responded in unison, with friendly waves. Sam waved back to the room but his eyes caught on Jasper, who pushed back on his heels, looking over but not moving.
‘Hi. I’m Mila,’ Mila said,
darting over in the frilled pinny and offering one clean hand; her other was covered in flour.
‘Hi, Mila,’ Sam smiled. ‘Heard lots about you.’
‘And I you,’ Mila replied with an enigmatic smile before running back to stir the gravy.
Sam swapped a questioning look with Lee, who could only roll her eyes. The news of their last-minute guest had been greeted with high spirits by her friends, to say the least. ‘Liam, get Sam a drink, would you?’ she asked as she wandered back to help Mila. The turkey was already out and resting, covered like a marathon runner in tinfoil sheets. She peeked a look at the juices running clear.
‘What’ll it be?’ Liam asked as they wandered towards the bar by the window. ‘Champagne or a glass of Noah’s lethal – sorry, I mean legendary – punch?’
‘Oh,’ Mila said under her breath, watching them go. ‘He’s so gorgeous. He even makes that jumper look good.’
‘I know,’ Lee murmured, feeling her heart beat thirteen to the dozen. Had this been a good idea after all? Was she just fooling herself? How could she possibly stop herself from falling? She felt she was clinging to a ledge by her fingernails. ‘Wait – we are talking about Sam, right?’
Mila gave her an innocent look. ‘Of course.’
Lee narrowed her eyes, unconvinced. ‘Hmm.’ Liam had turned up with a suspiciously large bunch of mistletoe and had been in the process of trying to find somewhere to hang it when Sam had arrived. It was left on the table now.
Mila moved the roast potatoes into the warmed tureen. ‘You know, you’ve got quite a large gathering here today, for someone who three days ago couldn’t get off the sofa and hadn’t bought a single present.’
Lee agreed, baffled herself. ‘I know. It’s all just sort of . . . developed,’ she said, looking around her home with fresh eyes – the asymmetrically but beautifully decorated, squat Christmas tree in the window, Pabe sitting in front of the fire and talking with Lenka, Jasper and Noah playing on the floor, a bulging bag of shredded and torn wrapping paper by the window – not that the present mountain was depleted yet. The table had been laid with crackers across the plates; the colourful paper-chain links Jasper had made yesterday afternoon were now looped across the ceiling, courtesy of Noah’s long-armed reach and a half-ton of blu-tack . . . The house looked colourful, bright and full of life.
‘Drinks for the chefs,’ Sam said, as he and Liam came back with fresh glasses for them too.
‘Thank you, Sam,’ Mila said bouncily. ‘Guys, could one of you give me a hand with the turkey? I want to collect the juices in the gravy pan.’
Liam almost broke into a sprint towards the carving board.
Sam came over to Lee’s side. ‘Did you talk to him?’ he asked in a whisper, looking suddenly serious. Nervous.
‘Yes.’
‘What did you say?’
‘That I’d asked you to come for Christmas lunch.’
‘And? What did he say to that?’
‘. . . To be honest, not much – but he didn’t burst into tears either. So just take it slowly with him.’
‘Can I hug him?’
‘No, let him lead. And don’t overcomplicate things. He doesn’t need the backstory. Just tell him how you feel.’
‘Okay, right,’ Sam nodded, looking anxious.
She put her hand on his. It was the only touch that had passed between them since the Elfstedentocht and she felt the current zip between them. ‘You’ll be fine. I’ll call Noah over here and you can speak to him now.’
‘Shouldn’t we go somewhere more private?’
‘No, he’ll feel more secure in here. But it’s best to clear the air quickly. You’ll both feel better for it.’
He nodded, looking sick. She wished so much she could kiss him.
‘Hey Noah,’ she called instead. ‘Come here a sec, would you?’
‘I’ll be right back, Jazzy,’ she heard Noah say, ruffling Jasper’s hair as he clambered up from the floor. ‘What is it, Lee?’
‘Can you, uh, check on drinks for Lenka and Pabe for me?’
‘Oh, okay. On it,’ he shrugged.
‘Go,’ Lee whispered, pushing Sam towards her son, playing alone now in the middle of the floor.
Noah returned a moment later. ‘They’re on lemon sodas,’ he said, reaching into the fridge instead. He leaned in closer to Lee as he poured. ‘. . . That Lenka’s got a lovely smile, don’t you think?’
Lee’s mouth opened in surprise, looking over at Lenka and then back at him again. ‘. . . Yes.’ Unlike the men in their acrylic finery, the women had been freed from the dress code. Ritual humiliation for the men, Lee had explained, was an integral part of the English Christmas, but in truth, she had just wanted Lenka to feel comfortable, and to Lee’s delight, she had arrived wearing jeans and a striped sweater with shearling boots. She looked warm. And like she’d slept.
‘But she’s got such sad eyes.’
‘Yes, she does,’ Lee agreed as they both watched her talk quietly to Pabe. The old man was holding her hand, patting it kindly, and Lee could guess what they were discussing. Pabe had been deeply distressed at the revelations about his tenants. Lee had tried to console him that she’d not seen the signs either, that she’d been taken in by Gus’s friendly-enough demeanour, but he had taken it to heart; Pabe had already told her he intended to offer Lenka the apartment rent-free for the next year as some way to say sorry.
Lee looked back at Noah. ‘All the more reason why she needs a friendly face. Why don’t you go and talk to her? Tell her your priest and nun story.’
‘You think so?’
‘Noah, if ever there was a moment for the priest and nun story, this may well be it.’
Noah rolled his shoulders back and stretched his neck side to side. ‘Then I’m her man.’
Lee watched as he made his way over, folding with laughter as he accidentally trod on a stray Lego brick so that he concertina’d in height and hobbled like a goblin for several paces. Lenka was laughing before he’d even got to her.
‘Good start,’ Mila grinned, joining her again at the island.
But Lee was watching Sam, standing by the Christmas tree with Jasper. He was kneeling, sitting back on his heels, so they were at eye level, Jasper’s chin tucked in as Sam spoke quietly, Sam keeping his hands in his lap and keeping himself small.
Lee felt her heart hitch at the sight of them talking; her every instinct told her to run to her son and wrap him in her arms, keep him safe from everyone who wasn’t her, who couldn’t guarantee his happiness and safety. But then she saw Sam stop talking and the two of them stared at one another for a long, long moment, before Jasper hesitantly put out his hand for a handshake.
Sam’s mouth curved upwards as he shook it, the two of them beginning to smile a little now. Hands still clasped solemnly, still shaking, Sam reached over with his free hand and suddenly tickled Jasper under the arm. Her son collapsed in wriggling giggles against him, and then, just like that, they were hugging – Jasper’s arms wrapped around Sam’s neck, Sam giving him a kiss in his hair.
‘Oh my God,’ Mila whispered at the sight of them, one hand slapped on Lee’s arm and holding it there as man and boy continued to hug – until Sam tickled him again, sending Jasper off into more wriggling snorts of laughter.
Lee felt herself breathe again. It was going to be okay.
No; Sam glanced over at her with shining eyes and she knew it was going to be better than okay. Having utterly convinced herself she would truly never see him again – there had been no way back that she could see, no way she could forgive what he’d done to her child – it felt unreal that he should be here now, looking like he always had been. He just seemed to slot into her and Jasper’s lives somehow, unforced, unselfconscious.
She heard the doorbell ring downstairs.
‘Oh my God, who else is coming?’ Mila asked incredulously. ‘We’re going to be short on potatoes.’
‘Relax, it’s just a delivery for Jasper. I got him his own bike
. He’s been begging for one for months. He wants to be a big boy.’
‘They’re delivering on Christmas Day?’
‘Amazing what can be done if you offer to pay double the asking price,’ Lee shrugged. ‘I only ordered it on Wednesday, so they did well to even get it in for last night. They’ve put on all the bells and whistles for me and promised to wrap it in ribbons and bows so it’s ready to give.’
‘Mama!’ Jasper ran over to her, his eyes brighter even than when he’d opened his super-mega Nerf gun. She lifted him up onto her hip, but he was almost too heavy for her these days.
‘Did I just see you and Sam make up?’ she asked, stroking his cheek.
He nodded. ‘He asked if we could have a man-to-man talk. He’s really sorry. It made him really sad. He’s missed me a lot.’
Lee tried to keep her smile from being too wide. ‘Ah. And so how do you feel about him now?’
‘Happy. I missed him too.’
Lee let her smile be what it was. ‘Great. Because so did I.’
The doorbell rang again. ‘Oh damn!’ she said, jolting in surprise, realizing she’d been distracted again. ‘Jazzy, let me get that. I’ll be right back.’
Sam, still at the window, looked over at her as she ran from the room. She winked at him on her way down the stairs.
She swung open the door. ‘I’m sorry, so sorry, it’s a madhouse up th—’
The words died on her lips as Harry blinked back at her. He had lost a dramatic amount of weight, his hair was significantly greyer and longer, and his eyes had finally lost their laughter. A veil of tears shone in them instead.
Without another thought, without even another breath, she threw her arms around his neck, instantly sobbing as the past few weeks’ fear, and the past six years’ pain, poured out of her in a rush. A sound she didn’t recognize came from deep inside her, a wail of the type she’d seen from other women in other lands – mournful and ancient.
‘. . . Are you okay?’ she sobbed and hiccupped into his hair, easily feeling his bones beneath his overcoat. She felt him nod but she’d felt the hesitation too. ‘Are you all right? . . . Oh God, what did they do?’
