by Paige Toon
‘But I don’t want you to leave!’ I wail. ‘Barney doesn’t want you to leave!’ I try to get through to him, but he sounds so resolute, like he’s thought about this for far too long. ‘Please forgive me,’ I beg. ‘Can’t you forgive me?’
He looks at me and there’s sorrow in his eyes. For a split second I have hope, but when his answer comes, I know that he means it.
‘No.’
My insides turn to stone.
‘I’m going to join the band on tour tomorrow,’ he continues flatly. ‘I can’t fuck up another book.’ His tone becomes bitter for a moment, before reverting to dull. ‘I’ll be away for a week. It will give you time to pack up.’
‘Please,’ I beg again, getting to my feet and going to his side. ‘I love you.’
He meets my gaze and the warmth that I usually see in those dark-brown eyes is gone.
‘I don’t love you,’ he says. ‘Not anymore. And never, ever again.’
Chapter 16
Christian leaves early the next morning to catch his flight. He has a taxi collect him at five forty-five a.m., before Barney is awake. I stand out on the cold stone doorstep and wave at the cab driver to let him know his passenger is on his way.
Christian is in with Barney. He won’t wake him. He doesn’t want to say goodbye to his face. He thinks it’s better this way. Me, I’m not sure. But it’s not my choice; I just have to live with the consequences.
The door opens and Christian comes out, looking crushed. He walks towards me with his head down, but before he reaches the door he breaks down. I try to go to him, but he puts his hand up to keep me away.
‘I’m sorry.’ I’ve said it so many times it should be engraved on my tombstone.
He shakes his head and doesn’t meet my eyes. I go into the kitchen and get us both some tissues.
‘You could change your mind,’ I beg.
‘No.’ He’s steadfast. He vigorously wipes away his tears. He takes a deep breath and tries to compose himself before speaking. ‘I don’t want to lose him.’ His voice is wavering. ‘But I need some time. I don’t know how long—’ And then his speech cuts off so I hand him another tissue, my heart full of hope that maybe all is not lost as he dissolves into silent sobs. ‘I’ll be in touch,’ he says, and then he walks through the door and closes it behind him, without looking back.
I collapse onto the floor beneath me and cry so hard I fear my chest will burst. I can’t be a mother today. How can I be a mother today?
Barney will wake within the hour. I have no longer than that to wallow in my misery. It’s not enough. I need help. Johnny . . .
In a daze I crawl across the floor to my handbag and pull out my phone.
C has left me. Come as soon as you can
I send the text to Johnny’s phone and then slump back against the wall as more tears trail aimlessly down my cheeks.
He’s gone. Our life together is over.
Images begin to strike me, one after the other. Christian dive-bombing into a crystal-clear lake; Christian laughing so hard that one of the buttons on his slightly-too-tight shirt pops off; Christian staring across the bed at me after we’ve made love; Christian tickling my son to near hysteria; Christian holding Barney for the first time . . .
I clutch my chest and sob. It hurts so much.
Christian spooning multicoloured kiddie cereal into his mouth; Christian sitting at his desk with his back to me, typing away at his keyboard; Christian shouting in frustration when my baby talk distracts him from his work . . .
My sobs stop abruptly.
Christian storming out in a fury late at night, leaving me holding a screaming three-month-old; Christian staring ahead in a daze in the darkness of our Belsize Park living room after his book sales plummet; Christian missing Barney’s first birthday . . .
I wasn’t expecting to be bombarded with those memories. It hasn’t all been rosy. It’s been far from it at times.
I wipe away my tears and blow my nose before taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly.
What did Christian mean, he doesn’t want to lose him? He still wants to be in Barney’s life? It’s this hope that allows me to get up and pull myself together, and by the time Barney awakes at five minutes to seven, I’m able to function as his mother.
Johnny calls me at eight o’clock. He arrives within fifty minutes. I hear his bike, but wait for him to knock at the door instead of going out to meet him. I barely have the energy to stand up.
‘You shouldn’t drive so fast,’ I say flatly, looking at his chin. He hasn’t shaved this morning.
‘You alright?’ Johnny’s voice is sympathetic, worried.
I step away from the door to allow him to enter, but I can’t meet his eyes.
Barney babbles away in the living room and crawls through to see us. Johnny throws his biker jacket on a chair in the hall and I manage a small smile at my son as Johnny lifts him up into his arms.
‘What have you been doing, hey?’ He glances through to the living room. ‘Building blocks? Come on, let’s go.’
I close the front door behind him.
‘Do you want a coffee?’ I call after him robotically.
‘No, I’m fine,’ he says over his shoulder.
I go through to the living room and perch on the armrest of the sofa. Johnny sits on the floor with Barney.
He looks up at me. ‘Want to talk about it?’ he asks quietly.
I shake my head and watch Barney as he tries to put one block on top of the other. Johnny quickly builds a tower and then lets my giggling son topple it.
I feel dead inside.
‘Where is he?’ Johnny asks.
‘He went to join the band on tour.’
‘When’s he coming back?’
‘In a week. I’ve got a week to pack up, decide where to go.’
‘You’re moving out?’ He sounds surprised. ‘Where are you going?’
I shrug. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to my parents yet.’
‘When will you do that?’
‘Probably tonight, when Barney is in bed.’
‘I can take him out if you want to call them now?’
I look at him again. ‘Where would you go?’
‘I don’t know. Walk up the road, whatever you want. He might like to look at my bike or something.’
‘You’re not taking him on it,’ I say strongly, feeling like a mother again.
‘Yeah, right,’ he scoffs. ‘I may be a moron, but I’m not that much of a moron.’
I smile at him wryly, but at least it’s a smile. ‘Okay.’
When he’s gone, I pick up the phone, a different kind of dread filling my bones. No one enjoys disappointing their parents, and that’s exactly what I’m about to do. I don’t bother to go through the usual pleasantries, instead launching straight in.
‘I’m afraid I have some news for you and you’re not going to like it.’
‘What?’ Mum’s voice is full of apprehension.
‘Christian and I have split up.’
‘Oh no!’
‘What’s going on?’ I hear my dad ask in the background.
‘Shoosh!’ my mum snaps and I can imagine her waving her hand at him to keep him at bay.
‘Let me tell you why,’ I continue.
‘Okay . . .’
I take a deep breath and then it all comes out in a rush. ‘Barney is not Christian’s son; he’s Johnny’s.’
My mum gasps and then the disappointment comes.
‘Oh, Meg . . .’
This phrase is used time and time again as I go on to explain. I feel remarkably calm. Even the tears seem to have dried up.
‘What are you going to do?’ Mum asks eventually.
‘I wondered if we could come and stay with you and Dad for a little while.’
‘Well, yes, of course. When?’
‘In a couple of days? I need time to pack up, and also Johnny is here.’
‘Johnny is there?’ she asks in amazement.
> ‘Yes. He knows.’
‘How’s he taking it?’ From the tone of her voice, she’s not expecting a positive answer.
‘Better than I thought he would,’ I reply, still taken aback by this fact.
She hesitates before speaking. ‘I had no idea about you and Johnny being involved in that way. How on earth did that happen?’
‘It’s a long story, but we’ll have time to talk in a couple of days.’
My dad is obviously chewing at the bit, and we terminate our conversation so my mum can explain. I can picture them both shaking their heads in shock and displeasure. It’s a horrible thought, but it’s not as awful as I’d imagined. I feel strange. Why? I realise that some of the weight has lifted from my shoulders, and terrible though the truth is, I feel oddly free that it’s out there. I take another deep breath. I should call Bess, but I don’t have the energy right now. I could start to pack, but I don’t have the energy for that, either. I lie down on the sofa and cover my face with my arms. I’m tired, so very tired.
The sound of Johnny’s motorbike wakes me up. I leap to my feet, startled. I hurry to the door and out onto the terrace. Barney is sitting on top of the machine. Johnny has hold of him with one hand while he revs the engine with the other.
‘You’ll scare the life out of him!’ I shout in alarm, standing barefoot on the tiles shaded by the table.
‘Look at him; he’s loving it!’ Johnny shouts back, a huge grin on his face. Barney is indeed smiling his head off.
I watch them in bemusement, my hand held in a salute above my eyes to protect myself from the sun. There’s a hot wind today and it whips my retro floral cotton dress against my knees. I go back inside and grab Barney’s hat before slipping my feet into my silver flip-flops. I join the boys on the driveway.
‘Do you like that?’ I ask Barney as I pull his hat on. He’s too busy playing with the shiny handlebars to take much notice. The bike is a Ducatti. I recognise it as one of the ones Johnny used to have in his garage.
‘How did it go with your ’rents?’ he asks.
‘They’re disappointed,’ I reply weightily. ‘Have you been out here for long? I fell asleep.’
‘You must’ve needed it.’
‘I look tired, do I?’
He tilts my chin up with his thumb and forefinger and peers into my bloodshot eyes. My heart quickens.
‘Don’t answer that,’ I say hastily, pulling away. ‘How long was I out for?’
He turns his attention back to Barney. ‘About an hour and a half. We went for a walk up into the village and came back down about fifteen minutes ago.’
‘Did you take the buggy?’
‘Hell, no. You won’t catch me pushing that thing. He sat on my shoulders.’
I roll my eyes. Good job I put suncream on my son before they left. ‘We should probably go inside before we bake.’
‘Come on, then.’ He lifts Barney up and off the bike before following me into the house.
Needless to say, I don’t really feel like taking Johnny for a day trip to Carcassonne. He entertains Barney while I start to pack. Listening to him talking to Barney as they play together in the living room is a good distraction.
We don’t have many belongings, but it takes longer than you’d expect to pack them up. It’s the sorting through what is mine and what is Christian’s. I leave Christian with everything that we bought together – everything except for Barney’s things. I’m appalled to think of the money Christian has spent on a son he thought was his. I promise myself that one day I’ll pay him back. Not that he’d ever want to take money from me.
Johnny sticks around until dinnertime. I can just about manage defrosting some food for Barney, but I can’t do adult cooking tonight.
‘Takeaway?’ he suggests.
‘No. Thank you, but I’m not hungry.’
‘You should eat something.’
‘You should stop being so nice to me because it’s freaking me out.’
He chuckles. ‘I’m a nice guy.’
‘No, you’re not.’ I give him a look and he raises one eyebrow at me.
‘I’ll be off, then.’
‘You’d better go before it gets dark, anyway,’ I say.
‘Okay, Mum.’
‘I think you’ll find my name is Mummy. Now, bugger off,’ I joke.
He grins and touches my arm. I step away and pick up his bike gear, then lead the way out to the terrace. I hand him his jacket to put on and place his helmet on the table. He turns to face me.
‘You’ll be alright, Nutmeg.’
‘Let’s hope so, JJ.’
‘I cannot believe you just called me that.’ He takes a cigarette out of the packet in his pocket and lights up.
When I first met Johnny, his actress girlfriend at the time once called him JJ in my presence. He didn’t like it.
‘How is Serengeti these days?’ I ask of his former belle.
‘She’s married to some old codger. Film producer,’ he adds, inhaling deeply and indicating his fag. ‘Gagging for this.’
I ignore him. Considering he’s a chain-smoker, he hasn’t done badly today. I don’t want him smoking around Barney. ‘This isn’t the guy who gave her Footsie, is it?’ I ask. Footsie was Serengeti’s dog. It used to drive me nuts with its yapping and crapping all over the place. She chose its name because the man who gave it to her had a foot fetish.
‘That’s the one.’ He cocks his head to one side. ‘How did you know about him?’
I pretend to zip up my lips. ‘Never reveal my sources.’
‘Bloody Santiago,’ he mutters, taking another drag.
I smirk. Yep, his gardener/pool boy was the one who gave away that information. I wonder if I’ll ever see him again.
‘Anyway,’ I say. ‘I’d better feed Barney before he bites my arm off. We’ll see you tomorrow?’
‘Sure. I don’t fly out until the afternoon.’ He picks up his helmet and puts it under his arm.
My heart dips. ‘I didn’t realise it was so soon.’
‘I have to get home for a gig Dana’s doing,’ he explains.
Now my heart plummets. Why? I’m not interested in him. I’d never go there again. Not now, not after everything we’ve all been through. I guess I’d almost forgotten about his girlfriend. Of course, she’s going to complicate things.
‘Ah, I see.’ I try to keep my voice steady. ‘I’d better carry on packing.’
‘How’s it going?’
‘I’ll finish by tomorrow. We may set off when you go. Shit.’
Something occurs to me and I don’t even chastise myself for swearing.
‘What?’
‘I don’t know how we’re going to get there.’ How could I be so stupid?
‘Isn’t that your Alfa out in the driveway?’ he asks, confused.
‘No, it’s Christian’s. I can’t take that.’ I shake my head, adamant. ‘I won’t take that.’
‘Oh. Well, look, I’ll sort it.’
‘What do you mean, you’ll sort it?’
‘I’ll buy you a car.’ He stubs his fag out on the wall.
‘Johnny, you’re not going to just buy me a car,’ I say, frowning. ‘Actually, we can catch the train. Taxi to train station, yes.’ I’m thinking out loud.
‘Not with the cot and all your luggage,’ he chips in.
Oh.
‘We’ll be fine,’ I say firmly. ‘Now, see you tomorrow.’
He winks and pulls on his helmet.
Chapter 17
The car turns up at two o’clock, a dark grey Golf GTI with shiny alloys and leather interiors.
‘What did I tell you?’ I stare at Johnny, gobsmacked. ‘No! You’re not buying me a car!’
He rolls his eyes. ‘Meg, it’s like a drop in the fucking—’
‘Don’t swear.’
‘. . . ocean for me. Take the fu— Take the car.’
‘I can’t,’ I say. ‘I can’t accept it.’
‘Yes, you can,’ he says firmly, dire
cting the truck driver to lower the car onto the road with a flick of his finger.
‘And you gave Barney the watch, too,’ I point out, remembering the platinum timepiece that’s still buried in my nappy bag.
‘Drop in the ocean, Nutmeg, drop in the ocean.’
‘Stop calling me Nutmeg.’
‘Why?’
‘Just stop.’
He chuckles, infuriatingly. The truck driver gets out of his cab and comes over to us with some paperwork.
‘You don’t want to make him take it away again,’ Johnny says in a soothing tone. ‘Think of poor Lena, all the effort she went to, to find it in time.’
I glare at him and take the pen from the driver. Again I wonder what Lena is like, what she must think of me. I turn back to Johnny and point the pen at him accusingly. ‘Okay, but I’m paying you back.’ I sign my name where the driver indicates.
Johnny grabs Barney and swings him up onto his shoulders. The truck driver holds the keys out to Johnny, but he nods his head in my direction. I take them with building excitement, even though I don’t feel like I have the right to be excited about anything right now.
‘Come on, let’s go and see your mum’s new car,’ he says over the roar of the truck engine. A sandy cloud of dust puffs in our direction as the truck makes off down the hill. We walk over to the car.
‘What’s Lena like?’ Curiosity has got the better of me.
‘She’s great,’ he enthuses, breaking off to go to the front passenger seat. ‘Married,’ he adds with a knowing look at me over the car roof.
Married? Relief surges through me, but I’m instantly annoyed with myself.
Johnny climbs in and I follow suit. This car is left-hand drive – Christian’s Alfa is right-hand drive because we brought it from the UK – but it shouldn’t be too hard to get used to the change.
Barney sits on Johnny’s knee and leans forward to press the dials and knobs on the dashboard. I glance at him, so comfortable on the knee of someone he hardly knows. A child’s innocence. I hope it’s true that young children adapt quickly to new situations. I hope so with all my heart.
I don’t want to stay another night in our house without Christian, so Johnny helps me switch the car seats from Christian’s Alfa and load up all our bags – most of which are the plastic shopping variety as only one of our suitcases is actually mine. I’ve told Barney we’re going to stay with Nanny and Grandad, and he’s too young to understand it’s anything out of the ordinary. Earlier I asked Johnny to take Barney out for a walk while I tidied the house for Christian; it’s going to be hard enough for him walking back into it empty. I write him a letter and leave it on the coffee table in the living room. There’s nothing in it that I haven’t already said, but I want him to have something solid that reminds him how much I love him and how sorry I am. I hope he reads it before tearing it up.
