“No, she is,” Sheila had said sharply. “I know you finished it when you found out she was married. I know the truth, my love. So do you. You had no idea who she was when you started it. It might not even be yours, Joe.”
He shrugged. Joe couldn’t tell her that the only part of it that made sense was the fact that he knew he had to do the right thing. She was having his baby. A person to hold in his arms, to look after, to help into the world. He was going to do it right this time. This baby would have a proper dad—they’d see him every day, he’d make it the best packed lunches in the whole country, he’d live next door, so close he could hear if they woke in the night. Maybe it wasn’t the most conventional way to bring a child into the world, but they’d make it work.
She shifted on the sofa, not looking at him. Joe saw her purplish, bloated ankles, the yellowing rings under her eyes, saw her hand shift under her back to knead the aching muscles that supported her huge belly. Sympathy flooded through him. He couldn’t screw this up, not again.
He put his hand tentatively on her shoulder.
“Go on, Karen. It’ll do you good to get out of the house.”
“I’m just worried about bumping into . . . anyone.”
She didn’t want to meet Bill, or any of the others, for that matter. That lot.
“I know. But it’s going to happen at some point. I’m here, aren’t I? Come on, Karen, love. I’ll walk slowly. It’ll help. And I’ll run you a bath when we get back and make you your tea. You’ll sleep much better and you’ll wake up feeling much better. I promise.”
“Oh, Joe. Thank you.” Karen’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t deserve you, I really don’t. . . .” She gave a big, juddering sigh. “Sorry.”
“Don’t start that up again,” Joe said lightly. He came round the sofa. “Listen. I know it’s not ideal, but we’re going to make this work, aren’t we?”
“Dead right we are.” She swung her legs off the sofa. “Okay, I’d love to come for a walk with you. Let’s go.”
• • •
It was the first really warm weekend of the year. As they went slowly up the high street, the faint smell of blossom and barbecue hung in the air. He sniffed, and she laughed.
“Two nicest smells in the world,” she said. “I could murder a hamburger right now.”
“I’ll make you one later.”
Karen hesitated. “That’d be lovely. Thanks, Joe.”
He kept trying to make her things, to feed her up, to give her what she wanted so she’d be happy and he wouldn’t have to listen to her stifling her sobs in the bathroom at night, radio turned up, water draining. But his first macaroni and cheese had truffle oil in it, which made her sick. His passion fruit cheesecake was too “passion-fruity,” she’d said. “I just like it plain. Sorry, love.” He made her pizza, but she didn’t like peppers and thought it was too thin. They’d at least laughed about it then.
He touched her arm softly. “Hey, I know you don’t like talking about it, but what else do we have to get, do you think?”
“It’s okay. I’m on it now. I’ve even done a spreadsheet.” They both smiled. “I think we just need a few more onesies and then we’re set. Mum’s got some stuff back in Formby—she’ll bring it down after it’s born.” She looked up at him. “By the way, it is okay if she stays for a while? I mean, the pair of us have no idea what we’re doing, have we?”
“Well, with Jamie—” he began, then stopped. “But, yeah, it was probably all completely different.”
She shook her head. “Of course. I always forget you know all this already. Sorry.”
“I don’t mean that, no, it’s great if your mum wants to come down.”
Karen stopped in the middle of the street by the war memorial. She stood up on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. “Oh, Joe. You know, you’re a good man. A lovely, good man.”
Her bump was in the way, and they laughed as he twisted around and pecked her cheek back. “You too. A lovely, good woman. You’re going to be a great mum.”
She smiled, and sank down on the bench by the memorial. “My back’s killing me, Joe. I might just stay here for a bit.”
“Joe Thorne!” someone called, and Joe and Karen froze, as if caught in the act of doing something wrong. A little boy was racing toward them. “Joe Thorne, hello! Hello!”
Joe squinted. “Luke?”
Luke’s hair was long, and crazy from running in the wind. He stood in front of them both, panting. “Hi! Hi, Karen,” he said, looking at Karen. “You have a baby in your tummy.”
His inflection was slightly French, and it sounded like a question. “Yes,” Karen said. “It’s going to come out in a few weeks—” She stopped as she saw Joe’s face, and followed his gaze as it traced the two figures who’d appeared around the bend down the hill.
Martha was carrying a string shopping bag containing an open carton of eggs, smeared with muck and straw, and she was telling a story, her hands animated. Beside her walked Cat. She held a bunch of wildflowers, frothing Queen Anne’s lace, yellow cowslips, bright red campion. She was covered in goosegrass, stuck to her blue sweater, in her hair, on her jeans. Martha reached the punch line, knocking her fists together, and Cat threw her head back with a loud, throaty laugh.
Joe stared, transfixed, as the two women caught sight of them and halted by the bench.
“Hello, Joe,” Martha said politely. “Karen, my dear. How are you? You look well.”
She had such a graceful way about her, a kind of calmness. He’d seen her in the village lately, face knitted all wrong, mouth pursed, eyes tight with anger, glazed as if she wasn’t there. Now she looked—looser. As if someone had released the strings that had kept her tight, like a puppet.
“I’m fine, thanks,” Karen said politely. “Not long now . . .” She trailed off awkwardly.
“Yes,” said Joe staunchly. He could hardly tear his eyes away from Cat, though he knew he had to; it must be obvious to everyone else, mustn’t it? This juddering, wild sensation of coming alive at seeing her again. When they’d met at the playground she’d been so pale, so thin, so sad. A bare tree in winter. He’d pushed her firmly from his mind since. How he wanted to fold her into his arms, feed her, take her for long, hearty walks that put the pink back into her cheeks.
He was ashamed of himself, then and now, for thinking like that. With a huge effort, he shut his eyes briefly, turning to Karen. “We’re very excited,” he said, nodding at her.
“That’s wonderful,” Martha said. Her tone was entirely neutral, though she smiled at Karen in a friendly way.
“I heard Florence won her case,” Karen said, resting her hands on her bump. “That’s great. She coming down soon?”
Martha’s calm expression clouded momentarily. “I—I don’t know. Her friend Jim says she flew back to Italy yesterday. I need to get hold of her. I keep trying her and she doesn’t answer.” She smiled. “But, yes, she won, and we need to get her back here.”
“He sounded like a right berk, that bloke.”
“Yes, indeed, I think he was,” she said, smiling. “She was awfully brave, wasn’t she? It’s just like Florence.”
“Florence! Florence!” Luke chanted, then stopped and looked at Karen. “When are you having the baby?”
“In about three weeks,” said Karen. “Supposedly.”
“Where’s Bill?”
Biting her lip, Cat stepped forward. “You look great, Karen.” She kissed her on the cheek and said frankly, “Look, I’m sorry I haven’t been over yet. I’ve felt a bit awkward and wasn’t sure what the deal was, and whether you’d want to see any of us.”
Karen swallowed. “Oh—Cat. Thanks. Of course I—it’s . . .” She looked nervously at Martha. “It’s difficult, and I can appreciate that—I’m so . . .” Her hand flew to her throat and then she said, “I didn’t know you were back.”
“Been back more than a fortnight now,” Cat said. “We’ve decided to move in with Gran, haven’t we, Luke?”
Luke smiled. “Yes. We live here now! I don’t ever have to see François again. He has smelly feet and he bites people. He bit me, and he bit Josef.”
“Well, but that’s not why we left.”
“Why did you leave?” Karen asked. “Quite sudden, wasn’t it?”
Cat grimaced. “When you know you can do something, you have to go for it.” She shrugged, and then smiled again. “Sounds mad, I know. I sound like a hippie when I start trying to explain it.”
“No, it makes sense,” Karen said slowly. Joe looked at her curiously: Karen was the least likely hippie in the whole world. “What are you going to do, then? For a job, I mean.”
“No idea.” Cat made a face. “I have to find something soon, though. I want to open a nursery garden eventually. Herbs and greens for eating, lavender and roses for oils, that kind of thing. A café, soft play area.” She smiled. “Anyway, it’s a pipe dream, but one day. Gran and I have talked about doing it at Winterfold maybe. I just need to find some work first.”
Martha said, “I keep telling you, you don’t need to work for a while, Cat. Take a few months, relax, decide what you want to do.”
But Cat replied firmly, “I’ve always worked. I can’t leech off you forever. I couldn’t just sit around not doing anything. For Luke’s sake. I have to plan.”
He heard himself say, “There’s a job going at the pub, if you’ve waitress experience.”
“Yes, absolutely.” She looked amazed. “You serious?”
“We’re pretty busy. Yeah. Are you sure? What about the gardening, market stall thing?”
“All in good time. I want to get Luke settled in at school, work out what we do, before I plunge in. Why, do you want advice on a kitchen garden? You should do it, that’s my advice.” She put her head on one side, looking at him. “Joe, this job sounds perfect. Thank you. Should I ring—”
“Yeah, ring Sheila,” Joe said, too loudly. “But I would like your advice on a kitchen garden too. That’s our next—”
But he stopped, unable to say more. It was true, but it sounded too neat.
“Look, I’m not going to make it much farther,” said Karen. She stood up, leaning on Joe. “Why don’t you two go and find Sheila and talk about it, and I’ll go back and have a nap? How’s that sound?”
“I can take Luke back, if you like,” said Martha.
Luke jumped up, grabbing Joe’s other hand. “Joe, we slept in the woods last weekend. Mum and I built a tent.”
“It was awful,” Cat said. “I didn’t sleep a wink. I’d forgotten how sad the owls sound. And there were all these rustling things around us. And bats. Everywhere.” Her lips parted in a big, easy smile. “I love being in the garden more than anything in the world, but I’m not cut out for camping in the woods. Never was. Poor Luke.”
Joe said, “Hey, Luke—I love camping. I’d go with you.” Karen looked up at him, and he felt himself blushing. No. You have a son. They don’t need you. Karen needs you. “I mean—sometime. I’d love to.”
“Next weekend? How about next weekend?”
Cat bent down. “Luke, Joe’s going to be very busy because he’s having a baby soon. Maybe later this summer he’ll take you, or when Jamie’s down. Remember Jamie? You could all go together.”
Luke nodded. He smiled at Joe. Joe wanted to cry then, to hug Luke close to him, just to feel his slim frame and inhale his small-boy smell, to have one small moment when he might just believe it was Jamie he was hugging, Jamie who was here with him. He swallowed, looked up and met Cat’s eyes. She was staring at him, squinting in the sunshine, a flush on her cheeks, but she glanced away immediately, pulling another string bag from her pocket.
“We were going to pick some elderflower for cordial, but it’s too early. Stupid of us—I’ve forgotten my country ways. Well”—she glanced at Martha—“if you’re sure, Gran.”
“Very sure,” said Martha. “I’ll try Florence again. See you later. Good luck!”
• • •
“I think it’s going to work out very well,” Sheila said. She threw a tea towel over her shoulder. “I’m so glad you came in, Cat. Honestly. I never knew you had waitress experience.”
“I’ve done it all,” said Cat, sitting down at the table by the bar. “Thanks for this.” She took a gulp of the large glass of white wine Sheila had given her. “There’s something truly wicked about drinking for no reason in the afternoon.”
“There’s a reason,” said Joe. “No more Sheila trying to waitress, which is an extremely painful process to watch, I can tell you.”
“Leave it, Joe Thorne. Just you try it,” Sheila said. Cat laughed loudly, and Sheila smiled at her. “It’s lovely to have you back, my dear. I’ll leave you two. Let me know when you want to talk about the kitchen garden, Cat. I’d love to think some more about it.” She walked off almost abruptly, leaving Joe standing beside the table.
Cat gestured. “Aren’t you going to join me? I can’t sit here drinking alone.” He glanced at his watch. “Oh. You’ve probably got loads to do before dinner service.” She shuffled along the bench. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“No—no.” Joe put his hand on the table. “I’m good for a while. Please, don’t go.” He poured himself a glass from the fridge behind the bar and sat down opposite her. “Cheers,” he said. “To new beginnings.”
“In more ways than one,” she said, clinking his glass. “Good luck with . . . with baby Joe or Karen.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear and then held the glass by the stem, looking into the yellowy-green liquid. It was very quiet in the bar, warm sun streaming as far as the floorboards behind them but not making it all the way to their table, next to the kitchen. He let his gaze rest on her for a moment. Her thin fingers, short stubby nails, the faint lines around her eyes. She had a few freckles on her nose, he’d never noticed them. He didn’t really know her. At all. He cleared his throat.
“We’re excited. Both of us.”
“I thought you were an item, you and Karen,” she said frankly. “Gran says you’re not.”
“Oh. Well—no. She’s living with me.”
“Of course.”
“And I’m helping her with the baby.”
“Yes.”
Joe said steadily, “We’re in it together. We’ll probably buy the cottage down the road and knock through so I’m next door but I’m there all the time. You know . . . I can pick him or her up from school when she’s working late, that sort of thing.”
“That sounds like a very good plan,” said Cat. She nodded, then smiled. “You know—oh, I shouldn’t say it.”
“Go on,” Joe said, intrigued.
She drank some more wine. “This is going straight to my head. Last time I drank a bit too much, I ended up kissing you.”
“Well—I liked it,” he said. “For what it’s worth.”
“I did too.” Their eyes met over the wine and they both smiled. “I just wanted to say . . . I’m sorry I was so rude to you. I thought you were a bit of a sleazebag. And maybe you’re not.”
He shrugged. “I’ve let so many people down. It’s not great.”
“How so? Who?”
Joe shook his head. He didn’t want to get into it. “Never mind.”
He wished he could be the man who said what he was feeling. He looked at her, imagining saying the words: I’m sorry I dicked you around. I was a total idiot. Karen’s gorgeous and funny and we had fun and we really were a comfort to each other, before I found out she was married. I like her. But I like you even more. I like everything about you, your smile, the way you think, the way you frown because you’re afraid of all these things. How you are with Luke, with Jamie. How brave you are.
He wouldn’t ever say it,
though. He liked making things, but he wasn’t good at explaining things. He rubbed his chin and, looking straight at her, said, “I’m not that kind of person. But there’s no reason on earth you should believe me, I know that. And with Karen . . .”
Cat leaned across the table. She said, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I have to do this,” and she kissed him.
Cat
SHE’D FORGOTTEN HOW good he tasted, how lovely the feel of his mouth on hers was, the connection like memory foam, leaning into him again in exactly the right way.
Across the table, he kissed her back, pushing into her, a strange soft sound in his throat, and then just as suddenly pulled away from her. “What the hell did you do that for?” he said, startled.
Cat shrugged at him, and twisted her hair up into a ponytail. “Listen. I just wanted to . . . to wipe the slate clean. That injured-pride thing. I’ve been rude to you. You were stupid to kiss me, but I’ve kissed you too. We’re not kids.”
“We’re not kids? So what the hell, Cat—anyone could have walked in, Karen—”
She interrupted. “We’ve both been through some rough times, okay?” She could feel her heart thumping high in her chest, in her throat almost. Just say it, just get through it. “I like you, you like me, the timing isn’t right, that’s all there is to it.” She nodded and sat back against the settle. “Okay?”
“Okay?” He started laughing softly, then almost helplessly. “Cat, you’re bloody crazy. That’s an insane way to neutralize a situation, can’t you see that?”
She shrugged again. “I have been crazy. I’m not now. Clean slate, like I say.”
He was watching her, still laughing. She said, “With everything else that happened, it just feels like years ago. I don’t want you thinking of me as some victim. Or you feeling bad about what happened with us, carrying this guilt about so we have to shuffle around each other and it’s awkward every day at work. Oh, she’s damaged goods. Oh, he’s a terrible person. Treading on eggshells.”
“Well, that’s for me to decide.” He was still looking shell-shocked, and Cat’s stomach lurched. “Like I say, if someone had come in—”
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