by kendra Smith
He’s nearly five weeks now, and living with Suzie. I sigh. Suzie has already texted me a few times to check that I hadn’t forgotten. Forgotten? With breasts the size of melons? The surrogacy agency’s client manager has been on the phone, has left several messages asking if I’m all right, do I want to talk? Yes, I’d like to talk and talk and talk… I close my eyes. But some of the things I need to say are better left unsaid.
‘Hey, Señorita, you OK?’ I flick my eyes open. Ramone is at the door. ‘Your, how you say, making the milk is hurt, no?’ He squishes up his nose as he says this and looks with amusement at my enormous tits. ‘Ez like ze cow, no? Painful – or you sad?’
‘A little.’ I smile. ‘Maybe it’s baby blues.’
‘Baby blue?’ He shakes his head. ‘I help you, no?’ He opens the window in my room and a welcome breeze comes in. It’s the third week in August and it’s boiling.
Ramone turns to me and whips his iPod out of his pocket along with a tiny pair of speakers. ‘I put on some music, sí?’ And with that Elton John’s ‘Daniel’ fills the room. I lie back on the pillow and feel exhausted and overwhelmed with emotion.
‘Perhaps not this song, Ramone?’ I say as the now-familiar tears threaten.
‘Sorry, Señorita, you still think of ze man, Daniel?’ he says yanking the speakers away from the iPod.
My heart leaps even with the mention of his name. I have tried so hard to block it all out – again. I look at the card from his flowers that I keep on my bedside table. It has a line drawing of a bunch of flowers on it and a silver teddy bear.
Well done and good luck. D
No kisses. No other contact. Good luck? That’s like something you say to a colleague who leaves their job. I’ve had to try to train myself not to think about it, although some nights, when I am especially lonely, I listen to one of his voicemails I’d kept on my phone. I’m pathetic. I miss him so badly. I miss our chats in the car, his thigh next to mine when we’d go out for a drink, the way he thought about me, cared for me, the 5 a.m. coffee and croissants, the tiny snowman, the little things. It’s not that Daniel would turn my life around and make everything all OK like some fairy tale; it’s just that when I was with him everything was better. I felt we could tackle things as a team. United.
‘Hey, I know. You want me to drive you over? You take the milk to the baby, see little Jacob?’
‘No!’ I almost shout it.
Ramone stares at me and raises his eyebrows.
‘I don’t want to see the baby, Ramone,’ I say gently, ‘not now.’
He puts his arm on my shoulder. ‘What you do, Señorita, it breaks my heart. Meez Suzie, she so, so happy – she how you say in English, neurotic, sí, but happy – but you, how you say, sad. I learn a new word at college, like sad, ze melons?’
‘Melancholy, Ramone.’ I laugh, despite myself, and hand him the bottle to put in the cool bag. Thank God for Ramone.
‘Make sure they get these quickly, Ramone. Thank you.’
‘I tidy up kitchen first, then I go.’ He gives me a small salute and smiles.
Once Ramone leaves the room I look over at a picture of Tyler on my dressing table, next to the array of bottles and lotions. It had been taken when Tyler was about one. He was sitting in his high chair. A neighbour had given me that high chair and I’d spent ages scrubbing it clean, every nook and cranny and especially the tray table. It came up brilliantly and Tyler loved sitting in it.
He’s smiling in the photo, a gummy smile and sparkly eyes. There’s a smear of something on his cheek, probably mashed banana – he used to love that. I think of the surly seventeen-year-old now, my leather-jacket-wearing photographer. And then it strikes me, he’s not ‘mine’ – no child will ever be owned by their parent – you’re only ever a caretaker. You only ever have them for a short period of time.
I love Jacob. I will have a bond with him that nobody can take away. He’s the tiny baby I’ve carried for nearly nine months; he’s part of me, part of my history, even though genetically and morally he belongs to Suzie and Rex.
Even with Tyler, I can only be his rock and anchor for so long. After a while the rope out to the boat will loosen and he’ll start to drift away. My baby became a boy and then a teen, and he’s now taking his unsure steps through the bewildering maze of nearly-adult life. All I can do is watch, encourage and comfort. It’s a heartbeat of time from teething, to toddler tantrum, acne and untidy bedrooms.
Every stage has been a bittersweet beginning: starting to walk, a new nursery, first days at school, tying his own tie in the most ridiculous way, grinning at me from a selfie he took on a school trip. Every day Tyler has slowly taken that journey of independence; I’ve encouraged him to grow, and yet my pride has been tinged with sweet sorrow as he ‘leaves’ me too – when he ran off at the school gates, waved at me from the football pitch – you’re a bystander now, Mum. Tyler, the man-boy is up and running. I wish, somehow, he could know his father. I wish we were part of a proper family. But what exactly do I mean by that?
Just then, there’s a knock on the door.
‘I’ll get it,’ yells Tyler from his room, as if to remind me he is still here, part of my chaotic life. I smile, but soon it turns to a frown as I remember I agreed for Paul to come round today. I’ve got the rest of the money from Suzie. A curt couple of texts and I want him out of my life. Thank goodness Tyler and Ramone are both here. I’ve got the money in an envelope and I wander over to my dressing table, haul on a light cardigan and open the dressing table drawer to reach in for the money. All of it. At last. It’s such a relief to get that creep out of my life once and for all.
As I walk down the stairs, Tyler is at the front door with a wary expression on his face. Paul is standing on the doorstep, unshaven, with a cut on his face.
‘Charlie, right, you said come ’ere at two o’clock. I hope you aren’t going to mess me around.’ He starts to step over the mat, to walk inside but Ramone is suddenly in the doorway too.
‘Hey, meester, not so fast, OK?’
‘What? Bloody hell, who are you? I’ve just come for the money.’
‘Ramone, it’s OK, I need to give him this.’ I hand over the envelope and pull my cardigan around me and step back. Even though I’m roasting, I feel very vulnerable in front of Paul and my cardigan feels like my shield.
‘Do I need to count it?’ he sneers at me.
Tyler pulls his shoulders back and looks down at Paul. ‘Do what you like, mate, but it’s all there. And we never want you to come here again, OK?’
I stand behind them both and watch.
‘You got a deal,’ he whispers, tearing open the envelope, and winks at me.
He makes my skin crawl. I watch him walk away as Tyler shouts, ‘Like I said, don’t come back!’ Then he goes to shut the door, but suddenly our neighbour appears in the drive.
‘Hey, Charlie, how you doing?’
I smile at him. ‘Oh, I’m fine – listen, Mike, I wanted to thank you for sorting everything out – the insurance, with the accident?’
‘No problem, love, I could see you had enough on your plate.’ He nods towards where Paul is getting into a car. ‘Saw him around a few times, nasty piece of work. I hope that’s the last you’ll see of him.’
‘It is. Believe me.’ Tyler squeezes my shoulder gently.
Mike puts his hands in his pockets and glances round to make sure Paul has gone.
‘But how much do I owe you, Mike, for the van? I’ve been wrapped up with all this—’ I nod towards my stomach. ‘Anyway, I’ve got the money.’
He looks at me curiously. ‘Nothing, love. That driving bloke, the one who used to be around here, he paid for the damage to the van. Anyway, must go – ta-ta.’
Daniel paid for it? Why on earth would he do that?
69
Suzie
‘I know what you’ve been up to!’
Suzie stared at him and instinctively pulled tiny Jacob tight to her chest. ‘What on earth are you
talking about, Rex?’ He was standing in front of her, with his hands on his hips. There was a glint in his eye, something that she’d never seen before. Those green eyes were darker; was that hatred?
‘You, in that wine bar!’
‘What wine bar?’ It felt like the last time she’d been out with lipstick on was about six years ago. What was he talking about? These days it was all about walks with other mums she’d met, the local coffee shop. Mother and baby Pilates – she felt a bit of a fraud at that one with all the other clearly post-natal women in there, but oh God, she could pinch herself; she was loving the fact that she was a mum! But wine bars? She didn’t have time for this. It was coming up for two o’clock on Saturday and her baby massage lady would be here in an hour – about the time it took for her to bath and change Jacob before his session.
Suddenly, as if she was a computer that had been rebooted, she remembered. The wine bar. Steve. The olives. The laughter. The wanting-to-have-sex feelings for Steve, the flirting… She froze. It seemed a lifetime away. How on earth could Rex know about that?
‘Here,’ he said, jabbing her phone with his fingers, ‘I found them on your phone when you asked me to take some photos of Jacob that you could send to your mum. That’s when I saw these!’ He spat the words out and threw her phone next to her on the couch.
She clutched Jacob as she picked it up gingerly and looked at the photos. Oh God. There was a woman, with bright red lipstick wearing an emerald green dress who was grinning back at her. That woman had sleek, recently dyed hair, a cheeky grin, and – she knew – a purple bra and knicker set on. That woman had sat staring at a toddler that morning in the park; she had been a bit deranged and extremely sad. That woman had her arm around a very attractive man and she was gripping an olive between her teeth, providing him with an eyeful of cleavage and proffering the olive to him seductively. That woman was Suzie.
Suzie closed her eyes. ‘I’m so sorry, Rex, that was just a night out with some clients and a few people at the bar—’
‘And who were the few fucking people, Suzie?’
His anger took her breath away. ‘It was ages ago. Don’t scream at me, Rex,’ she whispered. ‘You’ll scare Jacob.’
‘Jacob, Jacob, Jacob – that’s all I hear these days. I go to work, I come home, and repeat and repeat – and all I hear when I get home is Jacob. What about me, Susan?’
It was bad. Gone was Suze, or babe, or sweetheart, or honey; in fact Rex hadn’t called her by any of those names for months. And he certainly hadn’t called her any of those names while having sex, as he usually did, because they hadn’t had any sex – for ages.
‘Susan’ was for when he was absolutely furious. Perhaps this was because that woman in the emerald green dress had disappeared and morphed into a pyjama-wearing zombie who had taken to thinking it was OK to stay in nightwear till noon. Who had recently even put on some weight, who couldn’t give a fig these days about calories, whose treadmill was covered in dust, who couldn’t be bothered to book a hair appointment as it meant finding someone to look after Jacob and, much as she trusted Ramone, he was always out and about on his courses and popping in to check on Charlie every now and again and – bizarrely, going shopping with Charlie – it had become all too hard. Much easier to snuggle up on the sofa with Jacob, feed him his bottles, let him sleep in her arms and watch repeats of MasterChef. She looked down at her tea-stained pyjamas.
‘Rex, I’m sorry, that was a long time ago, that was—’
‘You’re damned right that was a long time ago – I hardly recognised you.’
And with that slap in the face he marched out of the room.
70
Charlie
There’s a knock at the door. I sigh and rearrange my top. Perhaps Ramone has forgotten something. It better not be Paul. I hope whoever it is doesn’t want too much for me. All I am fit for these days is watching reruns of Poldark – there was one on this morning.
I open the door with a sigh.
And there he is.
Daniel. Standing in the sunshine smiling at me, wearing a suit. What on earth is he doing here? How fucking dare he? After all this time. I seem to be furious. Overflowing with an emotion I can’t place.
‘Hello.’ He looks at me.
I’m not sure what to say.
‘Hi, look, I just was passing.’ He tries again and squints in the sun. ‘You know old cat lady – Mrs Norris? Well it was her funeral today and, it was something she said to me, so I thought I’d pop round, see how you, um, are?’
I can’t speak. I stand looking at him. Do I want to hit him or run into his arms?
‘Charlie?’
I shake myself. ‘I’m really sorry to hear about her.’
His eyes sweep the hall behind me. ‘Are you alone?’
‘Tyler’s upstairs, working on his photos.’ My heart must be audible from where Daniel is standing, surely.
Daniel nods. ‘Look, it’s a glorious day – I’ve been cooped up in a church all morning and want to get out. You don’t want me to drive you anywhere, do you?’ He smiles at me and I can feel a blush creeping up my throat. I love his beautiful crinkly eyes when he smiles, the way his hair is backlit by the sun, showing some russet tinges. His tan has obviously been topped up with this glorious August sunshine.
‘What do you think?’ He swaps his weight from foot to foot.
‘Sorry, miles away.’ I want to be angry with him. I should be furious with him, shouldn’t I? But I need to know what’s going on. Suddenly I make a decision. ‘Yes, yes, that would be lovely. Let me grab my bag.’
I go upstairs, put on a fresh T-shirt, grab a silk scarf and spray on some perfume. At the dressing table, I quickly tie my hair up and put on some mascara. It’s my chance to talk to him properly, find out what’s been going on. He’s here isn’t he – so I need to accept the olive branch. Suddenly an idea comes to mind: maybe we can discuss driving lessons again. A grin spreads across my face when I think about it. It’s another opportunity and Suzie will have nothing to do with it this time. I’ve had the baby. I can do what I want.
Daniel’s waiting for me in the car with the windows down. I hop into the passenger seat like old times and a wave of emotion comes flooding back. I turn the radio on as Daniel turns to grin at me and reaches out his hand, then suddenly pulls it back. He drives through narrow country roads as the breeze lifts up my hair. We travel like this in silence, listening to eighties tunes from the radio – Rick Astley starts to croon ‘never gonna…’ singing about never giving someone up, never letting them down, running around or deserting them. I stare out the window and think about the lyrics. It’s lovely being back in Daniel’s car. It’s weird, but it has come to embody all the good times I had – well, before everything went so wrong.
Daniel pulls into the car park besides the park and he takes a moment to reverse into a space. As he looks behind him, he jerks his head and his sunglasses fall off his head. Once he stops, I bend down to retrieve them from the footwell just as he does and our heads bump together.
‘Oh, sorry, sorry! Are you OK?’ He leans back at the same time as I pass them to him. It’s like an explosion has gone off in my heart and a fizz runs down my spine. I quickly put my hands into my lap.
‘Thanks.’ He smiles. ‘Tell you what, why don’t I grab us both a cold drink? I could do with some caffeine after that service. Fancy a Coke?’
‘Was it awful?’
‘Well, it was nice in a way.’ He lets out a deep breath. ‘The church service was beautiful, but it’s always so miserable when you lose someone. I had become quite close to her; she’d lost touch with some of her family a while ago.’ He glances across at me and I can’t read his face. ‘I was honoured to be asked by her granddaughter to attend the funeral. Apparently Mrs Norris used to talk about me quite a bit.’
‘You must have made an impression on her.’
‘Maybe. She was quite lonely in the end – that’s why I enjoyed taking her places. You forget just
how many people are on their own, cooped up, with no one to talk to; not only can’t they see anyone, they often can’t get outside even to go for a walk, go to the post office. It’s why my business is so much more to me than just a sort of taxi service.’ He looks over at the children playing in the park, and shakes his head.
‘So what did she say to you that made you come and see me?’
Daniel keeps staring straight ahead. ‘That life’s short. There’s no time for regret.’
‘And it’s taken you all this time to come and tell me that?’ I feel confused and frustrated. The air is hot and humid in the car and we both fall silent for a while. Then, suddenly, he seems to snap out of it, saying: ‘Right, you stay here and I’ll get two Cokes. Iced?’ he adds, wiping sweat from his brow. I nod. ‘There’s a new kiosk opened up on that corner, over there; won’t be a minute and we can stroll around when I get back.’
He jumps out of the car as I sink back into my seat and take a deep breath. That’s what it is. He’s an all-round nice guy. Too damn perfect. No time for regrets. My heart skips a beat. I need to listen to him, hear what he has to say. He’s made the effort after all.
Suddenly, his phone pings. It’s lying on his car seat; it must have fallen out of his back pocket and there’s a new message visible on the screen. I stare at it, at the white letters forming a text. I can read it if I want to. But I mustn’t read it. It’s none of my business. Daniel has moved on. He’s just being nice to me and… I quickly glance over at him standing in the kiosk queue, feel my cheeks redden, then take a peek at the phone. I pick it up to get a closer look. My heart is thudding. What am I doing?
Looking forward to tonight. Wearing what you suggested! Don’t be late! L xx
Kisses. Wearing what you suggested? Well, it isn’t from the Tax Office. I feel like someone has taken the air out of me. I drop the phone back on his seat.
