by Amy Bratley
While she was sitting there, replies pinged up on the forum site. Most were quick to condemn Leo as a bastard who couldn’t be trusted and was better off gone. One or two were more understanding, recommending she talk to Leo and ask him to be completely honest, to find out exactly what was upsetting him. Someone wrote, You might not like what you hear, though, so prepare yourself for the worst.
Mel frowned. She wasn’t sure what the worst was. Up until now, she hadn’t contacted Leo. She was aware that it wasn’t very mature of her to play the martyr, but wasn’t it preferable to calling him endlessly? She knew she was going to see him again at some point – they were having a child together, for God’s sake. It wasn’t as if he could completely disappear. But perhaps she was being juvenile. Perhaps she needed to be the one to make the first move and attempt to find a peaceful resolution. Beginning an email, she couldn’t find the right words and hated the thought that he could take hours, even days, to reply. With shaking hands, she dialled his number. It rang only once before he picked it up.
‘Mel,’ he said. ‘Are you okay? Is the baby okay? I’ve missed you.’
She couldn’t help but instinctively smile when she heard his voice. She swallowed hard.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Leo, I miss you, too. I want you to talk to me, really talk to me. I need to know what all this is about.’
‘I want to talk to you, too,’ Leo said, sounding relieved. ‘I thought you hated me. I’ve had things on my mind that I need to discuss with you. When are you free?’
‘Whenever’s good for you,’ she said. ‘I’m working now, but I’ll be at home later.’
‘I’ll be there,’ he said. ‘Mel?’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘Thanks for phoning,’ he said. ‘I kept wanting to call you, but couldn’t find the words. I know you must hate me.’
‘No, Leo,’ she said. ‘I don’t hate you.’ She took a deep breath and blinked away tears. Be brave, she told herself. ‘I love you,’ she said. ‘You know I do.’
‘So,’ said Mel, later that night. She was sitting next to Leo on the sofa, but there was so much space between them it felt like they were strangers. ‘This is weird.’
Leo was perched on the edge of his seat as if he might bolt for the door at any given moment. Music was playing. Mel had set out a bowl of olives and opened a bottle of red wine, but he hadn’t yet touched his glass. His coat was draped over his lap, which made him seem like an awkward guest in his own flat. He had dark crescents under his eyes and his stubble was overgrown. He looked like a man overloaded with problems, not at all an overjoyed expectant dad.
‘Yes, it is,’ he said, rubbing his chin. ‘I’m sorry, Mel, for what I said outside the antenatal class last week. I should be publicly flogged for saying that. How’s the baby?’
Mel felt her shoulders relax just a tiny bit. This was exactly what she had hoped for – an apology. But Leo still looked miserable as hell. He leaned back into the sofa and turned his head to face her. He extended his hand and held hers lightly. The warmth of his hand made her want to move into him, to wrap his arms around her, but she stayed still.
‘Baby’s energetic. Baby’s fine, but Leo, I’m not fine. Is this about me?’ Mel said, swallowing hard. ‘What I mean is, have you fallen out of love? It happens. I know it happens. Your love just runs out and you can’t work out why. Better you tell me now so I can get on with getting over you—’
Leo put his head in his hands. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I haven’t fallen out of love with you. It’s—’
He looked up and back at Mel, his expression so downcast she felt a flash of dread. If it wasn’t that he didn’t love her, and he regretted saying he didn’t want the baby, what the fuck was he going to say? She dredged her mind for the worst thing she could think of. Was he dying?
‘Then what is it?’ she asked quietly. ‘You can tell me, Leo. Really. Are you sick?’
She was pretending to be strong, but would have said practically anything to get the truth out of him. This was like pulling teeth. She just wanted to get to the bottom of it.
‘Come on,’ she said. ‘I’m prepared for anything. Are you going to prison? Have you killed someone? Masterminded a major drug deal?’
Leo managed a smile, but shook his head. ‘I feel like I’ve been lying to you. All this time, I’ve been going along with it all, listening to everything you’ve said about what you want life to be like when the baby is born, but I’m having a nightmare, because I don’t know if I can do it—’
‘Of course you can do it,’ said Mel.
Leo threw his hands angrily up in the air.
‘If I—’ he started. ‘If I was being honest, I . . . oh shit, I don’t know how to say this. It’s just our lives will be changed for ever, Mel, and I’m worried about what will happen to our relationship. I’m fearful for us. I think you’re going to be disappointed in me.’
Mel felt confused and let down, but struggled on with the conversation, trying to see Leo’s side.
‘What?’ she said. ‘So you don’t think our relationship is strong enough to cope with having a baby?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘We’ve only been together for five minutes, and there are things that I wish I could do differently. As much as I love you, I wanted a few more years of just the two of us. To give me more time to sort myself out.’
Wow, thought Mel. Leo really didn’t want the baby. She felt as if the rug had been pulled out from under her. She resisted the temptation to tell him he sounded like a selfish twat. Feeling her heart closing and herself withdrawing from him, she moved her hand away from his.
‘Leo, we will have to cope, and I think our relationship could get even stronger,’ she said. ‘We are not the priority now. The baby is the priority, isn’t it?’
Leo looked angry again. His face paled. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But there are other things in life. It’s not just about this baby.’
‘Well, this baby is all I’m interested in,’ Mel said. ‘It’s the biggest thing ever to happen to me.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘I know that, but what about everything else? Us? Your job? Your ambitions? You started saying you didn’t care about work any more and that you only wanted to look after the baby. Mel, you’re at the top of that design agency. You’re the star. I don’t want you to give it all up and devote everything to the baby. And what about – oh, God, I don’t know what I’m saying—’
Mel looked at him. His cheeks were pink and his lips were trembling. He was venting more than she’d ever seen him vent, but he didn’t seem to be saying anything clearly. She felt like he was just coming out with confusing statement after confusing statement.
‘Leo,’ she said. ‘I can’t reassure you about anything, because I don’t know what it’s going to be like either. Being heavily pregnant like this, it’s difficult to think about anything else because the birth is so near and I’ve got to squeeze a massive baby out of my fanny. You know? I don’t know why I said that about my job. I do care about it, but I don’t think it’s the only thing I want to do with my life. You know how important a family is to me, and I can only think of a baby in a positive light. We can still have time together, of course we can. We could have had the whole of the last week together if you hadn’t walked out on me.’
Mel’s throat ached with the need to cry. She felt so tired, her eyelids were heavy. She needed Leo to be supporting her, not the other way around. He took a deep breath.
‘It’s fear, I think,’ he said. ‘I’ve never been so frightened before, because I think you’re going to be disappointed in me when you find out what I’m like—’
‘No I’m not!’ said Mel. ‘Stop being so cryptic and down on yourself. Seriously, Leo, it’s terrifying enough without you adding all this. If we talk about everything and are honest about how we’re feeling, we’ll be all right, won’t we?’
She thought of Ginny’s words of advice: talk to each other. Whatever you do, don’t stop talking.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘If you’re sure you’re not going to hate me, for being honest?’
Mel didn’t know how to answer that. Half of her felt angry with him for even questioning their decision to have the baby. The other half was relieved he was finally being honest – if he was being honest. Leo was an intelligent human being. He had been thinking too much. He always thought too much. They sat there in silence for a while. Mel hoped the baby couldn’t hear Leo questioning their decision to have him or her.
‘I guess I needed time out to prove a few things to myself,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’
Mel came to the conclusion that she was at a crossroads. She could tell Leo he was a selfish fool and that he needed to man up. Or be the bigger person and listen to him drivelling on about his fears and insecurities. He’d always listened to her in the past. Everything she’d ever felt about her dad’s death, she’d told him and he had listened. Did she owe him this? She looked at Leo, who was staring at her, looking so lost and hopeless something in her snapped. She had to look after her baby. She made a decision.
Chapter Thirteen
Lenny came back to the flat just before three a.m. Rebecca was trying to be fast asleep but, really, she had fitfully snoozed, waiting for him to return before she could let herself properly relax. Her notepad was on the floor next to the bed, with several sheets torn out, words written and scribbled over them, the pages screwed up into rough balls. The letter to her mum hadn’t gone at all well. Up until this point, it had been relatively easy to justify not seeing or contacting her parents since she’d arrived in Brighton. She’d taken to lying in bed and composing letters to her mum, but when she started to write they never came out as she wanted.
She’d had a strained telephone call with her mum and dad, and now Rebecca wanted to prove to her family that she could no longer be controlled, that she was a free spirit, as she’d always wanted to be. It was revenge, in a way, to give them a taste of their own medicine. Now that her due date was near, though, she felt differently. The thought of having to be responsible for another person made her look at her parents differently. She couldn’t blame them for everything any more. Weren’t they just doing their best at being parents? It wasn’t as if they had ever been particularly mean to her. In fact, they’d given her a very privileged upbringing, compared to Lenny’s. She was angry that her parents had controlled her with an iron grip. They’d insisted she did everything by their book: be a high achiever at school, go to university and then follow in the family’s medical footsteps. Her older brother, Eddie, had done just that. But Rebecca wanted to walk – make that run – in the opposite direction at such a speed she sometimes wondered if she was actually their daughter, or if she’d been left by a group of travellers as a baby on their doorstep and they’d pitied her and adopted her.
‘Hi,’ she said huskily, opening her eyes a crack to see Lenny. ‘Good night?’
Lenny took off all of his clothes and draped them over the white Lusty Loom wicker chair Rebecca had found at the tip. He drank a cup of cold water that had been on the set of drawers since earlier, then climbed into bed and lay down next to her under the duvet. He was so slim you’d never think he ate anything, yet he had the appetite of a mountaineer. He must have walked home in just his shirt and waistcoat, because his skin was cold and the sensation it gave her of ice cubes running down her legs woke Rebecca up further. She propped her head up on her elbow and they lay, tummy to tummy, their arms draped over each other’s waists. In the full-length mirror behind Lenny, which was propped up against the wall and adorned with felt-flower fairy lights, she glanced at the reflection of his sharp shoulder blades, pleased to have him home. He smiled at her and kissed her mouth, then kissed her pregnant belly. He tasted of cigarettes and alcohol. Rebecca had once loved that taste, because it tasted of everything her parents disapproved of, but, now, it made her feel a little nauseous.
‘There was a lock-in at the pub,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have stayed, but there were people there who wanted to book us and, once I start drinking, I can’t say no. Anyway, I’ve been talking about you and Elvis.’
‘Have you?’ Rebecca asked, surprised.
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Just thinking about what it’s going to be like when the baby is out and you’re looking after him full time. I guess I’m worried you’re going to be lonely while I’m out at gigs, and there’s a chance we might go on tour soon.’
Lenny said the last few words so quickly, Rebecca had to play the sentence back in her head to take in the meaning.
‘On tour?’ said Rebecca, fully awake now. ‘When?’
Lenny kissed her cheek and her forehead, placating her. She blinked at the print on the wall, a framed Pernod ad from the seventies which read ‘Free the Spirit’.
‘Nothing’s been decided yet, babe,’ he said. ‘But it’s been thrown out there. We’d only go round the UK on a few dates to begin with, then maybe Europe, possibly the States. I know we’ll miss each other and stuff and I’ll miss out on the baby for a few weeks, but you wouldn’t want me to sacrifice the band, would you?’
Rebecca’s heart sank. She’d planned to go with him if this ever happened. But now? Their son was about to be born. She had a horrible, cynical thought that this might be why he had proposed to her. Dismissing it as ridiculous, she turned on to her back, but it was way too uncomfortable and left her feeling breathless so she heaved herself back on to her side, but facing away from Lenny.
‘Becs,’ he said, leaning over her to see her face. ‘What’s up? I’m not talking about before the little guy’s born, you know? Are you okay with it?’
‘I guess,’ she started. ‘But, Lenny?’
‘Yes?’ he said.
‘You know how I said I’d told my parents about you and me and the baby? Well, that wasn’t entirely true. I haven’t told them about you at all, but I’ve decided I need to be honest and I want to see them.’
Lenny digested the information and looked at her admiringly.
‘You’re a dark horse,’ said Lenny. ‘Why don’t you invite them down? They could stay in our bed and we could sleep on the sofa.’
Rebecca imagined her mum and dad in their smart leisure clothes in the small flat stacked with records and books and recycled furniture and potted plants, their eyes running over Lenny as if he were a different species. They’d make their minds up about him the instant he told them he was a musician.
‘They won’t like you, Lenny,’ Rebecca said, her cheeks burning. ‘They don’t like alternative people.’
‘I’ll win them over,’ he said, unaffected.
‘They won’t like that I’m pregnant,’ she said.
‘The baby will win them over,’ he said, his eyes closing. ‘If he’s mine, he’ll be cool.’
‘What do you mean “if”?’ she asked.
‘Joking, babe,’ he said, kissing her shoulder. ‘Where’s your sense of humour?’
‘It’s gone on tour,’ she said, but Lenny was already snoring.
Chapter Fourteen
‘Sarah’s here to show you all the breastfeeding basics,’ Ginny said, beaming. ‘Welcome, Sarah, and two-month-old baby, Meg.’
Nestled in a comfortable chair at the front of the classroom, the rain hammering against the window behind her head, Meg suckled at Sarah’s breast, twisting tiny fingers in her mother’s fine blonde hair as the antenatal group watched. Erin couldn’t take her eyes off the baby. She was absolutely perfect. Pink, plump, smooth and perfect. She made adorable little snuffling noises as she tugged at her mother’s breast, her feet moving rhythmically inside her pale pink sleepsuit. Erin, along with the other women, couldn’t stop smiling.
‘No one tells you but, to begin with, breastfeeding can be horrible,’ said Sarah, looking up at the group. ‘It hurt me like hell, even more than labour in some ways. My nipples bled, my back ached, I had mastitis and I got so fed up with it I almost gave up. But a woman from the La Leche League came to see me and showed me how the baby should latc
h on. I had been given so much conflicting advice in hospital and wasn’t doing it right at all. After practising a little more and getting more advice, it didn’t hurt at all and felt perfectly natural. I’m here because I want to show you that it can work out, even if it hurts like hell at the beginning. Are you all planning to breastfeed?’
Erin, her cheeks blooming with pleasure at the thought that, in just a few weeks’ time, her own baby might be breastfeeding, nodded. All of the women said yes, they were planning to breastfeed.
‘I’m only going to do it for a few weeks, though,’ said Katy. ‘I’m going back to work when the baby’s three months, so Alan will need to give the baby a bottle.’
‘I don’t have the right equipment to breastfeed,’ said Alan, flashing them all one of his best smiles. ‘Shame, really.’
‘I’m worried that I won’t be able to do it,’ said Lexi. ‘Won’t I smother the baby, being on the large side?’
Lenny sniggered and Rebecca smacked him.
‘No!’ said Ginny. ‘Of course not, you just need to get the position right. And Katy, you could express your milk, so that the baby still gets the goodness when you go back to work.’
‘Yes,’ said Katy. ‘But I want to get the baby into a routine. I’ve read the books that advocate a strict routine, and I’m going to try to feed the baby every four hours from when it’s a few weeks old.’
Erin inwardly rolled her eyes. All those women she’d known in Norwich had stuck to various strict plans and, in some cases, they really had worked. But, to her, it all seemed at odds with instinctive parenting. Whenever she voiced her opinion, debate grew heated. Sometimes she thought that certain baby manuals were written purely to get new mothers arguing the minute their babies were born – as if they didn’t have enough on their plates.
