Just Between Friends: Page-turning fiction to curl up with in winter 2020

by Rosie Nixon

  He reached for my hand and squeezed it. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m so sorry I couldn’t help you. I could have been there for you if I had known before, but I only found out when it was too late. I was young and scared. It must have been so hard.’

  I moved my hand away from his. I could have been there for you. Did he have any idea what that meant?

  It was the best but also the worst thing he could say.

  ‘But if you knew – why weren’t you? I’ve lived with the guilt of terminating our baby, of you not knowing, of betraying someone I loved, my friends, of hating my parents, of dropping out of a university I loved… The list goes on. And it doesn’t get any easier with time, I assure you. If anything, it has got harder as I’ve come to realize the full implications of what I did. And all this time, you knew. Who told you?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter any more,’ he said.

  Tears filled my eyes and I closed the lids for a moment to try to hold them in.

  ‘I’m sorry, Lucy, I shouldn’t have said anything. It was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have found you again.’

  ‘Found me?’ I said, in a tone that was half way between laughter and yelling. ‘Now you’re telling me you found me?’

  ‘I looked you up, you’re easy to find online. The PR company has your profile on its site.’

  ‘You stalked me yesterday?’

  ‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that.’

  ‘Why did you find me, Jason?’

  ‘I was intrigued. But, like I said, I can see now that it was a bad idea.’

  He was getting out of bed as he said this, searching out his clothes which were scattered all around the floor. He put on his boxers and collected the other items. His nakedness now seemed sordid.

  ‘I can’t believe you’ve done this to me,’ I seethed, barely able to get the words out, my head felt so muddled – a combination of the alcohol still in my system and how horribly wrong this morning’s post-coital chat was going.

  ‘I’ll go, I can see you need to be alone,’ he said, already half-dressed. He just wanted to leave.

  After I heard the front door close, I lay there in shock, unmoving, lost in thought I looked around the room, only my own clothes strewn across the floor now. I began piecing together the events of last night and how it felt to have Jason’s body pressed into mine; I could still smell him, feel his warmth on my skin; I could still taste him in my mouth. There was a fug of him all over me, the sheets and in the air. The smell of sex enveloped my body. I could remember us having sex, him on top of me and then him rolling me over so I could ride him. My breasts beating against his chest as he firmly held my hips and took me fast and furiously; filling me up, squeezing my bottom in his hands. We were consumed by lust and lost in each other’s bodies. I had a vague recollection of things slowing down and then him rolling off me and passing out. I couldn’t be sure whether or not he came, but I’d hazard a guess he did. I knew we hadn’t used any protection because I didn’t have any in the flat.

  How could he? Jason had sought me out and slept with me knowing such a big secret – a secret that had haunted me for the past two decades. I tried to blink back the tears from the corners of my eyes, but they continued to fall. It felt like they might never stop, dripping onto the pillow no matter how fast I tried to wipe them away. I felt so used.

  I must have cried myself to sleep, because when I woke up again, I was lying diagonally across my bed, and there was a streak of light across the duvet as daylight leaked from the gap in the middle of the curtains. I guessed it must be around eight. My head was throbbing. I was alone. My heart unbearably heavy. The events of this morning filtered back into my consciousness.

  It must have been soon after sunrise that he left and the weight of his flesh moved away from my bed, his hands ceased to hold me, his gaze gone. All that was left in his wake was a shattered memory of what might have been.

  Oh fuck. Oh fuck, it was today. The Day. The one I had been counting down to for the last year of my life. I held my stomach, lacing my fingers across my middle and tears prickled at my eyes again. Had I completely ruined my chances by having sex last night? Sex that I could barely remember because I was so drunk, and now bitterly regretted? My head hurt with the vice-like grip of a grade A hangover. My mouth was dry.

  I must have sobbed for at least the next ten minutes.

  Slowly, my breathing began to steady and I collected my thoughts again. I had to think straight. My appointment at the clinic was at two this afternoon, and now it was still early. There was time to get myself together. I just needed more sleep. I’d weathered hangovers worse than this before – sleep and water would help. I knew I couldn’t let myself miss this appointment.

  I tried to placate the nagging voice in my head with the reasoning that so many women were well and truly trolleyed when they got knocked up – and many more only realized they were pregnant after weeks of getting pissed and having sex. In fact they didn’t even know for sure when they conceived. And they went on to have perfectly healthy babies. Having sex wasn’t a crime anyway. Could it really be that bad? Perhaps I had doubled my chances of a successful pregnancy. Maybe there was a silver lining.

  For the next hour I drifted in and out of consciousness, desperate to shake off the pounding headache, but refraining from taking any medication because of the slim chance that I might be pregnant – or that I could be pregnant again by the end of today.

  I tried to piece the evening together. I was absolutely certain we didn’t use any contraception because I had none in this flat. Could I be pregnant? Should I still go ahead with the transfer? My hand hovered over my phone as I considered calling Katie. She would be shocked yet intrigued to know that I’d seen Jason after all that time. It could have been a cute, romantic story if it wasn’t such a disaster at the same time. I decided against it – it all felt too emotionally raw – and instead raced out of bed to find my laptop.

  Jason left so early I didn’t even have a chance to implant his features on my mind once more. He had certainly changed in twenty years. His skin was now slightly lined around the eyes, his nose a little wider perhaps, but he still had the same square jaw, dark eyelashes, thick hair, and the traces of the deep tan he must have got from spending all those years in Australia and Asia. I thought about how there was once a time when I had woken up half naked next to him regularly. Back when my body had been lithe and pure; when my heart had been full of hope. My fertility hadn’t even crossed my mind back then. I’d taken every morning with Jason for granted, sometimes rising before him and heading out to the uni campus, not giving him a second glance as I dashed out of the door because I felt secure in his love for me. I had barely slept in my allocated room in our student halls because I was always with him, squashed together in his single bed, sleeping entwined. I fell in love with him so fast and hard.

  By the time I was ready to leave the house for the IVF clinic I was feeling a little stronger. Jason was the only man to have ever got me pregnant and, devastated as I was, after what he had told me this morning, I wasn’t going to let him ruin my second chance at becoming a mum.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Lucy

  Tuesday 10th August, present day

  I walked halfway around Clapham Common, but couldn’t face going the long way back so decided to take a short cut on the path that went through the bandstand in the middle.

  When I approached, my attention was caught by a couple on one of the benches to the right. The woman had spilt a cup of coffee everywhere.

  And then I recognized them. It was Aisha and Jason, and they didn’t look happy.

  Certain they hadn’t seen me, I spun around and walked, or rather ran, in the opposite direction. I didn’t care that this was taking me further away from home, I’d jump on a bus at the other end to be sure not to bump into either of them. My heart was racing fast. It didn’t look like they were having a cosy chat. I felt sick. Was that the moment – could he have told her?

 
When I reached home Albie was awake and in need of a bottle. It was a welcome distraction to cradle him in my arms and watch him make cute raspberry noises as he played with the teat of the bottle.

  I kept my phone in sight on the kitchen island next to me and when it pinged it made me jump. I had a sense of dread. I still didn’t have his number saved into my phone, but I recognized the digits immediately. It confirmed my very worst fear. Just two words:

  She knows.

  For a moment I tried to carry on as if everything was normal, but my hand was trembling as I lifted the bottle to Albie’s lips again. He was playing me, and clamped his mouth shut. Milk splattered everywhere.

  I hurriedly cleaned Albie up and tried again, holding him closely on the sofa as he polished off the bottle of milk. I didn’t take my eyes off him as he contentedly gulped it down. I was literally clinging on to him as though our closeness would give me strength. As I stared at his tiny features, an overwhelming love washed over me; a love for Albie more powerful than I had felt since he was born. It was so strong it almost hurt, like someone was twisting at my heart, wringing it out. I couldn’t love him any more if I tried. I kissed his forehead.

  ‘I love you so, so much, my little man,’ I whispered aloud. ‘But what the hell is Mummy going to do now?’ I paused, my eyes pricking with tears, just as Albie let out a little gurgle. ‘Oh you think so, do you? You think Mummy should do that? I think you could be right.’

  When Jason and I took the home DNA test in his flat, that morning when Aisha was supposed to be at the spa, although we didn’t know the result yet, I achieved a form of closure. I realized that I didn’t want Jason in my life. But that Aisha deserved better than him. I think I realized then that she should know – whatever the result happened to be. But it didn’t surprise me that Jason may have reached the same conclusion and, naturally, he was determined to get to her first.

  The reality was that if he did turn out to be Albie’s father, Jason might have to be in my life. I knew the chance was slim – ‘negligible’ was the word the consultant had used when I first discovered I was pregnant and came clean to the clinic about what had happened – but soon we would know for certain and I would have to deal with the consequences.

  I was pretty sure that Aisha would never want to see me again; she must be feeling so betrayed, not only by Jason, but by someone who had come to be her friend. I wished I’d never joined the stupid Baby Group. At first I did it to put the frighteners up Jason. His face was going to be a picture when he saw me. But I hadn’t properly considered Aisha. She was so much more than I expected; a really lovely woman – she was kind, warm, clever. I liked her, and genuinely felt we had become friends. She made it all so much harder. She didn’t deserve this.

  But most of all, I was terrified about what it might do to Oscar and me. There was now a large risk that he would find out – perhaps Jason would tell him next, out of spite – and Oscar might want to leave me. And if the baby did turn out to be Jason’s, well that could tear Oscar and me apart forever. It felt as though we were hanging on by a thread as it was. The thought of losing Oscar was now my biggest fear. Oscar was Albie’s daddy in every practical and emotional sense and the thought of losing him too much to bear.

  Albie seemed to sense something was up because he stopped feeding momentarily and looked up at me. If I wasn’t mistaken, his blue eyes had started to lighten slightly. In some lights they were a clear azure – coincidentally the same colour as Oscar’s. They were not turning green, like Jason’s, as I had once imagined. His forehead was crumpled and he had a puzzled expression, which also reminded me of Oscar.

  ‘I love you so much, little angel,’ I whispered, as he suckled away happily again. ‘I’m so sorry for this mess. But whatever happens, it will never change the fact that I am so lucky to have you.’

  When Albie had finished the bottle, I burped him and set him down on his play mat, rattling the jangly toys above his head and enjoying watching his face light up as he gurgled excitedly, trying to reach them. His blue eyes were still sparkling as he lay directly underneath a spotlight on the ceiling. I tried to view them purely as Albie’s eyes, the windows into the soul of my precious baby boy. I vowed to live in the moment with him for as long as life would allow us.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Aisha

  After an immediate burst of anger towards Jason, it quickly fell away and was replaced by pain. The pure, visceral, searing pain of realizing that my world had been rocked to its core and everything had changed in a heartbeat.

  Joni was sound asleep in the pram, so I turned my back on Jason, ignoring his loud, desperate pleas for us to talk, and started walking as briskly as I could to nowhere in particular, just anywhere. Eventually his cries stopped. He didn’t dare follow me, judging correctly that it would cause the most almighty scene if he did.

  Although I was in a daze, barely registering where I was going, my feet and mind seemed to lead me towards our street on auto-pilot. Once I found myself standing outside our flat, I wondered about not going in. The sun was beating down and I’d forgotten a large muslin to cover the pram. I hadn’t been planning on staying out for long, but nothing about today was normal now. I decided to go inside, hoping Jason would at least be sensible enough to stay well away and give me some space.

  Alone in our flat, the building suddenly felt unfamiliar and cold. I left Joni sleeping in the pram downstairs, blissfully unaware of the bombshell her daddy had just dropped, while I went up and wandered from room to room, barely able to focus on finding the muslin, I had been so blindsided by Jason’s news.

  How could he have done this to me – to us? To our little bean, Joni, who we created out of love and I grew inside of me. I felt nauseous. Everything we had felt like a lie. It was as though a trail of falling dominoes – one for each day of my life – had been set in motion and I had no idea when its path of destruction would end; whether it would be today, tomorrow, or never. I bit my quivering lip.

  Was I a single mum now? I took a deep breath in an attempt to hold back my tears. Not right now. I had to think.

  Still on automatic, I went to the bedroom, and pulled out the spare baby-change bag. I needed some time to get my head around what to do next. I began filling it with a few essentials: the big muslin, a couple of babygrows, some nappies and a pack of wipes; and then for myself, a couple of spare tops, my skincare products, a hairbrush, and a few pairs of knickers. Then I moved to the kitchen and loaded up on baby bottles, formula, the sterliser and some Tupperware containers useful for any eventuality. Travelling with Tupperware would at least give me some comfort. Even in the face of earth-shattering news, Joni would still need taking care of, so certain aspects of life had to carry on as normal.

  Suddenly I felt unsteady on my feet. I had barely eaten all day – my hope that Jason planned to take me for lunch laughable now. The optimism I had felt was a joke. God, I felt so stupid. My phone pinged and a message appeared on the Baby Group thread. It was from Will – a picture of a dribble bib and a caption:

  Missing in action. Does this belong to any of you? It was left at the pottery shop. Thanks for coming along. Hope the gifts go down well! Wx

  I recognized the bib as belonging to Albie, but wondered whether Lucy would respond; whether she had any idea that I knew and, if so, if she felt any remorse for the hurt she had caused. The thought of her and Jason in collusion made me feel like throwing up. I realized my hands were trembling as I held the phone. The Baby Group were the last people I wanted to see or hear from. I doubted whether I would ever be able to see them again, especially Lucy, after what she had done to me. I had unwittingly found myself at the centre of a storyline even a writer on a soap opera might find a little far-fetched.

  My mind wandered back to the day I told Jason I was pregnant, when I turned up at his office because I couldn’t reach him on the phone; how he had sobbed, it was almost uncontrollable. I went over and over that memory for clues. I wished I hadn’t buried my suspici
ons that something wasn’t right. Maybe if I had put Jason on the spot, or given him an opportunity to open up, he would have told me everything. I wished he had. I wondered how Jason had been able to live with himself for so long, and especially that day, when it should have been momentous for us, finally finding out we were having a baby. I thought of all the times Jason and Lucy had come into contact with each other. Jason’s offish behaviour when he left the Baby Group sessions made perfect sense now. Knowing what an enormous secret they shared not only made me feel sick – but such a pitiful fool.

  There was a noise from downstairs as Joni woke. I dashed to her and when I stood above the pram and her eyes met mine, her whole face showed she was eager to play. She looked so innocent and happy, so completely oblivious to what had happened today, it broke my heart. I shoved the bag under the pram and we left the house again.

  I called Tara and explained in as few words as I could that I needed to come and stay with her tonight, that I was desperate. I could tell she wanted to ask me what had happened, but all she said was, ‘Of course, I’ll be home in ten minutes. You can stay as long as you need.’ As I put the phone down a tear rolled down my cheek.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Lucy

  Thursday 12th August

  Over the next two days I barely left the house, partly because Albie had come down with a shocking chesty cough, but mostly because I felt so anxious. All I could think about was whether or not I should contact Aisha, and the test results. I just wanted this to be over, but I was also fearful of what would happen next.

  I wondered if a one-night stand could be classed as an affair. More specifically, whether Jason had called it an affair, seeing as we had known each other for so long and he had admitted he came to find me. Deep down, I knew that what Jason and I had could not be classified as an affair. I felt pretty sure he would describe it to Aisha as his ‘biggest mistake’.