Just for the Rush

by Jane Lark

  I stared at the picture. My child. The emotion in me was like flowing ripples on a pond racing outward after someone had dropped a stone in the middle. Her eyes were so like mine. There was no point in denying it. I’d made a child. Me. God! I wasn’t going to mess her up. I had to do this. I had to be that man. As Victoria had said, there was no choice. I would love this child. I would shift heaven and earth. I would turn my fucking life around to be good enough for her. I had flesh and blood in this world.

  How different would my life have been if Victoria had told me she was pregnant when I’d been seventeen?

  There was no knowing.

  Jealousy threw another fist into my stomach and clasped around my throat. I was jealous of Victoria, of her normal life, of her happiness – of the fact she’d brought up my daughter and seen her start to walk and learn to talk. ‘Tell me about her.’

  I asked her everything. When did Daisy ride her first bike? What was the first word she’d said? What did she like to do? Was she a fast runner, like I’d been? Did she swim? Was she reading? I spent an hour talking to Victoria about Daisy, with her picture held in my hand, as odd emotions twisted over in my stomach.

  The school clock rang out the hour.

  It brought back a hundred memories of being in school here. I had a daughter who went to school somewhere… I was going to start asking questions about where she lived and what school Daisy went to but Victoria gripped my arm. ‘We’d better go back. I want to get ready for the ball this evening.’

  ‘Okay.’ I stood up, suddenly numb. This level of shock was like being hit by a car that had then reversed and run over me; it wasn’t just my feet that had been taken out from underneath me. ‘When can I see her?’

  She smiled. ‘Talk to her on the phone first, Jack.’

  I didn’t want to wait, I wanted to follow Victoria home. I didn’t want to stay for the ball. Patience had never been a skill I possessed.

  She held my wrist. ‘I’ll see you at the ball tonight and we can swap numbers and organise something in the next couple of weeks.’

  Weeks. Uh-uh. No. I wanted a deadline. Days. But I bit my tongue and nodded.

  I didn’t ring Sharon when I got back to my room, I rang Mum. ‘Hi, it’s Jack.’

  ‘Hello dear. This is unusual. How are you?’ She never asked how Sharon was; they ignored her existence, sweeping the embarrassment I’d made of my life under one of their nice ornamental carpets.

  ‘I’m feeling a bit weird.’ I was sitting on the edge of the bed with my elbows on my knees and my forehead balanced on my free hand. ‘I’m at my old school. There’s a reunion thing.’

  ‘That’s nice.’ Her voice made it sound as though she was surprised I’d bothered to go. But I’d earned, and created, every ill opinion they had of me. Rebellious, self-centred bastard that I’d been. I think money was bad for you when you were a kid. It had made me take everything, including them, for granted.

  But right now, Mum was the only person I wanted to talk to.

  ‘Mum, one of the girls told me I got her pregnant when she was sixteen. She had a baby when she was seventeen. A girl. A daughter. The child’s nearly eight now, and she’s mine. I have a daughter I’ve never seen, and you’re a grandma.’

  The connection went silent. I didn’t know what I expected her to say, but despite the fact I’d hardly spoken to her in three years, Mum was the only person I’d had an immediate urge to tell because I was looking for reassurance – come on.

  ‘Well…’

  The single word ran through my nerves. Was well good or bad? Mum’s perfectly rounded upper-class accent made it hard to tell what emotion was in her voice sometimes.

  ‘That is a shock.’

  I was still not sure of her tone.

  ‘How do you feel?’

  ‘Numb. Weird, like I said.’ But beneath those, ‘excited too.’ I had a reason to turn my life around now the box of my life had been shaken. If I opened it up all the pieces inside would look different. I had a reason to pick the pieces up and put them back in a different order. I sighed down the phone. ‘Like I can change.’ I needed to tell Sharon and set down some ultimatums. ‘I wish I could turn back time and start over. I want to know her.’

  Mum breathed in deeply. It sounded shaky. ‘It’s wonderful, Jack, and it will be lovely if you have a relationship with her. Children need loving parents who are involved in their lives.’

  I choked back a laugh. I’d spent my life in boarding school while she and Dad had travelled on business; they hadn’t been all that involved. I didn’t say anything. She hadn’t been thinking of herself; her pitch was challenging me.

  ‘Children need consistency. I know you hated us leaving you in school but it was better for you than being on the move every other month. But what you must remember with this girl, if she’s yours, is that children are not toys. You have a tendency to lose patience with things, Jack, you always have. If you step into this child’s life you cannot walk out a few months later when you’re bored.’

  ‘Mum, I have a business I’ve been running for years. I’ve been climbing since I was a teenager. I don’t get bored of everything.’ But she was right, I did get bored of a lot of stuff. I was bored of my life. But I would not become bored of my child. Daisy. She would be a constant. Like Em. Like the business. Like my male friends. I had constants. ‘I know, Mum.’

  ‘Then I’m glad for you. I’d like to meet her.’

  ‘She looks like me; I’ve seen her picture.’

  The sound of another deep breath slipped through my mobile phone. ‘I hope this turns into a good thing for you.’

  ‘This is a good thing. I know it.’ Hope… No. There was no hope about it.

  ‘Thank you for calling me, Jack. I’m glad you did.’

  I took a breath, words wanted to come out of me which were not natural to me. ‘I’m glad I did too. I’m sorry I don’t call you enough. I love you.’

  ‘I love you too.’ That emotion was in her voice – loud and clear. She ended the call.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d said those words to her. Years ago.

  Maybe this was already starting to heal over the errors I’d made. A granddaughter could build a bridge to reach my parents. Maybe even Dad would forgive me for messing up.

  When I stripped off and showered, my mind span through what I would need to do to become a man who’d make a good father. I’d never have planned this, but it had happened and I didn’t want irregular phone calls and hour-long visits, watched over by Victoria. I wanted to change my life. I wanted to be a dad. I needed to get a DNA test done and then I’d get my lawyer on to it, to get proper rights. I wanted part-custody, agreed by a judge – and if I was going to get that, then I needed to clean up my life.

  I didn’t even drink at the ball, I watched Victoria as she talked to people and danced with friends. Now I’d had time to digest the news, I was angry with her. She should have told me. I’d made a mess of my life. I could have stopped myself doing it if I’d known there was a reason to live life differently. Suddenly everything wrong with my life was her fault, which was bollocks, but I was looking for someone to blame because it was easier to blame someone other than myself.

  We swapped numbers at the end of the night, having hardly spoken to each other, so I bet people thought something weird was going on, but she hadn’t told anyone, so I didn’t. Then I said goodbye to the other people I’d caught up with and afterwards I made the decision to drive home.

  What was the point in staying here? I hadn’t drunk and I wouldn’t sleep.

  While I drove back, my mind ran through what I’d need to do to turn myself around – grow up. I had to become someone who wouldn’t make me feel guilty. Someone I’d be happy for my daughter to know. Someone who could invite a child over for the weekend. Someone I could stand to look at in a mirror

  I called John, my lawyer, as I drove, even though it was two-thirty a.m., and left a message on his work phone. ‘Hi, John, I’ve
got a new job for you. Please keep this quiet. I discovered I have a child. Call me on Monday and I’ll give you the mother’s details, then you can contact her and ask her to get a lawyer. I want a DNA test done and I want to apply for access rights. I want to be able to have the child stay with me.’

  I was going to be the person who could have my daughter stay over. I’d needed a new ambition for the next five years of my life. I had it. Become a decent man who could be a father.

  When I got home it was four a.m. I lifted a hand, acknowledging the security guard as I drove into the basement car park. He nodded at me with a smile. He’d know who was in my apartment, he saw everyone who went in and out, and at what time they went in and when they came out, because there was a camera in the lift.

  He’d probably seen a lot of parts of Sharon and me in that lift too, and parts of the people we brought back. God, if Victoria wanted to stop me seeing my daughter she’d have a ton of evidence against it.

  But I hadn’t known I’d had a reason to be respectable.

  It was a pathetic excuse. I got out, locked the car up with the button and walked towards the lift, carrying my bag. I’d left my suits hanging in the car.

  As I rode the lift up to the top floor I thought about the security guy watching me when I’d let Sharon suck me off in here, or fucked her, or fucked one of the girls we’d brought in. I bet he thought I was an arrogant prick. He’d probably watched it like a porn show and laughed at me.

  I hadn’t cared before.

  When the doors opened I walked into our private hall and unlocked the door. The place was quiet.

  I didn’t shout. I had no doubt there would be people in here. I ran upstairs first and checked the spare rooms on the mezzanine level. There were no people in there. Thank God. This would be easier than I’d thought. I checked the bathroom and looked outside, no one.

  I went into our room last, my heart pumping hard.

  They were sleeping.

  There was a guy I didn’t know on the bed, tangled up in the sheets with Sharon, and one of her girlfriends was cuddled into his back. She must have gone out with Sharon. Another girl, who I didn’t know, was sleeping next to Sharon. My guess would be they’d pulled a couple in a club and promised them the night of their lives. It was the promise Sharon always made. She’d used the line on me when we’d met.

  I stood there looking at them for a minute. If Sharon was awake, her hand would be lifting out to me, begging me to join whatever tangled cobweb of sex they were in. I was her handsome, rich plaything. I don’t think she loved me any more than I loved her. I’d been kidding myself in the beginning and she’d been having fun. But this was the end. It was time to call stop. I couldn’t bring a child into a life like this.

  I kicked the sole of the guy’s foot. ‘Get up.’

  He groaned. He was going to feel like shit. They’d probably snorted cocaine and Sharon loved picking out people who didn’t normally do that sort of thing.

  I kicked him again. ‘Get up.’

  He rolled over, on to Sharon. ‘Where the—what the fuck?’

  The women woke too.

  ‘Get up and get out. This is my place. I don’t want you in it.’

  He sat up, looking back at Sharon. He was a bulky, muscular guy. If he wanted to fight me he’d probably win. ‘I thought you said your boyfriend was cool with this…’

  ‘He’s my husband—’

  ‘And he is cool with it, very cool,’ Sharon’s friend Karen, who had fairly regular sex with us, answered.

  ‘Not any more. Get out. All of you. I pay the bills here, I own the sheets you’re fucking on, and I am not cool with it. So, fuck off.’ I grabbed the top sheet and pulled at it, revealing some of their tangled-up naked bodies.

  The guy got up. ‘Alright, mate, no need to go fucking mental.’ He walked past me and picked a pair of jeans up off the floor. Then looked back as he put them on. ‘Come on, Pen.’

  ‘You too, Karen. Get out.’ I glared at her.

  She got up, all long skinny limbs. She was into heroin, not just cocaine. She had needle marks all over the inner sides of her arms.

  My conscience kicked; her relationship with Sharon and I was probably a part of her addiction. I don’t think I’d ever looked at her when I was sober and clean before. I saw a different person.

  She smiled at me, came over and touched my crotch. I gripped her wrist and took her hand away. ‘Just get out.’ She smiled as if she believed we’d call her in an hour and ask her back.

  Never again. I’d received my wake-up shout and Daisy was my get-out-of-jail-free card.

  When they walked out, clothes thrown on or hanging in their hands, I went into the hall and watched until they walked out the main door. It clicked shut behind them.

  For the first time I thought about what all the hangers-on in my life might have done with the freedom of my apartment while I’d been out of my head. But I didn’t have much to steal. Sharon and I didn’t spend money on trinkets, we spent it on sex and drugs – and clothes – but Sharon did have some jewellery. We’d probably had stuff stolen and not even known.

  I went back into the bedroom and looked at her. She was leaning up on her elbows in the bed. ‘What’s brought you back in a bad mood?’

  I stared at her. I didn’t know what to say to this.

  ‘Come and get into bed. You’ll feel better.’

  ‘No.’ Oh, just say it. ‘I have a kid with one of the girls I was at school with. I found out today.’

  She sat up and the sheet slithered to her lap, revealing her body to the waist. ‘What?’

  ‘My daughter is seven years old. I got a girl pregnant and she didn’t tell me.’

  ‘Oh, my God. That was a riot, then.’ It was said in a dismissive, sarcastic tone.

  ‘I need to change my life. I want my daughter in it, and this is not the sort of life a child can see. We’re not having any more parties and no more cocaine.’

  Her face screwed up, as though she was annoyed and she thought I’d gone crazy.

  ‘I mean it.’

  She slid across the bed and got up, then grabbed a dressing gown off the floor, walked past me and went into the bathroom. ‘Don’t be pathetic.’

  ‘I’ve had enough of living like this. I don’t want to do it any more. I’m not this man.’

  ‘You’ve never complained before.’

  ‘No. But I’m complaining now. We need to settle down. I want to be normal. I want to be able to invite my daughter here. I want to stand up in front of her and not feel dirty.’

  She made a face at me, then squatted down over the toilet and weed, with the door open. ‘How do you know she’ll even want to see you? How can you know you’ll even like her?’

  ‘I like her already.’ Victoria was in my mind and through Victoria I could imagine our child. She’d be sweet, polite. If I’d had a child with Sharon, it would be a spoilt brat. ‘I called John. I’m getting a DNA test done and then he’ll start working on legal rights and I’m going to set up a trust fund for her.’

  ‘You haven’t even met the kid—’

  ‘I don’t need to meet her. She’s mine and I have seven years of her life to make up. So, Sharon, you need to change or we’re over.’

  ‘What?’ She shouted as she wiped herself. ‘What have you taken?’

  ‘Nothing.’ For the first time in a long time.

  Only Sharon would have this sort of conversation with me while she was using the toilet. She had no decency. But even that had turned me on in the past.

  ‘Then where’s this sudden burst of anger come from?’ She walked past me, her dressing gown hanging open. Then she climbed on the bed. ‘Come to bed, Jack. You’ll get bored of the kid and forget about this and think differently in a few days. Come on. I’ll make you forget your bad mood.’

  ‘No thanks. Me and my bad mood are happy together. I like it. You can go back to sleep.’

  I walked out and went into the living room, then sat on the floor with my b
ack up against the sofa and my knees bent up, and watched the sun rise over London through the glass.

  Sharon wouldn’t change and she wouldn’t go, and I didn’t want to be with her. If I was going to change my life, I had to be the one who left.

  At seven I went back into the bedroom and started packing. She was out cold in the bed. I packed my clothes into five suitcases. She didn’t wake. My clothes were all I wanted – everything else I’d leave for her and buy new.

  I took the cases down to the car, then went back up to tell her I was leaving her.

  I shook her shoulder. Her eyes opened. ‘I’ve decided. You won’t change. But I’m changing. So I’m going. I’m leaving you. Don’t bother calling – and find a lawyer. I want a divorce.’

  I took a room at the Hilton, left my car and my things there, then caught a tube back and got my motorbike out of the underground car park and rode that over to the Hilton too. Then I started looking on the Internet for somewhere new to live and rang Em.

  ‘Hi. Sorry to interrupt your Sunday, but I wanted to warn you, I won’t be in tomorrow. Can you run the meeting and tell everyone I’m off because Sharon and I have split? I’m going to get somewhere else to live. I want to do some viewings and then I’ll be back in.’

  ‘You split up?’

  ‘Yes, and do not say I told you so, or thank God, or anything. We split up because I discovered I have a daughter, a seven-year-old daughter.’

  ‘Oh my God. You—’

  ‘Say nothing.’

  ‘Saying nothing. I’ll see you on Tuesday, with any luck. I hope it goes okay. If you need me, call.’

  ‘Cheers, Em.’

  I sat on the sofa in the hotel room and scrolled down through the pages of apartments. I’d done it. I was making a new start.

  At one o’clock I called Victoria. ‘Hi, it’s Jack.’

  ‘I know, your number’s in my phone.’

  ‘Can I speak to her? Daisy. Have you said anything?’

  ‘We’re eating, Jack.’

  ‘Shall I call back, then?’