by Kate Field
‘Helen could, though, couldn’t you?’ Valerie fixed her with a steely look. ‘If we can obtain the same fabric, you could make something better than the bridal shop.’
It wasn’t a question, Helen realised: it was a statement – an order, even, but one she recognised as Valerie’s way of showing her support.
‘Yes, of course I could.’ Although she hardly knew when she was going to fit that in on top of everything else. She smiled at Alex. ‘If you come to the shop we can look through some patterns.’
They fixed a time, then Helen and Megan said goodbye and left. Despite the tears, despite the angry words from Daniel and awkwardness with the others, as the front door closed behind them, Helen’s shoulders lifted. The visit had gone much better than she had feared. Valerie Blake had been a revelation. Helen smiled down at Megan.
‘Race you to the car!’ she said. Megan set off at once, and Helen followed, letting Megan streak ahead as they reached the car. Laughing, she swept a giggling Megan into her arms and as she did, her eyes were drawn back to the house. Daniel was standing alone in the window, watching.
CHAPTER 13
Daniel telephoned early the next morning while Helen was still clearing away the breakfast.
‘How is Megan?’
‘Very well.’ Better than Helen. Her head swirled with a fog of tiredness after a largely sleepless night.
‘Has she mentioned yesterday? Did she enjoy it?’
‘I think so.’ Although when they arrived home, she’d been more interested in the cute photo Joel had sent of Mr Cat exploring his desk. True to his word, he was sending regular updates, often accompanied by a funny message for Helen. ‘She’s excited about being a flower girl.’
‘Good. It’s a family day. She should be there.’
Helen wondered where that left her. No one had actually clarified how it was going to work. Was she supposed to drop Megan off at the wedding, and pick her up later? She wasn’t prepared to do that, but nor did she expect to be invited: it was too late to add extra guests, she imagined, and how would they ever explain her connection? Daniel’s ex-girlfriend who had his baby but didn’t tell him? It would certainly be a conversation piece, if nothing else.
‘Are you free tomorrow morning?’ Daniel cut into her thoughts.
‘No, I’m working.’
‘No appointments?’
‘No, but…’
‘Good. I’ve arranged for us to see a solicitor at ten, to sort out the birth certificate. Craig recommended her.’
Was this how it was going to be from now on? Daniel making the decisions, and ordering her about, because she was the mother of his child? It stirred uncomfortable memories of how their previous relationship had worked, memories that had been airbrushed out of the Daniel she had thought about for the last four years.
‘You could have checked with me first,’ she protested, banging the dishes into the sink with more venom than they deserved. ‘It’s all rather rushed, isn’t it?’
‘I’m sorry, do you think so? Four years to be named on my daughter’s birth certificate sounds rather slow to me.’
She hated his sarcasm. She’d forgotten about that, too, and how often he used it against her. ‘Fine. Text me the address and I’ll be there.’
The solicitor was based in a large brick and glass office building in the centre of Manchester. It looked expensive, and terribly professional, and Helen felt completely out of her depth even before she had set foot inside. This looked like the sort of place where great deals might be done, and complex problems thrashed out: what had it got to do with her and Megan, and adding a name to a bit of paper?
She took the lift to the reception area on the fifth floor, and found Daniel already there. He was sitting on the leather chesterfield, wearing a dark suit and reading The Times, a half-drunk coffee in front of him. He fitted in perfectly with this environment, and Helen clutched her handbag tighter, feeling ridiculously incongruous in her red wool coat and homemade skirt.
Daniel stood up when he saw her.
‘Hello.’ He hovered, clearly caught in that awful moment of wondering whether to kiss her or not, and then sat down again. Helen sank onto the sofa opposite him, and let out the breath she’d been holding. She couldn’t have coped with a polite kiss on the cheek, not when he was looking so devastating. There was something about him, all dressed up for work in his sober suits, that she had never been able to resist: the contrast, perhaps, between the formal appearance and what she knew he was like underneath. However hot the weather, he had always kept his tie on for when he came home, knowing how much she loved to tear it off…
‘Mr Blake? Miss Walters?’ A lady in navy trousers and a cream silk blouse approached, her hand outstretched. Helen sprang up, as if the leather beneath her was growing as warm as her thoughts. ‘I’m Rachel Ward. Would you like to come through to the conference room?’
They followed her down a corridor to a characterless room containing a round table surrounded by four chairs. A notebook and pen lay in front of one of the chairs. There was a box of tissues in the middle of the table. It wasn’t an encouraging sign.
‘Now, I understand you want to discuss changing your daughter’s birth certificate, is that right?’
‘Yes.’ Daniel smiled at her, slipping easily into the charming manner he did so well. ‘I was abroad when she was born, and Helen says she was unable to have my name added as the father.’
Helen looked at him, eyes narrowed. He continued to smile, his attention focussed on the solicitor. Had she imagined the slight emphasis there on ‘says’? Did he not believe her?
‘I assume you weren’t married at the time of the birth?’ Rachel asked.
‘No, and we’re not now.’
Helen noticed how quick he was to point that out.
‘Then Miss Walters is right. She could only register you as the father if you both signed the register together, or if she had a statutory declaration of parentage, or an order giving you parental responsibility. You didn’t have either of those?’
Helen shook her head.
‘But it is possible to change the birth certificate now, isn’t it?’ Daniel asked.
‘Yes, you can complete an application for re-registration of the birth. I assume it is something you both agree on? I can’t advise you both unless you’re in agreement.’
‘Helen?’ She felt the word like a physical prod.
‘Yes, I agree.’
‘So, once the birth certificate is changed, will that mean I have the normal rights of a father?’
‘Rights?’ Helen stared at him. ‘What rights?’
‘To have a say in everything. To make decisions about Megan.’
‘You mean parental responsibility?’ Rachel uncapped her pen and made a note on the pad in front of her. Helen tried to read what she’d written, but the writing was too small. ‘You will obtain that by re-registering the birth. It will give you the right to be involved in decisions about the child’s education, and religion, consent to medical treatment, and on a practical level, sign school forms and things like that.’
‘That’s what I want.’
‘Hold on,’ Helen interrupted. This was going further and faster than she’d expected. ‘We haven’t talked about that. I thought we were only changing the birth certificate.’
Rachel sat back.
‘I’m sorry, but if you don’t agree on this I can’t advise you both.’
‘So I don’t automatically have parental responsibility? Even though I’m the parent?’ Daniel was still presenting the charming smile, but had started his finger-tapping thing.
‘No, it’s not that simple, unless you’re married. You can only gain it by jointly registering the birth, or re-registering in your case, or if the mother signs an agreement, or if a parental responsibility order is made by the court.’
Helen gazed at the tissue box. She could feel Daniel’s eyes on her.
‘And if Helen doesn’t agree? Is the court order a formalit
y?’
‘I don’t know the specifics in your case, but the court will consider things such as your reasons for applying, the degree of attachment between the father and the child, the level of commitment shown by the father…’
Daniel’s fingers thumped onto the arm of his chair.
‘And what would the court make of the fact that I haven’t had chance to show commitment because I didn’t know she existed?’
Rachel jotted another note on her pad. It was illegible, but Helen could guess it didn’t say anything good.
‘It’s fine, I agree that we’ll re-register Megan’s birth,’ she said. She didn’t want to go anywhere near a court, in case it could punish her by taking Megan away. And a piece of paper wasn’t going to make much difference after all: if Daniel was determined to interfere, he would do it, paper or not.
‘And what about her name?’ Daniel’s fingers had stilled for the time being. ‘How do we go about changing that?’
‘What’s wrong with her name?’ Helen turned to him. ‘We agreed – Megan for a girl.’
‘But the birth certificate says Megan Walters.’ Daniel spoke slowly and flashed a smile at Rachel, as if to apologise that she had to listen to this. ‘She should be Megan Blake.’
‘No.’ How could he even suggest it? Helen’s voice rose several pitches. ‘I want her to have the same name as me.’
‘So do I.’
Rachel pushed back her chair.
‘Would you like me to give you a few minutes alone?’
‘No, there’s no need for that,’ Helen said, conscious that she sounded over-wrought in contrast to his measured tone. She wasn’t paying anyone to have a cup of tea while she argued with Daniel. And there was no point arguing. She was never going to back down on this. ‘Megan is staying as Walters. It’s not negotiable.’
‘But what if you get married? You wouldn’t have the same name then.’
Oh, that stung – that he could so casually, so carelessly talk about her marrying someone else, without a single flicker of emotion. She stretched across the table for one of the tissues.
‘I’m not planning to marry,’ she said.
Daniel had started the finger drumming again.
‘But you might,’ he insisted. She supposed she ought to be flattered that despite how much he thought she’d changed, he still considered it possible that she might attract a man. Just not him. He looked at Rachel. ‘What would happen if Helen married? Would Megan take the husband’s name?’
‘Not automatically, no.’ Rachel appeared relieved to be back on familiar ground. ‘Changing a child’s surname is a profound step. If there’s any dispute over it, the court will decide, considering what’s in the best interests of the child. It’s very difficult to put forward a cogent case for a change.’
Daniel let out a sigh of frustration, and Helen tensed, waiting for him to push the point, but he didn’t. The meeting ended without further surprises, but as they were leaving, before Rachel could open the door, Helen spoke. One question had been torturing her ever since Daniel’s return. She had to know the answer.
‘Can I ask one more question?’
‘Of course.’ Rachel smiled. Helen could sense Daniel’s frown without needing to see it.
‘Daniel’s in a relationship, and I’m not. He’s more financially secure too.’ She clutched the tissue tightly in her hand. ‘Does that make a difference? If he applied for custody, would that mean he’d win?’
Suddenly she felt a strong hand on her arm, pulling her round.
‘Nell.’ She caught her breath. There was the old Daniel, in the timbre of his voice and the warmth in his eyes. ‘I’m not going to take her off you.’
She believed him; the truth was there in his face. But still she turned back to Rachel for the answer.
‘It’s the child’s best interests that matter,’ she replied. ‘There’s no presumption that a couple would be better than a single parent.’
They left the office in silence, until they reached the street.
‘Where are you parked?’ Daniel asked.
‘The multi-storey over there.’ She pointed. Daniel nodded.
‘I’m the other way.’ He didn’t make any effort to move. ‘Thanks for agreeing to that. The birth certificate and parental responsibility thing, I mean.’
Helen dug her nails into her palm, unable to reply. It was unbearable. He was thanking her for giving him something he should have had anyway. It was almost easier to deal with him shouting at her.
‘I’m sorry if you’ve been worrying about custody. It’s never crossed my mind. Megan belongs with you. You’ve done a fantastic job.’
Damn tears! Helen quickly wiped her eyes. What was wrong with her? He could probably count on one hand the number of times she had cried when they had been together. Now she couldn’t stop.
‘Perhaps when she knows who I am, we can talk about an overnight stay?’ Helen gave a slight nod. She knew he was entitled to it, and that she had to let them have time together at some stage; how she would bear it was quite another matter. ‘It’s not just you, now. We’re doing this together. So, truce?’
He offered his hand and his smile. It wasn’t the smile he used to give her; she couldn’t expect that; that smile belonged to Tasha now. But it was like seeing the first crocus burst through the hard earth of a winter-battered garden. She shook his hand, and he walked away, while she remained on the pavement, watching him go, her heart aching.
CHAPTER 14
Thursday was the day Helen and Alex had fixed for their meeting to discuss Megan’s flower-girl dress and, despite the apparent truce with Daniel, Helen was dreading it. It had been awkward enough at Valerie’s house, when the company had been diluted: how were they going to manage alone? Perhaps Alex would bring Valerie with her; strangely, Helen found herself hoping she would. But what if she brought Tasha? That unwelcome thought had Helen spinning round anxiously every time she heard the doors open.
But the first familiar visitor to St Andrew’s that day wasn’t Alex. Helen was trying to convince a new customer that she would be able to manage a cross-stitch cushion, and demonstrating how easy the stitch was on a spare piece of binca, when Joel walked in. She hadn’t seen him or spoken to him since the visit to Church Farm, despite the regular messages about Mr Cat, and wasn’t prepared for the sudden prickle of interest, or self-consciousness, that hit her.
Carrying on with her demonstration, she saw from the corner of her eye that Joel headed straight for Saskia’s jewellery shop. Saskia was clearly expecting him, and now the reason for her glamorous, if skimpy, outfit became clear. Helen heard them laughing and talking as she closed the sale with her customer, and noticed that Joel was taking photographs of some of Saskia’s displays.
Helen tidied away the binca and thread, and watched as Joel next popped across the aisle for a quick word with Malcolm. They seemed to be discussing the new piece Malcolm was painting – after thirty years of gentle landscapes, he had revealed a hidden passion for bold abstract designs. Helen loved them, and tried to work out how Joel was reacting. He was smiling, but that was nothing unusual; she was inclined to think his lips worked in the opposite way to other people’s, so he had to make an effort to curve them down if he wanted to appear serious.
Joel finished with Malcolm, and zig-zagged back across the aisle to Fiona’s shop, where he took more photographs. Helen cleared a space on the counter and set up her laptop and a couple of patterns ready to show Alex when she came in. He hadn’t looked her way once since he arrived. Panic flooded her veins and made her heart race. What if he had changed his mind, or had grown tired of waiting and let the unit to someone else, just as she’d decided to take it? She had been planning to go to Church Farm with Megan on Monday, to tell him her decision and have another look. What if she’d left it too late, and he no longer wanted her?
Trying not to stare in too stalkerish a way, she waited until he had taken two paces out of Fiona’s shop – in the direction of Joa
n, not Crazy Little Things, she noted with another flare of anxiety – and stepped out into the aisle.
‘Joel!’
He looked round, the smile already in place.
‘Hello.’ He took a step nearer, but didn’t say anything more.
‘I didn’t know you were coming in today.’
‘I needed to take some photos of Saskia’s and Fiona’s work. I’m putting a feature on the Church Farm website about the new occupants of the Hay Barn.’
‘So I’m too late?’ The panic fuelling her heart evaporated, leaving her numb. What was she going to do? She realised now how perfect the Hay Barn would be for her. Had she lost that as well as St Andrew’s?
‘Too late for what?’ Joel looked confused, then his smile grew. ‘You mean you’ve decided? You want to join us?’
‘If there’s still a space.’
‘Of course there is!’ He laughed. ‘I told you it was yours if you wanted it. Your plans were fantastic. I’ve already ordered the glass partitions to go where you suggested. It’s been torture not asking about your shop, but I thought I should leave you alone to decide without pressure.’
He was genuinely pleased. His whole face glowed with his smile. Helen felt an answering ripple of excitement, and wondered if she looked as happy as he did.
‘Have you time for a coffee?’ Joel asked, unfastening his scarf. ‘I was about to go to Auntie Joan’s. We can talk through the details and then I could take some photos while I’m here.’
‘I can’t, I’m expecting someone in a few minutes.’
‘Oh.’ The smile dimmed a notch. ‘I’ve got a meeting in Leeds for most of the day tomorrow. I know nights will be difficult for you, but is there any chance we could meet tomorrow night? I want to update the website as soon as I can. I could come round to yours if that’s easier.’
‘No, I should be able to pop out for an hour.’ If she spoke very nicely to Kirsty. But it concerned Kirsty’s job too: surely that would persuade her? Not that Kirsty would probably need much persuasion to facilitate Helen going out for a drink with an attractive man, even if it was strictly business. Which it was, wasn’t it? She looked at Joel with sudden uncertainty. He winked.
