‘What do you think?’ she asked.
‘About what?’
Phoebe shrugged helplessly. Even she wasn’t sure what she was asking Archie.
‘So… are you coming back in or what?’
‘Thanks, but I’m tired and I want to go home.’
‘You’re walking home? Alone?’
‘Yeah, it looks like it. At least to the bus stop.’
Archie’s hand went up to his swollen eye. He scuffed his feet on the pavement again and he looked at Phoebe with an expression that told her he didn’t know what to think or say. Perhaps he was out of his emotional depth. If the truth was told, so was Phoebe.
She turned away. ‘Bye Archie.’ She began to walk. If Jack didn’t want this baby then she would do it alone.
Phoebe stared up at the ceiling as she lay flat on her bed. Her fingers gripped the corner of the scan photo at her side. What had just happened? Had she and Jack split up? She was still struggling to understand any of it. Her phone had rung four times since she’d arrived home but she couldn’t bring herself to talk to him. Maybe he wanted to apologise but Phoebe wasn’t in the mood to accept it with any grace. She didn’t care what he felt or how much he was hurting. In fact, she hoped he was hurting, because then he would know how it felt to be rejected. Sure, he had been subjected to a difficult night, but hadn’t they all? And nobody else had behaved with such utter disregard for her feelings.
It wasn’t just tonight either; ever since she had told him about the baby he had become a totally different person from the man she thought she knew. Well, if he didn’t want their baby then he would get his wish. There was no need to involve a man who didn’t want to be involved. Loads of mothers got by just fine on their own and Phoebe didn’t see why she should be any different. As far as she was concerned, there were no half measures: either he acted like a proper father or he stayed away for good.
She looked at her phone again. It had been silent for twenty minutes now. As the anger subsided, fear and sadness took its place. It was late now, too late to call her parents. But she needed them and the protective bubble that only they could weave around her to make her feel safe. She dialled the number, hoping they hadn’t yet gone to bed.
‘Mum…’ Phoebe’s voice cracked but she took a steadying breath. ‘Do you mind if I come over?’
‘Phoebe…? It’s half ten…’
‘I know. I’m sorry. If you’re going to bed it can wait –’
‘Don’t be daft. Is everything alright?’
‘No…’ Phoebe began to sob. ‘No, Mum, it isn’t…’
‘Right,’ Martha replied briskly. ‘Give us twenty minutes and we’ll be there to pick you up.’
Martha already had a pan of milk on the stove when Phoebe followed her dad through to the kitchen. True to Martha’s promise, he had arrived exactly twenty minutes after Phoebe’s plea for help and ushered her into the car. The drive back to her parents’ house had been quiet, the silence only broken by the occasional stifled sob from Phoebe and her father clearing his throat. He knew from experience that driving and having deep, meaningful conversations didn’t really go together and that once they arrived back home they would be able to talk things through properly.
‘I’m making you cocoa,’ Martha announced.
‘Mum… there’s really no need. I just wanted… I don’t know what I wanted.’
‘I want to know what that lad has done,’ Hugh said.
‘He hasn’t hurt me if that’s what you’re worried about,’ Phoebe said.
‘So why are you here looking like your world has ended?’
Phoebe let out a sigh. ‘Watch your milk doesn’t boil over, Mum.’ She angled her head at the pan as she dropped into a seat at the table.
Martha removed the pan from the hob and poured milk into two mugs. ‘You’ll stay here tonight, and I think it would be a good idea if you take the day off tomorrow.’
‘I can’t do that, there’s far too much to do at work,’ Phoebe replied.
‘In your state? I should think a day off will do you good. Do they know you’re pregnant yet?’
‘No. I’ll tell them soon. But we have a full day of story sessions tomorrow and I need to be there.’
Martha turned and planted her hands on her hips as Hugh took a seat at the table next to Phoebe. ‘Are you telling me that if you died today they’d have to cancel all future story sessions because you wouldn’t be there?’
‘I’m not dead, though, am I?’
‘You know what I mean. If you need a day off then you should take one. Let someone else worry about what’s going on at Hendry’s for once.’
‘I’m not taking the day off.’ What she wanted to add was that if things didn’t improve with Jack then her job would be all she had left. And she’d need the income with a baby to raise on her own. But she didn’t.
‘Don’t worry, love,’ Hugh cut in. ‘I can run you into work in the morning, no problem.’
‘Won’t that make you late?’ Phoebe asked.
‘Don won’t mind if I’m a bit late. He knows I’ll always make the time back.’
Phoebe gave him a grateful smile. ‘Thanks.’ Right here in her childhood home felt like the safest place to be right now. Tomorrow was another day but tonight she could lie in her old bed and pretend everything was as simple and uncomplicated as it been back in the days when she’d lived here.
Martha placed a mug of cocoa in front of Phoebe. The sweet, heady smell wrapped itself around her frayed nerves like a soothing balm. Whenever there had been upset throughout her teenage years, Martha had always made cocoa for her. Phoebe couldn’t remember exactly when it had started, but it had become something of a tradition. There had been a lot of cocoa, right about the time Vik had died, and a lot of it had gone cold as Phoebe wept into it. But without it, she knew that her mourning would have been even more painful than it was. It wasn’t about the drink, but what it symbolised. Her parents couldn’t protect her from all of life’s injustices, but they would be there to comfort her, no matter how dark things got.
Martha slid another mug over for Hugh and joined them at the table.
‘Aren’t you having one?’ Phoebe asked.
‘I’m trying to cut down,’ Martha replied.
‘Really?’ Phoebe raised her eyebrows.
‘That’s what I said,’ Hugh chuckled. ‘There’s not much of her to start with but she keeps telling me she’s filling out.’
‘I am,’ Martha replied. ‘You’re just not looking properly.’
‘Oh… I look alright,’ Hugh winked.
Martha rolled her eyes. ‘For pity’s sake; you’re such a brute.’
‘I know,’ He grinned. Then he turned to Phoebe. ‘Are you ready to tell us about it, love?’
‘Not especially. I suppose I’m just feeling a bit lost at the moment. Jack and I had words tonight and I don’t know what’s wrong. He won’t share what he’s thinking about the baby. He says he is but I know he’s keeping things back from me and he’s changed since I told him. He tells me he’s happy but I can see that he’s not. And the situation with his brother isn’t helping; it’s putting a lot of strain on us both. I’m only glad now that I stood my ground over moving in with him. It would have been twenty times worse if I’d been living in the middle of it all.’
Phoebe didn’t like keeping secrets of her own, but there was no way she could tell her parents everything that had gone on with Archie and his pretend gangsters. Harmless or not, her mum would have been worried to death and her dad would have been straight round to sort Archie out himself.
‘Aye… it’s always good to have a bolthole,’ Hugh agreed.
‘Like your shed?’ Phoebe smiled.
‘Exactly.’
‘I think I might need a bit more than a shed,’ Phoebe mused. ‘Maybe another universe.’
Martha reached across the table for Phoebe’s hand. ‘You know that we’d be upset if you split from Jack and found yourself living as a single mum,
but that’s only because it would be a struggle for you. We’d back you all the way, though. Anything you need, we’ll be here. So if that’s what’s happening now and you’re afraid, don’t be. You have to do what you feel is right.’
‘That’s just it. I don’t even know myself how I feel about it all. Maybe I just need some space, time away from Jack to think it through.’
‘Good idea. It’s good to see you thinking clearly about this.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ Phoebe said. ‘I know one thing, though, I hadn’t realised cocoa would agree with me quite as well as it does. I haven’t been able to stand tea or coffee since I started having morning sickness but this is perfect. I may have to move in so that I can have it on tap.’
‘You know you’d always be welcome. And I mean that in all seriousness, love.’ Hugh let out a wide yawn. He clamped a bear paw of a hand to his mouth. ‘Well! I didn’t see that one coming!’ he laughed. ‘I should think it’s your mother’s cocoa working its magic on me too.’
‘You did get up at six today,’ Martha reminded him.
‘Aye, I suppose I did and this old body can’t stand the pace like it used to.’
‘Go to bed, love,’ Martha said.
Hugh looked from one to the other and then gave a knowing grin. ‘Woman to woman chat now, is it? You’re going to tell Phoebe how men are all terrible and that she should burn her bra and get straight to a nunnery.’
‘It’s a bit late for the nunnery,’ Phoebe said.
‘You great daft lump,’ Martha added. ‘I’m going to talk to her about extended labour, pelvic floor collapse and stretch marks.’
‘Oh blimey! In that case I’m off!’ Hugh drained his mug and smacked his lips like a cartoon character. ‘Bloody good cocoa, that.’ He bent to kiss them both – Martha on the lips and Phoebe on the head. ‘Don’t worry, love,’ he said to Phoebe. ‘I’m sure it will all look better in the morning.’
‘Thanks, Dad. You’re probably right.’
Hugh placed his empty mug in the sink before leaving them with a cheery goodnight.
‘You’re so lucky,’ Phoebe said to her mum. ‘Dad’s brilliant.’
Martha smiled. ‘You’re right. He’s a good man. But it’s taken work, just like it does for everyone else.’
‘It’s not the work that bothers me,’ Phoebe said. ‘I know good, solid relationships don’t happen by magic. I’m prepared to give and take and I want to be with Jack, but it’s like…’ She sighed. ‘I don’t know. It’s like his heart is a house. I can wander around there, go in any room I like, but I know there’s one little trapdoor that he just won’t open for me. I want to know what’s down there but at the same time I’m too scared to force it.’ She grabbed her cocoa and stared into it. ‘I suppose that doesn’t make a lot of sense.’
‘More than you know.’ Martha smiled. ‘Wait here.’
Phoebe looked up as her mother disappeared from the room. She returned a few moments later and pushed a book across the table towards Phoebe.
‘What’s this?’
‘Help… At least I hope so.’
Phoebe picked it up. The pages were well thumbed and the cover and spine creased. ‘What have you been doing with this, washing the windows?
‘You may laugh, my girl, but that’s the secret of my success. I read that book fifteen years ago and since then your dad and I have never been happier. Every time I lose sight of its advice I read it again.’
‘Seriously?’ Phoebe asked in a sceptical tone, turning it over in her hands. ‘Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus saved your marriage?’
‘Not saved, exactly. More like enhanced it. There was no danger of us ever splitting up but we had definitely reached a point where it had become hard work.’
‘It’s not about sex, is it?’ Phoebe asked with a grimace.
‘Don’t be daft. It’s advice, about what makes us tick and how women are different from men.’
‘From some overpaid American shrink?’
‘Fifteen million readers can’t be wrong.’
Phoebe placed it on the table and pushed it back. ‘I think I’ll sort out my problems the old-fashioned way.’
‘By ignoring them?’
‘I’m not.’
‘So why did you run away?’
‘He pretty much made me leave,’ Phoebe said in a defensive tone. ‘And I wasn’t the one in the wrong.’
‘Did he try to apologise?’
‘Sort of…’
‘And did you let him?’
‘Sort of…’
‘That means no. I know you. Once you close up there’s no getting through again.’
‘Is that one of the phrases from your book?’
‘If you’re going to poke fun then I won’t try to help.’ Martha looked genuinely hurt.
‘Sorry,’ Phoebe replied. ‘Of course I’ll read it.’
Phoebe pulled the book towards her again and read the back cover. She didn’t think for a moment that a book was going to help her and Jack, unless she could beat Archie with it. He had told her he would go home to his parents. Phoebe wondered whether he had gone through with it after all. Perhaps Jack was alone there now. She could go to him, sort it out. It was silly to sit here and cry when they could be together, talking it all through. But even if Archie had gone home, it still didn’t change the way Jack had hurt her. The truth was, right now, she didn’t want to go to him. She believed she was worth more than that.
PART 4: AND BABY MAKES FOUR
When Phoebe woke, the book her mum had given her was lying on the bedside table. As her eyes focused on it, she tutted under her breath, still unconvinced that it contained the secret of saving her relationship with Jack. Did her relationship even need saving? Perhaps she had overreacted the night before, already stressed by a very long and weird day, and today she would find everything that had seemed so big and scary yesterday now looked unimportant in the light of a new day.
Her gaze travelled the room as she mused on the idea. Accompanying the odd yet familiar scene of old bedroom furniture, decorated with stickers of long-forgotten bands and childhood crushes, was the gentle tick of her old Mickey Mouse alarm clock. The soothing, rhythmic sound made her smile. Her brother, Josh, had bought it for her during one of his many gap-year stopovers. Phoebe had left it with her parents when she’d moved out, believing herself too grownup and sophisticated for Mickey Mouse clocks. How silly she thought that version of herself now. Sometimes, the best way to deal with the present is to cling on to the comforts of the past, and never had she seen that more plainly than now, as she lay in her little room – a space captured in time. She silently gave thanks that her dad had been stubborn in his refusal to let Martha clear it out and give all Phoebe’s old stuff to charity. Not this year, he kept saying, until she had given up asking.
As Phoebe stared at the clock, watching the minute hand inch around the face, she wondered whether Maria would like to have it. Perhaps Maria would then pass it on to the baby?
Her mind went back to the awful argument with Jack. Well, less of an argument and more of an explosion on her part, now that she really thought about it. What if she had gone too far after all? Only time would tell but she wasn’t entirely sure that her dad’s insistence everything would be clear after a good night’s sleep was true. Of course, to really test that hypothesis one had to have had a good night’s sleep… Phoebe had spent the night drifting from shallow sleep to wakefulness in a frustrating cycle. It was to be expected in the circumstances, she supposed, but fatigue wasn’t going to help her get through a day at work that promised to be trying enough as it was.
There was a gentle tap at the bedroom door and then Hugh’s head appeared.
‘You’re awake then. I was doing a bacon sandwich and I wondered if you wanted one.’
‘Ummm… I’m not sure bacon is what I need this morning. Thanks anyway, Dad.’
‘You can’t go to work on an empty stomach, lass, especially not in your condition.�
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Phoebe gave a rueful smile. ‘What condition would that be? The pregnancy or the terminal stupidity?’
Hugh seemed to wince slightly. He let himself in and sat on the edge of her bed. As he did so, his gaze fell upon Martha’s book.
‘Oh. I see she’s tried to dump that daft bit of wisdom on you.’
‘Mum says it’s the secret of your good marriage. She says she has everything figured out thanks to that book.’
‘Thinks she has,’ Hugh chuckled. ‘Let me tell you a secret… the only thing that makes our marriage so good is that I love your mum more than life itself. And I like to think she feels the same way about me.’
‘I think she does.’ Phoebe smiled as she pushed herself upright. ‘So all that rubbish about men in their caves and elastic bands isn’t true?’
‘I wouldn’t say that, exactly…’ he gave her a sheepish grin. ‘I don’t have a cave but I do have my shed, I suppose. As for an elastic band, I’m too caught up in your mother’s apron strings to get far enough for her to need to flirt me back.’
‘It doesn’t look as if you’re doing too badly on it.’
‘I’m not. We’ve had a good life together.’ Hugh patted a giant hand on her knee. ‘Now, what about your Jack? You love him?’
‘I think so. I’m so confused lately that I’m not even sure I know what love is. It shouldn’t be this hard, should it?’
‘Do you feel like you can’t breathe without him?’
‘Yeah, a little bit. But I put that down to my asthma.’
Hugh laughed. ‘That’s my girl!’ Then his expression became serious. ‘Are you sure it’s a good idea to go into work today? Wouldn’t it be a better plan to stay in bed a while, think about what you really want and, if it is Jack, go and talk to him?’
Phoebe rested her chin on her gathered knees. ‘Probably. But I really have to be in work today. Even if I don’t do the story sessions, I like to be on hand while they’re going on and I wouldn’t be able to relax at home knowing that I’m not available. Maybe I’ll go and see him tonight.’
The Spring of Second Chances : An absolutely perfect and uplifting romantic comedy Page 27
