“Hello.”
Amber jumped at the sound of Gerald’s voice. He was sitting in the dark on the top step.
“Hello,” she muttered, taking a deep breath to try and get her heart rate back down to normal. “What – what are you doing?”
“Waiting for you,” he replied. “Where have you been?”
“Out with friends.” Amber felt a tingle of joy at being able to say it and really mean it.
“What friends?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Amber started walking up the stairs towards him. Why wasn’t he locked away in his studio? Why was he waiting for her? “Where’s Daniel?”
“Gone to see that god-awful Phantom of the Opera with his brother.” Gerald shuddered. He was not a fan of musical theatre. He called it “music for your soul to die to”.
“I’ve been worried about you.”
“Really? Why? It’s not that late.” Maybe it was the half-light of the hallway, but he looked older. His wrinkles seemed more pronounced and there were heavy bags under his eyes.
“I don’t mean the time, I mean…” Gerald broke off and looked away.
“What?” Amber’s heart rate began to quicken again.
“What you said, the other night. Can we – could we just sit for a moment – and talk?” He gestured for her to sit next to him.
“OK.” Amber didn’t know what to make of this turn of events, but she was still so happy from the Moonlight Dreamers meeting that she felt strong enough to endure one of Gerald’s lectures. She sat down and clutched her briefcase.
“I – er – I think I owe you an apology.”
“Oh? What for?” Amber held her breath, not daring to look at him. Was this a trick? Gerald never apologized. Not ever.
“I’m not exactly sure.”
Of course. She knew what was going on here. Daniel had told Gerald to apologize. It was so typical that he didn’t even see what he’d done wrong.
“I mean, I try my hardest to be a good father, I really do, but clearly that hasn’t been good enough.”
Amber could see exactly where this conversation was going. Instead of an apology, it would be yet another speech about how wonderful Gerald was. Well, she could do without it. There was no way she was going to let him ruin her good mood – it had taken her long enough to find it. She started getting to her feet.
“No, please. Don’t go!” Gerald cried, grabbing her hand. There was something weird about his voice. Something wavering. He sounded like he was going to cry.
Amber sat down again and stared into the darkened hallway. The ticking of the grandfather clock echoed as if counting every long, drawn-out second of awkwardness.
“I was very upset to see you react the way you did when I told you that I was your biological father,” Gerald said. “Is it really so horrific?”
“It’s not horrific,” Amber said, continuing to avoid his gaze. “It was just a real shock.”
“But why?” Gerald asked.
“Well, because you don’t…” Amber tailed off.
“I don’t what?”
“You don’t seem at all interested in me.”
“That’s not true!” Gerald cried. “I’m always asking Daniel about you.”
“But why?” Amber turned to him, her heart pounding with a mixture of anger and fear. “Why not ask me?”
“Well, because you’re both so…” Gerald hesitated. “Sometimes I feel as if you and Daniel are so close there’s no room for me.”
“But you’re always busy with your work.”
“But my work is…” Gerald put his hands together as if in prayer, the way he always did when he had an important point to make. “Are you passionate about anything?”
Amber nodded.
“Would you like to tell me what?”
“Oscar Wilde.”
“Really?” Gerald’s face lit up. “He was my hero when I was your age.”
“Seriously?” Amber felt a weird sensation in her stomach. She’d strayed into the previously uncharted territory of having something in common with Gerald.
“So, when you’re reading Oscar Wilde, do you ever lose track of time?”
Amber nodded. She’d lost entire days immersed in his books and plays.
“Well, that’s what it’s like for me when I’m painting. I lose all sense of time and place. I know it makes me difficult to live with, but it doesn’t mean…” He cleared his throat. “It doesn’t mean I don’t love you,” he said gruffly.
“Really?” Amber whispered, still barely able to believe what she was hearing.
“I love you very much,” Gerald said. “The day you came into the world was the happiest of my life.”
Amber stared at him. “Honestly?”
He looked sad. “You have no idea how much it pains me to see your surprise and disbelief at this fact.” He sighed. “You might be familiar with this quote.” He leaned forward slightly. “ ‘Children begin by loving their parents; as they grow older they judge them; sometimes they forgive them.’ ”
Amber nodded. “Oscar Wilde.”
“Yes. Well, I would like it very much if you would be the rare exception to that quote and find it in your heart to forgive me, Amber.”
Amber swallowed hard to try to maintain her composure. “I’d like that very much too,” she muttered.
“You would?” Gerald smiled broadly and suddenly he looked years younger.
“Yes.”
Gerald patted Amber on the back and coughed. “That’s wonderful!”
They sat in silence for a moment, but this time it didn’t feel awkward.
“Ger – er – Dad,” Amber said.
“Yes?”
“I’ve been thinking.”
“Yes?”
“Well, all this stuff about you being my biological dad.” Amber took a deep breath. “It’s made me want to know more about my biological mum. I mean, I know she was a surrogate and I know it would probably be really hard to track her down, but – I – I’d just like to…” She tailed off, hoping that what she’d said wouldn’t make Gerald upset.
But to her relief, he simply said, “You’d like to know more about who you came from?”
“Yes!” Amber looked at him hopefully.
“Wait here.” Gerald grabbed hold of the wrought iron banister and hauled himself up. “I’ll be back in a tick.”
As Gerald disappeared into his studio Amber sat in the darkness, barely able to believe her luck. Gerald and Daniel had never really talked about her biological mum, other than to say that they’d used a surrogacy agency in the States. And ever since she’d seen a documentary about surrogacy when she was about twelve she’d been too wary to ask any more. All the women in the programme had seemed slightly hard and scary.
Amber heard the stairs creak behind her and Gerald sat back down. “Here you are,” he said, handing her a faded sketchbook. She opened it nervously. On the first page was a pencil sketch of a heavily pregnant woman in side profile, leaning against a wall.
“I did them while we were at the hospital waiting for you to arrive,” Gerald said quietly.
Amber turned the page. There was another sketch of the woman, face-on this time, with one hand resting lightly on top of her stomach. Amber swallowed hard. She and the woman had exactly the same square jaw. The woman was gazing off into the distance and looked kind of sad. Amber turned to the next page. On it was a picture of a baby, swaddled tightly in a blanket. Gerald had doodled the word LOVE underneath it so many times that the letters all overlapped.
“She was a very nice young woman,” Gerald said. “She’d been through some tough times, and having you for Daniel and me, well, it helped her turn her life around.”
Amber felt a bittersweet mixture of sadness and happiness. Sadness for the thin woman in the sketch who’d needed to sell her baby, to sell Amber, to make her life better, but such happiness that she’d ended up with Daniel and Gerald.
“Are you OK?” Gerald asked.
Amb
er nodded and held out the pad.
“No, no,” he said, shaking his head. “Please keep it. And if there’s – if there’s anything else you’d like to know, about any of it, please ask.”
“OK,” Amber whispered.
“And before I forget,” Gerald continued, “to try and make amends for being so tardy in the parenting department, I would like to take you to Paris for your birthday.”
Amber’s eyes widened. “What, on my actual birthday?”
“Yes.”
“But what about your exhibition?”
Gerald smiled. “I’m sure one day away from my paintbrushes won’t hurt.”
How was it possible that this was happening? First the Moonlight Dreamers meeting and now all this. It was as if her brain didn’t have the capacity to process so much joy. “Thank you,” she sobbed.
“Oh dear. Don’t cry. Let me…” Gerald fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. “There, there,” he said, dabbing awkwardly at her face.
Downstairs they heard Daniel step into the hallway, humming the theme tune from Phantom under his breath.
“What the hell?” he exclaimed when he saw them sitting at the top of the stairs. “What are you doing?” He climbed the steps two at a time. “Is everything OK?”
“I think so,” Gerald said, looking at Amber anxiously.
Amber nodded and wiped her eyes. “Everything’s great,” she said.
“We’ve just been sorting some things out,” Gerald explained.
Daniel raised his eyebrows. “What things?”
“Amber’s birthday trip to Paris.”
“On my actual birthday,” Amber added.
Daniel broke into a grin. “That’s great.” He opened his arms and pulled them both into a hug. And as Daniel and Gerald’s arms wrapped around Amber, she felt all the empty places inside her slowly filling with love.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Saturday 7th November 14:17
Subject: An idea…
Hey Amber,
Hope you’re OK.
I think I might have figured out a way to help you make your dream come true. Not the one about Paris – I’m afraid that’s a bit out of my price range :-) – but I think I can help you get more readers for your blog. Let me know if you want to find out more.
Rose xoxo
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Saturday 7th November 14:27
Subject: Re: An idea…
Dear Rose,
That would be wonderful! Do tell me more.
I hope things are getting better for you now. I found a quote from Oscar Wilde that I thought you might like:
“There is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about.”
I’m not sure if you would agree with that right now, though!
I look forward to hearing from you.
Best wishes,
Amber
Chapter Thirty-nine
Rose looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her heart was pounding so hard it felt like her ribcage might crack. Don’t do this, her inner voice pleaded, it’s insane. Rose took a deep breath and stood up straight. Yesterday she’d gone to a hairdressers on a backstreet in East London and asked them to tidy up her hair and dye it jet black. She ran her hand over the short crop. It was weird to think that her initial reason for cutting her hair had been to disguise herself, because this look actually felt far more like the real her: fierce and strong and never a quitter. “Moonlight Dreamers never give up,” she whispered to her reflection.
Outside the changing room toilets a whistle blew and a cheer rang out from the crowd. Rose’s stomach lurched. There’s still time. You can still leave. You don’t have to do this. But if she didn’t do it she’d always feel bad about herself and she’d never be able to sing that kick-ass French song “Non, Je ne regrette rien” again. Hands trembling, Rose opened the door.
Outside, the sky was a blank, unforgiving sheet of white and an icy wind whipped across the rugby pitch. Rose could see the players making their way over to the changing rooms, their faces and legs raw from the cold. Muted applause rippled through the small crowd as the players walked past. Rose’s heart was pounding so hard now she could barely hear herself think. She couldn’t do this. She had to leave. Then she remembered the moonstone. Maali had given it to her on their way home from the Poetry Library. “I think you really need it this time,” she’d whispered with a smile.
Rose put her hand into her coat pocket and wrapped her fingers around the cool stone. She could do this. She was a Moonlight Dreamer.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw a girl running towards the rugby players, holding her phone up to take a picture. Jasmine! What the hell? Rose swallowed hard as she registered this turn of events. Was Jasmine here to watch Matt? Was she taking photos of Matt? Had she got her claws into him already?
Jasmine and the players were just a few metres away now. She didn’t have time to figure out what was going on; she had to stay focused. Her eyes searched the players for Matt. There he was, towards the back of the pack. And there was Jasmine, running alongside him, smiling and giggling at something he was saying. Rose clenched the moonstone and started walking towards them.
“Can I have a word?” she called, her voice trembling slightly. Get a grip, she scolded herself.
Matt looked at her – blankly at first, and then she saw a flicker of recognition and his jaw dropped open in shock. “Rose?” he gasped, staring at her hair.
“OMG!” Jasmine cried. “Rose, is that you? What have you done to your hair?”
“It was time for a makeover,” Rose replied drily, keeping her gaze fixed on Matt. His floppy hair was slick with sweat. He brushed it from his face and looked away. He was out of breath from the game. “What are you…? Why are you here?” he panted.
“Oh, I think you can probably guess,” Rose said curtly.
“Could we – can we go somewhere more private?” Matt said, taking hold of her arm.
“Don’t touch me!” Rose yelled, shaking him off.
Matt looked horrified. “I’m sorry – honestly, Rose.” He looked her straight in the eye. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…” He looked down and started scuffing the toe of his boot into the mud.
“You didn’t mean what?” Rose stared at him.
Matt looked at her imploringly. “Can we go somewhere private? Please?”
Rose glared at him. “Are you kidding? After what happened the last time you asked me that?”
“What’s going on, guys?” Jasmine looked from Rose to Matt and back again.
“Why don’t you tell her?” Rose challenged him. He looked away.
“I – uh—”
“What?” Jasmine asked, looking stressed.
“Do we really have to do this here?” Matt pleaded.
Rose nodded. “Yup.”
Matt sighed. “I posted that photo on her Instagram,” he muttered to Jasmine.
“What? But you said…” Jasmine turned to Rose. “He said…”
“I was drunk. I – I wasn’t thinking straight,” Matt stammered. “Please, Rose, I didn’t mean to, I—”
“You didn’t mean to?” Rose was furious. “What, you accidentally logged into my account and posted that picture there? Just like you accidentally pinned me to the sofa and…” Rose broke off, feeling suddenly close to tears. She’d thought that confronting Matt like this and seeing him squirm would make her feel better, but it didn’t. It was making her feel sick to her stomach.
“What’s going on?” Jasmine asked, her voice high and wobbly.
“Don’t worry about it,” Rose muttered. She turned and started to walk away. No way was she going to let Matt see her cry.
“Rose!” Matt called after her. She kept walking.
“Rose, please!” She heard him running up behind her. “Please, can I j
ust talk to you alone for a second?”
She turned to face him. He looked so different. All of his cockiness had disappeared – along with his fake Cockney accent. He looked frightened as he shifted from foot to foot. It made her feel better. Stronger.
“What?” she said with a piercing look.
“I didn’t mean—”
“Oh please, not again!” Rose started to turn away.
“I didn’t mean for things to get so heavy,” he said. “I didn’t think … I didn’t … I’m sorry.” She heard a tremor in his voice and turned back to see tears in his eyes. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”
She swallowed hard to stop herself from crying. “So why did you do it?” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“I was angry. I was drunk. I wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t think anyone would see it apart from our friends.”
“I’m not talking about the photo. Why did you…” Rose couldn’t bring herself to say it. “Why didn’t you listen to me when I said no?”
Matt looked at the ground. “I’m not used to people saying no to me.” It would have sounded like the most arrogant line in the world if he hadn’t been so upset. “Why didn’t you like me, Rose? Why didn’t you fancy me?”
Rose sighed. “Not everything’s about you, you know. No means no, no matter how much you’re used to getting your own way.”
Matt wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, leaving a muddy streak across his face. “I would never have – I mean, I’m not a – I’m not a rapist,” he whispered. “I promise, I would never have done that to you – or anyone. I would have stopped. Seriously, Rose, you have to believe me.”
Rose stared at him. “I don’t have to do anything,” she said. His face fell. “I do forgive you, though,” she added. “My mom’s shrink reckons that not forgiving someone is like drinking poison and hoping the other person will die. And there’s no way I’m drinking poison for you.”
Matt looked at her confused. “So can we still – are we still friends?”
Rose laughed and started heading for the gate. “I don’t think so,” she called over her shoulder. “I have all the friends I need.”
The Moonlight Dreamers Page 22
