by Anita Notaro
He tried again. ‘But, what I don’t understand is, why would you want it and why would you keep it . . . ?’ He came a bit closer. ‘Unless . . .’ He paused for a long moment. ‘Unless you still care too.’
He didn’t move but continued to look at her.
‘Do you care about me, Lindsay?’
‘Yes.’ It was a whisper. He smiled at her slowly.
‘I still don’t understand why you’d keep this, or why she’d give it to you, although she always carries around baby photos of the three of us.’ He grinned at her. ‘Hell, even our Press Office could have given you a slightly more up-to-date one. But then again, only just. They’re still churning out pictures of me taken five years ago.’
He was grinning at her, and looking at her in a funny way. ‘Anyway, I’m very glad you care.’ It was their first really close moment in nearly two years and she was just about to spoil it for him.
‘That’s not you.’
He looked at it again.
‘Listen, you can’t get away that easily.’ That grin again. ‘I’ve seen thousands of these and been humiliated by them often enough down through the years.’
‘It’s not you,’ she repeated stupidly.
He was still smiling at her, indulging her.
‘OK, who is it then?’
She’d always known this moment would come.
‘It’s Freddie.’
‘Freddie? Freddie who?’ He looked from her face to the little boy with his arms wrapped around her neck. ‘This Freddie? I don’t understand.’
She didn’t know how to tell him so she drip fed it to him, waiting all the while for some terrible reaction that would shatter her world.
‘Freddie is my son.’
‘Yours?’
She nodded, just as a skinny little tear made its escape. This wasn’t the way it happened in the movies. She was supposed to be glamorous and he was meant to run to her with his arms outstretched, not stand there looking dumbstruck.
She wasn’t supposed to be in her gardening clothes with dirty knees and a tear-streaked face and a grubby little boy clinging to her neck and practically strangling her.
‘How do you mean, yours?’
‘He’s mine.’ She looked away before delivering the final blow. ‘He was born a year ago.’
‘A year ago?’ He moved closer to her and looked at her and then at Freddie, who grinned shyly but continued to strangle his mother. He stared at the little boy for ages and touched his face with his finger, as if checking he was real.
‘He’s your son?’
She barely nodded.
‘Who’s his father?’ She bit her lip and tightened her grip on Freddie and still couldn’t bring herself to say the words.
‘He’s mine?’ His eyes were boring into hers.
She barely nodded, desperate to soften the impact.
He closed his eyes and she saw the colour drain away. He bit his lip and she knew he was struggling too.
‘No.’
She knew exactly how he felt. She’d felt the same when she’d first discovered it. ‘I’m sorry—’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I tried to . . . that day in the car park . . .’
He clearly couldn’t remember and then did.
‘Oh my God,’ he said slowly.
‘I’m sorry.’ She kept repeating herself and it sounded more and more inadequate.
‘And you went through all this by yourself . . . Why didn’t you grab me and make me listen?’
‘I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me.’
‘But how could you . . . you were on the pill.’
‘I was, but I was taking antibiotics at the same time and sometimes—’
‘Christ, what am I saying? I’m sorry, none of this matters . . . nothing matters except you telling me that this is my son.’ He couldn’t take his eyes off the little boy’s face. ‘Now it all makes sense.’
‘What does?’
‘I ran into Colin Quinn last week at a movie premiere. We talked for ages. I kept bringing the subject round to you. He said you two weren’t an item. He asked me to come and see you as soon as I could, but he kept insisting that I didn’t phone you in advance, or meet you at the office. He said I had to call to see you at home.’
‘He’s wanted me to tell you for a long time.’
‘Oh Lindsay, I wish you had. I really wish you had.’ He had the saddest eyes she’d ever seen. ‘Was I such a monster?’
She smiled at him forlornly. ‘On the day he was born I read about you going to New York and also about you getting married and I knew I couldn’t tell you then.’ He looked confused. ‘But I always knew I’d tell you someday and I knew it would be sooner rather than later.’ She looked at him and knew she had to know. ‘Are you married?’
He stared at her as if she was bonkers.
‘I’ve just told you that you broke my heart. How could I marry someone else, for Christ’s sake? I’m in love with you, have been for ever.’
‘What about the American actress?’
‘Who?’
‘The papers said . . .’
‘I don’t give a fuck what the papers said . . .’
‘Me neither.’
‘I’m not married.’
‘Me neither,’ she laughed.
‘I want to know everything.’ He still didn’t move. ‘When did you find out?’
‘Not until I was about eleven weeks’ gone and the girls were slagging me because I looked so awful. Debbie laughingly asked if I was pregnant and I realized I hadn’t had a period since before Christmas. It must have happened that night I stayed over at your house.’
‘The bathroom.’ He remembered.
‘Probably.’ She smiled shyly at him.
‘That day in the car park, I was so angry with you. I’d just seen the thing in the papers about you going to New York with Colin Quinn. I wanted to kill you both.’
‘He begged me to tell you and I tried to, but when you just walked off like that, it really hurt me and I vowed not to let you do that to me again.’
‘So, all through the time we worked together you were . . . ?’
She nodded.
‘But, we were close once or twice. Could you not have given me a second chance?’
‘I thought we might talk on the last night of the show, but then I saw Penelope Cruz . . .’
‘Who?’
‘Your girlfriend, everyone thought she looked like Pen—’
‘For God’s sake, she wasn’t my girlfriend, I barely knew her. She’s a friend of my sister’s. I only asked her along because the researcher said you were all bringing partners. I don’t think I spent more than two minutes with her all night. I really tried to talk to you several times . . .’
‘I was too angry with you. I was also very jealous . . .’
‘You had no need to be.’
‘I was pregnant, remember, hormones all over the place.’
‘Then I sent you flowers, texts . . . I was desperate to talk to you . . .’
‘I guess you didn’t try hard enough. I was convinced you didn’t care and I wasn’t going to trap you into anything.’
‘Didn’t I have a right to know?’
‘I know, I know that now. I am so sorry. It was just that after I saw you that day with the girl in your apartment, so soon, I just fell apart and I guess I never really trusted you after that . . .’
Now it was his turn to be sorry.
‘I’m not proud of that day. I went out and got very drunk the previous night and she somehow ended up back in my house. I’d never normally do that, you know how paranoid I am about my privacy. I woke up the next morning and she was asleep on my couch. I don’t have to tell you that nothing happened, I was way too far gone. I’m sorry for what it did to you but I was so pissed off with you because of Paul.’
‘Nothing happened with Paul.’
‘I saw him get out of his car, I was right behind him, about to call in and try and
persuade you to come out for an hour. As soon as he turned into your house I just sort of knew who he was. I don’t know how but I did. I went back to my car, then I saw you upstairs in the bedroom and then you pulled down the blind . . . I still didn’t believe it. Then the light went out and I stayed outside for ages. Several times I tried ringing the house. Then I went back to the party. I was the last to leave at nearly six o’clock. I walked by your house again and saw his car still there.’
‘Nothing happened, I swear. We talked for an hour or so. He’d been drinking before he arrived, so he had to abandon his car. He said he wanted me back, I told him it was over. I don’t know why, I just realized at that moment that I didn’t love him any more.’ She looked straight at him. ‘I think it may have had something to do with you.’
She sat Freddie slowly on the floor and went to him then, needing to be near him.
‘I love you.’ She looked up at him. ‘I have done for a long time.’ He grabbed her and held her as tight as he was able.
‘Oh God, I badly needed to hear that.’
They stayed as they were for a while, until Chris gently broke away. He looked down at the little boy clutching his leg, trying to stand up, then picked him up, swung him in the air between them, kissed him and smiled.
‘Hi, Freddie, I’m your dad.’
THE END
About the Author
Anita Notaro is a TV producer, journalist and director and worked for RTE, Ireland’s national broadcasting organization, for eighteen years. She has directed the Eurovision Song Contest and the Irish General Election, as well as programmes for the BBC and Channel 4. Back After the Break is her first novel.
Also by Anita Notaro
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BACK AFTER THE BREAK
A BANTAM BOOK: 9780553814774
Version 1.0 Epub ISBN: 9781448126514
First publication in Great Britain
Bantam edition published 2003
Copyright © Anita Notaro 2003
Anita Notaro has asserted her right under the Copyright Designs and Patents act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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