‘A friend of mine? That may be pushing it.’
I’m silent. There’s nothing else to say really.
He climbs into his car. ‘Leave it with me,’ he says, then pulls the door shut.
I’m left with hope. I hope that I’ve mended an important bridge and I hope that he may be able to influence Gordon, and that I might get to meet Noah.
Have I the strength and courage to ask Meg? Hope for Noah may live on through her. Hope for me is fading. She and her mother will never forgive me …
Kiera’s call comes an hour after the golf and five minutes after the call confirming I’m not a match for our son either. I’m back in the office, still reeling, when Matt enters the room and her number flashes. Instinctively, I pick it up, then realize it’s probably not a conversation I should have in front of him. He shows no sign of leaving, so I stick to listening, give her one-syllable replies. ‘Have you talked to Meg?’ she asks.
I tell her that I will do, to leave it with me, and I hang up the phone.
‘Emma?’ Matt asks. ‘How is she?’
‘Hmmm. I guess she’s fine, but we’re not together any more.’
Matt sits, his eyebrows heading towards the heavens. ‘Right,’ he says.
I exhale deeply. I am weary, tired of getting everything wrong, tired of so many hidden layers of my life. It’s frankly exhausting and, there and then, I decide Matt should know the truth. ‘That was Kiera Pugh, née Kiera Granger.’
Matt’s eyebrows furrow together in a deep frown. ‘Why is Kiera Granger calling you?’
As soon as he asks the question, he pieces together something in his head. I’m sure he has the facts all wrong, because the conclusion he draws makes him spit the next words.
‘No – Adam, no – Jesus; please – don’t – tell – me – that …’
I hold a hand up. ‘Kiera’s a friend. That’s all.’
It’s like the oxygen had been sucked out of the room, then comes gushing back in. The relief is tangible.
‘Ten years ago, we did have a fling. Now, we share a nine-year-old son. Kiera made it clear she wanted to do it alone, and so I’ve not been involved in Noah’s life.’ I’m on a roll. This honesty thing is something I could maybe get used to. I choose not to look at Matt’s face, for fear of changing my mind. ‘Noah is ill – leukaemia. Kiera got in touch because we need to find a bone marrow match. She had to tell Tim I was the father, hence his reaction to me and my “warped moral compass”.’
Matt is making a coughing sound as if he’s going to vomit. I still can’t look at him. ‘Kiera’s just calling to remind me that our best hope for a match is Meg. Which means I have to tell her everything, ask her to be tested. Ask her if she’s a match to go through a stem cell donation. And, all of this, Beth will have to know …’ I stop talking, stand up and turn to look out through my window. My hands are deep in my pockets, my shoulders slumped. I remind myself – looking down at people passing below on the street; traffic on the river – that life, despite everything, just carries on, oblivious.
After a few minutes, Matt appears beside me. ‘I can get tested,’ he offers. ‘I’m sure Jen would too. You never know. Sometimes there are non-familial matches.’ He puts an arm around my shoulders. ‘Christ, Adam, your life makes me dizzy.’
I smile. ‘Thank you. And I know. I’ve a headache myself thinking about it.’
‘What a tangled web?’ he continues. ‘It’s the stuff movies are made of. Maybe you should write it all down, sell it to Hollywood for a fortune.’
I know he’s trying to be light-hearted, but his remark makes me think of Beth. Meg said something about her being shortlisted to write a song for a movie. My stomach churns into anxious knots at the thought of how I may be about to really break her heart, this time into tiny, tiny pieces. Tiny, unmendable pieces … I pray silently for a miracle, one that will avoid me revealing what a truly spectacular liar I’ve been for so long.
Chapter Twenty-One
Embankment station. I see the red and white Underground sign flash before my eyes and I leap upwards, just in time, before the door slides shut. Feeling the chill of the Tube station, I pull my coat tight around me and climb the escalator. Outside, I glance across to the swollen river on the opposite side of the street, where a group of students are stacked up against the wall singing loudly. I turn right and head west towards Big Ben. Tucked in a tiny street behind the Houses of Parliament, The Waterhole is packed to the rafters, with all sorts – suited, bespectacled civil servants meet tourists and artists alike.
T-shirted smokers – who must be freezing – hover outside the front door as I push my way through to the rear, oak-lined bar. It stretches for ten metres and each of the many tan-coloured leather barstools is occupied. Opposite these, the worn, tartan-clad booths, where patrons feast on nibbles and bubbles, are equally busy. Ben is standing in the last one, waving in my direction.
When I reach him, it’s obvious that he still hasn’t told Karen I’m coming. She seems pleased, hugs me, tells me it’s great to see me, but I have an instinctive feeling that tonight, three may be a crowd. I’m trying not to react, hope my upset gets lost in the busy throng of the pub. Ben pours me a long glass of champagne from a half-full bottle. ‘Have you heard from Josh? Are we celebrating yet?’ he asks. Karen looks up at me, wide-eyed, expectant, like a baby bird in a nest.
‘Nothing,’ I reply.
She squeezes my hand, pulls me into the booth beside her.
‘We will be soon,’ Ben says with a confidence I have never felt. ‘I’ll go and get another bottle.’ He heads back in the direction of the bar.
‘I’m sorry about this.’ Karen’s face crumbles. ‘I didn’t know he’d asked you. I was annoyed enough that he pinched our nibbles and bubbles idea, even before you arrived. I mean, I know he’s still trying to impress me, but we have to make our own adventures. I don’t want him hijacking yours and mine, just because I told him once what fun it is.’
‘I was a little jealous,’ I confess. ‘Actually, I was a big bit jealous. To be fair, he hasn’t been in London for a while. Maybe he just doesn’t know where people hang out.’
‘Beth, he was gone a year, not a decade. I just don’t think he got out much even before he left!’
She’s right. Before he left, Ben had been in a six-year relationship with Elise. I wonder how much of the break-up he’s shared with Karen.
‘He’s told me he and Elise didn’t go out much. She was a home bird?’
‘She was … How much has he told you about her?’ I choose a black pitted olive from an almost empty plate.
‘Not a lot, but then I’ve not really asked either. I don’t particularly want him raking over my past, so I’ve tried not to with him. I was sort of hoping you’d fill in the blanks?’
I realize I’ve been dreading this moment since they got together. How do I tell Karen that Ben and Elise split up after years of unsuccessful IVF treatment? Ben wanted to adopt as he has always wanted to be a father, but Elise wanted her own child … Since I know Karen wants children too and, at forty, her child-bearing years are limited, I’m hesitant to raise it.
‘Not now,’ I whisper. ‘He’s on his way back.’
‘More bubbles and some menus for nibbles.’ Ben grins, hands us both a menu. We both smile, pretend to look at it, then say together, ‘Quesadilla sharing platter, please.’
‘Actually, I’ll get it.’ I stand up. ‘I need the loo. I’ll order it on the way. You okay with that too, Ben?’
He nods.
I take a note of the table number, place the order at the busy bar and head to the left-hand side of the building, where the Ladies’ toilets are. I know it’s the best spot in the building for a full phone signal and, sitting on the loo, I remove my phone from my handbag.
Finally, there is one text. Josh. It says: CALL ME. I stare at it. If it was bad news, maybe he’d have just texted the words, ‘Sorry, not this time …’ Or the same text, ‘call me’ with lower-case letters.
If it was good news, he’d have put an exclamation mark after the capitalized words. I feel queasy as I speed-dial him on #4.
‘Where’ve you been? I’ve been trying you for an hour.’ Josh’s voice is soprano.
‘What? I’ve no missed calls, I—’
‘Never mind. Are you sitting down?’
The irony of my situation is lost on him. I am, in fact, sitting down on a faded wooden toilet seat, the sort that risks splinters. A caricature picture of Benjamin Disraeli stares down on me from the back of the cubicle door. My knickers are around my ankles. I tell him: ‘Yes.’
‘You’ve done it, girl, you’ve only bloody well gone and done it!’ His voice rises a further octave before finishing the sentence.
‘What?’
‘They want it. They want your song in the movie. “Fall Apart” will be the main movie track. In fact, they’re looking at probably changing the movie title to something about glue seams, or something from one of the lines, but they love it!’
‘They love it,’ I repeat, as I feel a wee trickle into the loo. ‘They do?’
‘Christ, yes, they do. I had the top guy on the phone only minutes ago. I’m talking the head honcho, Beth. They want to meet you. In Los Angeles. Soon as – in the next week or two. You need to come in tomorrow, talk dates, contracts, etc.’
‘They want to meet me?’
‘Yep.’
‘In LA?’ I feel another wee trickle out.
‘In LA. Soon as—’
I can’t see Josh, but I know he’s smiling. ‘Crikey,’ I muster. ‘LA. Are you coming?’
‘You don’t need me! All my hard work will be done by then, but it starts from tomorrow. Beth, we need to talk, so that I can make sure this contract is rock solid, watertight, and that you get paid even if this movie doesn’t get made.’
‘Right.’ I pull my zip up, close my jeans button, one-handed.
‘So, come in tomorrow, for elevenses. Coffee and pastries?’
‘Eleven, yours tomorrow.’ I’m nodding.
‘And, Beth?’
‘Yes?’
‘Well done, you superstar.’
He hangs up before he has a chance to hear me thank him. I tell myself that I’ll do it tomorrow. Outside the cubicle, I put my phone down, wash my hands, catch my reflection – I look like something from a home for the bewildered. I don’t have to sack Josh. I may even buy those boots. My face looks frozen in time. ‘It’s shock,’ I say aloud, as I make my way back to Karen and Ben.
‘So … Adam and Emma have split up.’ Karen flashes a conspiratorial smile in my direction.
I nod.
‘What? You knew already?’
‘Yes, he told me at your party.’ I take a sip from my glass. ‘I’m not sure I care though,’ I add, taking my place beside Karen in the booth.
‘And apparently he and Ben are about to start training for a mini-marathon.’
Now that does get a reaction. I snort with laughter. ‘Adam? Do something to keep fit?’
‘I’ll be training him.’ Ben obviously feels the need to defend him.
‘Ben, the only exercise Adam ever gets is either golf, or screwing other women. Good luck with that.’
‘He’s doing it for charity,’ he adds.
‘I hope they don’t need the money.’ I shake my head.
‘It’s something that’s important to him.’
I’m intrigued. ‘A charity? That means something to Adam? Which one is it?’
Ben blushes, a fully fledged, cheek-to-cheek, crimson rush of blood. ‘I can’t remember.’ He shrugs it off.
My antennae are twitching, but I choose to ignore that, wanting instead to share my news. The noise at the bar suddenly increases as a birthday group arrive and park themselves just beside us.
‘Josh called.’
‘What?’ Karen raises her voice. ‘Did you say Josh called?’
My head bobs up and down.
‘And? What? What did he say, Beth?’ She is screaming now and Ben is telling her to hush.
‘They love the song. They want to meet me – in LA! Soon as …!’
Karen pushes me from the booth into a standing position, scoops me into a huge hug, screaming at the top of her voice. ‘I knew you could do it, I knew you could do it!’
I can’t help smiling. When she lets me go, one of the birthday group grabs both my hands, yanks them up and down and shouts, ‘I knew you could do it too!’ Then they all start chanting the same thing. I laugh out loud, until one of them actually asks, ‘What is it you’ve done?’
Ben’s voice is heard next. ‘She’s written a song for a movie! She’s going to the U S of A!’ he yells above the din. They all look at each other and cheer loudly. ‘Yay!’ ‘Wow!’ ‘That’s brilliant’ repeats from this crowd of strangers. An unopened bottle of champagne appears from some unknown place and is thrust into my hand.
Step aside, Pretty Woman. I’m going to Hollywood.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Roberto is an Italian-born barber who has always wanted to be a chef. He has been cutting my hair for nearly fifteen years and I’ve yet to pay a visit to him during which he doesn’t discuss food with a passion missing from many Michelin-starred successes. It’s a busy Saturday morning in the salon, and I’m zoning out as he chats about his brother’s bistro in Highgate and how I should visit. The veal milanese is apparently ‘magnifico’. I only ever visit Highgate to see my dead parents and, somehow, I don’t imagine I’ll be stopping off for a meal en route. I smile agreeably as Roberto works his magic with the scissors.
I’m reading a newspaper; when my eyes land on the date, I’m momentarily stunned as I work it out. It is just over three months since I left home. Since I lived in my own house. Which means it’s probably over four months since I last made love to my wife. I swallow hard at the thought and am filled with an overwhelming desire to see her, hold her. Aware it’s not going to happen, I think back to the night I left and how I felt. I was certain that Beth would need a cooling-off period and then take me back. Even when that looked unlikely, I was certain that we’d someday get back together. Today, nothing is certain in my life. That is the only certain thing.
I walked to Roberto’s this morning and Ben agreed to collect me here. I see him pull up outside. We are going straight for a training session at a park nearby. At my feet lies a gym bag – trainers, running kit, all within. Ben has decided to start my training programme with a running schedule. I am apparently going to run three kilometres today. A glance at my watch tells me that is thirty minutes away. I’m terrified. I haven’t run in years – I hope I can actually deliver this feat. I’ve already told Kiera, and though she was thrilled at the intent behind my mini-marathon, she reminded me I still have to speak to Meg. Fundraising is great, but it’s stem cells that Noah needs.
I remove my phone from my pocket and text her. She hasn’t responded to two texts and one call. I’m beginning to worry.
‘Pumpkin, U around L8ter? X’
She replies immediately. ‘It’s Saturday. I’m twenty, what do you think?’
‘OK, wen can I c u next?’
‘I’m going home tomorrow to do a clear-out of my bedroom. Mum’s nagging, says I have to “clear out my shit as the house may have to be sold”. I think it’s time for you to start with a GG (grand gesture) or two??? Seriously, Dad, get a grip. Meet me at home in the morning. Mum’s working, so she won’t be there.’
Shit …
‘OK’, I text, but it’s really not. I don’t think I can tell Meg what I need to tell her in our family home.
‘Can’t I just take U out for lunch?’
‘No time and Jack cooking dinner for us later on. Have to do it. If you want to see me, that’s where I’ll be! x’
I agree ten o’clock Sunday and send her back a kiss. I can’t believe I got one from her.
Just as I stand up and make my way to Roberto’s till, Ben pops his head around the door.
I hold five fingers up. ‘I’l
l be there in five. I just need to change,’ I add, heading to Roberto’s tiny loo.
When I leave the building, I try everything to postpone my first training session. Ben is having none of it. I feign illness, a headache, a sore leg. I even try being honest and tell him I’m terrified. I ask him whose crazy idea it had been anyway. He reminds me it was mine. I suggest we go and visit Mum and Dad instead, try and shame him into doing it by reminding him it’s been years. I even tell him I’ll treat him to a veal milanese at a local bistro. He quietly reassures me that, though that’s a great idea, we can do it after the three-kilometre run.
Every part of me hurts, but I did it. We stretched for ten minutes before and after, and I ran, without stopping, for three kilometres. I could have continued, but Ben told me to stop, not to overdo things on the first day. I’m pleased. If I can start like this, I can build things up slowly. I’m already looking forward to a run along the river tomorrow morning before I go to meet Meg.
‘Lunch before the cemetery or after?’ Ben is driving and we are near Highgate.
‘After, if you don’t mind? Look, we really don’t have to go. If you need to get back to Karen … I only suggested it to get out of the run.’
‘I know, but I should go. You’re right. It’s been too long.’ He runs a hand through his hair and I wonder how often he thinks of Mum and Dad, how often he thought of them while travelling the world.
I say nothing, try and change out of my kit in the back of the car, which is a feat in itself.
‘Did you hear Beth’s news?’ He looks at me in the rear-view mirror.
‘How would I?’
‘Well, I guess you would if you ever called her. If you kept up an interest in what she does?’
I feel the sting of his words, but bite my tongue. ‘What news?’
‘She’s been chosen to do the movie song.’ He checks my reaction in the mirror.
I stop what I’m doing. ‘Wow … Well, good on her … That’s fantastic. What—’
‘Just call her, Adam. There is no earthly reason why you shouldn’t. Use the news as an excuse. It might be good to talk to her about her and not you. Put you both on a new page?’
You, Me and Other People Page 14
