by Ali Harris
‘Of course! And your experience is?’
‘Well, I – I . . .’ I stutter, looking at James for support. ‘I don’t have any.’
My face is burning as I look at the floor. I feel humiliated, not just for me but for James. I’ve ruined his chance of winning this contract. I should have known my place, not tried to step out of the life I’d cultivated and into Adam’s. This isn’t my world. Only my loyalty to James is stopping me from running from the room, and keeping me rooted to the spot.
Then James begins to speak. ‘She may not have much experience, but in a few short weeks Bea has proved herself to be utterly indispensable. I believe in nurturing talented garden designers like I do plants. Bea may be a seed right now but I can tell just how much she’s going to grow. As you can see from her incredibly astute and innovative ideas, Bea is immensely talented and an essential part of this project. I certainly wouldn’t have been able to create this design without her.’
Eliza opens her mouth to speak but she’s drowned out by the sound of George clapping loudly. He stands up.
‘Well, I think that’s enough questions! Eliza’s right . . .’ I feel my heart plummet to my feet. ‘This is the most exciting and innovative design we’ve seen and it fulfils the brief – and then some. In other words,’ he grins, ‘when can you start?’
And with that he thrusts out his arm and shakes James’s hand, and then mine, dropping a kiss on it before striding out of the conference room, followed by Robert and a chastened, miserable-looking Eliza. I blink, unable to believe that really just happened. As the door swings shut behind them, James and I throw our arms round each other and jump up and down. I can’t remember the last time I felt this happy.
Chapter 53
I wake up and see I have a DM on Facebook from Milly asking me to go and check on her flat. It’s still empty after they moved out three months ago and I seem to have taken on an unofficial security role, popping in every now and then just to check that everything is OK. I don’t mind, it gives me something to do – especially because Adam is in New York, again, and will be there until the end of the week. I haven’t spoken to him in days, not since I told him we won the pitch. I was hoping winning the contract would help. He’d been so positive and supportive about it all, I thought he’d be thrilled, but he seemed underwhelmed when I told him we’d won. ‘I knew you would!’ is all he said, which had annoyed me. Didn’t he realise what a big deal this was for me? ‘Why, did you fix it somehow?’ I shot back teasingly, but he didn’t find my joke funny.
‘No! What? No!’ He exhaled, a long sigh of frustration. Our conversations are like this a lot now. Defensive, unnecessarily confrontational, snappy.
Since then we keep missing each other, sending texts at odd times of the day because of the different time zones, leaving messages on voicemail. It’s like no matter how hard we try, we can’t get our lives to align.
I step out of Greenwich DLR and I think of the Royal Observatory, peeking up over the hill. It’s as if my world and Adam’s have split and we’re on opposite sides of the meridian line. I shake my head. I don’t want to be negative or sink into dark thoughts. I think of what Loni always tells me to do when I start feeling low. ‘Do a Gratitude List, darling,’ I hear her say in my mind, ‘and remember what the Buddha said: “You have cause for nothing but gratitude and joy!” She’s right. It always works. I start counting my blessings: my great new job, my family, my friends, and of course, Adam. He is not my father, I recite in my head. He is not my father. He won’t leave me. He hasn’t left me. This is just a little blip in our relationship and one we can overcome.
I set off down Greenwich Church Street, enjoying getting lost in the busy Sunday morning bustle. At least there is company in my solitude here unlike the grey, empty void that is Canary Wharf at the weekend. There’s a commotion behind me and I see the door of a shop burst open and I take a step back in surprise as a woman clutching her stomach and groaning staggers out and then leans against the window with her back to me. I run over to her immediately. ‘Are you OK?’
She bends over and exhales loudly, clutching hold of my arm. ‘I’m fine, thanks! Just a few little contraaaghhhhhhhhh . . .’ She roars for at least a minute and then looks at me and smiles bravely as she pants and gets her breath. She looks young, early twenties, I’d say; her bright blonde hair is pulled up in a big messy bun and she looked flushed. ‘Contractions.’ I glance down and notice her swollen pregnant belly. ‘No need to panic though!’ she says cheerily as she catches sight of my horrified expression. ‘I’ve got it all under control! Plenty of time really, they’ve only just staaaar . . . oh here’s comes anotheeeerarghhhhh!’
I stare at her, feeling utterly useless and panicky as people stream past us, apparently oblivious to a woman in labour. I am desperately hoping one of them will realise that I do not in any way have this under control.
‘Are you on your own? Shall I call an ambulance?’ I ask when she’s finished screaming. She smiles at me and shakes her head. She seems to be taking this whole being-in-labour-on-her-own thing completely in her stride. ‘Honest, I’m fine! I reckon I’ll just get the bus down to Queen Elizabeth’s. I’ve got plenty of time. The contractions have only just started coming really. Oh hang on—’ She holds her hands up and I notice that a tiny bit of panic is etched on her young face. ‘Oh-oh mooohhaarghhhh! Oh shit, here comes another. Gurghhhhhhhhhhh . . .’ She crouches on the pavement and groans, rocking backwards and forwards on the soles of her feet.
‘ARGHHHHHHARGGGH,’ she cries, lips pointed to the sky like a werewolf.
I bend down next to her. ‘And breeeeeeathe!’ I say, trying my best to remember what Loni used to say to me when she wanted me to calm down. And in swwiiiiiiiii and out swooooooooo! Everything’s going to be OK . . .’ I trail off.
‘Sal, my name’s Sal. Thanks,’ she says gratefully. I stand up and gaze up and down the road and then back at the shop to get my bearings in case I have to call a cab company. I suddenly recognise the name and the logo with the smattering of stars. And then, in the distance, I spot the orange light of a free taxi. I sprint into the road with my arm stretched out yelling ‘TAXI!’ at the top of my voice, thanking my lucky stars – and the cosmos – for being on my side for once.
Chapter 54
The taxi swerves into the forecourt of Queen Elizabeth’s Hospital. The pregnant girl – Sal – is gripping my knee tightly. I know she’s having this baby on her own because she soon told me that the father of her baby was ‘a sodding useless idiot who fucked off’. Her words. She’s much calmer now but every time she has a contraction – or we go over a speed bump – she squeezes me so hard that I’ve ended up crying out in pain with her.
‘Don’t come out yet, little fella, don’t come out yet!’ I say, wincing as she has another contraction.
‘What makes you think it’s going to be a boy?’ Sal says, as she closes her eyes ready for the next one.
‘Just a hunch,’ I shrug, mouthing ‘Ow’ silently as she squeezes my knee again.
‘Oh God, I wanna puuuuushhhh!’ Sal screams suddenly.
‘DON’T!’ the taxi driver and I both yell.
Several hours later, I walk out into the waiting area having just witnessed the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen. I get a cup of water from the dispenser and sit down, trying to process what I’ve just been a part of. Watching a baby come into the world was every bit the miracle that people say it is. I don’t even have a connection to this child, but I felt this instant urge to protect him – and his mum – and to be there for them. I can’t explain it, but I felt like I’d known her forever. So when Sal had begged me to come in with her when we arrived at the maternity ward it felt totally natural to agree. ‘I can’t do this on my own,’ she’d sobbed. ‘I thought I could but I’m really fucking scared. I know it’s a lot to ask, but will you come in? Dad’s stuck in traffic and might not be here in time, and I know it sounds crazy but I feel like you were meant to pass by when you did . . .’
/> ‘Of course I will,’ I’d said and given her a hug. She was eight centimetres dilated when we arrived and I relayed her birth plan to the midwives, fed her Jelly Babies and Ribena from her hospital bag after each contraction to give her extra energy, allowed her to lean on me when she wanted to stand up, and helped her breathe through the pushes. I didn’t even leave when her dad eventually arrived as by then it was too late – Sal gave birth to her baby a second later. It was like she had been holding on, just waiting for her dad to walk through the door.
‘It’s a boy!’ he had said, his voice cracking with emotion. He stroked Sal’s wet hair and kissed her on the forehead as she held her newborn son. ‘A beautiful baby boy.’
I’d stepped back, looking at the three of them, a family. Not a complete one, but a family nonetheless. I’d smiled as I’d witnessed this beautiful scene: a father rushing to his daughter’s side just in time to see two generations of a family become three.
‘I’m so glad you got here in time, Dad,’ Sal had sobbed.
‘I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,’ he’d replied. I’d slipped out of the room then, wanting to leave them to have their moment alone. But also because I wanted to take a moment on my own, add this experience to my Gratitude List.
December
Dear Bea
Here we are in the bleak midwinter and even though Christmas is nearly upon us, the world around you may seem barren, empty of promise, devoid of colour. Don’t sink into the cold earth. Try to remember that one of the great benefits of winter is that without all the flounce and frippery, you can see the bare bones of your garden and work out what you have to do to make it flourish in the future.
Easy for me to say, right? On the contrary, at times it felt to me as if all I could ever see was the bare bones. I felt like I’d be working tirelessly, exhaustively, on my hands and knees turning and pruning old ground, raking away the mulch and trying to plant new seeds of positivity amongst the mature shrubs. Maybe the problem was I was always looking down at the earth, because no matter how hard I worked, or how much time I spent out there, I just couldn’t appreciate the brightness and the beauty of what I’d planted any more.
I hope you are always able to see the splendour surrounding you, Bea. Remember to shake off the snow sometimes, clear the paths of overhanging branches that may obstruct your journey and always, always look up.
Love, Dad x
Chapter 55
Bea Bishop is back at the mothership for Xmas. Crackers definitely included.
22 likes.
I hear the crunch of gravel as another car pulls up in Loni’s drive that’s already crammed full of cars. I’m lying on the floor in her spare bedroom where Neve and Nico are repeatedly trying to stick bits of Duplo in my ears, armpits, nostrils and mouth or whatever orifice they can find.
‘Aaargh!’ I laugh as Nico and Neve jump on top of me giggling whilst shouting ‘Bum Bum!’ as they try to roll me over. I tickle them until they squeal with glee and then wriggle up into a sitting position. I’ve been getting a much-needed niece fix and doing my Auntie Duty on Christmas Day by entertaining them while Cal and Lucy cook a feast fit for fifty. Loni loves Christmas. She always has done. I smile as I think of Christmases past. We always started the day with it just being the three of us, then as the day wore on more and more people would arrive, clutching food and drink, musical instruments and party games. Loni has always loved opening the doors to anyone and everyone at this time of year. As well as close family and friends and people from the village, she invites people she’s met on her retreats, recently divorced and sensitive about their first Christmas alone. By the evening the place would always be alive with laughter and chatter, fairy lights glittering in the garden, mulled wine being made by the gallon. I’m not sure if Loni knows how many people’s festive seasons she has transformed. It’s kind of amazing to think of the impact she has made. I hate that I’ve been doubting her influence on mine because of Dad. I need to talk to her. But I just haven’t found the right moment.
It’s evening, but we’ve yet to have dinner, and downstairs a bunch of drunk, aged, mistletoe-clutching singles are roaming the rooms whilst Pink Floyd pounds out of the speakers. I glance at my phone. There’s a new text from Sal, wishing me a Happy Christmas, and I ping her one back sending lots of love to her and baby Aaron. I’ve only seen her a couple of times since she went into labour at the shop and I took her to the hospital. I actually really miss her. It’s amazing how quickly she’s become such a big part of my life. It makes me wonder, sometimes, if we would ever have met if I hadn’t run away from my wedding. I feel like my job at the flower shop – and her friendship – has really saved me. Especially since Milly moved away. I can’t imagine a life where I don’t know Sal now. I’d love her to have come here today, but I know she was looking forward to her first Christmas with her dad and the baby. Another car pulls up outside and I glance at the girls who are both sitting astride me again, bouncing up and down repeatedly, giggling hysterically between my gasps.
The twins stop mid-bounce and try to peer out of the window. ‘Adam here?’ they ask hopefully, in unison.
‘No,’ I reply sadly. ‘Adam’s a long, long way away.’ Even though it’s almost eight months since I last saw him, he’s never far from my thoughts. Especially since Kieran left after my birthday. He had to go back to the naval base in Portsmouth and his absence has left a space in my brain that Adam has filled.
‘Where’s Adam gone?’ Neve demands, prodding a finger in my chest. ‘Where. He. Gone?’
I open my mouth and close it again. I think of Loni trying to tell Cal and me that Dad wasn’t coming back and it’s then that the words come, words that she said to me over twenty years ago.
‘Sometimes grown-ups are a bit like flowers,’ I say quietly. The girls look at me silently, their angelic faces displaying rare graveness. ‘And they have to find a new place to be planted because they weren’t growing very well where they were . . .’ I trail off as the memory of Loni saying the same words to me reverberates around my head. The twins look up at me blankly. ‘Gardening analogies not working for you, huh?’ I smile tearfully and then feel a sharp jolt of pain in my stomach.
‘Ow!’ I remove the red brick Neve is trying to shove in my belly button and she gazes at me with her soulful blue eyes as if she is about to say something world-changingly wise.
‘Bum-Bum-Bea,’ she says, trying to get me to roll over so she can insert something in another crevice.
‘BEA!’ I hear Loni shout as the music is turned down momentarily. ‘There’s someone who wants to see you!’
‘BEAAAAA, come downstairs!’ Loni calls again.
‘OK, OK, don’t get your yoga pants in a twist,’ I mutter and I descend the stairs slowly, freezing to the spot when I see who is standing at the front door.
‘Kieran?’ I glance at Loni and then at Kieran nervously. ‘I – I didn’t expect to see you here!’ My smile is fixed on my face as hordes of people swirl around us in the corridor, talking, laughing, looking at Kieran, staring at me.
‘I’m full of surprises,’ Kieran grins, his evergreen eyes boring into mine.
‘You certainly are,’ Cal pipes up, stepping out of the crowd and onto the bottom stair protectively, creating a barrier between us. ‘Still don’t have a home to go to, huh?’
‘Cal!’ Loni chastises, eyeing me warily as I push my brother out of the way and walk towards Kieran. ‘That’s no way to treat a guest of Bea’s. Come in, Kieran, please, and you’re welcome to stay for Christmas dinner if you like.’ If she is surprised or displeased to see Kieran she isn’t showing it. Maybe after the chat we had on the night of my birthday she realises that things are different this time and that being with him is helping me, healing me almost.
‘Come in, grab yourself a glass!’ Loni says warmly. I smile at her gratefully.
I take Kieran’s arm – mostly in a show of defiance to Cal. I know he’s just trying to protect me, but he’s judging K
ieran only from his experience of him in the past. Doesn’t he realise that people change; everyone deserves a second chance. After all, not all of us can be Superheroes like Cal.
I can feel Kieran bringing out my rebellious streak again. I should be anxious about him being here, but I’m not; I feel invigorated. He makes me feel like I’m living my own life. Not everyone else’s version. He makes me feel brave. Defiant. In control.
I lead Kieran through the crazy, bustling house, squeezing past Loni’s cronies who are laughing and chatting at the top of their voices. Out of the corner of my eye I see Cal shake his head, like I’m some sort of errant child.
‘I didn’t mean to interrupt your Christmas dinner,’ Kieran says with an apologetic smile.
‘Most people have eaten by 8 p.m. on Christmas Day,’ I laugh. ‘But then again, most people don’t have Christmas at Loni’s.’ He slips his arm around me and I flinch a little at his touch. It feels too intimate somehow, even though the last time we were together we were almost naked in the sea. Despite that, we still haven’t kissed. I had panicked and run out of the water, desperate to find the shore.
‘I thought I’d left it late enough. I just really wanted to see you. It’s been too long. I hated going back on the ship. I’ve spent every moment in the last six weeks wanting to be back here, with you.’ He starts to take off his coat.
‘Oh, no don’t bother taking it off!’ I say quickly.
A flicker of hurt flashes across his face. ‘Oh, right, yeah, sorry. I’m not staying . . .’
I tut and smile, touching his arm gently with my hand. He’s always been oversensitive. ‘No, that’s not what I meant. Look!’ We walk into the conservatory where the glass doors have been pulled back, letting floods of cold, wintry air into the room. Heat lamps are blasting out hot air and some sensible guests are huddled around them, but the rest don’t seem bothered by the cold. They must have been at the yoga disco. It is bonkers being outside like this but it is also incredibly beautiful.
