This is Me

by Shari Low

  ‘It’s not even mid-morning. I’ll be wasted by lunchtime if I drink that,’ Claire countered with a giggle.

  Jeanna gave her a dismissive wave. ‘It’s eleven o’clock. And when it comes to times of emotional stress, this is required for medicinal purposes. You three can eat the cake. If I have another carb this morning, I’ll have to donate my whole wardrobe to charity and buy trousers with elasticated waists.’

  Despite the token protestation, Claire happily took the glass, completely surrendering to this day, knowing how lucky she was to have this. If these women – these bloody magnificent women – hadn’t ambushed her today, she’d have been dealing with all these feelings of loss on her own. How tough would that be? She’d be sitting in here on her lonesome, pathetically weeping into a pile of tulle. Instead, she was surrounded by love, enjoying herself more than she had in ages. Yes, the boys had gone and she was going to have to adjust her life and her mindset, but at least she wouldn’t be doing it alone. She would, however, require a liver transplant and a bankruptcy lawyer if she continued to pop open a bottle of wine every morning. But sod it. Today was for just being in the moment with her pals.

  ‘Anyway, where were we?’ Val attempted to get them back on track. ‘The whole point of today is to listen to Claire pour her heart out, so she’ll get everything off her chest. It soothes the soul to talk about heartache, I promise you, love,’ she said, directing the last comment at Claire. They all knew that Val had more experience of heartache than any of them. Her daughter Dee had been killed in a hit-and-run by a drugged-up driver a few years before and they knew how Val had struggled to get over it. It had taken her a long time to find a way to accept happiness again, but she’d managed it somehow, although she still missed Dee every single day.

  Josie spoke up. ‘You just asked how her mum and dad took the news that she was up the duff. See! I do listen to you. Even though you sound like the Dalai Lama with all that profound stuff. You can be the Valai Lama,’ she said, before inserting a chunk of ginger cake in her mouth and dusting the crumbs off her lap.

  Claire felt her happy buzz fizzle just a little at the very thought of her parents. They weren’t people she ever talked about. How could she explain their relationship in a way that let people really understand what they were like and how much they’d hurt her? Weren’t you supposed to love your parents unconditionally? How many times had she heard glib comments like, ‘You’ve only got one mum and dad,’ implying that no matter what they did or how they behaved, she should suck it up and continue to love them, care for them, respect them. It just didn’t work like that. When she’d been growing up, she’d been left in no doubt about where she stood in their affections. By the time she found out she was pregnant, she was an adult, one who was going to her parents with news that would absolutely change the course of her life and her future.

  And how they reacted that day was the beginning of the end for them.

  Thirteen

  Claire – 2000

  ‘You ready for this?’ Sam asked, before swigging the last drops from his bottle of beer. It was her brother Doug who’d persuaded her to stop off for some Dutch courage on the way to their parents’ house. Claire was dreading it.

  ‘Absolutely not,’ she replied truthfully.

  Doug grinned, as he placed his pool cue against the wall of the bar and lifted his beer. ‘Look, it could be worse…’

  ‘How?’ Claire pleaded.

  Doug shrugged. ‘I’ve absolutely no idea. I was just throwing that out there to cheer you up.’

  Claire rolled her eyes at him, so wishing she was clutching a vodka and Coke instead of a glass of fresh orange juice. Apparently the vitamin C was good for the baby. Sarcastic brothers who thought they were funny, however, were not good for this situation at all.

  In fairness to Doug, though, he’d been great since she’d told him. It was the night after they’d found out, and he’d stopped by to see Jeanna about an album she’d borrowed, or something like that – Claire couldn’t remember the specifics given that her brain cells were being battered into a coma by the dual blows of fear and panic.

  He’d come into her room and flopped on the end of the bed. ‘Nice togs, sis,’ he’d offered, teasing sarcasm dripping from every word. She could understand his amusement, given that she was wearing an old pair of ripped up jeans and one of Sam’s beat up LA Lakers sweatshirts, which hung halfway to her knees.

  ‘So, where’s big Romeo tonight then?’ he’d asked, with his trademark cheeky grin, using his nickname for Sam.

  A year younger than her, Doug was definitely boyband material, if you overlooked the fact that he was asked to mime in the school nativity plays because the music teacher said he had all the tonal ability of a birthing frog. Still, with his cute square jawline, deep brown eyes and a faint resemblance to the bloke who sang Livin’ la Vida Loca, Claire could absolutely see why her friends all fancied him. Except Jeanna. She always said he was way too pretty for her – she preferred her blokes to be a bit more rough and rugged.

  ‘He’s gone to talk to his parents,’ Claire had said, trying for nonchalance because she didn’t want to think about what Sam had gone to tell them.

  ‘That sounds serious,’ he’d replied, not being serious at all. ‘Don’t tell me, let me guess. He’s been arrested. He’s flunked out of college. He’s got you pregnant.’

  Her face had said it all and he’d realised it immediately. ‘He’s been arrested?’ he’d blurted, shocked.

  ‘No, you tit,’ Claire had groaned. She hadn’t planned to tell him tonight, but since he’d pretty much got there on his own… ‘I’m pregnant.’

  ‘Holy shit. I mean, congratulations? Yes? No? Fuck, I’ve no idea what you want me to say.’ It took him a moment before he’d added. ‘How do you feel?’

  She’d shrugged. ‘I honestly don’t know. Happy, I think. We were gobsmacked to start with, but we’re getting used to the idea now. It’s just… unexpected. I didn’t think I’d end up pregnant at nineteen. It’s going to change everything, but I love Sam and we’re going to keep it.’

  ‘Shit,’ he’d said, that grin flashing again. ‘I’m going to be an uncle.’

  His enthusiasm was infectious, made her giggle as she replied, ‘You definitely are,’

  In one move, he threw himself up the bed and gave her a hug, making her shriek with laughter and squashing all her doubts, worries and insecurities. That was how they’d always been with each other. Inseparable. Mutually supportive. If there was anything positive to come out of their family dynamic, her relationship with her brother was definitely top of the list.

  She was so busy smacking Doug with a pillow that she hadn’t heard the door opening.

  ‘I take it you’ve told him then?’ Sam had said, laughing.

  ‘Big Romeo!’ Doug had exclaimed, jumping off the bed and giving him a man hug with several thumps on the back. ‘Congratulations, man. You two have just made me look like the responsible one in the family, so I’m chuffed for ya.’

  Sam took it all in the humour it was meant. ‘Cheers. But if you could screw up some time soon and take the heat back off us, that would be great.’

  While he’d been messing with her brother, Claire had searched Sam’s face for clues as to how it had gone, then decided she couldn’t stand the suspense.

  ‘So how was it? Are you OK? Am I banned from their home forever for ruining their son’s life?’ she’d asked, dreading the answer. They’d talked about whether she should go with him to break the news, but he’d decided it would be better if he talked to them on his own first. Claire hoped it was the right decision.

  Releasing Doug, he’d slid onto the bed beside her. Doug had sunk into the armchair in the corner, clearly interested in the reply.

  ‘My mum cried,’ Sam had admitted.

  Claire couldn’t help the groan that escaped her. ‘Oh, God. She must hate me.’

  Sam had carried on. ‘But then I told her how happy I was, how happy we were, and tha
t we were going to figure it all out and make it work and she was great. She honestly was. My dad said what we knew he’d say – that he was disappointed it had happened and hadn’t he given me enough talks about the whole condom thing, but then he said they’ll help us out where they can. It was probably the most stressed-out hour of my life, but it was OK in the end. They want us both to come over for dinner this weekend. Mum says she needs to get to know the mother of her grandchild much, much better.’

  Claire had opened her mouth to speak and then promptly burst into tears. ‘God, they’re so lovely.’ She’d met them half a dozen times and they’d been so welcoming and friendly. They had four sons and great relationships with all of them. It was the kind of family that Claire had dreamt of being part of when she was growing up.

  Sam had wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly. ‘Hey, it’s OK, I promise.’

  ‘I’m sorry, it’s the bloody hormones,’ Claire had sobbed. ‘And you can stop bloody looking at me like that,’ she’d snapped at Doug.

  ‘No wonder. I don’t think I’ve seen you cry since you were about twelve. Not a bad thing. You’re really not attractive with the whole snot situation going on.’

  ‘Piss off,’ Claire had shot back, with a wail that was somewhere between a laugh and a cry. Bloody hell, she had no idea how she was feeling. If this was what it was going to be like until the baby came, she was going to be an emotional wreck.

  It had taken her all week to stop swinging between elation that Sam’s parents were being so supportive, terror over what was in front of them, and sheer dread at breaking the news to her own mum and dad. She’d woken up that morning with puffy eyes, a banging headache and a firm resolution. ‘I think I should go and tell my parents today, before we go to your house for dinner,’ she’d announced, before Sam had even opened his eyes. He’d managed a nod, then rolled over and went back to sleep.

  She’d called Doug to tell him the plan and he’d offered to meet for a beer before she went. That’s why they were now sitting in a pub, on a Saturday afternoon, absolutely dreading what was in front of them.

  ‘Right, I’m going. If I don’t do this now, I’ll just keep putting it off and they’ll find out they’re grandparents when the kid knocks on their door on its eighteenth birthday,’ Claire said, trying to muster up some courage.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?’ Sam asked, for the twentieth time.

  She shook her head. ‘No, honestly, it’ll be better if I do it on my own. I don’t want the first time they meet you to be when you rock up and tell them you’re going to be a daddy.’

  Putting off letting Sam meet her parents had seemed like a good idea in the months that they’d been together. She’d only seen them once since the millennium herself and that was at her Grandad Fred’s birthday dinner, when her parents had stopped by for twenty minutes to drop in a cheap bottle of whisky. She’d refrained from commenting, having learned long ago that there was no point. They were who they were and nothing would change them.

  Fred was a different story though. Sam had come with her to her grandad’s house for dinner almost every week since they’d met and the two of them had struck up an easy friendship. Fred’s approval meant everything. Her parents’ thoughts, not so much. Still, telling them had to be done, and it was definitely something she’d rather do alone.

  ‘And you don’t want me to come with you either? Please say no,’ Doug asked her, not even trying to hide his reluctance.

  Doug rarely visited his parents and called them even less. The truth was that while she would occasionally touch base with her parents out of some kind of dysfunctional loyalty, Doug had no time for the manipulation and fakeness, so he just stayed well away. He had never had any kind of relationship with a father who made it quite clear he had no interest in his kids whatsoever. He’d never gone to Doug’s football games as a child. Never attended a parents’ night at school. Had no clue what they were doing at college and uni and made it quite clear he wouldn’t support them.

  When she was fourteen, and Doug was thirteen, there had been an almighty and irreparable rift that had forced them to leave home and go to live with their Grandad Fred. It suited everyone. Fred was alone after his wife, Agnes, had passed away and his other children had moved out. Claire and Doug finally had a home that they felt loved in. And Ray was delighted that he was shot of the kids earlier than he’d expected and he and Denise could get on with living the unencumbered life he’d always dreamt of. And, of course, Denise bought right into everything her husband said. Ray was top of her importance list. Her kids didn’t even make the top five. That’s why Doug kept his distance and refused to be a part of the charade and Claire respected him for it.

  She flicked him on the side of his head. ‘No, you coward. You stay here and stop Sam from fleeing the country to escape his hormonal pregnant girlfriend. Ply him with beer until he can’t run.’

  ‘Tough job, but I’ll do my best,’ Doug fired back.

  God, she loved these men. She was so lucky to have them. And that thought was going to get her through the next hour of her life.

  Make that two hours. She was about to jump on the bus that would take her to her parents’ house when fate intervened. A different bus came first, one that she caught at least once a week, one that stopped right outside the house her grandad had lived in all his life. Before she gave it a conscious thought, she climbed on, instinctively knowing that she had to tell Fred first. Emotionally, her grandad was about as different from his daughter as it was possible to be. He showed he cared – not in a gushy, sentimental way, but in that West of Scotland, old school, slightly gruff but there at the first sign of trouble, way. Her mother had often moaned that he was an invisible presence when she was growing up, but Claire’s experience of her grandad was completely different. She loved Fred. He’d taken her and Doug in as teenagers and he had been their rock ever since.

  He was in the living room, watching the horse racing on TV when she let herself in. The house hadn’t changed a single bit for as long as she’d known it. The electric bar fire sat against the far wall, with a tiled fireplace around it. There was a mirror above it, brass edges, suspended on a chain. On the back wall was a teak sideboard, with a couple of ornaments on the top, strategically placed on lace doilies. A picture of a sunset with a boat silhouette disappearing over the horizon was on another wall, just along from a clock with wood spokes coming out of it in a starburst fashion. The two couches, dark brown Dralon and at right angles, faced the TV, their arms protected by covers made by Agnes from remnants more than a decade before. This could have been a scene from any time she’d walked in here since she was a child. Only Fred was showing the signs of age. Almost sixty now, he was slower to turn than he used to be, thanks to a lifetime in the power plant that had left him with a bad back and an aching neck.

  ‘Claire, love!’

  His delight at seeing her immediately made her feel better. Fred was food for her soul. Always had been. If he noticed that her hug lasted longer than normal, he didn’t comment.

  ‘Sit yourself down, lass – I’ll put the kettle on.’

  ‘Thanks, Grandad, but don’t worry about the tea. It’s a flying visit. I’m on the way to see my mother.’

  Fred’s expression changed in a heartbeat. ‘You’re either a glutton for punishment or something’s wrong.’ There was a hint of a joke in there, but it was balanced by the fact that they both realised that was the reality of the situation.

  Still, she put up a show of brushing it off, buying time before she landed the bombshell. ‘What makes you think—’

  She didn’t even get the rest of the sentence out before he interrupted.

  ‘Come on, lass, out with it,’ he said, the directness of the words diluted by the tenderness and care in his voice. ‘Whatever it is, we’ll get it sorted.’

  Seeing the worry written all over his face, Claire decided to go with direct and straight to the point too. ‘I’m pregnant, Gr
andad. I’m so sorry.’

  For the longest moment, he said nothing, and the panic began to wrap its way around her throat, stealing any hope of saying more.

  ‘Well, I didn’t expect that,’ he finally said, with a weary sigh.

  Another pause, and she just managed to blink back tears before he spoke again.

  ‘Bugger, Claire, I’m not doing very well here, am I?’ he said, tone lighter now, reaching over and taking her hand. ‘And that Sam lad is the father?’

  She nodded, still unable to speak.

  Fred’s brow furrowed, two deep lines forming above the bridge of his nose, and she could see that he was thinking this over and trying to choose his next words carefully.

  ‘Well, lass, you don’t need me telling you all the reasons that this is a shock…’

  Claire realised she wasn’t breathing. More than anyone else on earth, she couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing Fred.

  He went on, ‘But worse things have happened in life. How do you feel about it?’

  Claire felt the tears prick her lids. ‘Shocked. Surprised. We were horrified to start with, because it wasn’t planned, but now… well, we’re… kind of happy,’ she finished, realising as she said it that it was true.

  Fred thought some more. ‘Well, lass, if I’ve learned one thing over the course of my life, it’s that you can never have too many people to love, or too many people loving you back. So it looks like we’re going to have another wee thing to love. And I don’t reckon that’s something we should be unhappy about.’ The sincerity in his eyes and the kindness in his tone told Claire that he meant every word.

  She lurched at him and threw her arms around him, knowing full well that the physical affection would have this big gruff man turning bright red in the face, but right now all Claire cared about was showing him how much she loved him.