Before You Go Page 17

  ‘It’s OK. I knew you were going to say that. I just hoped, I guess, that you might have changed your mind. You know, after we’ve been married a while, after everything . . .’ His voice was small, lost. I longed to reach out and comfort him but instead I sat still, hoping the moment would pass.

  But of course it didn’t.

  ‘I really am sorry, Ed, but nothing’s changed, not for me. I know you want a baby, I know you think it’s what will make us a family, but I don’t feel that way. As far as I’m concerned we are a family, me and you. I’m sorry, sweetheart.’ What I didn’t tell him was that I was scared. Scared that having a baby would spoil everything I’d worked so hard for; it wasn’t part of the plan, not for at least a few more years. It sounded too selfish even to my own ears.

  He nodded, then stood, looking down at me.

  ‘I get it, Zo, I do. I don’t mean to pressure you and I’m sorry. I promise I’ll stop it if you promise me something too.’

  ‘Anything.’

  ‘You’ll at least start to think about it? Not just dismiss it out of hand. Promise?’

  I nodded. ‘I promise.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He leaned down and kissed the top of my head, stroked my cheek with his hand, his skin slightly roughened.

  And over the next few months he’d kept to his promise, and I’d tried to keep to mine. But the subject became our elephant in the room, the strain pressing down on us daily until we could hardly bear it any more.

  As I run along now, past the run-down estates, palatial mansions, stations, shops, woods, fields and railway lines that make up the fabric of the city, I know I can’t let the same happen again this time. I resisted and resisted trying for a baby last time until it almost destroyed us, which, in hindsight, was pointless as in the end we wanted the same thing anyway.

  So this time I’m going to do something to try and stop all the heartache; something that might, just might, change things enough to keep Ed with me.

  I know what I need to do.

  By the time Ed gets back, darkness has pulled itself like a veil over the day, the lights across the street igniting one by one as people settle in for the evening. I’m almost beside myself with impatience, desperate for him to get home.

  I still went out with Jane today; I needed to do something to pass the time until Ed got home. I decided against telling her what was on my mind, though; it was far too complicated, and I was worried I’d say something I shouldn’t, give myself away. Instead, I just made sure I got home before Ed, and got myself prepared.

  I’m in the kitchen stirring a pan of home-made tomato sauce when I hear Ed’s key scrape in the lock, and my heart rate picks up pace. A few seconds later he walks in: he looks tired, drawn; it’s clear something is weighing on his mind.

  A frown crosses his face when he sees me.

  ‘I thought you weren’t home until later?’

  ‘Yeah, I came home early. Thought it would be nice to have dinner together.’ I hold the spoon up. ‘It’s not as good as yours, but want to taste?’

  He shakes his head. ‘No, thanks.’ I know not to be cross at his surliness, because I know what’s on his mind.

  ‘OK. Well, this will be ready soon, so would you like a glass of wine while you wait?’ I’m aware my voice is slightly too high and unsteady, but Ed doesn’t seem to notice. He sits down heavily on the chair and grabs the bottle of red wine that’s already open, slugs some into the glass and tips his head back, gulps it down.

  ‘Zoe, listen—’

  ‘It’s OK, Ed, I know what you’re going to say.’

  He frowns. ‘I don’t think you do.’

  I turn the heat down and sit opposite him, my elbows resting on the table. He’s hunched, his shoulders tight, his face grey and drawn. ‘I really do. This is about the baby thing, isn’t it?’

  His face flashes briefly with surprise, and he gives a tight nod. I carry on. ‘I know it’s been on your mind, and I guessed it’s what you’ve been talking to your mum about today, am

  I right?’

  ‘Yes, but—’ He stops, rubs his hand over his face. ‘How the hell do you know that?’

  I shrug. ‘Just a feeling. You’ve mentioned it a few times now and I suppose – well, it’s been eighteen months since we got married so it’s about time we talked about it . . .’

  He nods again. ‘Yes, it is. But you’ve thrown me a bit, to be honest, Zo. I was all prepared to come back and talk to you about it, expecting you to say no way, throw it back in my face. I wasn’t expecting you to be the one to bring it up. So what’s brought this on?’

  I take a deep breath. ‘I’ve just been thinking. About me, and you. And yes, I do think we’re a family, just the two of us, and to be honest, it doesn’t feel like a great time, what with work being busy and everything. But – well, when is a good time? And who’s to say we’ll even be able to get pregnant straight away anyway—’ My voice cracks at this and I cough to cover it up. ‘I suppose – I suppose what I’m trying to say is that maybe we should think about giving it a go. Trying for a baby, I mean.’

  Ed’s eyes are wide, his mouth slightly open. ‘You mean – you want to have a baby? Now?’

  ‘I mean I think we should start trying.’ I reach across the table and take his hands. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Shit. Sorry, Zo, but I’m in shock. I – this is the last thing I expected from you. But I’m – I’m so happy.’ Tears are shining in his eyes and I stand and walk around the table to him, perch awkwardly on his knee. I cup my hands round his face and kiss his lips gently.

  ‘I’m happy too. I love you so much, I just want us to be happy, always.’

  ‘Me too. Thank you, Zoe.’

  He wraps his arms around me and we stay like that for a few moments.

  ‘Um, Zo, can you smell burning?’

  ‘What? Oh, shit, the sauce.’

  Smoke is billowing from the saucepan; there’s an ominous sizzling sound, and a strong smell of burning. The sauce is black, totally ruined.

  ‘Oh, um, whoops.’ I hold the pan up for Ed to see. ‘Fancy a takeaway?’

  Ed laughs. ‘Tell you what, I’ll go and get Chinese, you clean this mess up. Deal?’

  ‘Deal.’

  Then he kisses me and is gone, almost skipping out of the house. And as I scrub the saucepan under hot water I can’t help thinking that maybe, just maybe, this has been the best thing I’ve ever done. Maybe I’ve just changed everything.

  Later, as we watch TV, our bellies full of food, I glance across at Ed at the other end of the sofa. He smiles at something and the corners of his eyes crinkle gently. His skin shines in the glow from the screen, and without him even realizing he’s doing it, his fingers drum gently against the edge of the sofa, sending soft vibrations through from his body to mine. The evening is warm and he’s wearing long shorts, the muscles of his calves flexing sharply as he taps his foot in rhythm to his fingers. He’s never still, even when he looks as though he is.

  He notices me looking at him and turns his face towards me.

  ‘OK, Zo?’

  ‘Mmm,’ I mumble. ‘Yes, just looking at you.’

  He leans over and plants a soft kiss on the end of my nose. ‘I love you, you know,’ he says. And before I can answer he pulls away and turns back to look at the TV.

  ‘I know. I love you too.’

  I tear my eyes away from him and realize my face is wet with tears. The day is almost finished and although I want to find out if I’ve changed anything today, I don’t want to leave him. I don’t want the day to end, to find out that that’s it, that I’m back to never seeing Ed again.

  But I have no choice. My work for today is done; I need to move on.

  I stand. ‘I’m going to bed.’

  ‘Already? It’s only – ’ he squints at the clock on the wall – ‘ten o’clock.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.’

  ‘OK, gorgeous. Sleep well.’

  I walk over and give
him a kiss and he catches my shoulder. ‘Thank you, Zoe. For everything. I love you.’

  ‘I love you too. More than you’ll ever know.’

  And then I walk into our bedroom, pull on my pyjamas, climb into bed and pull the duvet over my head, and slip into oblivion . . .

  13

  16 December 2007

  Sometimes things happen that really surprise you. Eight months ago, at my mum and dad’s house as Becky and I were drinking tea and raiding the biscuit tin, something happened that I never would have expected in a million years. My baby sister told me she was pregnant.

  ‘You’re what?’ I screeched when she told me the news, nearly choking on my ginger nut.

  She looked at me with her wide-open eyes and shrugged. ‘Pregnant,’ she said. ‘You know, got a bun in the oven, up the duff, knocked up, with child—’

  ‘I know what it means! I just . . .’ I genuinely didn’t know what else to say. The news had knocked me totally for six. Becky was only twenty-eight and had only been with her boyfriend, Greg, for about five months. How could she be bringing a baby into the world already?

  The silence between us stretched a bit longer. Finally, I had to fill it.

  ‘How . . . I mean, does Mum . . . ?’

  ‘No, Mum doesn’t know yet, so don’t say anything. You’re the first person I’ve told. Apart from Greg, obviously. I just needed to talk to you about it.’

  I let her words sink in for a minute. ‘So this wasn’t planned, then?’

  ‘Not exactly.’ She looked sheepish. ‘It was a bit of a drunken night out and, well, you know . . .’

  ‘Oh Becky.’

  ‘I know. But it’s OK. Me and Greg have talked about it and we definitely want to keep it. I mean, it’s not as though we’re sixteen and too young, is it? We both have good jobs and, well, we really love each other. We just thought we might see the world a bit before this, but now it’s happened, well. It just seems like it was meant to be.’

  I couldn’t argue with her. She’d made her mind up and actually seemed happy about it. So instead I stood up and threw my arms around her and held her tightly until I thought she was going to burst.

  And now, here I am, reliving the first time I met my niece. Compared to the last day I had to relive, I feel blessed.

  She was born less than two days ago and Becky is now back home, at the flat she shares with Greg. They’ve decided to call her Gracie, and as I walk into the room and see Becky for the first time since she had the baby I feel as though I’ve had a blow to the stomach. Becky’s sitting on the sofa propped up on pillows, leaning back. She looks tired but there’s a glow about her that I’ve never seen before. Then I notice the little bundle on her chest, and my heart skips a beat. Gracie is fast asleep, dressed in a stripy Babygro, her face squashed into Becky’s chest, her nappied bottom sticking high into the air.

  Becky smiles and her eyes crinkle at the corners as she sees me.

  ‘Hey,’ she says, her voice a half-whisper. The room is in semi-darkness and the TV flickers silently in the background. ‘She’s just dropped off so I’m trying not to wake her.’

  I nod and creep carefully to sit down next to her, planting a kiss gently on her forehead – the only part of her I can reach without squashing Gracie – before I do.

  ‘So,’ I start, shrugging my shoulders, unsure what to say.

  ‘I know. I’m a mummy. Mad, isn’t it?’

  ‘Totally. So, how was it?’

  Gracie wriggles in her sleep and Becky adjusts her position to accommodate her daughter.

  ‘It was bloody horrendous.’ She looks at me and smiles, but I can tell she means it. ‘It was worse than I ever thought it could be. But it was worth it.’ She looks down at her daughter with a look of complete and utter love and I feel a spark of jealousy. What must it feel like to love someone so utterly and without question like that?

  We sit quietly for a while, watching the people on TV selling things from their homes at auction, trying to lip-read what they’re saying. Every time there’s a bang or a small noise Becky tenses, then settles down again, breathing a sigh of relief.

  ‘It’s taken me all morning to get her to finally drop off,’ she explains. ‘I need the peace to last as long as possible.’

  I nod as if I understand but of course I don’t really. And anyway before too long it becomes irrelevant when Gracie starts to stir.

  ‘Bugger, she’s going to be starving when she wakes up,’ Becky says, shifting awkwardly into a sitting position as Gracie opens her eyes and takes in the world around her. For a few seconds I wonder what the fuss is all about, as there is nothing but silence. Then suddenly she launches into an ear-piercing cry, her little face screwed up and getting redder and redder.

  As quickly as it started, the noise stops and I’m left with a ringing in my ears as I wonder how Becky managed to stop the screams so quickly. And then I notice Gracie attached to my sister’s breast, sucking happily, and I look away again quickly. It doesn’t matter how natural it is; it feels wrong and awkward to watch. Instead I concentrate on Becky’s face, on the picture on the wall behind her, on the TV screen still playing away to itself on the other side of the room.

  ‘Ah, silence,’ Becky sighs. ‘The best sound ever.’

  As Gracie feeds, Becky tells me all the terrible details of the birth. The pain, the screaming, the dilation, the epidural, all of it, and I listen in awe. My baby sister has been through all this, something I’ve never experienced. And amazingly, I know she gets over it quickly enough to go through it all again in a couple of years’ time. But for now I just listen, and let her get it all out, and try to ignore the ache in my heart at the fact that my little sister has had a baby when I’ve been unable to.

  Finally, Gracie stops feeding and her eyes start to droop again as she falls into a happy slumber.

  ‘Tough life, being a baby,’ I say.

  ‘Terrible,’ Becky agrees. Then she looks at me. ‘Do you want to hold her?’

  I pause. I’m longing to hold her but I’m terrified. What if I break her? What if she brings back all the pain of the last few years before Ed died? I’m not sure I can cope with that.

  But on the other hand it might be comforting. And really, there’s no way I can actually say no.

  ‘Yes,’ I whisper, and Becky half stands and sort of tips Gracie into my arms. Her head lolls into the crook of my arm and she makes a small mumbling sound, and then she’s asleep, contentedly snuggled into me.

  I feel the warmth of her tiny body through my arms. I look down at her scrunched-up face, her eyes closed tightly against the light, her chest rising and falling gently with each breath, and I think about the first time I ever met Gracie. My niece is getting close to six now, and I haven’t seen her for a few weeks. Seeing her as a tiny baby again I feel a surge of love, mixed with regret. These past few years and months I’d been so caught up in my own grief and worries I’d forgotten about the other things that mattered in my life. I still see my sister and her children, but not enough. I realize now that I just thought it was going to be too painful – when actually the truth was, it might have done me good.

  After about half an hour I notice it’s growing dark outside and it’s time for me to head home.

  ‘I’d better get going,’ I say, shuffling upright as Becky moves forward to take her daughter into her arms.

  ‘OK,’ she whispers, as Gracie settles herself into her new environment in her mummy’s arms. I don’t really want to leave. I want to stay here and hold her forever, protect her from the world, never let anything happen to her. But I need to get out of there and be on my own for a while, take some time to work out how I’m feeling.

  I bend down and pick up my bag from the floor where I dumped it when I came in, then lean down to gently kiss my sister’s and my niece’s heads.

  ‘I love you,’ I whisper, and Becky smiles, then smooths her hand softly over Gracie’s head and I can see they’re both going to be fast asleep as soon as I leave.
I creep out of the living room and open the front door. The cold air hits me like a train and I close the door behind me and wrestle my arms into my coat. I wish I had my scarf. The weak December sun was giving a little warmth when I arrived, but now it’s turned wintry and a hint of frost hangs in the air. I shiver and clumsily do up the buttons on my coat, hook my bag over my shoulder and start to walk. I’m not sure where I’m walking to. I don’t want to go home yet, and so I work out a general direction and just keep putting one foot in front of the other. It gives me time to think.

  The first time I met Gracie was the day that things changed for me. As I’d held her tiny body in my arms, and watched her breathing gently, happily, it had made me realize that I wanted this too; that I wanted Ed’s baby.

  This time, of course, I’ve told Ed I want to start trying for a baby already, so things are different. Or at least they should be. But after this morning I’m not so sure.

  I’d seen Ed before I’d left to come and meet Gracie today.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want to come?’

  ‘No, you go, have some time alone with her.’ He’d seemed distracted but I couldn’t work out why.

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure.’ His voice was sharp, snappy. He didn’t seem to want to look at me.

  ‘Ed, what’s wrong?’

  ‘Seriously, you’re asking me that?’

  I didn’t know what to say. I had no idea what had been happening, but it obviously wasn’t great.

  ‘Zoe, just go and see Becky, OK? I’m not sure I can handle being with you today after all the shit you’ve put me through in the last few weeks.’

  ‘What shit?’ I had to know.

  Ed’s face was furious. ‘What shit? You mean you don’t remember promising we can start trying for a baby and then changing your mind again, and then refusing to talk about it for the last six months? You don’t remember the constant arguments and the confusion and the – the stress? Well, then, maybe you’d better try and remember, because quite frankly I don’t even want to be in the same room as you right now . . .’

  He’d walked away from me then, shutting the front door firmly behind him and leaving me standing in the hallway, feeling terrible. Obviously, I can’t remember any of this, and I can’t believe, after everything I thought I’d achieved, that we’re back to square one. In fact, worse than square one, because at least last time I hadn’t given him any false hope. What was wrong with me? I had to make this right.