Baby Be Mine (12 page)

He looks tortured. ‘So he
is
mine.’

‘Come through to the living room,’ I repeat.

He dumps his helmet on the sofa and slumps down, burying his head in his hands.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ I ask. I feel detached from my body, or rather, detached from my emotions. I feel robotic, calm, in control, yet at the same time this is totally surreal. This isn’t happening to me. It’s like I’m in a dream.

Johnny doesn’t answer, so I leave him there and go into the kitchen. I switch on the kettle and put two teaspoons of instant coffee into a mug. We don’t have a coffee machine, so it’ll have to do. I bring it back through to him and put it on a coaster on the coffee table. I have a feeling it might stay there for some time. I sit on the sofa perpendicular to him, and then I wait. It’s not long before he raises his tormented eyes and stares at me. He looks pale, tired. He hasn’t shaved in days – not since I saw him at Christian’s parents’ house, I imagine.

‘I want to hear it from you,’ he says quietly. ‘Is he mine?’

I nod. ‘It would seem that way.’

‘Has Christian always known?’

‘No.’ I pause. ‘I’m telling him when he gets back.’

‘You won’t have long to wait,’ Johnny says. ‘Contrary to popular opinion,’ he adds, mildly sarcastically, ‘I wouldn’t have turned up out of the blue, even if I do only have a window of a day.’

‘A day?’ I ask, panicked. ‘He’s not coming back until the week after next!’

Johnny closes his eyes, irritated with himself, and then opens them again. ‘He was going to surprise you. I wasn’t supposed to tell you.’

‘Oh, God . . . He’s back tomorrow?’

Johnny nods.

So now I have even less time to prepare, to pack up all our belongings, to speak to my parents . . .

He sighs deeply. ‘How could you let this happen, Meg?’

Rage rushes through me. ‘How could
I
let this happen? I seem to remember there were two of us there when you forced me to have sex with you!’

‘I didn’t force you to have sex with me!’ he scoffs, getting to his feet.

‘You may as well have, coming into my bedroom like that when I was getting changed! What the hell were you thinking?’

‘Here we go again: what the hell was I thinking?’ he says irately, pacing the room. ‘What the hell were
you
thinking, not telling me you were pregnant? I had a right to know!’ He points at me angrily. ‘I
waited
for you, Meg! I waited three months for you! You could have told me! We might have been able to work it out.’

I laugh, bitterly. ‘Are you living in fucking cuckoo land?
Look at you!
You’re a mess! Who the fuck would want
you
to be a father?’ Ker-ching goes the swear box.

He glares at me. Seconds pass before he speaks. ‘That’s not your choice to make.’

‘I thought he could have been Christian’s,’ I say, a slight tremor to my voice.

‘How long did it take you to work out that he wasn’t? Anyone with half a brain can see that he’s mine. I don’t know how Christian hasn’t worked it out – I thought he was brighter than that!’

‘Don’t you
dare
speak about him like that! He doesn’t deserve it.’

‘Oh, fuck,’ he mutters, pushing his hands through his hair and collapsing back on the sofa, the desolation returning. ‘He’s never going to forgive me for this.’

‘No. I don’t imagine he will,’ I say.

Johnny looks up. ‘Well, he’s sure as hell not going to forgive you!’

‘Are you kidding me? Do you think I don’t know that? Barney is going to lose his father over this! Christian is going to lose the son he thinks is his! I may as well cut him open, tear out his heart and rip it into shreds!’

I snatch at the Kleenex box and empty it of its last three tissues. Johnny lets me cry. When I calm down he’s looking at me gravely.

‘I want to see him, Meg.’

I nod, my resolve gone. ‘But you can’t wake him up.’

‘I won’t.’

I lead him down the corridor to Barney’s bedroom and push open the door. Johnny is so close I can feel his body heat. Barney is fast asleep in his cot, his face lit by the glow of his night light.

I step back while Johnny tentatively approaches. Tears trek down my cheeks and I brush them away as he stares at my son. He reaches down and strokes my boy’s face.

‘Okay,’ I say quietly. ‘That’s enough.’

I lead the way out and start to walk back down the corridor, but I realise there are no footsteps behind me. I turn around to see Johnny standing outside Barney’s room, his green eyes glistening.

‘What’s he like?’ His voice sounds croaky.

I smile sadly. ‘He’s the best. He’s very funny, very sweet, a real little character. Come away from his room,’ I urge.

‘I want to meet him properly,’ he warns when we reach the hallway. His face is deadly serious.

I nod. ‘But I have to speak to Christian first. Please,’ I implore. ‘Please give us some time.’

He takes a deep breath and exhales loudly. ‘I’ll wait for you to call me,’ he says firmly. ‘But make it sooner rather than later.’

That doesn’t feel like a promise; it feels like a threat.

  Chapter 12  

Today. Today is the day. I’ve hardly slept a wink, and the little sleep I did get was plagued by horrible nightmares. There are dark circles under my eyes, and I look so pale I might as well have been living in the Antarctic, not the south of France. Christian will probably joke that I’ve partied too hard in Barcelona. If only he knew.

I don’t know what time he’s returning. I haven’t had a chance to pack up all of our things, but I have started to put aside some essentials to get us through the next few days. I don’t want a suitcase to greet Christian when he arrives – that would make it impossible to hold off explaining until Barney is in bed. I was hoping I’d have time to tell my parents, to ask them to look after my son while I talk to Christian, but it’s all going so fast. I can’t believe this is happening.

Christian calls me on my mobile at two o’clock in the afternoon.

‘Hello?’ I answer the phone, too surprised to sound shaken. Isn’t he coming home today, after all?

‘Hey!’ he says. ‘Where are you?’

‘At home,’ I reply. ‘Where are you?’ There’s a jaunty knock at the door. ‘Hang on,’ I say. ‘Someone’s here.’ It occurs to me that it might be Johnny returning. Terrified at that thought, I open the door to see a beaming Christian standing on the terrace, his phone at his ear.

‘Boo!’ he shouts, grabbing me around my waist and swinging me full circle, his phone pressing into my skin through my flimsy dress. He kisses me squarely on the lips and puts me down on the baking-hot terrace. I’m too taken aback to say or do anything other than hop, barefooted, back inside to the cool stone floor.

He laughs. ‘Sorry.’

‘I didn’t think you were coming home until next week!’ I exclaim.

‘I’m back for only two days,’ he cautions. ‘Then I have to go away again, but the band is taking a break and, after everything that’s happened recently, I needed to come home and chill out for a bit and see my little family.’ He seems so happy, like the weight from his mother’s death has momentarily lifted off his shoulders. ‘Where’s Barney?’ he asks.

‘Still asleep. He’ll wake up soon.’

‘I’m bloody boiling!’ he says. ‘Let’s grab our swimmers and go to the lake.’

I stare at his excited face and despise myself for having to put on a pretence for the rest of the day. Then again, what’s one more lie?

‘Okay,’ I say.

There’s a lake not far from here, down a beaten track off one of the mountain roads. Only the locals know about it, but Christian’s friend let us in on the secret when we first moved here.

We pull into the car park. Christian hired a car to bring him from the airport and he got upgraded to an Alfa Romeo 159 Sportwagon, which is the next size up from the Alfa that he currently owns. He has to return it in two days when he flies out to join the band at the next concert, but he’s really pleased to be getting an extended test drive because he’s been thinking about getting us a bigger car. His delight is just another nail in my coffin: there won’t be any need for a bigger car now.

The air-con has barely had a chance to kick in, but the heat when I open the car door makes it hard to breathe. The lake shimmers behind the trees as Christian leads the way across a small stream via stepping stones. Barney is in his arms.

We normally approach the lake via a wider stream and a grassy bank, but now we reach a concrete platform that looks down at the lake below us, deep and green and crystal clear. There are some teenagers dive-bombing into the water nearby. There are no steps here and it’s a drop of about six feet. I don’t think I’d fancy it even if I didn’t have Barney to think about. Christian looks at me with a cheeky grin on his face.

‘Can I?’

‘Can you what?’

‘Can I jump in and meet you over there?’ He indicates the bank in the distance.

I smile at him. ‘Of course you can.’

He hands me Barney and the two of us stand and watch as ‘Daddy’ takes a running jump and dive-bombs into the water, creating quite a tidal wave. Christian rises to the surface, gasping at the cold temperature. It’s impossible not to laugh.

‘Whoa! That was amazing!’ He looks like a child on Christmas Day.

It’s at times like these that I remember why I love him.

My throat aches and my nose starts to itch. I turn away and head towards the wider stream, stepping extra carefully so I don’t drop my son.

I remember why I love him . . . What a strange expression. Surely you always know why you love someone? Is it possible to forget? Sometimes in my darkest moments I wonder if I actually love Christian at all. That’s a terrible thing to say, but it’s true. I’m fond of him – very, very fond of him – and I like him immensely, but love?

I loved Johnny. I loved him passionately. I just didn’t like him very much.

I see Christian walking across the grass to meet us on the other side of the stream. The rocks are sharp underneath my feet, but I’m wearing flip-flops so it’s not too treacherous. I am struggling to carry Barney and our bags, though, so I’m glad Christian has come to help. He grins at me as he waits at the muddy exit to the stream. His dark hair is dripping wet and his broad torso sports quite an impressive tan. He’s looking better than he ever has, with happiness and contentment etched into his face.

I do love him. Right now, right this second, I love him so much that my heart aches. Because I know I’m going to lose him.

‘Let me take that from you,’ he says, grappling for Barney and my beach bag. ‘You should do that next time,’ he adds. ‘It was so much fun.’

‘It looked it,’ I reply.

‘Let’s go up to the waterfall,’ he suggests.

‘Okay.’

I try to hold back my tears as I follow him across the grass to a tiny dirt track behind a dilapidated old stone building. The narrow pathway requires some concentration – there’s a hefty drop into the lake below – but eventually it widens and we reach some sandy-coloured rocks below a waterfall. Christian holds Barney while I lower myself into the water with a sharp intake of breath. The hotter I am, the colder the water feels, but I’m desperate to cool down. It must be forty degrees today. Christian hands me Barney and I dip him up and down. He gasps and wriggles in my grasp and I can’t help giggling.

‘How was Barcelona?’ Christian asks, sliding into the water beside me.

‘Good,’ I reply. ‘The hotel was stunning. Thank you again for that.’

‘You’re welcome.’ He smiles. ‘We’ll have to go back there sometime, just the two of us. Well, three of us . . . Maybe for your birthday in October.’

‘Mmm.’

I can’t do this. I just can’t.

‘You alright?’ he asks.

‘Me? Yeah, I’m fine.’

‘You seem a bit . . . off.’

‘I don’t feel that well.’ At least that part’s the truth.

‘Coming down with something?’ He presses his hand to my forehead.

I shrug and turn away, not wanting him to be kind. ‘I don’t know. I’ll be okay.’ I hope.

By the time Barney is in bed that night, I’m feeling so tense and ill that I’m actually dizzy with it. The fact that I’ve barely touched a morsel of food all day doesn’t help.