From The Moment I Saw Him .... (24 page)

“Oh God.  Your shirt’s all wet,
I’m so sorry, Peter,” I stammered, as I disengaged myself.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Peter seemed to be deep in
thought.  I added, with a forced attempt at humour,

“I’ll just have to go home and
fulfil the parents’ worst nightmare - unmarried mum and baby.  Perhaps it’s not
quite so shaming at twenty eight as it would have been at eighteen.”

He didn’t appear to be
listening.  His face looked particularly stern and austere, and I hoped he was
not condemning me for my earlier outburst.  We reached a bench, and he pulled
me down to sit next to him.

“Eithne - all this has
precipitated something I’ve been thinking about,” he said, his face still very
serious.  I thought to myself “He isn’t able to come to London any more,” and
felt terribly cast down. 

“It’s a bit soon, but I think
it needs to be said now.”

 He looked at me, blue eyes
thoughtful and solemn.

 “I would like to ask you to
marry me, Eithne,” he said, very formally.  “You need someone to look after
you, and Nicholas is getting to the age when he needs a father.”

I was so surprised, I could
hardly breathe.  The remnant of a sob shook me, and he stroked my cheek.

“I know I can’t replace Nick -
I wouldn’t try to - but I think we could be happy together.  Don’t forget I’ve
had a bad experience too, it would be starting over for both of us.”

Peter took my tearstained face
in his hands, and smiled ruefully, as if remembering something from our past.

“You know I’ve always liked
you, do you think you could bring yourself to care for me enough to make a go
of it?  I can offer you a good home, you can give your notice in and not have
to worry about Ian and work any more.  I would have waited - I know Nick’s not
been dead a year yet - but events seem to have overtaken us.”

Then, seeing as I was still
dumbstruck, he added,

“Nick was one of my oldest
friends, we started at the same school before we were five years old. 
Together, we can ensure that Nicholas gets to know his father, even if he’s no
longer here.”

That brought fresh tears to my
eyes, and I tried to restrain them.

“I don’t expect an answer
today, but promise me you’ll think about it, and when I’m back from Copenhagen,
we can talk some more.”

He consulted his watch, his
face tightened.

“I’m so sorry, I must get to
the airport.”  He looked at me anxiously.  “Say something, Eithne - at least
tell me I’m not out of line here.”

     I was finding it hard to
talk, but I took his hand and squeezed it.  He was such a dear.  I remembered
all his past kindnesses to me.  I didn’t want him to take me on out of pity. 
But I was very grateful to him for being there, and I had to let him know that.

“Oh Peter, I don’t know what to
say.” I murmured.  “You’re so kind.  It’s too much to ask you to saddle
yourself with someone else’s child, and a woman with a heart still in pieces. You
could do much better for yourself, but I’m grateful to you just for being
here.”

He pulled me to my feet, he
looked at me directly with his blue gaze.

“Grateful ........ Eithne
darling, don’t you know it’s what I want?”

He kissed me very gently on the
lips, and held me closely to him.  I could feel his heart beating, and his
embrace was warm and reassuring.

“You need to think it over when
you’re feeling calmer.  Let’s talk about it next week,” he said.

He took my hand, and we walked
in silence back to the flat, where he collected his case.  On the steps, he
said to me

 “Please try to find someone at
work you trust to deal with this stuff about Ian.  If you have any more
worries, just leave. I‘ll be there for you.”

He hugged me briefly, and then
he was gone.  I went slowly back inside.  Although I felt better, I had no idea
what I should do.  I knew one thing; I could not tell my mother what had
occurred.  I did not want to raise any false hopes in her regarding the
possibility of a husband for her unhappy daughter.

On the way to work on Monday, I debated who, if
anyone, I could trust with my concerns.  I knew Will would be sympathetic, but
he was too junior to be able to do anything to help.  There were two other
group account directors, but both were relatively recent recruits to the
agency, and I didn’t really know either of them.

Once at work, I wandered up to the Creative floor,
and into Charlie Mackay’s office.  He was sitting at his desk, sketching a
layout with bold strokes, humming to himself.  He looked up.

”Morning, Eithne.  I think you’ll be pleased with
the storyboard for the Luna Sparkles relaunch.  Is that why you’re here?”

“Not really, just saying hello,” I said.  “Do you
have any idea when Rob will come back from the States?”

He looked surprised.

“Isn’t Ian the person to ask about that?”

“Well - Ian gives me a pretty hard time these days,”
I said carefully.

Charlie stopped drawing, and gave me a keen glance.

“You know who’s to blame for that.”

“I suppose so - but he’s married now, he has a
child, he must be over it.  I don’t think he hassles his other exes.  It’s
making life very difficult.”

Charlie laughed.

 “I expect he dumped all the others, Eithne, you’re
the only one who turned the tables. I’m afraid with someone like Ian, he’s not
likely to forgive and forget.  He’s as tough as they come, that’s why he’s so
good at his job.” 

He frowned at his drawing.

 “Are you saying you want to leave us?  It might be
the best thing for you.  After the trauma you’ve had in the last year, I should
think you’d be better off starting again all round.  Change of house, change of
job, maybe even country.  I’ve found I can’t move on after a crisis unless I
take some pretty big steps, and that means taking a long hard look at what you
want out of life.”

I considered his words.  Perhaps he was right.  I
was beginning to be tired of London, the daily commute, the problems awaiting
me at the office, even the flat where Nick and I had been so happy now offered
little in the way of consolation. There were so many reminders of what had
been, and was no more.

“I’ll need to think about it,” I said slowly.  “I’ve
loved working here, but things aren’t the same as they used to be.”

“Chin up...” he said absently, he had already turned
his attention back to his work.

Back in my office, there was a note from Ian, asking
me to explain my abrupt departure on Friday.  I sat down with Guy and Will for
our Monday progress meeting, made one or two calls, and nerved myself to walk
down the corridor to his office. 

His door was open.  As I stood in the doorway,
inside, Ian was sitting on the edge of his desk, leaning forward to talk
intimately to a girl whom I recognised as a new account manager.  She was
attractive, with a slim figure and long, straight dark hair, and they seemed to
be sharing some sort of private conversation. 

Ian caught sight of me, and he straightened up
abruptly.  The girl - her name was Annabel - stood up, blushing.  Ian said

 “We’ll discuss this later on then,” and she left
the office, giving me a self-conscious little smile on her way out.

It was on the tip of my tongue to say “I expect
Paris looks very nice at this time of year,” but I restrained the impulse.  I
think he would have slapped me.  However, I was pleased to have witnessed this
scene.  It occurred to me that he had an Achilles heel, and I felt some of my
cares roll away as a result.

“Sorry about Friday.  The baby wasn’t well, and I
wanted to get back to him,” I lied.

“You might have come and told us, we were concerned
about you,” Ian said.  “I thought perhaps you’d been taken ill.”

Did he have any reason for thinking that? 

“I did leave a message with the hotel reception,
perhaps they didn’t pass it on properly.”

He looked at me suspiciously.  I returned his gaze
and wondered what had been the truth about that dramatic evening.

“It didn’t go down very well with the rest of the
team,” he said. 

Charlie’s words were still fresh in my mind. 
Perhaps big steps would be needed, in any case, I felt disinclined to worry so
much about what Ian could do to hurt me at work.  I turned to go.

“That’s too bad.  I had to do what I thought was
best,” I told him.  For once, he did not challenge me, and I walked away
feeling I had won this particular round.

 I thought about Peter continually.   My first
impulse had been to dismiss his proposal as a chivalrous gesture, but then, I
began to wonder whether we might be able to make a future together.  I knew my
parents would be ecstatic, and it would relieve them of a lot of worry.  I knew
it would be good for Nicholas to have a stable male presence in his life,
however, I was very fond of Peter, and I did not want to go to him if I was not
sure that I could give him what he wanted, and what he undoubtedly deserved.  I
hardly considered what might be best from my own point of view.  Perhaps I did
not know.

On Friday, I was going out for a sandwich at
lunchtime, when my phone rang. 

     “Eithne?” 

It was Sue from Reception.  “I have a Sofia Kinski
here, she wants to know if you’re free to see her.”

Sofia….  I had not seen or heard of her for some
years, and was intrigued at the thought of our paths crossing again in this
unlikely way.  Grabbing my coat and bag, I rushed downstairs.  She still looked
like an exotic bird of paradise, in a brightly coloured coat.  Her black hair
fanned out on to her shoulders, her lips were scarlet and her eyes kohl rimmed
just as in her Oxford days.

We exclaimed, and embraced.  She told me that she
had recently returned from a long stint in Europe, and a boyfriend had told her
the sad story of Nick’s demise.

“And he knew where you worked, so here I am,” she said. 
“Eithne - I really am sorry to hear about Nick.  I know how much you loved him,
it must have been a terrible blow.”

I did not cry nearly so much these days, but a few
tears came as she spoke, and I blinked them away.

She took my arm.

“Where can we go for a glass of wine and a gossip?”

Ensconced in the wine bar, she told me about her
peripatetic career in PR for various fashion houses since leaving Oxford.  It
sounded very glamorous to me, and exactly what I would have predicted for her.

In turn, I told her about Jo and Emily, then about
my life in advertising, and with Nick.   She could hardly believe that I had a
son who was nearly nine months old.

“And what are you going to do now?  Carry on as you
are?” she demanded.

“I don’t know,” I confessed.  “There have been some
difficulties at work.  It’s too complicated to explain, but I think I may have
to look for another job.  The worst of it is having to leave Nicholas, I feel I
hardly see him.  Being a single mum is hard.”

“Why don’t you find another man, then?” she asked,
in her direct way.  “I always think of you as someone who needs a man around,
somehow you can’t quite cut it on your own, Eithne.   Preferably not a gay one,
though,” she added, with a laugh.

I shook my head at her, I was protective of my
relationship with John.

“Well - there is someone who’s asked me to marry
him.”

 I hadn’t meant to tell her, but it just came out. 
“He’s an old friend of Nick’s, but I’m not sure I can accept, he’s too nice.  I
don’t want him to take me on because he feels sorry for me.”

Sofia threw back her head, and laughed.  She asked
me some questions about Peter, what he did, what our history was.

“And physically - does the thought of being in bed
with him appal you, or could you see yourself having a good time?” she asked.

 I blushed.  I had hardly let myself imagine making
love with Peter, but I remembered his embrace on the riverbank, and I didn’t
think it would be a problem.

“Oh, Eithne.  Professional men like your Peter don’t
ask women to marry them out of pity,  especially not ones with children in
tow,”  she lectured me.  “For heaven’s sake - he sounds like the best thing you
could ask for just now.  Make sure he takes you away from London, so you can
start completely afresh.  I won’t come to the wedding, but I’ll send you a
present for old times’ sake.”

I looked at her, not knowing how to reply. 

“Take it from me, there are times when you have to
seize what you can from life,” she added, more serious now.  “Right now, you‘re
a victim, Eithne - not your fault, but you need to start making some positive
choices, or you’re liable to stay a victim.  Is that really what you want?”

I was very nervous about meeting Peter again on
Saturday.  All night, I had thought about what Sofia and Charlie had said to
me, and worried about the right thing to do. I wondered whether I could ask John
for advice, but when I plucked up my courage and rang him I discovered he was
away on holiday and could not easily be contacted.

 I came to the conclusion that I should ask Peter
for more time to deliberate.

My heart thumped when I saw a taxi draw up, and
Peter’s tall frame unfolded from the back.  He was casually dressed in jeans
and a polo shirt, which made him seem younger and less serious than usual.

I opened the door, wondering what to say, but he
stepped forward and threw his arms around me, and I knew that matters were
already decided.  I was tired of my lonely struggle, and Sofia was right - I
needed a man to help me deal with my life.  He held me closely, kissing my
hair, murmuring endearments, finally kissing me passionately on the lips, until
small Nicholas made his presence felt, by pulling at our legs.  Peter laughed,
and scooped him up, he kissed him too. 

“Eithne, you don’t know how happy I am,” he said,
smiling down at me.  “I promise I’ll be a good husband and a good dad to
Nicholas; he will be my own child.  No, don’t cry,” he added, seeing that his
words had brought tears.  “This is a great day.  Get Nicholas’s things
together, we’re going out for a celebratory lunch.”

Over lunch, we made plans - at least, Peter had a
number of proposals, all of which sounded sensible to me. 

The head office of his company was relocating just outside
Manchester, where he had acquired new premises, and he thought we should look
for a house in the same area.  This had the advantage of being within an hour’s
drive of Beresford, so it would be much easier in future for Nicholas to see
his grandparents.

We agreed that the marriage would not take place
until October at the earliest.  This meant that we avoided potentially
upsetting dates such as the anniversary of Nick’s death and funeral.  I felt
unready to take the next steps until these unhappy days had passed.

Peter wanted me to leave Mackerras Mackay
immediately, but, now I felt I was better placed to deal with Ian, I petitioned
to be allowed to stay on until Robin had returned from sick leave, as I thought
that was the least I could do for such a good friend as he had been to me.

Later on, we rang our parents to tell them the
news.  Peter’s seemed pleased, although I wondered how they really felt about
Nicholas.  Mine were stunned - but in the best possible way.  I knew they would
be eternally grateful to Peter for taking on their troublesome daughter and her
child.

I had two requests.

We were sitting close together on my sofa.  Nicholas
was in bed, and the evening air wafted in from the balcony windows.

I asked Peter whether he would be able to arrange the
packing and storage of Nick’s effects, which still took up my spare bedroom.  I
could not bear the thought of giving his things away, and wondered whether
Nicholas might, at some future time, want to have some more tangible mementos
of the father he had never known.  This he promised to do.

The second request was that we did not take our
relationship further physically until we were married.  This was partly due to
the sad anniversaries which loomed ahead, partly to the fact that I needed time
to reconcile myself to the step I was taking.  It was not that I could not love
Peter, but I needed to make peace with Nick’s shade first.  It was difficult to
explain this, but I hope that Peter understood.

He had to return home on Sunday morning, to deal
with the business generated by his Scandinavian trip, but I felt very happy at
the prospect of seeing him the following weekend.  In the afternoon, Nicholas
and I went to visit Robin in hospital.

I had not seen him for some weeks, and was delighted
to see he was now getting around on crutches. The prognosis for a full recovery
was good.  Sarah was also there, and she was ecstatic at the prospect of him
coming home.

 My news came as a surprise to them, but I think
they were pleased that I would no longer be alone.  I related a heavily
modified version of Ian’s behaviour towards me at work, and they were
horrified, if not entirely surprised. 

“I shall miss you and Will, Robin, but I think the
time has come for me to move on,” I said.  “Apart from anything else, I just
can’t bear seeing so little of Nicholas.  I feel I’m missing his babyhood, and
it will never come back.  At present, he has neither a proper mother, nor a
father.”

Nicholas was sitting on Sarah’s lap, playing with
his teddy - he was laughing, and enjoying all the attention.

“He is a most beautiful child though,” Robin said. 
“Tell me about Peter, is he at all like Nick?  I don’t think I remember him
from the funeral.”

I thought painfully of that terrible day.

“No.  He is nothing like Nick,” I said.  “Physically,
totally unlike him, he’s very tall and fair - not handsome, in the way that
Nick was - or Ian, for that matter - in fact, he looks very serious, but he has
a grown up face, if you know what I mean.  He doesn’t radiate that terrific
charm that Nick had, but you feel he’s someone you can depend on.  That’s
important for me right now.”

“Nick had a monopoly on charm, I think he invented
it,” Sarah said, and we sat, remembering old times for a moment. 

“Have you told Nick’s parents?” Robin asked.

“No.  We’ve only just told our own.  It will be hard
for them, but I hope they will see it’s for the best,” I replied.

Robin told me that he planned to return to work at
the end of August, and I promised I would delay my departure until the third
week in September.  This would take me past the anniversary of Nick’s funeral. 
I would be going to my parents in Beresford once I had stopped work, and I did
not want to be there until after the sad date had been and gone.

“Do you visit Nick’s grave very often, Eithne?”
Sarah asked me, as we walked down the corridor at the end of visiting time.

“No.  Never.”

She looked at me, surprised.  I explained,

“I don’t feel that he’s there.  If you had seen what
was in the coffin....” my voice trembled for a moment.   “Whatever made Nick
himself, was absent, he’s more with me in spirit in Wapping than lying in a
churchyard.  I wish I was religious, then I might understand it better. 
Anyway, it all seems very final now.  I think I’ve accepted it at last.”

She squeezed my hand, and we walked on in silence. 

I was sad when I returned home.  In irrational
moments, I worried that I was betraying the great love I had for Nick in
marrying Peter.  But I knew that I would always carry Nick with me.  He would
not have wanted me to spend my life alone and miserable.  It would not be easy
to go forward, but I could do it with Peter’s help.