Together Apart (23 page)

37.

A
dam slammed the door to his hotel room behind him and made his way down the fire-escape stairs, two at a time. He’d dressed in record time, pulling on his damp suit, ignoring the way it clung to his skin. As he stepped outside the hotel, he took in a deep lungful of air. He’d felt suffocated in Sarah’s room, but thanks to the thoughts careening through his head, he felt decidedly dizzy. He needed to walk, to try to clear his head.

He looked towards the shiny, regenerated part of the city centre and the twinkling lights illuminating the buildings ahead. It would be easy enough to find a pub where he could sit and sink into the bottom of a pint glass, surrounded by the buzz of conversation and the clunking of balls being knocked around a pool table. Instead, he turned right, down a street occupied by fried chicken shops and o
ff-licen
ces. Clearly the regeneration hadn’t made it this far,
and wit
h the yellow street lights bouncing off the shuttered
shopfronts
, he could almost draw a line and pinpoint where the old city ended and the new one began. He dug his hands into his trouser pockets and kept his eyes on the road ahead. He had to stop himself from delving into the part of his mind where Sarah’s confession had
burrowed
. He couldn’t start thinking about what she’d told him yet.

As he walked up the road, he frowned, sniffing the air. It smelled like sweet onions, and he looked at the buildings around him, trying to work out where it was coming from. It reminded him of the pickled onions Sarah liked. He couldn’t think of anything worse to eat, but she loved them.

He couldn’t get out of his head the image of her face as she’d sat opposite him and told him about Jack. His stomach sank. So much for trying not to think about it. No way had he been expecting to hear that. Even when she’d told him she’d been pregnant before, he’d expected to hear that she’d given the baby up for adoption. It was as if she were talking about someone else entirely. A teenage delinquent who’d got pregnant at the age of fourteen and secretly given birth to and abandoned a stillborn baby. No wonder she was so secretive.

Adam clenched his jaw. The thought of what had happened to her was making his blood curdle. She really did do a mighty ostrich impression, like Claire had said. He shook his head. Why did she do all that – hide her pregnancy from everyone and go through it all alone – when she really didn’t have to? Okay, she was scared of telling her mum; he could understand that, but to go to that extreme? He’d met her family, and they weren’t the dragons she’d painted them to be. They almost certainly wouldn’t have been happy about her being pregnant at such a young age, but whose parents would be?

It was blisteringly cold. The wind had dropped, but the bitter air around him nipped at his ears and stung his eyes, making them water. Everything around him looked so brown and soulless, and the road ahead stretched out for what seemed like forever. He’d only seen two cars drive past, and he hadn’t seen anyone else since he’d left the hotel. His footsteps echoed around him, and the smell of onions still wafted in the air. Being alone suited him just fine. He didn’t want to see anyone else or listen to the babble of
conversation
– not when he still had the one with Sarah replaying in his mind. The thought of her cradling the body of her newborn baby in her arms made him feel sick. No wonder she was so afraid about being pregnant again. Her reasons for wanting the abortion were clear to him now. If he’d known, he wouldn’t have even raised the possibility of her keeping it as an option.

It? He shook his head. She’d said she had been pregnant with twins. She had really said that, hadn’t she? She’d slipped it in, right at the end, and now he wasn’t sure whether he’d heard correctly because his thoughts had been racing through his head with the revelations she’d told him. That would be three babies, and not one of them would have survived – through choice or fate. Something like that could mess with the strongest of minds.

He came to a bridge and stopped to look down at the brown water rushing against the mildew-ridden walls of its banks. He would never have imagined that he’d have a conversation like that three months ago. Hell, even a few hours ago. And what was worse, he didn’t know how he was supposed to feel. He was sad for her – of course he was. Nobody should have to go through what she’d gone through, at any age – let alone as a teenager. The idea of Sarah and Claire doing what they did and hiding a secret of such magnitude for so many years was inconceivable to him. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say to her, or what she expected to hear. Everything she’d said was on repeat in his head, and he kept running through the same thoughts like a paused video, stuttering and jumping, unable to move backwards or forwards.

It must have been the same for Sarah, stuck for the last fifteen years on the floor of a clapped-out cricket pavilion with her twin sister and a dead baby in her arms. It was a miracle she hadn’t gone mad, keeping a secret like that to herself. It was a shocking thing for him to hear, but he was proud of her for telling him. Putting aside the impact it could have on their relationship, after years of shutting herself away, she’d faced up to her demons and laid them out for him to see. She thought she was weak, but all he could see was how amazingly strong she was.

Looking up, he saw the sign of their hotel in the distance. She’d probably be thinking all sorts of things, reading into the reasons why he’d walked out instead of staying, but he’d needed to take in what she’d told him in his own time, and he couldn’t do that with her there. He rubbed his eyes before jamming his hands into his pockets and walking back to the hotel. He knew what he needed to do.

38.

10 November, 11.50 p.m.

W
ell, that’s it. I’ve told him everything. I poured my heart out to him for what felt like hours and now there’s nothing more to say. After keeping it locked inside for so long, I thought it would be the most painful thing in the world to admit to what happened. To finally tell the truth about Jack and come—

Sarah stopped writing and looked up at the door. Someone was there – she was sure of it. She gripped the pen in her hand. What if it was the police? What if that was the reason Adam had walked out? The look on his face when she’d told him everything made no secret about what he thought. It was a look of pure horror and disgust, and he’d probably gone straight to the nearest police station.

A knock at the door confirmed her thoughts, and a pulse of fear ran down her back. She’d known when she’d made the decision to tell Adam everything that this might happen. She hadn’t expected to confess to something like that without consequences, and him walking out was just one of them.

‘Sarah?’

He knocked again and her breath quickened. Why had he come back?

‘You know, I would have understood if you’d told me all this before,’ Adam said. ‘I wouldn’t have thought any differently about you. You know that, don’t you?’

Sarah frowned. Of course he would have. How could he not? The words he was saying didn’t match up with what his face had told her before he’d walked out.

‘What happened wasn’t your fault.’ He looked up, straight into the spyhole. There was no way he could have seen her or even known she was there, but it was as if he were looking right at her. ‘You didn’t know you were pregnant – you can’t blame yourself for what happened. And even if you did know, it might have ended the same way. There might not have been anything you could’ve done.’

Tears pricked at her eyes, and she stepped away from the door. If it wasn’t her fault, then whose was it? Miscarriages and stillbirths happened all the time; she knew that. She’d spent years repeatedly going back to support websites and reading reports published in medical journals. She knew that sometimes there
was
no explanation. But it didn’t make it any easier. If she had nobody to blame, then she’d have to live with the knowledge that, for some reason, it was just never meant to be.

‘Look, Sarah. I know you’re there. I know you’re listening.’

Her heart thudded so loudly, she was sure he’d be able to hear it on the other side of the door. She looked at the spyhole and pictured Adam on the other side.

‘I still want you. I still want
us
. I want us to be a family, and I think you do too.’

The tears rolled from her eyes and down her cheeks. Even now that he knew everything there was to know, he was still there, wanting her. She peered through the spyhole again, looking at him.

‘If you want to make this work, then we’ll do it,’ Adam said. ‘No more secrets, no more lies. I know you’re scared, but things will be different this time around.’

Her stomach turned with the weight of his words. What he was asking her to do was impossible. They’d have to start all over again, trying to piece back together what they’d had, and they’d have to do it with a baby.

‘And, if you don’t . . .’ He put his forehead against the door and sighed. ‘If you don’t, then I’ll drop it.’

What if it didn’t work out?

‘All you have to do is open the door and tell me what you want. What do you want, Sarah?’

EPILOGUE

Adam kicked the door shut behind him after taking the brown paper bags from the delivery man, and headed into the kitchen. Thank God for Fridays. He was looking forward to tucking into his lamb bhuna and chilling in front of the TV. It was hardly rock and roll, but after the last few months of complications and drama, it was exactly what he needed. His stomach growled as he took a beer from the fridge. He looked up at the clock, shrugged and peeled the lid off his lamb. One spoonful wouldn’t hurt.

With the kick of the chilli tingling his lips, Adam took a swig of his beer. No doubt Matt and Jenny would be sitting around Carl’s huge dining table in the middle of a poker game. It still felt odd not to be there. After years of maintaining that it was an absolute staple of his life, he hadn’t been for weeks
, but now his world had changed, and his rule that ‘Girls can come and go, but poker night remains’ had gone straight out of the window.

‘Finally,’ Adam said as he heard the front door open.

‘Bloody hell, it’s pissing it down out there,’ Sarah shouted from the hallway. ‘Is the food here? I’m starving.’

‘Sit down and chill. I’ll be two secs.’

He gathered up two trays, plates and cutlery, all the while listening to the noises of Sarah moving around the flat – something that always made him smile. He tore off some sheets from the roll of kitchen paper and turned off the light before remember
ing the
can of ginger beer in the fridge that he’d picked up for her on
the way home.

He held out the tray in front of him. ‘Here you go.’

She’d already selected a film from the on-demand service. Which soppy chick flick was it going to be this time?
Amelie?
It was her favourite film, and he knew for a fact that she’d seen it at least a dozen times. He had to admit he liked it too, even if it was all in subtitles. He sat down next to her on the sofa and looked at her, balancing her tray on her knees. He smiled to himself. Who needed poker nights anyway?

‘Ow.’

‘Is everything okay?’ Adam asked, his eyebrows rising with alarm.

‘Yeah, she’s just moving around a bit.’

He breathed a sigh of relief and looked down at Sarah’s
swollen
belly. It wasn’t time for him to start panicking about overnight
hospital
bags and the possibility of a backseat delivery just yet.

He still found it hard to believe there was a baby growing inside her. Their baby. Adam smiled – a smile he’d been unable to wipe off his face since Sheffield. He was going to be a dad. For real. Another person was going to be reliant on him for her welfare. He was excited – ecstatic, even. And terrified. He’d wake up sometimes in the middle of the night, wondering how the hell they were going to cope with the demands of a baby.

‘Do you want to feel?’ Sarah asked. ‘She’s kicking up a storm.’

Adam hesitated. So far, whenever he’d put his hand to Sarah’s belly, he’d never felt anything. It was almost like his daughter was playing games with him, already showing her stubborn side. Clearly, she took after her mum.

‘She’ll probably stop if I do.’

‘Don’t be so ridiculous,’ she replied, flicking her eyes to the ceiling, and grabbed his hand.

The hardness of her belly still astounded him, and every so often, he’d see it move. It creeped him out the first time. He’d expected it to be a slight ripple, but instead, he’d actually seen a lump form as the baby moved under Sarah’s skin.

Adam shrugged. ‘I can’t feel anything.’

‘Here,’ Sarah replied, lifting her top and pressing his palm against her warm, bare skin. ‘Just wait a few seconds.’

He sighed, shaking his head. It was useless. He was never going to feel her kick. He was about to move his hand, when a sharp, sudden and firm kick nudged against his skin.

His stomach somersaulted and his eyebrows shot up. ‘Was t
hat it?’

‘Yep,’ Sarah nodded. ‘Pretty amazing, huh?’

He nodded back and kept his hand where it was. Amazing was one word to describe it, that was for sure. He’d been to the second ultrasound scan and seen their baby on the screen. He’d heard its heartbeat, and when Sarah had looked at him with the sonar-like pulse of the heartbeat echoing around the room, he knew that she was thinking about the baby they’d lost, just as he was. The happiness of hearing their baby’s heartbeat was tinged with sadness for the one that hadn’t survived, and they’d gone home to read up about vanishing twin syndrome. They were still mourning their loss, and he guessed they always would, but at the same time, they’d moved on to a point where the overwhelming emotion they seemed to share was happiness.

‘She’s actually real.’

Sarah laughed. ‘Of course she is. Do you think I’ve been
walking
around with a pillow stuffed under my top all this time?’

Adam shook his head and took his hand from her bump to rub his mouth. Now that he’d felt it move, his daughter had gone from being a conceptual being to an actual one. ‘No, it’s just . . . Well, it’s a big deal.’

Sarah looked at him and smiled. ‘Yeah, it is.’

‘Will she move again?’ he asked, flicking his gaze from Sarah’s belly to her eyes. The movement had been so quick and sudden that he hadn’t felt prepared for it. He wanted to feel it again.

‘Probably,’ she replied and took his hand again. ‘She seems to love jalfrezi as much as I do.’

‘We’ll have to get some more curry in next weekend then. Your mum will want to feel that for sure.’

Sarah smiled. Having Caroline and Peter come to stay for the weekend was her idea, to try to start rebuilding the relationship with her family. Ever since she’d told them she was pregnant, she seemed to be on the phone to her mum on a daily basis.

Adam took her hand and looked at her. ‘What about Amy?’

Sarah scrunched up her nose. ‘I’m not keen. I like Jessica.
Or Emily.’

‘I don’t like either of those.’ Adam frowned. ‘Not having much luck so far, are we?’

Sarah shrugged and grinned. ‘We’ve got plenty of time.’

She was right. They had a whole future mapping itself out ahead of them. The two of them, with a daughter. A girl who would throw tantrums, play with dolls, wear makeup and eventually bring all manner of worries to Adam’s head with dodgy boyfriends. He couldn’t wait.

Sarah put her hand over his, and they both waited for the
second
kick. Whatever challenges their daughter would throw their way, he knew they would face them together. After everything they’d been through, they were even stronger than before. They were back together, and in a couple of weeks, they would be a family.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ Adam said, gently stroking his thumb against Sarah’s soft skin.

‘Hurt, did it?’

‘Funny.’ He rolled his eyes at Sarah’s cheeky grin. ‘So, on the subject of names, maybe it’s better to wait until she’s born. You know, to see what she looks like.’

Sarah nodded. ‘Okay. That works for me. As long as you don’t try and take advantage of my post-natal haze and get me to agree to calling her Arsenal or something.’

‘Scout’s honour.’ Adam laughed.

‘On the topic of names, we’re agreed her surname will be Thompson, right?’

Adam nodded. ‘Right.’

‘Well, I was thinking that it would be really nice if we
all
sh
ared it.’

Shared his surname? A puzzled frown settled on Adam’s face. Things were going well between them – fantastic, actually – but even still. He’d learned not to assume anything over the past few months.

‘What are you saying?’

‘Marry me, Adam.’