The following day at work, it was as if nothing had changed at all. Rory laughed at himself a bit for thinking it would. So, a bloke comes out as bi and the world keeps turning? Imagine that.
He’d just got home from his round when he got a call from Evie. “Oh, hello, love—”
“Rory? You’ve got to pick the kids up from school and have them overnight.”
“Okay, but is everything all right?” She sounded a bit stressed.
“I’m in labour. Six days early. And flippin’ Lewis is in flippin’ Birmingham.”
“What? Are you on your own, then?”
“I’ve got a friend coming over. She’s going to take me to the hospital. But you—” she did some heavy breathing “—you’ve got to come and get their stuff.”
“I’ll be there in five.”
He was there in not much more than that, and found her in the middle of packing the kids’ bags, hauling clothes out of cupboards and pyjamas out of beds.
“Oi, let me do that. You sit down.”
“Don’t want to sit down. I’ve got to have something to take my mind off it. Jesus Christ, why did I ever agree to go through all this again?”
Rory kept silent.
They finished up together, and Rory loaded the bags in his car. Then he came back.
“You off, then?” Evie asked.
“Don’t be daft. I’ll wait here until your friend comes over.”
“You don’t have to—bloody hell—do that.”
“Course I do. Not leaving you like this, am I? You want anything? Cup of tea? Back rub?”
She seemed tempted, but shook her head. “No. Ta. I’m okay.”
“So is Lewis on his way home?”
“He’d better be. In a meeting, wasn’t he? I had to leave a message.” She huffed, then gave him a significant look. “Heard something interesting down the village.”
“Yeah? Is it about them new houses they were talking about building?”
“No, you muppet. It was about you. And David.”
“Oh. Right.”
She gave him a funny sort of smile. “Congratulations. Hope he makes you happy.”
“You’re not . . . I dunno. You don’t mind?”
“Why should I mind? It’s the twenty-first century, isn’t it? Plenty of blokes come out as gay now.”
“Bi,” Rory corrected her.
“Yeah? Whatever. It’s not like the writing wasn’t on the wall, anyhow, about you and him.” Evie paused. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I’ve decided about the kids?”
“Thought you had enough on your plate at the mo.”
She laughed grimly. “Not wrong there. Rory, why didn’t you fight me when I said they ought to live with me after we split up?”
Rory blinked. “You really want to go there now?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
He took a deep breath. “I wasn’t in a good way back then. It hurt, love, you going off with him and muggins here not having clue one until the day you left. Don’t reckon I had much fight in me for a while. And, well, Leo was only tiny, and you’re their mum . . .”
Her face screwed up in pain for a long moment before she spoke again. “Bollocks.”
“What?”
“It’s all a load of bollocks, that is. No, let me finish, will you? It’s like . . . everyone assumes kids are better off with their mum, don’t they? And that’s just . . .” Evie shook her head. “I said I wanted them with me cos if I hadn’t, everyone would’ve said what a crap mum I was. What a cow, putting herself before her kids. But they were always more your kids than mine.” Her hands on the kitchen counter went white-knuckled.
Rory waited for the contraction to pass.
“I used to watch you and them sometimes,” she went on. “Playing in the garden or some stupid game round the house, and I’d feel so left out. You didn’t need me, Rory. You never needed me. And I hated it. Hated you, sometimes.”
“Evie . . . you know we all loved you.”
“That’s not the same. You . . . you and the kids, you’re like this unit. This family. I was just there, doing the laundry and the cooking while you and them had fun.”
“Hang on a minute, that ain’t fair. I pulled my weight round the house. And you never let me do the cooking. I’d say, ‘Why don’t you let me get dinner?’ and you’d be all, ‘No, don’t be daft, all I want is for you to get the kids out from under my feet.’”
Evie’s lip wobbled. “I know, all right? It’s just . . . when you’re a mum, you’re supposed to be great at everything—love being with the kids, love cooking. Bugger it.”
Rory was fairly sure that was another contraction. “I never said you had to be, like, Supermum or nothing.”
“No, but everyone else does. Even my mum—remember how snippy she got when she came round and caught you doing the hoovering?” Panting, she gave a soggy smile. “She used to say you’d go off and find yourself another woman, someone who didn’t expect all that.
Rory laughed, although it came out bitter. “Got that one the wrong way round, didn’t she?”
“I never meant to hurt you, you know that, don’t you? It just happened, me and Lewis. And he was so . . . I felt like he needed me, you know?”
“Right.” Rory really didn’t want to hear it. “How about we concentrate on this little one, yeah? They’re gonna need you pretty soon.”
Too bloody soon, Rory reckoned. Those contractions were coming a bit thick and fast for his liking. And weren’t babies quicker coming the more of them you had?
Evie smiled and glanced down at her bump. “This one . . . It’s going to be different. I’m going to do things right this time. Lewis can pay for a cleaner and for meals out. I’m going to play with my kid. Be a mum who likes being a mum. And that’s why I’m going to go along with what you said. Jesus bloody Christ.”
Rory’s breath caught. Had he heard that right? “You’re—”
“Yeah. Me and Lewis talked it over, and we both think it makes sense. At least for the next six months. Well, Lewis reckoned a year, but we’ll see how it goes. You have Lucy and Leo during the week. We’ll have them every other weekend. Maybe not for the first few weeks after this one’s born, mind. Bugger it.”
Bloody hell, he was getting his kids back. It was like winning the lottery, flying to the moon, and getting drunk on champagne all rolled into one. He couldn’t wait to call David and tell him the good news. Grinning wildly for pure happiness, Rory looked at his watch. “This mate of yours, how long’s she gonna be?”
“She’s got to drop off her baby at her mum’s first. Maybe an hour?”
He came back down to earth with a bump. “An hour? Not sure this nipper’s gonna wait that long. You got a bag packed? I’m taking you in.”
“You sure you want to . . . Oh, fuck it. Yeah. Bag’s in the kitchen. Shit.”
It was well weird taking Evie to the hospital, just like he had with Lucy and Leo. Not that he was in any danger of forgetting this wasn’t his kid on the way, but apart from that . . .
“Do you want me to come in with you?” he asked her, as they checked her in to the maternity ward.
“What? Christ, no. You’ve done your bit. All I want is a shitload of drugs, and then I won’t care who’s with me. You go and make sure you’re on time for Lucy and Leo.”
Rory felt a bit bad about the wash of relief. He’d always hated seeing her in pain, wanted to do whatever he could to make it better, and he wouldn’t have abandoned her if she’d wanted him . . . But yeah, watching her have Lewis’s kid? He hadn’t fancied that. It wasn’t jealousy—he had David now, didn’t he? But it would’ve brought back a lot of memories, the bad ones tainting the good.
“Cheers, love. Good luck and all,” he said.
“Thanks.” She screwed her eyes shut and panted for a minute. “You’ve been really great. Makes me feel . . . I’m sorry about how it all turned out. You know that, don’t you?”
“Course, love,” Rory lied. She probably meant it at the moment. Or meant something like it, anyhow. “Now you concentrate on having that kid, all right?”