Nick waited for the electric gates to Fran’s chic new build to slide back, and drove across the crunching gravel with a ball of trepidation in his gut. He swung around the turning circle with a fountain and sculpted topiary at its centre, parked and cut the engine. He twiddled with the dashboard controls, stalling. He checked his phone. Still nothing from Layla. It hadn’t properly sunk in that they were over. He’d tried to make contact, she’d cut him dead. Her suitcase was in the trunk. He’d been lugging it with him, postponing sending it on because as long as it was in his possession he had a reason to continue trying to reach her.
He quickly read a text from his brother. He’d sent Nick that Shakespeare quote he was so fond of – typical. ‘It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.’ The irony jarred. Alex didn’t know he was in Cheshire. He’d decided to keep quiet about the meeting with Fran and Beth until it was fait accompli.
Alex’s words referred to Layla but Nick had a strong feeling that that ship had sailed. It was for the best he told himself, it’s what they’d agreed. Once he’d talked to Fran, and met Beth, he’d sort out how to deliver the suitcase.
Fran’s house had a grand entrance, mock classical pillars, steps up to the front door and a golden lion’s head knocker which stared him in the face while he steeled himself to press the doorbell, the high tech electronic chime setting his teeth on edge.
Fran opened the door, and his trepidation ramped up a notch. ‘It’s good to see you. Come in. We can hang out here for a bit, pick Beth up after school, go for pizza. How does that sound?’
‘Whatever you think best.’ he croaked, uncertain how to handle the formalities and also relieved she was on top of it. ‘How does Beth feel? Is she okay with this?’
‘Absolutely,’ she said reassuringly. ‘Things have settled down, she’s looking forward to meeting you.’
He followed her into the vast kitchen. While she made tea, he walked over to the wall of bi-fold glass doors and pretended to admire the view of the garden.
‘I was in a spin the last time you were here,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t coping well. I shouldn’t have dumped everything on you the way I did. I’m sorry. I have a lot of apologizing to do.’
Listening with his back turned, he sucked in a deep breath and let it go slowly. He appeared calm on the outside, but beneath the surface he was an undetonated bomb. ‘There’s no need to apologize – an explanation would be nice. Why didn’t you tell me about Beth in the first place?’
He turned to confront her. Her gaze bored into him. He couldn’t have been more uncomfortable if she’d produced a high-pitched dentist’s drill.
‘What we had was supposed to be a no-strings thing, nothing serious.’ The corners of her mouth drooped sadly. ‘There are things I didn’t tell you, not excuses, but I’m hoping they explain my decision.’ She closed the space between them and handed him a mug. The heat seeped into his palms. Seething with questions, he sipped the tea and gazed out at the meticulously landscaped garden. ‘I had a broken heart. You were the cure. I didn’t tell you because you not knowing about it, well, that was kind of the point of us.’
‘For you,’ he remarked, wondering if his feelings had been taken into account at any point.
‘I’d been planning a big wedding. It was all arranged – dresses, bridesmaids, caterers, marquee on my parents’ lawn. You wouldn’t believe how thorough the details were.’
He didn’t react, suppressing the urge to say he didn’t care.
‘I’d been planning the day for over two years. I was bridezilla!’ Mirthless she laughed. ‘I’d ordered a cake shaped like a gigantic pile of teacups. I must have been as mad as a hatter.’ She took a sip of tea, and almost snorted out another unfunny laugh which she stifled just in time to prevent a disaster. She set the mug down on the kitchen table and straightened her back, composing herself. ‘Needless to say the wedding didn’t take place. The guy I was going to marry tried to get my bridesmaid into bed. She was mortified. She didn’t know what to do, but in the end she told me, and three days before the wedding I called it off. I’d already forgiven an affair, and turned a blind eye to other …’ She hesitated uneasily, and Nick sensed that she wasn’t sure if she could trust him, like she hadn’t been able to trust her fiancé. ‘Indiscretions,’ she said. ‘Anyway, when I heard he’d tried it on with my bridesmaid, I knew he’d never change.’
‘You must have been devastated.’ It was a major letdown and an explanation for throwing herself into a just-for-fun fling, but how could he sympathize when he was the one who’d been damaged? ‘But why keep our child a secret from me? Didn’t you think I had a right to know?’ All the anger he’d bottled up in the weeks since he’d found out broke his control. ‘We weren’t serious. I didn’t expect us to last any more than you did, but for all that, I fell hard for you. I’m gutted to look back knowing that you didn’t believe I could step up to the plate.’ He hadn’t told her, it would have been too uncool, but the feelings he’d had were real, and if he’d known he was nothing more than moving on sex, he’d have held back, the way he’d been doing ever since.
‘I wasn’t ready to find someone new, someone reliable, start a family – all the things I’d planned for. I was in a different space.’
‘It didn’t stop you having the baby and shutting me out. You’ve taken something away from me I can’t get back. Eleven years of my child’s life? Have you any idea how bad that feels?’ The chaos of his emotions crashed into him.
She put her hand on his arm, and he didn’t flinch or back away. He didn’t resent her, didn’t hold this against her, but the knowledge that she’d chosen to freeze him out tortured him.
‘You had an absolute right to know. I regret my choices. I don’t have any words to defend myself. By the time I found out, you’d gone to LA. I didn’t tell anyone who the father was. Time went by and being alone got easier. I had lots of support from family. And Beth is the sweetest child anyone could wish for. It’s not that I didn’t think about getting in touch … I’d see pieces in the tabloids, and get cold feet. We were only together for a few weeks, I didn’t really know you.’
‘And being Beth’s dad doesn’t count for anything?’
‘I put it down to contraceptive failure.’ Her voice faltered. ‘My failure. I’d taken antibiotics for a throat infection and the midwife reckoned they must have reduced the effectiveness of my pill. When I discovered I was pregnant I realized I desperately wanted a baby. It wasn’t something we’d discussed. I saw her as my responsibility. I decided not to ask you for anything.’ Her hair flopped into her eyes and she pushed it back behind her ears with trembling hands. ‘Look I wouldn’t blame you if walk away but I really hope you won’t.’
‘I’m not going anywhere.’ He set his mug down and folded his arms across his chest, his concerns about Beth meeting him after so long still strong. ‘When did she find out I’m her dad?’
‘A couple of months ago. She’s pestered me for a name the last couple of years. I got very good at avoiding the question.’ She turned away. ‘I didn’t feel good about it. She’d get upset during the dad’s race at school Sports Days. Her granddad used to enter in place of a dad, but he always came last and it made her so miserable that I had to ask him not to come this summer. Worse than that, every year the school fair was on Father’s Day and she didn’t have one.’
The image she painted of a little girl who desperately needed a dad cracked his heart. As difficult as the situation was, its biggest impact was on Beth.
‘This scare’s been awful. The lump’s removed, everything’s okay. We can go over the past and what’s brought us to where we are a million times and it won’t change anything. Keeping her from you is indefensible. I’m genuinely sorry Nick. Honestly.’
The bitterness he’d been fighting with full-scale denial for the last few weeks began to diminish, cancelled out by Fran’s remorse.
‘Let’s look on the bright side,’ he said. ‘We should grateful for being forced to face up to this. For Beth’s sake.’
She turned back to face him and paused for half a moment, regret written on her face. ‘And yours. I want to sort it out.’
Cautious, but trusting Fran’s readiness to make amends, he asked, ‘So why wouldn’t she see me last time?’
‘Any number of reasons. Because she’s confused. Because she’s missed out on having a dad. Because she needs you to prove that you want to be part of her life. Not just because I asked you to – but because you really care.’ She started walking towards the kitchen door. ‘Come here.’
He followed her across the wide chandelier-lit hallway to the dining room. The long mahogany dining table that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a stately home was covered in Beth-related memorabilia – photo albums, school reports, a favorite teddy, souvenirs collected on holidays. His heart swelled and he didn’t fight it.
‘We got this lot ready for you. She’s been adding to it all week.’
He picked up two tiny red shoes. ‘Lucky your dining table’s so big.’
She laughed. ‘Her first shoes. Would you like me to talk you through it? Believe me. I’ve wanted to make this as easy as possible. The last few weeks have been horrendous.’
For more than an hour Fran reminisced about the collection, from photos of Beth’s first baby smiles to the picture of delight on her face at her eleventh birthday, a retro themed dance party, complete with deejay, disco lights, glitter ball, and all thirty of her classmates. Spread out in front of him, he absorbed moment after moment of his daughter’s life. Dying to meet her for real, it was hard to take in; gymnastics certificates, swimming badges, an award for tap dancing.
Eventually Fran sat back in her chair and looked at her watch. ‘That’s enough for now I think,’ she said, ‘Beth can show you the rest later.’ She leaned in and squeezed his hand. ‘Come on,’ she said, ‘it’s time to go get her.’
Parked around the corner from the school he waited for Fran to bring Beth to the car. His fear and reluctance had morphed into better feelings – ones he couldn’t pin down. Excitement. Joy. He couldn’t wait to meet his daughter.
When she hopped in, shoving her backpack onto the empty seat beside her, he turned and looked at her.
‘Hey.’
Shy, she smiled. ‘Hi.’
Fran slid into the front passenger seat. ‘Pop your seatbelt on hun,’ she instructed. To Nick she said matter-of-factly, ‘Turn left at the end of the road, take the second exit at the big roundabout, drive up the hill, you’ll see the car park for the pizza place on the right. It’s not far, two miles tops.’
The people in the restaurant were friendly. They knew Fran and Beth and showed them to their favorite table. They ordered drinks and then Beth disappeared to change out of her school uniform in the Ladies’.
‘So what do you make of our little girl?’
‘She’s great. I don’t know what I was expecting. Big introductions! Big emotions!’ The emotions lay below the surface alongside a side-order of relief.
‘I was hardly going to make a dramatic announcement. Meet your father!’ she teased. ‘Parents are embarrassing enough.’
He smiled, happy to follow her lead. ‘I appreciate your no fuss approach. How am I doing?’
She reached across the table and touched his hand. ‘Brilliant.’
‘Is there anyone I should know about,’ he asked. ‘A significant other?’
She shook her head. ‘She’s a little young for a boyfriend.’
He hammed a comedic shudder. ‘I meant you.’
She laughed. Her eyes sparkled. ‘There’s no one. Just me and Beth. And my work. That’s how I like it. It’s enough.’
‘For now.’
‘We have a lot of catching up to do.’
‘It could take all night.’ He smiled, keeping it light, determined to make a go of it. ‘By the time the hospital drama we worked on aired you’d finished with me. How long ago was that?’
‘Too long,’ she sighed. ‘Twelve years.’
When Beth joined the table, she’d transformed to a super trendy tween.
‘What are you two having?’ She shuffled onto the bench next to her mum. ‘I’d like bruschetta, a quattro stagioni pizza and pistachio gelato with chocolate sauce for dessert.
After the meal they skipped coffee. Nick asked for the bill and drove them home so Beth could tackle her homework. Perched on a high stool at the kitchen island she worked away at English, Maths and Geography while Fran and Nick had a glass of red wine and chatted about the other people in the show they’d worked on and what had happened to them since.
‘I can’t do this. It’s difficult.’ Nick turned to see his daughter staring sadly at a French textbook.’
‘What’s the problem?’ Fran asked.
‘I hate French. We have to revise the difference between être and avoir. I don’t get it.’ Beth slumped over her book in frustration. ‘I can’t tell the difference.’
‘Can’t help hun,’ Fran said, ‘Not a clue. French wasn’t my best subject.’
‘Can I help?’ Nick offered. ‘I’ve been working in France. My French isn’t exactly brilliant, but I know the basics.’
Beth pushed the book towards him, eyes wide and hopeful. Nick studied the questions. Twelve sentences to complete, six using each verb. Thankfully his rusty schoolboy French was up to the task. ‘So,’ he said, ‘“To be”…’
‘Or not to be,’ Fran interrupted.
‘That’s not helpful Mum, shush.’ Beth complained.
‘Let’s have a go at one of these questions.’
Encouragingly Nick helped her translate the questions and patiently waited while she wrote the answers into her exercise book. Hesitantly she passed it across the worktop for him to check.
‘Brilliant. You nailed it.’
‘It’s not as difficult as I thought.’ She looked up at him and smiled confidently. ‘Thanks Nick.’
The homework finished, they all went to view the impromptu museum of childhood in the dining room. Overwhelmed once more, Nick was relieved when Fran suggested that it was time for Beth to get off to bed.
‘Say goodnight to Nick,’ she said.
Beth looked at him thoughtfully. ‘Would it be alright if I call you Dad?’
Staggered, Nick couldn’t believe his ears. His heart felt suddenly too big for its allocated space in his chest. The instinctive connection he felt blindsided him. ‘Of course you can.’
Beth approached, put her arms around his middle and gave him a hug. Automatically he hugged her back. ‘I’ve been waiting for you,’ she said. ‘I’m happy you’re here.’
‘Me too. I’m sorry I’m late. I’m sorry I missed you growing up. But I want you to know, I’m here for you now, and I will be – always.’
A second later she asked if he could get her on the guest list to a London premiere and he said yes, discovering that he could deny his daughter nothing. It was a great feeling. Fran scolded her gently for being cheeky and scooted her off to bed.
‘Sorry,’ she said smiling. ‘I told her not to.’
He laughed. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Stay for another glass of wine. You’re welcome to stay over – if you like.’ It would be so easy. Fran was more attractive now than she’d ever been. They had a daughter together. It was hard to imagine anything more important than that. She picked up the bottle of wine. ‘It’s an awfully good vintage,’ she coaxed, ‘Like me.’
‘You’re as incorrigible as ever.’
‘You never were any good at saying no.’ Her voice was as gentle as a cat’s purr. ‘What if we let bygones be bygones?’ She moved so whisperingly close her strong perfume wound through him. He hadn’t registered her gold painted toenails and her six-inch heels when he’d arrived, but he was noticing now. ‘Take it slow this time? You could buy a place nearby.’
He nodded. ‘I’ve been thinking about a UK base.’
‘You’re going to need one.’
‘It’s all so new,’ he admitted, tempted by her offer of a refill.
‘There’s lots to discuss,’ she ventured. ‘Finish the bottle. Call a taxi. Pick up the car in the morning. If you’d prefer not to stay over, that is.’ Her powers of persuasion were superlative. ‘We were fabulous together. We could be again.’
In twelve years he’d mastered a skillset of his own. But she was his child’s mother and he couldn’t afford to forget it.
She poured herself another glass waiting for him to make his mind up. ‘I used to tell people you were my candyfloss.’
He met her smile because she made him laugh, like she’d done before with her crazy ideas. ‘Because I was bad for you?’
‘Because you were sweet, and indulgent, and much too much of a good thing.’
‘Ah.’ He was lost for words.
She poured him a glass of wine and he leant in and brushed his face gently against her cheek.
‘Goodnight Fran.’
‘You can’t blame me for trying.’
‘I don’t. I’ll be in touch.’