Chapter 29
‘I’m a-coming to Cornwall!’ Marty exclaims, laughing down the phone on Tuesday night.
‘Really?’ I ask with excitement. ‘When?’
‘This Friday, baby! Ted’s got a stag party and I am so there. So there.’
I have a feeling she’s been watching a lot of American TV recently. She used to be obsessed with US high school dramas when we lived together in our early twenties.
‘I can’t wait to see you!’ she cries.
I would like to say thank you here to Ted’s friend for being so accommodating. Yay, marriage.
‘Will you drive down?’ I ask.
‘Yep, I’ll set off straight after work.’
‘Friday rush hour? It’ll take you forever!’ I say with alarm. ‘Can’t you come earlier?’
‘No, we’re going away for a long weekend in early September so I can’t really afford to take more time off.’
‘Okay.’ That’s a bit of an anti-climax. ‘We’d better make Saturday a big one, then.’
‘Hell yeah!’
I bump into Jocelyn on my way to Charlie’s on Wednesday morning. She’s just leaving her house.
‘Off anywhere nice?’ I ask her, smiling at Thomas, who’s in the process of trying to kick his shoes off from the looks of it.
‘Music group,’ she replies brightly. ‘Thomas loves it. I’ve been trying to get Charlie to bring April along.’
‘Oh, she adores music,’ I say, wondering why Charlie would resist. ‘Are you heading there right now?’
‘Yep.’ Her eyes light up. ‘Do you think you could persuade him?’
‘I doubt it. Where is it?’ I ask as an afterthought.
Charlie is clearing up the breakfast things when I walk into the house. I tell him about my conversation with Jocelyn.
‘April would love it,’ I say confidently.
He shrugs, less enthused. ‘Yeah, probably.’
‘Why won’t you go? The time would work well with her naps, wouldn’t it?’
‘Mmm. I guess so.’
‘You never take her to any playgroups. Jocelyn’s always on her way to one thing or another.’
‘You don’t have to make me feel bad,’ he mutters.
‘Why wouldn’t you, though?’ I persist.
‘I don’t want to be the widowed dad, all right?’
His sharp tone shuts me up.
‘Sorry,’ he says contritely. ‘I just can’t picture myself sitting in there amongst all those mothers. I know it’s shit. But I haven’t got my head around it yet. It’s not like I don’t do stuff with her.’
‘It would be good for her to socialise with other kids, though, right?’ I say this very gently.
‘If you care so much, why don’t you take her?’ he asks childishly.
Something inside me snaps. ‘All right then, I will.’
‘What?’
‘I’ll take her,’ I say decisively. ‘Is that okay?’
He looks totally thrown. ‘What, now?’
‘Why not? I can get there in time and I can work late to make up for it.’
‘You don’t have to do that—’
‘I want to.’ I’m surprised to find that it’s true. ‘Can I?’
‘Are you actually serious?’
‘I might even be able to catch Jocelyn up if I hurry.’
We stare at each other for a long moment. He’s trying to understand what’s got into me. I’m not even bothering to try to understand it.
‘Okay,’ he says eventually, still slightly thrown.
He helps me get April’s things together and watches as I buckle her into her pram, then stands and stares as we set off down the footpath.
Right decision! April is in her element!
I giggle as I hold her hands and make them clap together while some madman dances around in front of us with his guitar.
Even I’m having fun. Who is this guy? He’s been playing The Beatles, The Stones, The Monkeys. . . We are rocking it, here.
All the mums are singing along, and the babies are going gaga. When the guitar man gets the bubbles out, the kids go bonkers, bumping into each other in their eagerness to capture the tiny popping balls of glory. Even when two of their heads collide, they don’t cry for long.
I’m still laughing about it when Jocelyn and I walk back home.
‘That was awesome!’ I exclaim.
‘I know!’ she replies. ‘Do you reckon you’ll come again next week?’
‘Maybe, if Charlie doesn’t want to.’
‘That would be great!’
She flashes me a warm smile, and I feel quite touched by her enthusiasm. ‘Hey, how’s the book going?’ she asks.
‘Okay. I’m still doing a lot of research,’ I admit. ‘I haven’t got stuck into the writing yet.’
‘I can’t imagine taking something like that on,’ she says. ‘It must be so overwhelming.’
‘It is pretty daunting,’ I agree. ‘When I think about all of those readers. . . It’s scary. I’m trying to focus on the story and not dwell on everyone else’s expectations.’
She gives me a sympathetic look. ‘Well, if you need a sounding board – or even just a break – you know where I am.’
I smile at her as we come to a stop outside Charlie’s house. ‘Thanks. I really appreciate that.’
‘You could always bring April, too,’ she suggests. ‘It would be lovely for her and Thomas to be buddies.’
‘Yeah, it would,’ I agree, although a niggling little internal voice points out that it’s not my place to take her out for a play date.
Charlie is out the back, working, when I unlock the front door, but he comes straight in.
‘How was it?’ he asks, still seeming baffled by this turn of events.
‘Amazing,’ I reply. ‘That guy was nuts!’
‘Who?’
‘The guy who does the music. He was all over the place! Jumping this way and that. He even hung from the rafters at one point and pretended to be a monkey. You have to go next week.’
He looks dubious.
‘If you don’t, I will,’ I say. ‘In fact, I’d probably still go with you if you took her. That was the best thing I’ve done all week.’
He starts to laugh.
‘I’m serious!’ I exclaim. ‘And April loved it. She was flipping beside herself, I’m not even kidding. I know exactly what I’m getting her for her birthday.’
‘What?’ Charlie asks.
‘Tambourines and stuff. Do you know anywhere around here that might sell musical instruments?’
‘There’s a toyshop in Padstow.’
‘I’ll check it out. Otherwise, I’ll have to drag Marty further afield on Saturday.’
‘Is she coming down?’ he asks with interest.
‘She is.’ I smile at him. ‘Friday night. Late. Think we’ll be saving our big night out for Saturday. Are you doing anything?’
‘Aside from sitting here with a takeaway and a movie? Nope.’
‘Could you get a sitter? Your mum can’t help out on Saturdays, can she?’
‘Er, no, and I’m not really sure how I feel about getting a sitter yet. Anyway, you don’t want me hanging out with you; you see me all week.’
True.
‘I’d like Marty to meet you,’ I admit. ‘Maybe we could go for a cream tea or something?’
‘Okay.’ He gives me a smile that has a radiator effect on my stomach, and suddenly my head is singing the opening line of Elton John’s ‘Your Song’.
Yes, the way I’m feeling is a little bit funny.
I go upstairs humming the tune.
‘Pizza night,’ Charlie says to me the following afternoon.
‘You coming over?’ I ask eagerly.
‘Can I?’
‘I’d love you to! You’d better bring a sleeping bag this time.’
‘So I can crash in your wardrobe again?’
‘Better to be prepared.’
‘Didn’t April keep you awake?’
‘I didn’t mind,’ I say. ‘What?’ I ask at the look on his face.
‘Nothing,’ he replies, but he’s pursing his lips, trying not to smile as he turns away.
That afternoon, we walk along the Camel Trail together. I’m pushing Nicki’s bike so I can chat to him as we go. April points out the boats and the birds and the dogs and the bikes and anything else that takes her fancy, so we don’t talk to each other much.
I’ve now reached the end of Nicki’s notebooks and diaries and have made my way through most of the Post-it-noted pages from the books on her bookshelf. There were two other novels about people leading double married lives up there, and, after reading Nicki’s ‘female bigamist’ comment, I now firmly believe that Nicki intended for Kit to marry both Morris and Timo. What I still haven’t figured out yet is how it will all unravel.
Because it will unravel.
I love Kit, despite everything she’s done and is doing, but she’s got to pay for mistakes this big.
I’m not sure if that’s what Nicki would have wanted, but I’m behind the wheel now and Kit, unfortunately, has it coming for her.
I mean, imagine if she fell pregnant. She wouldn’t even know whose baby it was. What sort of person puts herself in that position? What would she do? Would she confess to them both and hope that the father sticks around nine months later when the paternity test is carried out?
I don’t think so.
Would she gamble and hide the pregnancy from one of them until she gives birth? Would that even be feasible?
And how could she possibly raise it? Where would she raise it? If she chose Morris as the dad – and, let’s face it, he would make a great dad – then how could she bear to be away from her son or daughter while she’s travelling?
That would the most intense double life. Childless with Timo versus being the mother of Morris’s child.
Surely she couldn’t do it.
Surely she’d never choose to do it. She couldn’t get away with it, even if she wanted to.
Maybe she discovers that she can’t have children. . . Or perhaps she decides that she doesn’t want to!
Or maybe she does want to, but that’s her penance for falling in love with two men.
I come to a stop on the pavement.
‘What is it?’ Charlie asks.
‘I’ve just had an idea,’ I tell him. ‘I’ll catch you up, I want to write it down.’
That’s it, I think to myself distractedly as I get my notepad out and Charlie continues on, pushing April away along the footpath. Kit has always wanted a family, but, in choosing to marry both Morris and Timo, she knows she’s making that sacrifice.
And – oh, my God! – Morris wants children so much that it kills their relationship when she refuses to relent!
That’s it! I’ve got it.
Morris is the one to end it.
But that leaves Nicki free to have children with Timo. . .
Would she? Maybe Timo doesn’t want children. . .
This is a total headfuck, that’s what this is.
But at least I have some direction now.
Charlie and I end up on the field, watching the sunset again once April is fast asleep in my bed. This time he brought the monitor, so we go only as far up as the signal allows. I’ve brought a picnic rug to sit on. The grass is too prickly when I’m wearing shorts.
‘Justin and Julia are nice, aren’t they?’ I say.
‘Yeah, they’re great,’ he replies.
They came and joined us for a pizza earlier. They’re such a warm, friendly couple. I like how relaxed Charlie is with them.
‘Have you ever met Jocelyn’s husband?’ I ask.
‘Edward? Yeah.’
‘What’s he like?’
‘He’s all right. A bit strait-laced. Why do you ask?’
‘You don’t have many friends with kids. I just wonder if it might help to have guys you can talk kid stuff to.’
He shrugs. ‘Maybe. So are you going to tell me your idea?’
He’s supposed to be overseeing the writing of Nicki’s sequel, but he barely ever asks me about my work.
‘Do you want to know?’ I lean back on my palms, my legs stretched out in front of me.
‘Yeah,’ he replies, looping one arm around his knee.
I’m on edge as I talk him through it. He doesn’t show much emotion on his face, but he’s taking it all in, his eyes set steadfastly on the sun drifting lower behind the silhouetted trees. I feel thoroughly unnerved by his silence.
‘What do you think?’ I ask eventually.
‘I think it sounds good,’ he replies, taking a swig of his beer.
‘Really?’ My voice is uncertain.
He glances at me. ‘Yeah. The readers will like it.’ He looks away again. ‘I’m not too keen on the cheating, but, hey, it seems to sell.’
‘Yeah, I guess it does.’
We watch silently as the sun disappears, leaving behind a pinky orange glow that flames back up through the black spindly branches and climbs higher into the sky.
‘There it is,’ I say as the first star appears, twinkling prettily in the darkening night.
‘You up for another?’ Charlie asks me, nodding at my bottle.
‘Why not?’
‘Back in a bit. I’ll just check on April.’
‘Can you grab a blanket? I can’t be bothered to go and put my jeans on.’
His eyes skim over my legs. ‘Sure,’ he says, turning around and setting off down the hill. I watch him go.
The night wears on and there’s still no sign of our moving from the field. We pass the time chatting about silly things – James Bond, old TV shows – nothing of consequence, but enjoyable nonetheless. I have no idea how late it is; I just know that I’m very cosy under my blanket. Charlie claimed he didn’t need an extra layer.
‘I can’t believe you took April to music group,’ Charlie says. ‘Would you really take her again if I didn’t?’ he pries.
‘Yep.’
‘You’re so funny,’ he says, shaking his head.
‘What did I say?’
‘You’re an enigma,’ he states.
I’m liking the sound of this cool, mysterious me until he continues.
‘I can’t believe you don’t want kids. This whole search for proper love – it’s crap. You don’t even know what real love is until you have kids,’ he continues as my smile fades. ‘Is it because your mum wasn’t very maternal? Has she put you off?’
‘No, it’s not that,’ I reply.
‘What is it, then? Elliot?’
‘When did the night turn all serious?’ I’m wondering how I’ll handle it if he pushes this.
‘Are you going along with what he wants?’ he persists.
‘No, I want the same things he does.’ I say this with conviction, but, if Charlie takes it much further, I know I’ll cave.
He stares at me for a long, uncomfortable moment. ‘I don’t buy it.’ He has a small disbelieving furrow on his brow. ‘I don’t know what you’ve been telling yourself, but it’s bullshit. You’d make a great mum.’
He has no idea of the turbulence raging within me.
‘I can’t have children.’ My admission comes out in not much more than a whisper.
His eyes widen. ‘What?’
‘Whoa, downer alert.’ I throw off the blanket and stagger to my feet. ‘Do you reckon the bar’s still open?’
‘They packed up ages ago. Stay,’ he says firmly, grabbing my hand and tugging me down beside him.
I sit with my elbows on my knees, staring ahead disconsolately.
‘What do you mean, you can’t have children?’ he asks me gently, sitting up beside me.
I shrug. ‘I can’t.’
‘Have you tried?’
I let out a bitter laugh. ‘It’s a long story.’
‘We’ve got all night.’
I turn to look at him. He’s staring back at me, his eyes glinting in the darkness. I look away. And then I begin to speak.