I’m trying to sleep, but someone keeps tapping my cheek.
‘Rosie…? Rosie, wake up!’
It’s Laura, her face a huge question mark of worry. Kneeling on the floor on the other side of me is Mark. I’ve passed out from the shock, apparently. So I wasn’t sleeping and it wasn’t a nightmare after all. It is daytime and facing each other are my two worlds, past and present, colliding. And what a crash. An absolute train wreck. Jesus.
‘You’re okay,’ Mark reassures me. ‘You just had a little spell. Do you understand me, Rosie?’
I nod, but I’m really dizzy.
‘How are you feeling?’ he asks.
‘Woozy…’ I breathe, trying to sit up, but Mark pushes me back gently.
‘Easy,’ he whispers. ‘You need to take it easy. I’ll carry you to your room.’
*
Even as I lie on the bed, the room won’t stop spinning. Mitchell is gone, and Mark is standing over me, unchanged, as if only a day, and not almost nine years, have elapsed. Time has left him completely unscathed. Still the same blue eyes with the Hugh Grant look, minus the playful demeanour. The same sandy blond hair, only cut shorter. The same designer suits in his uber-neat closet. And, above all, the same expensive aura that always clung to him.
‘What are you doing here?’ I whisper.
‘I told you. I came to spend Christmas with you and Danny. I sent you a letter to let you know.’
‘Why didn’t you call?’ I manage.
He shrugs. ‘I did. I even left you a message, but you never answered.’
Oh God. I think I’m going to faint again. ‘But… but that’s absolutely crazy… after all these years… you can’t just step in like this…’
‘It’s time for me to grow up, Rosie. Stop playing bachelor. The company’s transferred me back to the UK. I want to buy a house fit for a family. For us.’
This is unbelievable. Mark coming back to me and wanting to be a father. This is everything I had always wanted. But now? Now that I have met Mitchell, and seen what real romance is supposed to be like, and the way men are supposed to treat their women? Now I see how it really should be. Only now it’s too late. I’ve ruined everything with Mitchell.
I try to sit up, but my head begins to spin even more and Mark eases me back against the pillows.
‘You’re absolutely crazy,’ I whisper.
‘I know – I’m completely out of order. But… Christ, Rosie, I’ve been a real idiot. I want to change. For Danny. For us.’
There it is again – the ‘us’ word. What the hell is wrong with him?
‘You can’t do this. You can’t just—’
‘I know. I’m sorry.’
‘Sorry?’ I sit up slowly again, refusing his help. ‘Do you realise how inadequate that sounds?’
Mark sits there, eyes on the floor, like a little schoolboy being chided. His usual trait.
I huff and rub my forehead. ‘Jesus…’
‘Rosie, I know you’re angry and surprised and—’
‘Angry?’ I ape. ‘I’m absolutely furious. How dare you come back like you’ve only been gone a day? After what you put me and Danny through?’
He remains silent.
How many times have I thought of what I’d say to him if he ever showed his face again? And now that he’s here, it all comes out in an angry burst.
‘Do you have… no, you can’t possibly have any idea what it was like for me to give birth to our baby, knowing that you didn’t even care enough to find out if it was a boy or a girl! Oh, but maybe I should be grateful that many years later you started texting me to ask how he was. And dropped by once in a blue moon, as if that would ever be enough for a little boy. And now you have the temerity to come here! How did you even find us?’
Mark’s eyes shift. ‘I called your mother.’
‘My mum?’ Of course. It’s no secret that my mother dreams of a reconciliation between us and prays to that effect practically every night before she goes to bed. But how dare she actually interfere in my life like this? And how dare he even think I’d want to speak to him after all he’s done to us? Who actually shows up like this after all this time?
‘I know you’ve got lots of questions, Rosie. And I promise I’ll try to answer them as honestly as possible.’
I rub my face as the room finally slows down. ‘I have no questions for you, Mark. I have nothing for you, and neither does Danny. Now go back where you came from, and stay out of our lives.’
He hangs his head. ‘You have every right to send me packing. Of course you do.’
I roll my eyes. This bloke is unbelievable.
‘But please hear me out. I’ve booked a suite for a week. I wonder if I could persuade you and Danny to stay with me?’
‘Stay with you? You must be out of your mind…’
He takes my hand. ‘Please, Rosie. I know how much you must hate me. You and Danny will have your own room, of course. But I need to be with my son. I need for him to know that I love him…’
‘Love him,’ I say with a snort. ‘You don’t even know him.’
‘Then give me a chance to get to know him, Rosie… please?’
‘I don’t get you! Why all the sudden interest?’
He hangs his head even lower, if possible. ‘Can’t a bloke redeem himself?’
‘I don’t know, Mark. Can he?’
He sighs. ‘I deserve all your anger, I know I do. Every time I decided to call you, it seemed like it was too late, and every day that went by made it more and more difficult.’
‘You should’ve thought of that sooner.’
‘I’m not giving up, Rosie,’ he assures me.
‘And I’m not going to let you ruin my little boy’s life!’
‘I won’t. I just want to get to know him. And make it up to you.’
‘Ha,’ I shoot back. ‘You will never be able to make it up to us. Now please go away.’
Mark raises his hands. ‘Okay. I’ll let you rest. But I need you to at least consider the thought of letting me see him again. Rosie… I’ve been an absolute idiot, I know. But I need to make amends.’
He needs to make amends. What about Danny? What does he need? Does he need to be destabilised at the arrival of an almost-stranger who calls himself his father, when in truth they barely know each other? Up until now, my son was perfectly happy, coming out of his shell in this beautiful part of the country, in the company of truly genuine people, and now Mark wants to take all that away from him?
‘Please, it’s important to me.’ One day, when I’m gone, I’ll want him to know that I tried to make good on all my mistakes.’
‘Oh, please, spare me your drama gambits and get out before Danny comes back and sees you. And never – ever – come near us again.’
*
Hours have gone by, and still no sign of Mitchell. Cups of tea and food have been sent up to me, but not by him. Not even a quick peek to check up on me. My calls and messages to him have gone unanswered. You’d think he’d at least send me a measly text back, but nothing.
I’ve been holed in here all day, with visits from Sally, Laura, Jeremy and even Russell who has brought his special ginseng-based pick-me-up broth.
I don’t want broth. It’s Christmas, and I want to get up and out there, among my fellow workers and new friends, and mix and mingle and chat. And most of all, I want to see Danny and Mitchell. I get to my feet.
Danny has been popping in and out, all flushed and excited about a certain foal, and then about a coastal walk he’s been promised by Laura and Alex. But not a word, not even from my little boy, about Mitchell.
Where the heck is he? I could be dead ten times over (even more, actually, as it only takes a second to die sometimes) and he doesn’t give a toss. And it’s Christmas Day, the worst I’ve ever had. So, shaking my ruffled feathers, I decide to mobilise my troops, i.e. Danny.
‘Darling, can you please go downstairs and ask Mitchell to—’
‘He’s not here, Mum,’ Danny answers as he’s munching on a candy cane. ‘He went down to the village. Said he had to meet someone.’
Someone who? Someone work-related? On Christmas Day?