‘You haven’t been honest,’ Aiden says.
We’re walking along the canal, holding hands, yet both of us in separate worlds. Sometimes it’s the things we do that tear relationships apart, and other times it’s the things we can’t have.
It’s freezing outside, even for January, and I pull my scarf tighter around my neck. ‘What do you mean?’ I ask this, even though I already know.
‘At the adoption meeting. You were so quiet. You don’t want to do this, do you?’
We’ve spent the last couple of hours talking to a social worker called Casey, going through the entire process. The whole time we were talking I got so caught up in Aiden’s happiness, in his desperation to be a father by any means, that I let myself get carried away.
Now, though, the doubts have set in.
‘I do… I’m just…’
‘I know it might feel strange for you – but look at my mum and dad. Do you ever feel that they’re anything other than my parents just because they adopted me?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘It’s too painful to carry on hoping, Eve. I feel like every time it happens it breaks you even more.’
Four miscarriages. Nothing since then. Not even a sniff of a pregnancy. But I’m not broken. I’m not ready to give up.
‘Think about it, Eve. We’re not eligible for IVF funding and, even if we were, there are no guarantees it would work.’ Aiden squeezes my hand. ‘I look at my own parents and it doesn’t bother me that I don’t share their genes. They’ve been the most amazing parents, and role models, that I could wish for. We just want to be parents, don’t we? To hear a little voice calling us Mummy and Daddy.’ This is something Aiden has repeated to me often, so I know he means every word.
Still, my mind searches for reasons to fight this. ‘Casey said we’re both young. I’m only thirty-one, Aiden, and you’re thirty-five. What if we haven’t given it enough time?’
‘Then we could still keep trying. You know I come from a big family; it wouldn’t be any problem if you got pregnant after we adopted. It would be… amazing!’ His smile stretches across his face. ‘And you’ve always said you were lonely being an only child, that you wanted to have at least two kids. You even said your mum wished she’d had more because your dad was always working away and you had to play by yourself while she was teaching her piano lessons.’
Aiden’s mention of Mum reminds me that I have yet to share with him that I’m worried about her; I’ve noticed lately that she’s forgetting things I’ve only just told her.
‘So, what do you think? Shall we go for it?’
‘Yes,’ I say, ‘let’s do it.’
‘Are you okay?’ Aiden asks later that evening.
I’m curled up on the sofa, cradling the mug of tea he’s made me. ‘You just don’t seem yourself.’
‘It’s all a lot to take in, isn’t it? I mean, are we really doing this?’
‘Yes, of course. I’m so ready for this, Eve, aren’t you? It just feels right, doesn’t it?’
The truth is that since our adoption meeting, I’ve become more convinced that this is not the path for us. Do I tell Aiden the truth and crush him, or soldier on for his sake? He’s given up hope of me giving birth to our child, and I’m not ready to do that. It’s only now I can admit that to myself, after the reality of what adoption involves is starting to set in. It’s easy to look at Aiden as an example of what can go right, but my mind keeps focusing on all the things that can go wrong.
‘Do you really not care?’ I ask. ‘About having a child with no genetic link to you. I imagine that sometimes being adopted could make it even more important to someone to have biological children.’
His answer is immediate. ‘No. I really don’t care about that. Maybe that would bother a lot of people but it doesn’t worry me, and believe me, I’ve given it a lot of thought. I’d still be a dad, wouldn’t I? Still do all the things any parent does, so why does it matter if the child doesn’t have my genes?’
He says he has given this a lot of thought; when did it first occur to him? How many miscarriages did it take for him to give up on what we’ve wanted so badly?
I’m about to ask him this when the house phone blares out. I stare at Aiden for a second. Someone calling at this time of night can never be good news. He answers it while I’m still registering what’s going on.
‘Hello? Oh, hi, Jackie. Everything okay?’
I freeze. It’s Mum.
‘Hang on a sec, here she is.’ Aiden hands me the phone.
‘Can you believe this? I’ve locked myself out,’ she says before I’ve even greeted her. ‘Do you think you could pop over with my spare key?’
Frustration overshadows my relief. Pop over. She’s making it sound as if she lives around the corner, when Redhill is actually over an hour away from us. ‘Of course. But it will take a while. What will you do until I get there?’
‘The back gate’s open – I’ll just sit in the garden and wait.’
‘Mum, it’s freezing! Can’t you go somewhere in the car?’
‘Well, I could but the keys are inside with my house keys. They’re all on the same key ring.’
This isn’t like Mum. She’s usually so organised, so together. ‘Where had you been this evening, then?’
She hesitates, and I wonder if I’ve crossed a line, if I’m treating her like a child when she’s sixty-two. ‘To Rosemary’s. I decided to walk as it was a nice evening.’
‘Okay, well, I’ll be there as soon as I can. But can’t you call Rosemary? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind picking you up and letting you wait at her place?’
‘Oh, no, I won’t do that. She’s probably gone to bed. It’s late, isn’t it? Don’t worry, I’m fine just waiting in the garden. I’ve got a book in my bag so that will keep me occupied until you get here.’
There’s no point arguing with Mum – she’s too stubborn. Whenever I point this out she just laughs and tells me it’s where I get it from.
As soon as we end the call, I relay to Aiden what’s happened then reach for my mobile and scroll through my contacts; I’m certain I have Rosemary’s number here somewhere.
‘I’ll go,’ Aiden says. ‘It’s late and you have to be up earlier than I do. It’s a long drive.’
I assure him I’ll be fine. Besides, I think Mum would be embarrassed if Aiden turned up. She didn’t even tell him on the phone what had happened.
‘What are you doing?’ Aiden asks. ‘Don’t you need to get going? Otherwise it will be nearly midnight by the time you get there.’
I tell him I need to make a call and press the phone to my ear. I’m about to hang up when Rosemary finally answers, her voice groggy.
‘Eve? Oh! Is everything okay? Is your mum okay?’
I apologise for calling so late and tell her about Mum locking herself out of the house.
‘Oh, that’s annoying,’ she says. ‘Why didn’t she call me? She’s welcome to stay here if she can get here by cab. I’ve been out with some old friends this evening and had a couple of drinks.’
‘Wasn’t Mum with you?’ I know the answer before she even speaks.
‘No, love. I actually haven’t seen her for a couple of weeks. I’ve been meaning to catch up with her, though. Is she okay? Shall I call her and tell her to come here?’
Mum won’t thank me for calling her friend, but there’s no way I can leave her outside in the cold, especially this late at night. It’s a pretty safe area, but I still can’t bring myself to do it. ‘Actually, I know it’s a big ask but would you mind jumping in a taxi and going to pick her up? Then I can come straight to your house to get her? I’ll pay for it, of course.’
Rosemary doesn’t hesitate. ‘That’s no problem at all. I’ll just get dressed and go.’
‘Thank you. Traffic should be okay at this time but I’d better get going. Sorry again for calling so late and asking such a huge favour.’
I put on a coat and check through my bag for Mum’s spare key. ‘I’m worried about her, Aiden. Don’t you think this is all a bit weird?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The fact that Mum forgot her keys for one. She never does stuff like that.’
‘Eve, we all do things like that from time to time, even the most organised of us.’ He smiles to show me he means me.
‘I know, but there’s other stuff too. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it but, well, with everything that’s been going on I just haven’t brought it up. It will have to wait now.’
Aiden follows me downstairs. ‘I think sometimes you read too much into things, Eve. You shouldn’t always analyse things beyond their surface, you know. Sometimes there just isn’t more than what we see.’
Now is not the time for this discussion; there are more urgent things to devote my headspace to. Perhaps he is right; I do tend to overthink things.
But what can explain why Mum lied to me tonight?