Emma, 13th February 2010
What were the odds – running into him at the South Bank today? In a city of millions, we had to come face to face. I saw him a fraction too late, waving his banner, his eyes wild while he spewed profanities at global business. This was exactly the man I fled – the out-of-control, fixated one. I pulled Michael’s arm to go back inside the National but he’d seen me.
‘Ali! Ali!’
‘It’s him – the guy I used to live with,’ I muttered to Michael. ‘Jacob West. I really don’t want to speak to him.’
Michael clicked into protection mode – I was impressed and immensely grateful for his six-foot-one frame and visits to the weights room at the college gym. ‘Then you don’t have to.’ We start walking fast, then running towards the bridge over the river, past the wall of graffiti and the boys doing stunts on the skateboard park. I’m not so fit as I once was, finding I get very tired since having Kaitlin. My PT instructor would be very disappointed to see me clutching a stitch in my side. In my defence I was wearing heels and a tight skirt – you try running in them.
He, however, was as lean and mean as ever. He caught up.
‘Ali, what the fuck are you doing here – and with this… this suit?’ He glared at Michael. Being a ‘suit’ is one of his worst insults. ‘Why are you fucking dressed like that? And where’s Kaitlin?’
That really should’ve been his first question. ‘Leave me alone. We’re over. I’m not coming back.’
‘She’s my daughter – you can’t just cut me out of your life!’
‘She’s not yours. There’s no father listed on her birth certificate – oh, but you don’t believe in registering your presence for the fascist state, do you?’
He reached out to grab me by the front of my coat. ‘You can’t keep me away from her.’
Michael stepped between us. ‘Yes, she can, West, so step back. We’ll get a restraining order if necessary.’
‘Fuck off. That’s my woman you’re holding.’
‘Wrong. This is my wife – and I will protect her with all the force of the law.’
‘Fuck the law!’ Jacob swung at Michael and they entered into a scrappy brawl. I had never seen my husband fight before; he didn’t fight dirty like Jacob, which hampered him, but he must’ve had a punch like a sledgehammer because he had Jacob flat on his back after only a minute.
Unfortunately, a police patrol happened upon us just as Michael was standing over Jacob. I had a moment’s panic that the whole business was going to unravel and I couldn’t keep Kaitlin safe and out of this crap – which is absolutely my priority. Fortunately, it went no further, though, because Jacob mouthed off as usual about the police state, the same one that educated him, gave him benefits and looked after his health for free. Yeah, we’re really oppressed in England.
Sorry, what little respect I had for Jacob’s convictions evaporated after a couple of years living with them. He is a hypocrite and doesn’t see it.
Jacob ran off after spewing a few more insults at how I had ‘sold out’ and ‘kidnapped’ his daughter.
‘That was ugly,’ commented Michael, wiping away a trickle of blood from his lip.
‘That’s classic Jacob. Now you can see why I’ve always been careful about keeping my identity and Katy’s offline as far as possible.’
‘Completely.’ Michael checked we weren’t being followed and we resumed our walk to the Underground. ‘He shouldn’t be able to trace us. You’ve got a new surname now and gone back to using your first name. Unless he recognises me somehow, there’s no connection to make.’
I squeezed his arm, resting my head briefly against his bicep. ‘Thanks. Hazard of the job, I suppose you could say.’
‘But, Emma, I have to ask, is he Kaitlin’s father?’ Michael glanced over his shoulder. We were both anxious.
‘He thinks he is – I had her while I was living with him – but he’s never been a father to her.’
‘That’s not quite a “no”, is it?’
‘He’s not her father, Michael. I swear.’ And that’s the truth in my mind. I’m her mother and that’s all she needs.