26 December 2004
Since I walked away from Joel yesterday, every minute has felt like an hour. Even the shift has dragged, despite the Boxing Day dramas that kept the lines busy: gravy burns and overdoses and all the falls and broken bones that have arrived with the snow and ice.
Being at home was way worse than work, though. Christmas dinner for three was unendurable, my lips still tingling from kissing Joel. To make it worse, Tim and Elaine seemed to have made a pact to be as cheery as possible, pulling crackers and opening gifts with the hammy gusto you’d expect in a festive edition of Only Fools and Horses.
As I cleared the table after the meal, I couldn’t imagine the bungalow without me. But Tim and I have had three years to find a way to make each other happy. Since August, there’ve been times when we’ve managed it, but I’ve been kidding myself. Do I feel guilty about what I’m about to do? Totally. Is guilt a reason to do nothing?
Never.
‘Almost there,’ says Mo, bringing me back to the present with a jolt. She hands me a coffee. ‘I plan to spend the next week in a Bailey’s and brandy-butter coma. You?’
‘Much the same.’
I’m going to tell Tim this afternoon: I’ll take him to the pub and buy us both doubles, to give me the courage to go through with it. There’s no way of knowing how he’ll respond.
I’ve texted Mum, saying I may want to stay over there tonight. What I really want is to go to Joel’s straight after, but I don’t deserve that, after breaking Tim’s heart.
There’s no rush. Soon, Joel and I will have all the time we need to enjoy being together. The old me is back, but wiser, more grateful, more certain than I ever was then of what I want and need.
As Mo and I step outside the building, the cold wind makes my teeth hurt and my eyes water. We’ve just heard about the awful tsunami that has hit Thailand; they reckon hundreds might have died. Between that and the usual post-shift fatigue, we’re feeling odd and fragile.
‘Aye-aye,’ Mo says. ‘He’s back again.’
I look up to see Joel standing on the pavement, and warmth rushes through me, top to toe.
Except . . . his stance is different. Cowed. And his face doesn’t change when he sees me. It’s as if he’s looking right through me.
Mo gives me a quick hug. ‘Happy New Year, love. See you in 2005!’
I don’t move. Something is wrong and I don’t want to know what it is. Taking a step towards him will make this bad thing come sooner. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Kerry, I—’
‘You’ve done it again, haven’t you? Decided you don’t love me after all.’
He frowns. ‘No. Never. But I need to tell you something.’
We don’t touch, though I want to kiss him to stop him saying whatever it is that’s going to break the spell.
‘Let’s get out of the cold,’ he says, and I follow him away from the sea and up an alleyway. He stops outside a dingy-looking pub. It’s like the opposite of the TARDIS, smaller inside than out, decorated in blood shades, furnished with faux mahogany.
‘Coffee, or something stronger?’ he asks.
‘Whatever you think I’m going to need.’
He goes to the bar and I find a dark corner. He brings over a Coke for him and a glass of white wine for me. Holding the cold glass makes me shiver. Whatever it is, I don’t want to know.
‘I had strange news yesterday. It doesn’t have to affect us, but we promised we’d be honest with each other, right?’
‘It’s that serious?’ I take a gulp of wine. I love Joel, despite all his faults. I can’t imagine anything that would turn this feeling on its head.
‘I’ve just found out I have a child.’
I stare at him. I must have misheard. ‘Sorry, you what?’
‘A baby. I hoped it had been aborted but—’ He picks up his glass and drinks, and for a moment I wonder if there is vodka in it. ‘No. That came out wrong.’ He frowns.
‘You have a child you hoped was aborted?’ I close my eyes to block out his face and try to make sense of the words on their own. I open them again. ‘Start at the beginning. Who with?’
‘One of the girls I used to hang out with. Zoë.’
Something clicks into place. ‘Was she at the beach that time? When the pier burned down.’
He nods.
I can vaguely picture her. A junkie: skinny and lost. Not the kind of mother I’d wish on any child, however much I understand about addiction now. ‘How old?’
Joel looks down. ‘The kid was born three days ago.’
‘Shit.’
I want to stop the world before it closes in on me but Joel’s talking.
‘Me and Zoë, it only lasted a couple of months. I’d got clean and so had she and it felt like we were enjoying life again. We always used a condom but . . . accidents happen, I guess.’
I stare at him.
He exhales. ‘She was excited when she told me, like we were going to live happily ever after. I’d never talked about us having a future or anything. Hadn’t even told her about my history, the ICD, anything.’
I take a gulp of wine and it tastes off, like rotten egg. ‘How could she not know? You had sex with her!’
‘Only a few times. I kept my T-shirt on. I didn’t want her to know. It was meant to be a bit of fun . . .’ He looks at me, his eyes appealing for understanding that I won’t give. ‘When she told me she was pregnant, it was still early days. I explained about how I never want kids because of the risk of what I have being genetic.’
‘You don’t know what caused it.’
‘No, but even the smallest chance of passing it on is too much. You see that, don’t you, Kerry? I thought she agreed that ending the pregnancy was the right thing. I paid for the abortion, but now it turns out she changed her mind at the last minute.’
I’m doing the calculations in my head. ‘So this was when? March? But if you were clean, how come I found you in a squat two months later?’
‘It was April. And I spiralled down fast after that because I knew I’d hurt her, just like I’d hurt you. She was vulnerable and I took advantage.’
I need a moment to process this. My urge to fix things is kicking in already. I didn’t plan to become a stepmother, but if that’s the deal, I love Joel too much to reject him for something he had no control over. ‘When did you find out?’
‘She called me yesterday afternoon. She told me the baby had come four weeks early, so it’s in special care but it’ll probably be OK. He, I mean. It’s a boy.’
Already I’m wondering what he looks like, the child of this man I love.
I recall my niece as a plump, rosy-cheeked newborn. Something tells me Zoë’s baby is in altogether worse shape. ‘Have you seen him yet?’
He shakes his head. ‘No. She says she doesn’t want me to know him and I think she’s right. It’s easier that way, for all of us. It doesn’t have to affect our relationship at all.’
‘You’re not serious?’
‘It doesn’t change anything, Kerry. It was Zoë’s choice, not mine, so I don’t need to get involved. We have to focus on our plans, right?’ He pulls out his phone. ‘I’ve been looking at rental flats, the last thing we want is to live in the den—’
I recoil. ‘You have a child, Joel. A son. Don’t you want to know what he’s like, how he is?’
Joel shrugs. ‘Why would I? Look, I’m only telling you now because I don’t want us to have secrets from each other. He’ll probably be adopted and even if he’s not, kids grow up without their dads in their lives all the time. Look at Tim . . .’
‘You’re bringing Tim into this?’
‘Well, he’s done OK.’
But he hasn’t. If his father hadn’t left, he’d have been allowed to be a child for longer, instead of becoming sole carer for his mother. Everything in his life might be different now.
‘You don’t know anything about Tim or what he’s been through. You’ve always had parents with money who’ve bailed you out no matter what.’
‘All right. I’m sorry. I just think we should focus on our future. You and me, together, after all this time.’
The future is not what I thought it would be.
Joel is not who I thought he was.
‘You and me,’ I repeat.
‘Oh come on, it’s me that’s in shock, Kerry. I don’t even know where she had the kid. They could be in Blackpool or Llandudno or Timbuktu for all I know.’
‘And that lets you off the hook, does it? You get to walk away, leaving your premature child with a girl who can barely take care of herself. In what universe is that the right thing to do?’
‘How am I meant to find him? I don’t even know the kid’s name.’ He lifts his Coke to his lips, then slams it down again on the table. ‘Look, he’ll probably be adopted, right? He’ll grow up with parents who want him, not a junkie and an ex-junkie.’
I stare at him. ‘You’ve made your mind up?’
He frowns. ‘I made my mind up when I was seventeen. I don’t want kids. Fuck, I don’t need this, I need a proper drink.’
‘Yeah, because that’ll really help. You don’t deserve a kid,’ I push my chair back, unable to be in the same room as him anymore. ‘I thought you’d changed, Joel. I really thought you’d grown up, understood that there are bigger tragedies in the world than your poorly heart and your lost career. But no, you’re worse than ever.’
‘Kerry, wait!’
My legs are stone-heavy as I walk towards the door. I turn when I realize I have one last thing to say. ‘In case you are in any doubt, I never want to hear from you again, OK.’
This time, I leave without looking back. I flinch at the cold and scurry up the street to hail a cab back to the bungalow and the good life I already have. Once I get through the front door, I pretend it’s the bite of the wind that’s made my eyes fill with tears.
Tim has pushed the boat out for New Year’s Eve. He takes me to a dinner dance at the Metropole and everyone spills onto the pavement when the clock strikes midnight. He looks handsome in his tux and I kiss him because I love him in my way and he loves me in his. I have learned my lesson. Again.