Page 22 of The Three of Us
‘I can do without a lecture from you, thanks very much. And it seems to me you’re the one who shouldn’t be drinking. The size of that vodka yesterday…’
‘I didn’t drink it. I just… well, I hadn’t told you yet, or anyone, and it would have seemed too obvious to refuse a drink, so I just got rid of it. It’s in the plant pot.’
‘Ha! Poor plant. Didn’t see that coming, I bet. Its roots have probably shrivelled up by now. All a bit sneaky. It seems you’re pretty good at deceit though, doesn’t it? Keeping secrets, telling lies…’
‘That’s a bit harsh, Jack. I didn’t lie to you. I just hadn’t quite found the right time to tell you, that’s all. But I was going to.’
‘Well, I know now, don’t I?’
‘Yes, and I’m sorry.’
‘What for? Not telling me, or for letting me find out like that, from a stranger, or for getting pregnant in the first place?’
‘I think you’ll find it took two of us to do that, Jack.’
There is silence, until she hears him slam his glass down, presumably on some bar somewhere.
‘I suppose I’d better come and get you then?’
‘Yes, please. If you haven’t had too much to drink. We have to be more careful now…’
‘I’ve only had one pint,’ he huffs, and then the call is cut off.
He turns up ten minutes later. She climbs in beside him but he stares straight ahead as he drives. His hands, white and tense, grip the steering wheel.
‘What about our train?’ she asks.
‘Missed it, obviously. There’s another in an hour. I have to get back for work, but you don’t. Maybe it would be best if you stay down here for now. It doesn’t look like you’ll be able to do much for a week or two. I should think even having a shower or washing your hair will be tricky. You certainly won’t be out looking for a job, or doing your baking, and I’ll be at work all day. At least down here you’ll have your mum to help you. And some company.’
Molly nods. She has no idea if he is being kind and thoughtful or just wants to be rid of her for a while.
Within minutes of getting home, her mum guiding her on to the sofa and fussing over her with tea and cake, and Flossy flopping like a big warm furball at her feet, Jack has packed his bag, kissed her briefly on the cheek, called a taxi, and gone. She hasn’t even shown him the picture from the scan.
Chapter 14
Carly
It’s time I did what I’ve been telling myself I’ll do for ages. I’m going to learn to drive. Running into Syd the other night reminded me it was time to steer away from Jack – excuse the pun! – and find myself something else to concentrate on. And who better to teach me than Syd himself?
I have invited myself round for the evening, partly to make the arrangements about the lessons, but mainly to catch up with Rosie who, I have to admit, I’ve missed seeing regularly these last few months.
Rosie is so pleased to see me it makes me feel guilty for leaving it so long. Both babies are asleep upstairs and, for once, the living room is tidy, if you don’t count the teetering pile of washed baby clothes on a chair, waiting to be put away, and the basket of dirty ones on the carpet, waiting to take their place in the machine.
‘Oh, it’s a never-ending operation.’ She laughs, noticing what I’m looking at. ‘Like painting the Forth Bridge!’ She points me towards the sofa and takes the bottle of wine I hold out to her. ‘I really shouldn’t,’ she says, ‘but a little one won’t hurt, will it? And I can’t leave you to drink the whole bottle by yourself.’
‘How about Syd?’
‘He’ll be back soon, but he’s out teaching again later, so he won’t drink. More than his job’s worth to even think of risking it.’
‘Very sensible. And good to know, if he’s going to take me on. More than enough risk there, with me let loose on the roads, without adding alcohol to the mix.’
‘Oh, don’t be daft. You’ll be great. You’ll take to it like a duck to water, I bet.’
I don’t remind her that water and me are not all that compatible either and that I can only just about manage one width of the pool, doggy-paddle style, before I collapse, breathless, at the side. The only things ducks and me have in common are big feet and a liking for bread!
‘So,’ she says, once she’s been out to the kitchen to find glasses and a corkscrew and then realises it’s a screw-top bottle. ‘Syd tells me Jack’s back on the scene after all this time.’ She pours me a glass of wine so full it’s in danger of slopping over the brim, and then does the same for herself. So much for a little one won’t hurt! I know she and Syd are not ones for keeping secrets from each other, but he did promise he wouldn’t say anything, so I’m really hoping she has no idea about Jack and me, or how I feel about him.
‘Good-looking bloke, was Jack. She’s a lucky lady, that little country wife of his.’