Page 53 of The Three of Us
‘Okay, you could be right, those can wait a while, but I’m beginning to see the advantages of being in London now. I wasn’t sure I could settle here, but the baby will make a difference. I’m quite looking forward to going out and introducing him, her, it, shit or whatever, to some squirrels or monkeys. Or an elephant. Do they still have elephants at the zoo? I must find out. And having made some friends really helps too. We can walk our prams together. Which reminds me, I’ll be out for a few hours on Sunday, delivering the cakes, and I’ve been asked to stay on for the party. Quite a few of the other mums and babies will be there. You’re welcome to come.’
‘Probably not really my thing, so I’ll give it a miss if that’s okay. I might pop out myself and grab a drink or two if you’re not going to be around. I won’t be late though. I’ll probably be back before you are, once you and these other mums get chatting.’
‘And don’t forget I want us to go up and see Mum and Dad soon. I thought maybe straight after the scan next Friday? We’ll be able to tell both families at the same time whether we’re having a boy or a girl. Although Mum’s convinced she already knows.’
‘Yeah, okay. Book us onto the train. And I assume we’ll be taking some of those new cakes of yours with us? The coloured-middle ones?’
‘Of course. I’ll have to make them quickly that afternoon, once we get back from the hospital though. Or do it early and make some of each, as I have no idea which colour I’m actually going to need!’
‘No inkling? No preference?’
‘You know I haven’t. Nothing we could do to change things now, even if I did. It’s your little swimmers that made that decision months ago.’
‘Clever little buggers. If their swimming’s anything like mine, we’re lucky they made it at all. Probably struggled up your tubes doing doggy paddle!’
‘Lucky?’ She picks up on that one word, looking for the positivity that has been so clearly lacking lately.
‘What?’
‘You said we’re lucky. Is that how you feel now, Jack? Because I know it was all a shock to you, that you hadn’t really planned on being a daddy just yet.’ She looks at him, studies his face, still not quite able to figure out how he feels. There is something distant about him, and it worries her. ‘But you are happy about it now, aren’t you?’
He comes and kneels down next to her chair and pulls her towards him, her face resting into his shoulder, so she can’t see his expression. All she has are his words.
‘Of course,’ he says. ‘And, like you said, Mol, nothing we can do to change anything now anyway, is there?’
Chapter 30
Jack
He’s been a bloody idiot. He’s known it all along, deep down, but now he has to face it, and deal with it. Fancying another woman is not a crime. Half the men he knows are at it. But trying to get that woman into bed, telling her he wants to leave his wife for her… what was he thinking?
Since that evening in Carly’s room, he has kept his distance from her, and from Suze, as much as he can at work, and tried his best to show more interest in the baby, because he does love Molly. He really does. Things may have settled into being more homely than wildly passionate lately, but he supposes that happens to all couples in time, and he can’t really imagine a life without her.
Carly was right. This is not the same as the first time. Molly is no silly teenager, giggling as she lay on her back in a field with too many alcopops in her belly and her knickers round her ankles, desperate to prove how grown up she is and panicking like mad as soon as it all goes wrong. This baby, the baby of now and not of then, may not have been planned but this is not the same stupid careless mistake. Not this time. Molly wants this baby, so much, and is already in love with it. And with him too, hopefully.
Molly has changed though. She’s not such a quiet country mouse anymore. Coming here to London was a huge step for her, but she has done it, for him. And now she is building a life of her own, making new friends, going into business, making plans. She’s even going to be interviewed for the local newspaper. He feels proud of her and, somehow, worrying though it is, he knows that she would survive without him if she had to. If he left her now, she would be desperately upset, and angry, and she would never understand, but she would survive. She would go home, to the village and her parents and everyone who loves her, and she would have the baby, a child he would rarely see and would probably never form a proper connection with, because of what he had chosen to do. This baby has given her a new determination, a purpose, something beyond her life with him, something he knows she will cling to above all else.
Maybe that’s it. That’s why he has been feeling so unsettled, so unsure of what he wants, where his future might lead. It hasn’t just been about seeing Carly again, the thrill of starting some illicit secret affair. It’s about Molly growing into an independent woman, blooming into impending motherhood. It’s about not being needed, being the spare part, the outsider now that Molly has someone else to love. He shakes his head. He hates to admit it, even to himself, but he’s jealous. He’s jealous of a little unseen mango-sized blob of a person who hasn’t even been born yet, who has no name, yet is already pushing him out. He wants unconditional love, to be wanted, needed, to be the centre of someone else’s world. Carly’s world? Molly’s world? Does it even matter which, especially now he realises, suddenly, that he is not?
He has been on some crazy seesaw these last few weeks, rocking backwards and forwards between two women, wanting them both. A classic wanting-his-cake-and-eating-it situation, which is pretty ironic considering the dominance of cakes in Molly’s life and in their own kitchen lately. Forget special boy or girl centres. He has thought it before, but she might as well fill her little cupcake thingies with some kind of Carly versus Molly stuff. Bite into one at random and have the decision made, like flipping a coin. It’s never that easy though, is it? And now the decision has been made for him. Carly has stepped away, told him to forget about her, to go back to Molly. Not that he actually ever left her. In his head, in his fantasies, in some future la-la land that was never going to be maybe, but Molly need never know about that. Sweet, dependable, trusting Molly need never know.
Jack sits in a noisy pub, half watching the TV screen, which is semi-obscured by a group of teenagers, standing in a circle, most of them looking barely old enough to be in here, let alone downing pints. Having promised Molly a lazy Saturday at home together, he has only popped out for a magazine she wants and a loaf of fresh bread, but it has started to rain, and he doesn’t have a coat with him. Any excuse! He has come across Syd by chance, taking a quick breather and an opportunity to use the Gents between driving lessons. Saturdays are his busiest day and there’s no time to nip home for lunch.
Jack laughs at Syd as he finishes his pint of lemonade, taking the slice of lemon out and sucking at it until the sourness makes his eyes water.
‘More than my life and job’s worth to get caught drinking and driving,’ Syd says, totally unembarrassed, dropping the nibbled rind onto his empty sandwich plate. ‘Not that I’d ever do it. It’s a dangerous game, and I have a wife and kids to think of now. They need me in one piece. So, you can stop the sniping about my choice of liquid refreshment. There’s nothing wrong with lemonade, I can tell you. Perhaps you asking the barman to stick a paper umbrella in it was a step too far, but laying off the booze and being responsible for a change is no laughing matter. You should try it sometime.’
Jack makes a mock salute. ‘Yes, boss. But yeah, you’re right. I can’t go breathing beer fumes all over the baby when it comes, can I?’
‘No news about what you’re having?’
‘Scan’s next week. Friday.’
‘And you’ll be there?’
‘Hope so. I’m pretty busy at work, but I’m sure I can get away early. It’s not until mid-afternoon.’
‘Well, make sure you get a picture. Everyone’ll be drooling over it, trying to work out who it looks like, whether it’s smiling or waving its fists about, and which way up it is!’