Cold as Ice (6 page)

She shouldn’t blame herself for feeling disappointed: she had thought everything would be perfect. She couldn’t be blamed for feeling shock about Jackson even; Tracy knew nothing
about Down’s syndrome. The minute that thought came into her head she scrunched her face and frowned. No . . . it wasn’t that simple. It wasn’t about that – she was just
anxious, that was all. She didn’t want to let anyone down – not again. But – she needed to take it further. It wouldn’t be right to say ‘no thanks’ until she
gave it a chance.

She took out her phone and stared at Danielle’s last text message telling her she would be bringing her four-year-old son Jackson. She smiled as she thought of Jackson with his toy from
Father Christmas. She took another large gulp of wine and then she rang Danielle’s number. She was just about to hang up when it seemed like no one was going to answer, then Danielle came on
the phone, breathless.

‘Sorry. Jackson is taking ages to go to sleep.’

‘I expect he’s excited about Christmas after going to the Grotto today and getting his little pink pig.’

‘Yes. He loves Peppa Pig.’

‘I could see – very sweet. Danielle – it was lovely to meet you today. I just wanted to tell you that. It’s not easy for me.’

‘I know. I appreciate that.’

Tracy closed her eyes and clutched the cold glass. ‘It was never an easy thing, you know, to give you up?’

‘No?’

‘No. It wasn’t easy, in those days.’

‘You’re not
that
old. You make it sound like it was the Dark Ages, not the Eighties.’

‘No. You’re right. But I was only fifteen. My parents were conservative. They thought it was for the best . . . But I want you to know something . . . I loved your dad.’ Tracy
heard her voice quiver. ‘I don’t know why I’m telling you this.’

‘Telling me what?’

‘He was my first love. True love. Do you understand?’

‘So you’re telling me you weren’t a slapper.’

‘No, of course not. I mean yes – that’s right. I wasn’t. I was in love . . . for the first time.’

‘Why didn’t he want to keep me?’

‘It wasn’t as easy as that, Danielle. He was the same age as me. We had no idea how to bring up a baby. We talked about it. We cried about it, but both sets of parents were adamant
that we had to give you away.’

‘You could have had an abortion.’

‘I left it too late.’ The words hung in the air and Tracy regretted them instantly.

‘So you would have done if you could?’

‘Yes, maybe.’ Tracy shook her head as she held the phone tight. She hadn’t meant it to come out like that. She opened her eyes, smiled, clenched her fist in her lap and dug her
nails into the palm of her hand. ‘But who knows? Maybe it was just meant to be. I thought I was doing the best thing for you, Danielle. I thought the Fosters, the couple they found to adopt
you, were lovely.’

She heard silence. She heard Danielle breathing.

‘Gerald? He wasn’t much of a dad – when I was little maybe. But he became a complete psycho when I hit my teenage years. Nothing I did was right. He shouted all the time, kept
me locked in my room. I know it made Mum sicker than ever hearing all the constant rowing. It turned me into someone like him: always shouting, always angry – bitter. Until I had Jackson,
that is – then things changed. They do, don’t they? When you have a child? Yeah . . . well . . . it doesn’t matter anymore. Jackson asked about you.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘He likes you. He doesn’t like many people. He doesn’t often take a shine to someone but he likes you.’

Tracy was mid slurp of wine when it caught in her throat. ‘He’s a lovely little boy.’

‘Yeah . . . he has his moments.’

Tracy relaxed a little. ‘Shall we meet again?’ she asked.

‘I’d like to.’ Danielle’s voice was quiet.

‘I have a half day tomorrow. I can meet in the morning, about eleven?’

‘Okay. Can we meet near my home? Finsbury Park is just across from me. I can meet you at the main entrance?’

‘Of course.’

‘Sounds lovely. See you tomorrow.’

Tracy closed her phone and put it back in her bag. She sat on the edge of the bed. She could hear Steve shouting at the television as his team went down at home again. Tracy waited until she
heard him get up and go into the kitchen for another beer then she picked up her wine and walked into the lounge. Steve came back into the room and sat back in his chair to listen to the half-time
commentary.

‘Did you find something to eat?’ He kept his eyes on the screen but directed the question her way. He was irritable, resentful. ‘Bloody ref. Never seen such a biased decision
in all my life.’

‘Yes, don’t worry.’ She came to stand beside him. ‘I’m hardly wasting away.’

Steve glared at the telly as a replay of the incident that led to his team’s striker being sent off was replayed and analysed. He glanced her way. His eyes ran down her figure.

‘No, you’re right, you could do with losing a stone. We both could.’

Tracy stared at the side of Steve’s head. All the years they’d been together Steve had never realized how hard she tried to fulfil his vision of female perfection and how much it
hurt that she knew she would never make it.

She went back into the kitchen and washed up the few things and then she stood looking out into the blackness peppered with orange streetlights beyond the kitchen window. She wiped her hands,
sighed loudly as she poured herself another glass of wine, closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then walked back into the lounge. Steve was flicking through the channels as he waited for the
analysis to stop and the football to resume after half-time.

‘Steve. I need to talk to you about something.’ Tracy went to sit to his right on the small silk-covered sofa that she had bought at a large discount from Simmons. Steve watched her.
She sat on the edge of the seat and held her glass in two hands.

‘It’s about the child I gave up for adoption.’

Steve sat back in his chair. He picked up his beer. He kept his eyes on Tracy.

‘Well you know that I had a child, a baby girl, when I was a teenager and you know that I gave her up for adoption.’

‘I didn’t know it was a her?’

‘Yes . . . yes . . . it was a girl.’

‘Okay and?’ He shook his head, confused, irritable now that he was missing the start of the second half.

‘She got in touch with me. She said she wanted to meet up.’ He looked at her dumbfounded. ‘Well, I saw her today.’

‘What, you met her?’

‘Yes.’

‘You didn’t think to talk to me about it before you met her?’

Tracy shook her head, flustered. ‘I tried to. I thought about it. But I didn’t know if she would turn up, if it would actually happen.’

Steve shook his head. He looked at Tracy with an expression of betrayal.

‘What the hell, Trace?’

‘But, Steve, you have to see . . . I had no choice. And I didn’t want to worry you in case it came to nothing. You seem so worried about everything these days.’

‘And now?’ He glared at her. She felt her shoulders rise, her gut tighten. She opened her mouth to answer but nothing came out. Tracy longed to rush over to him; to cuddle him; she
wanted him to hold her and reassure her. But she knew that was her job in their relationship.

So she stayed where she was and sat upright on the edge of the sofa: the image of calm.

‘And now – I don’t know what will come of it but it feels right to try and help her.’

‘What does she want?’

‘Nothing. Not material things anyway. She lives on her own with Jackson; she seems quite sorted. Do you want to meet them?’

‘No, of course I don’t. What would I want to meet them for?’

‘I don’t know, Steve.’ She shrugged, shook her head. Kept her eyes on his as she implored him to see beneath, to help, just for once . . . ‘You know, she’s a nice
girl. He’s a really sweet little lad. He’s got Down’s syndrome.’

‘What?’ Steve shook his head slowly and tutted under his breath.

Tracy looked at him, looked at his profile. She felt something so sad inside that it made her jump up and cover her mouth in case it escaped. She went into the kitchen and wiped the clean work
surface again. She pulled out the mop and began washing the floor. She listened to Steve shout at the screen as his side conceded another goal.

Tracy walked through the park entrance and saw Danielle standing just inside the gates and texting on her phone. Jackson gave her a smile. Tracy bent down to talk him.

‘Hello, Jackson. Are you warm enough?’ His eyes were watering from the cold. A dog came around from the other side of the buggy and pushed into her. She saved herself from falling
backwards by reaching out to put a gloved hand on the railing.

Danielle yanked the dog’s lead. ‘Scruffy, off!’

Tracy stood and smoothed the creases out of her coat whilst Danielle finished her text. Tracy was dressed in a navy double-breasted coat, a red pashmina scarf around her neck. She looked like an
air hostess.

‘Sorry, he’s a rescue dog,’ explained Danielle as she put her phone back in her pocket. ‘He wants a lot of attention.’

‘Ah, shame . . .’ Tracy gave him three pats on the head at arm’s length.

Danielle pulled his lead back around. ‘Scruffy, heel!’

‘How’s Jackson?’

‘Ask him yourself. He’s not stupid.’ Danielle turned the buggy into the park and they walked along the central pathway towards the kids’ playground.

‘Of course. I didn’t mean it like that.’ Tracy was taken aback. They stopped at the lake and Danielle untangled a bag from where it was looped on the top of the buggy.

‘Wait, Jackson.’ He was arching in his seat, trying to get out of the buggy.

‘Undo him for me?’ she said as she untied the bag.

Tracy bent down and fiddled with the clasp holding Jackson in his seat. She finally managed to open it and Jackson rushed forward.

‘Grab him. Before he ends up in the water!’ shouted Danielle.

Tracy made a lunge for Jackson and gripped his hand as they walked towards the edge of the pond. Danielle followed them and gave Jackson a chunk of bread to hold before handing the rest of the
bag to Tracy. They hovered near the edge of the pond and ducks descended on them thick and fast in a noisy squabble. Tracy leant over Jackson and held on to him tightly as he shrieked for joy and
threw handfuls of bread at the ducks. She laughed at his delight. She turned to see Danielle watching them.

‘What do you want him to call you?’

‘What do you mean?’ Tracy looked at her blankly.

‘Grandma? Granny? What?’

‘Uh . . . oh . . . I don’t know,’ she said, shaking her head, shrugging, burying her neck in her pashmina. ‘Tracy will be fine.’

“No it won’t. He wants a granny, not a friend.’ Danielle called Jackson’s name three times to get his attention back to her. He reluctantly turned away from feeding the
ducks.

‘Who’s that?’ She pointed to Tracy.

Jackson looked bashful and said: ‘Nanny.’ He gave Danielle a look that betrayed the fact that she had told him to say it.

‘Nanny . . .?’ Tracy tried not to look offended. ‘As in goat?’

‘Just an idea.’

Danielle answered, hiding a smile as she pushed the empty buggy nearer to them. Tracy tried not to be annoyed or show she was bothered. ‘Shall we take him to the swings?’ she said as
she looked down the length of the lake to the playground beyond.

‘Ask him if he wants to go.’ The flash of annoyance came quickly again to Danielle’s face.

Tracy closed her eyes with a sigh. Then she leant down in front of Jackson’s face – eyes wide and smile in place.

‘Jackson? How would you like Tracy –
Nanny
– to push you on the swings?’

Jackson nodded.

‘Okay then, let’s go.’ Tracy took his hand and they started to walk along beside the lake. Danielle followed, pushing the empty buggy.

Jackson laughed as he skipped and hung on to Tracy’s arm.

‘You’re a heavy little thing.’ She laughed as she did her best to lift him from the floor by his arm.

There were a handful of kids in the playground. Jackson ran excitedly from one apparatus to the other, unable to make up his mind which to go on first. He was followed hotly by Tracy. Finally he
settled on his first choice, the swing, and Tracy pushed him while Danielle sat on a bench nearby.

Tracy looked across at Danielle between making
woo, woo
noises for Jackson to accompany every push of the swing. Danielle was texting. She’d been texting for the last ten
minutes.

‘Who’s that? A sweetheart?’ Tracy called over to her.

Danielle looked up from her phone, shook her head and smiled.

‘Just someone on my course.’

‘What course is that?’

‘I’m taking an Access to primary education course so that I can go into teaching. I’m learning about computers as well at the moment. I want to become a special needs teacher.
I want to be there for Jackson. I want to give him everything he needs.’

Tracy turned back to push Jackson, who had grown quietly content as he swung back and forth in the air.

‘What about you, Tracy? Any ambitions? Any things you really want to achieve?’

‘Oh, you know . . . the usual – see the world, first class of course: I’m a bit old to go backpacking now.’

‘No you’re not. I read about it – it’s all the rage, Tracy. Women going off in their forties and fifties to find themselves. Going to Thailand on treks or taking a year
to work their way around Asia.’

‘Well I’ll have to wait a few more years then,’ Tracy said.

Danielle laughed. ‘Yeah, I forget you’re just fifteen years older than me. We could be sisters.’

Tracy smiled as she continued pushing Jackson, pleased with the compliment. She had expected a snipe about her ageing looks but was pleasantly surprised when one didn’t materialize.

‘I’d love to go on a cruise,’ she said. ‘That’s more me really than backpacking.’

‘I would love to take Jackson on holiday, anywhere – I don’t mind,’ said Danielle, her face softening, and Tracy thought how pretty she looked today. If only she would
make more of herself.