Conditional Love (33 page)

Emma took the paper off to reveal a small picture frame. We both stared at it. Brodie stood beside me and looked over my shoulder. A heavy silence settled on the room. Finally Brodie flicked his fringe out of his eyes. ‘I give up.’ He shrugged. ‘Is it a picture of the surface of the moon?’

I gazed into Jess’s red-rimmed eyes and reached out to squeeze her trembling hand. ‘No.’ I shook my head sadly. ‘It’s a baby scan. Jess is pregnant.’

Emma leaned forward and pulled Jess into her arms and they held each other tightly.

Of course! All the clues had been there, I just hadn’t added them up: the tiredness, cutting back on alcohol and even – though I hadn’t wanted to mention it – a slight increase in girth.

Terry cleared his throat and put his hand on Brodie’s shoulder. ‘Come on, lad, let’s give the girl some privacy.’

With promises to meet up again soon and a surprisingly chirpy goodbye from Brodie, I waved them off. After checking on Mum, who was still sound asleep, I rejoined the girls and sat back on the floor.

‘He accused me of trying to trap him,’ Jess was saying. She was sitting up now beside Emma with her head on her sister’s shoulder. ‘Said he had met women like me before: emotional blackmailers.’

Emma tutted in disgust.

‘It all happened over pudding. He didn’t shout. He went scarily quiet. Then he stood up and chucked two hundred pounds on the table. This is the worst bit.’

We waited while she struggled to control her words.

‘He said we could go Dutch on the abortion. Like it was a pizza or something.’

Poor Jess. She had so been looking forward to her fairytale proposal. Now she was faced with a pregnancy to get through by herself. I wondered whether she had decided what she was going to do.

Emma’s face was white with fury. She rocked Jess in her arms and let her cry.

So much for Spike being an upstanding member of the community! Instead of facing up to his responsibilities, he bailed out at the first opportunity. I’d never liked him. What the world needed was more decent men, men who would stick around, men who were reliable. I bet Nick would stand by his girlfriend if he got her in the family way. He was that sort.

‘I’m keeping it. I don’t care what he says.’

I smiled at her. ‘You’ll make a fantastic mum.’

‘Hey,’ said Emma, kissing her sister’s hair, ‘we’ll manage between us. I’ll help you and so will Sophie.’

I nodded and patted Jess’s leg.

‘When Sophie moves out into her new house, the baby can have her room,’ said Emma, excitedly. ‘And it’ll have the best auntie in the world. It’ll all work out just fine, Jess. You wait and see.’

Jess hugged us both and then shuffled off to bed.

Emma and I looked at each other incredulously.

‘Wine o’clock?’ I offered, rising in search of alcoholic sustenance.

We were in luck. I carried a bottle of white wine back in as if I held the Holy Grail in my hands.

‘What a piggin’ day!’ she said, slurping at her Pinot Grigio.

‘You don’t know the half of it,’ I said, with a grimace.

Emma’s mouth gaped as I filled her in on Mum’s appearance.

‘And what’s going on with you and my twenty-year-old brother?’ I raised an eyebrow at her.

‘Nothing!’ She giggled, holding her palms up in self-defence. ‘I’ve just always wanted a puppy.’

thirty-seven

I gathered up my bags, collected my cappuccino from the counter in Starbucks and looked round the busy café for a seat.

There was one free stool in the window next to a couple of teenagers who were alternating between snogging and feeding each other hot chocolate from a long spoon. I squeezed myself into the tiny space and tried not to stare. I would have to keep my eyes open for a spare table; there was no way Nick would be able to fit in here next to me.

I turned my back on the teenagers and stared out of the window onto the pedestrianised street. On the opposite side from the café was a collection of Christmas stalls; hot chestnuts, holly wreaths and cheap wrapping paper. The street was jam-packed with people laden with shopping bags, but despite the crowds and the icy weather, there was a tingle of Christmas excitement in the air.

This Christmas was certainly going to be memorable for the Stone family! I hadn’t seen Dad again, but we’d spoken on phone.

I kicked my bags under my stool, out of the path of a passing waitress. I’d had to dash out and by presents for them all. Not that I minded; I loved Christmas shopping. Choosing something for a new father and a new brother had been a bit tricky; I’d plumped for a hoodie for Brodie and a golf jumper for Dad and guessed their sizes.

We had decided that it was probably best to celebrate Christmas day apart, so he and Brodie were spending the day at his hotel and Mum and I were having a quiet day at home.

Mum was very subdued at the moment. My feelings towards her varied with my mood. She had acted very selfishly. I recognised now that she had always been selfish. Maybe she had been right not to try and get back together with my dad? I certainly couldn’t see them as a happily married couple. Forgiving her for depriving Dad and me of having any sort of relationship would take a little while. But for now I was happy to call a Christmas truce.

Emma, who hadn’t left Jess’s side for two days, was taking her back to their parents’ for a week. Spike hadn’t been in touch at all and I had a feeling that we had heard the last from him.

I took a sip of my scalding coffee. I’d been getting into coffee recently; it was OK if there was enough sugar in it and it wasn’t too strong. This was nice. Not as good as Nick’s, but… I’d done it again! What was with the constant Nick comparisons? Recently my mind had been gravitating towards him far too often: Nick would say that, Nick wouldn’t do this, that stranger reminded me of Nick... I was getting quite annoyed with myself. It wasn’t as if he had ever shown any interest in me. Quite the opposite in fact.

I slid my sketchpad out of my bag. My nerves jangled as I flicked through the pages. I’d finished the interior design for his barn conversion, but with the whole family conflab thing going on, plus Jess’s pregnancy, I hadn’t had a chance to mount the designs properly on boards. I would go through them with Nick now and then ask for an extra day to finish off. I hoped he wouldn’t be annoyed, I hoped he liked my work, I hoped he was impressed.

I’d designed an exciting and social space rather than a cosy haven. I loved it, but would the clients? What if I had misjudged it? I chewed my lip for a second. Too late now.

Have some faith in yourself, woman! Nick has.

Again with the Nick reference.

I scanned the pages, reminding myself of the design. The focal point of the room was a freestanding log burner with a stainless steel chimney rising dramatically up through the vaulted ceiling, flanked by three squishy sofas. I couldn’t decide on a feature colour so had opted for multi-coloured barcode-style rugs, cushions in primary colours and Warhol zebra prints for the walls.

The clock in Market Square chimed noon. Nick should be here any minute. My stomach churned with the anticipation of seeing him. Of presenting my work to him, I corrected myself. No other reason.

A couple wrapped in each other’s arms caught my eye. They paused in front of the window in front of me to kiss. A wave of jealousy made me lower my gaze. The man had cropped blonde hair, the same colour as Marc’s. I wondered what he was doing now. It was harder being single at Christmas somehow; I felt awkward walking into parties on my own. Who was I kidding, what parties? Well, in theory I would. I tried to examine my feelings towards Marc in a detached way. Did I miss him or did I miss being with someone?

I blew a hole in the froth of my cappuccino and took a tentative slurp.

Last year had been our first and only Christmas together. He’d come round on Boxing Day and met my mum, charmed her with a box of chocolates and presented me – randomly – with a Mont Blanc pen. Only after he had gone did we notice that the chocolates were out of date and the pen read ‘Mond Blanc’ – a cheap knock-off from the market, presumably.

‘Very ho, ho, ho!’ said a familiar voice.

I looked up, startled to see Nick smiling at me. He pointed to my face.

‘You’ve got froth on your lip,’ he said. ‘You look like Santa.’

Great. I grabbed a napkin and wiped my mouth.

He was doing a pretty good Santa impression himself: all bundled up in a red ski jacket, several bulging carrier bags in each hand. He even had a red nose. Lovely eyes too. I wasn’t sure Santa had grey eyes that crinkled when he smiled, that lit up when he was excited or clouded over when he was embarrassed, but who cared?

‘Can I get you another?’ he was saying.

I shook my head. This one was still at boiling point.

The teenagers, having long ago finished their drink, were now being moved on by the manager, who rolled her eyes at me.

‘Snogging in the window! This is a family establishment!’

I smiled gratefully and dragged one of the newly-vacated stools over for Nick, who returned with an icy Frappuccino.

‘I know,’ he said, in answer to my amused expression, ‘but I’ve been in the John Lewis toy department for nearly an hour in this jacket. I thought I was going to pass out!’

He peeled his jacket off, hung it over the back of his stool and breathed a sigh of relief.

‘Christmas shopping?’ I asked.

‘Mmm.’ He leaned forward and whispered, ‘I love shopping for my nephews. There was a remote control helicopter to try out. I was tempted to get one for myself!’

I watched him as he lined up three packets of sugar on the table and then emptied them, one at a time, into the glass.

He seemed so different from the solemn, serious man I’d met back in March. Then, he had barely been able to string a sentence together. Now he was quite chatty, playful almost. Perhaps he was excited about Christmas, or maybe he was just more relaxed around me these days.

‘Your planning application is almost ready to go,’ said Nick, breaking into my thoughts. His face had returned to its usual serious expression. Shame.

‘We’ll wait until the New Year to submit it. Otherwise it will get lost in all the holiday post.’

I nodded. In truth, I’d almost forgotten about it! Bizarre – given how long I’ve been dreaming about having the security of my own home. Maybe meeting my dad and finally knowing the real story had something to do with it? I certainly felt happier knowing that he didn’t wilfully abandon me.

Nick was staring at me. I wiped my mouth again automatically. What was he staring at?

‘Are you OK?’ he said, laying a hand gently on mine. ‘Only you’ve barely spoken.’

Hadn’t I? I couldn’t take my eyes off his hand. My pulse began to race and I swallowed hard. He was touching me. His skin against mine, his warmth infusing me, spreading throughout my body, making my heart thump and my cheeks burn. I couldn’t believe my own body’s response. What was going on?

For God’s sake, Sophie. THIS IS NOT A DATE!

I had no idea where my next words came from.

‘Jess is pregnant!’ I blurted out. ‘My flatmate.’ It was as good a topic as any as far as distraction techniques went.

‘Ah. The theatre director or the award-winning silver stuff designer?’

He had remembered! I was touched.

‘The teacher,’ I replied, smiling at his confused expression. ‘And her policeman boyfriend has left her because of it.’

His body stiffened and a shadow passed across his face. He released my hand, shook his head and stared into the middle distance.

‘I don’t understand that. What sort of person wouldn’t want to see their own child grow up?’

Had I touched a nerve? His reaction was almost as primal as Emma’s had been. For all I knew he might even have kids himself. What did I really know about him? Not much except he had a dog and appeared to live alone. No one gets to their thirties without some sort of baggage. Maybe if I told him the next instalment in my family saga, he would reciprocate?

‘Funny story actually…’

I don’t know why I chose the word ‘funny’ to describe the lies and subterfuge my mother had employed for over thirty years, but heyho.

Nick listened to my news, completely rapt while he sipped away at his drink. By the end of it he was the one sporting a creamy moustache. I was close enough to reach out and rub my thumb over his top lip. My mouth dried at the thought. I chickened out, handed him a napkin and inclined my head at his lips.

‘So you were right, it is a good feeling having my dad in my life,’ I said with a self-conscious shrug. ‘We’ve agreed to keep in touch this time.’

Nick’s eyes met mine briefly. He scrunched up the torn sugar packets and poked them into the top of his empty glass.

‘If I had a daughter, especially a beautiful one like you, I wouldn’t let her out of my sight for a moment,’ he mumbled.

My first reaction was ‘BEAUTIFUL’! My second was that it seemed a little too intense. I wasn’t sure about the ‘not letting me out of his sight’ part.

I laughed nervously. ‘Lucky for me that you never mix business with pleasure.’ My voice had gone up an octave. I coughed to bring it back down.

‘Did I say that?’ Nick winced.

‘Yes.’

‘You must have thought I was a complete idiot.’

‘No. I just thought you didn’t fancy me.’

Help! Someone ram something into my mouth quick, I have been struck down with verbal diarrhoea!

I didn’t know where to look. I couldn’t believe I just said that. My flaming cheeks couldn’t believe it either. I decided to brazen it out.

‘Just joking!’ I laughed to prove it. ‘I thought you were very professional and I appreciated it. Still do. Obviously.’

Phew! Got away with that one.

Nick wiped away the condensation from the window and sighed.

‘The thing is,’ he began. Bingo! I prepared myself for a big revelation. I squirmed around to get comfy. My bum was beginning to ache from sitting on this high stool for so long and we hadn’t even looked at my design yet. ‘Before I set up my own practice, I worked in Manchester for a large firm.’

I nodded. I knew that already, I had searched him on Google before I first contacted him.