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Authors: Tilly Bagshawe

Flawless (65 page)

BOOK: Flawless
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“I know you’re frightened,” said Aunt Agnes, reading her mind. Climbing down onto the bridge herself, she helped Scarlett to her feet. “But look at it this way, darling. What’s the worst that can happen?”

He’ll reject me
, thought Scarlett.
Oh God. I can’t bear it.

“You need to know if it was meant to be with Jake,” said Aunt Agnes. “And if not, you need to get back to work and to your own life. You can’t hide away up here forever.”

“I’m not hiding. I’m helping, or trying to,” said Scarlett.

But even as she said the words, she knew they were a lie.

She knew that she would go back home.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

 

“O
H
G
OD
. O
H
Jesus. That’s not normal. I don’t know what that is but it can
not
be normal. For fuck’s sake, will one of you help her? Where’s the fucking doctor?”

Danny Meyer’s panicked screams could be heard the entire length of the St. John’s Hospital maternity suite.

The midwife smiled.

“It’s perfectly normal, Mr. Meyer,” she said. “That’s the baby’s head. He’s crowning. Won’t be long now.”

“He?” Danny’s ears pricked up. “Can you tell the sex?”

“Not from the top of the head, no,” said the midwife patiently. Diana had requested a midwife-only birth. In the midwife’s opinion, it was a shame she hadn’t banished the father as well as the doctors. Men were worse than useless, especially with their first child. “Why don’t you put the cool cloth on Mom’s forehead?” she suggested gently. “Everything’s under control down here.”

Danny, who had never felt less “under control” in his life, did as he was told, reluctantly. As much as the horror movie between Diana’s legs scared the shit out of him, it was better than having to watch the pain on her face as she desperately tried to breathe and focus her way through the final stages of what had been a long, hard labor.

“Can’t you knock her out?” he pleaded, dabbing at her head with the wet cloth while she moaned a low, animal sound that frightened him.

“No,” Diana panted, shaking her head violently. “No drugs.”

“There’s nothing we could do now anyway,” said the midwife. “The head’s almost out. One more push, Diana. Come on! All you’ve got now.”

Diana clenched her teeth and focused all her energy on the pain deep within her. Danny found himself yelling out in sympathy, a long, sustained
aaaagh!

“That’s it, that’s it!” the midwife cried excitedly. “The head’s out. The next contraction and you can hold your baby!”

Danny glanced down at the business end of things and was greeted by the surreal sight of his child’s face blinking up at him, its body still inside its mother. He wasn’t sure which of the two of them looked more shocked. Then, before he knew what was happening, Diana let out a final, piercing cry, and with a grotesque slithering sound, the baby’s body and legs shot out. Seconds later, it was lying, still bloody, in Diana’s arms.

“Oh, he’s beautiful! He’s so, so beautiful!” she breathed, kissing the child’s vernix-covered head. All the pain of the past fourteen hours seemed to have evaporated in an instant.

“It’s a boy?” Danny stood motionless at the bedside, still in shock.

“Yes, Mr. Meyer,” laughed the midwife. “The penis is usually considered a bit of a giveaway.”

“He looks like you.” Diana smiled up at him, cradling her baby joyously. Danny didn’t think he’d ever seen anything quite so beautiful in his entire life.

“He’s covered in slime,” said Danny. “And he looks Chinese. His eyes are all scrunchy. Are you sure he’s mine?”

Diana would have been offended were it not for the delight written all over Danny’s face.

“Blimey,” he said, examining his firstborn more closely. “Check out the size of his tackle! Maybe he is mine.”

“That’s hormonal,” said the midwife, deftly checking the baby’s vital signs without removing him from his mother. “Both sexes can be born with excessively swollen genitals. It’ll go down in a day or two.”

“No, it won’t, love,” said Danny proudly. “He’s a Meyer.”

 

Outside in the waiting room, Jake stood up and walked to the window. Seventeen floors below he could see the steady stream of afternoon traffic clogging up Wilshire Boulevard, like jostling red and white blood cells pumping through a vein.

“Sit down, babe. You’re making me nervous.”

Ruth, his girlfriend, had insisted on coming with him to the hospital. Perched like a small bird in one of the suede armchairs St. John’s provided for family and friends—no plastic chairs nailed to the floor here, like you got in London maternity wards—she was reading
Elle
with a calm bordering on ennui that Jake couldn’t help but find irritating.

Diana could be hemorrhaging to death in there for all they knew. If the yells and shouts were anything to go by, Danny could be too. How could she sit there, cool as a cucumber, reading about shoes and fucking handbags?

“I can’t sit down,” he said testily. “I need something to do.”

“Why don’t you call your mother?” suggested Ruth. “She’s texted me six times in the last ten minutes asking for news. You know she’s going out of her mind with worry.”

She meant the advice kindly. In fact, Jake reminded himself, the only reason Ruth was here at all was to support him, to try to do the right, expected, girlfriendly thing. But still he felt his hackles rising. In the short time they’d been dating, Minty had all but adopted Ruth as the daughter she’d never had, and the lovefest appeared to be mutual. Making an effort with his family was one thing. But all the texting and the long, gossipy
phone calls were beginning to make him feel trapped. Next thing Ruth’d be changing her ringtone to “Here Comes the Bride.” It was all too much too soon.

Not that she wasn’t lovely. Everyone adored her, even Danny, who’d become such a huge Scarlett fan he’d been almost as upset about Jake’s breakup as Jake himself.

Jake looked at Ruth now, her eyes flitting between Minty’s latest note on the BlackBerry and the magazine in her hands. With her slender legs crossed and her shiny, perfectly blow-dried hair swinging from side to side as she moved her head, she looked polished and professional. Even the white lab coat—she’d come straight from the surgery—seemed to fit her petite figure perfectly. Without wanting to, Jake found himself dredging up a mental picture of Scarlett in that mad, multicolored threadbare sweater she used to wear. He imagined her gesticulating wildly, making some impassioned point (wasn’t she always?) with her long, unbrushed hair escaping from its elastic band like seaweed, and he missed her like a physical pain.

“Honey?” She looked at him quizzically, proffering her phone. “Your mom?”

“Hmm?” Jake came reluctantly back to reality. “Oh, no, just text her back and say we’re still waiting. Once she starts rabbiting on I’ll never be able to get rid of her.”

At that moment a flushed, visibly elated Danny burst through the double doors.

“It’s a boy!” He beamed. “Zachariah Daniel Meyer. Zack. He is the absolute fucking business, bruv.” He flung his arms around Jake, lifting him up in an almighty, triumphant bear hug.

“How’s Diana?” asked Ruth. She waited for the twins to finish hugging before kissing Danny warmly on the cheek. “Can we see them both?”

“In a minute, yeah,” said Danny. “They’re just getting cleaned up. Diana was amazing. Amazing! I can’t believe she went through all of that, without so much as an aspirin.”

“Nor can I,” said Ruth with feeling. “When I have a kid they can knock me out cold. Twenty thousand bucks for one night and no doctor? That’s more than painful enough if you ask me.”

Jake grinned and suddenly remembered everything he liked about her.

“Congratulations,” he said, returning Danny’s smile. “I’ll nip down to the gift shop and get her some flowers.”

“Don’t bother,” said Danny. “She only has eyes for the baby. She won’t even register.”

“That’s OK,” said Jake, who suddenly felt an unaccountable need to be by himself and get some air. “I ought to stretch my legs anyway. You two go on in. I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

Outside, the sun was just beginning its descent into the horizon, and a rainbow of blues, reds, pinks, and purples oozed into the late-afternoon sky. The day was so clear you could see the ocean glinting at the end of Santa Monica Boulevard, some twenty-three blocks away. Had it not been for the roaring traffic belching out gas fumes, the palm-lined street would have looked positively beautiful.

As it was, Jake barely noticed his surroundings, nor the deafening rush-hour sound track as he wandered toward the flower shop on the corner, lost in his own thoughts.

He had a nephew.

Danny had a son.

He knew he ought to feel delighted, and he did, for Danny. Danny, who, a few short months ago, had felt that the best of his life had already passed, that love and happiness and success had all slipped permanently through his fingers. Jake doubted there was another human being on earth this evening who felt quite so completely happy as his brother. The thought made him smile.

But at the same time, Danny becoming a father threw his own life into harsh relief. Ruth was a terrific girl. Terrific. But he didn’t love her. If he’d been under any illusions about that, they’d shattered with resounding clarity in that waiting room
a few moments ago. He would have to break up with her, now, before her expectations really became set in stone. The thought of hurting yet another woman twisted his insides like a gallstone. When the fuck was he going to bring a girl some happiness? When was he going to find happiness himself? Become a father? Settle down?

He tried to picture himself with a wife on his arm and a child on his knee, and realized for the first time in his life that he wanted to be in that picture. He did. He wanted what Danny had. So why did he keep screwing things up for himself?

Maybe what he’d told Aunt Agnes had been the truth. He wasn’t cut out for relationships. He might fantasize about becoming a father, but he entirely lacked the skill, or the genetic makeup, or whatever it was he needed to turn that dream into a reality.

He’d been thinking for a while now about getting away. Maybe, if Scarlett ever came back from bloody Scotland and took over the reins at Flawless, he could take a six-month sabbatical? Perhaps go back to Freetown and work with Dr. Katenge. Do something useful for a change.

Opening the door to the flower store, the mingled scent of freesias, stocks, and lilies was so overpowering it made him feel nauseous.

“I’ll be right with you,” the girl at the counter shouted. “I’m just finishing up here.”

She was serving another customer, a girl, handing her an enormous bouquet of white roses. The girl had her back to Jake, so he couldn’t get a good look at her, although he did glance admiringly at her ridiculously long legs in a pair of faded corduroy True Religions.

“Oh, no, no. I don’t need the plastic wrap. Just leave them natural.”

Her voice echoed around the empty store. Jake felt his stomach flip like a tossed coin. He’d know that singsong, posh English accent anywhere. The most beautiful sound in the world.

“That’ll be sixty dollars and fifty-five cents please,” the shop girl was saying. Scarlett fumbled in her trouser pockets, dropping notes and change everywhere in her usual, scatterbrained way.

“Here. Let me.”

Inside, his heart was racing, but Jake’s voice rang out clear and strong. Scarlett spun around, blushing to the roots of her gorgeous mahogany hair.

“Oh. Gosh. You’re not supposed…what are you doing here?” she stammered.

“That’s my line,” said Jake. “I thought you were in Scotland.”

For ten of the longest seconds in history, they stared at one another, neither knowing what to say next. Then, to Jake’s surprise, he felt his legs carry him forward and his arms opening. The next thing he knew, Scarlett had fallen into them with the exhausted relief of a marathon runner finally crossing the finish line.

The kiss went on for so long the shop girl started to worry they were going to rip each other’s clothes off there and then, and began to cough loudly from behind the counter.

BOOK: Flawless
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ads

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