What Might Have Been (21 page)

35

E
van sat in the café, alternating between sipping his coffee and looking at his watch. Grace was late, and although he felt ashamed of the call he’d made to her at the hospital earlier
begging
her to meet him, quite frankly, he hadn’t known what else to do.

Even a run along the Thames path hadn’t helped him figure things out; instead, he’d struggled even to put one foot in front of the other, mainly due to the wind and driving rain that had been in his face for most of the way, and had eventually forced him to stop. As he’d turned back towards his flat, he’d thought about his last few encounters with Sarah, and decided that the weather and his lack of progress had been somewhat apt.

While Grace’s initial unfriendly ‘Why should I?’ hadn’t been particularly encouraging, his ‘Because there’s something you need to know’ seemed to have done the trick. And even though he
suspected
he might be in for a hard time, as far as he was concerned, anything that might give him a little more insight would be worth it.

The café, Al’s, on Bermondsey Street, was one of his
favourites
. It had been here for longer than he could remember,
possibly
since before he’d been born. Anyone discovering it for the first time might think they’d wandered into some trendy retro establishment given the Formica tables and wood-chip wallpaper, but they’d probably been part of the original décor back in the sixties. And while the cuisine – full English breakfasts with sausages Evan was beginning to wish he was as thick-skinned as, mugs of tea so strong you could stand your spoon up in them, or even today’s ‘special’ of pork chop and chips for four-ninety-nine – wasn’t quite in keeping with the other establishments that lined the now-funky street, he would have hated to see it go, leaving the area with nothing the older residents might recognise. That was partly why he continued to support it, he told himself, as if he was doing a service to the community, although in truth, there were times you just needed a good old-fashioned fry-up.

Distracted by a movement in the doorway, he glanced up to
see Gr
ace standing there awkwardly, as if she’d taken a wrong turn down a dodgy street – not that there were many of those in
Bermondsey
nowadays. He caught her eye with a wave of the menu, and she came and sat down, her relief at seeing a familiar face quickly replaced with the kind of expression he used to see on
the fac
es of his teachers at school whenever he’d been in trouble.

‘Thanks for coming.’

‘I’m here for Sarah, not you, Evan.’

‘Still . . .’ He slid the menu across to her. ‘At least let me buy you a coffee.’

Grace gave the laminated sheet a cursory glance, wrinkling her nose at the spatterings of fossilized food clinging to it. ‘I suppose a decaf latte would be out of the question?’

Evan smiled. ‘Depends on your definition of latte. Or decaf,’ he said, nodding at his own chipped mug, where a tar-like residue coated the bottom.

Grace studied the menu again. ‘Maybe a cup of tea, then,’ she said, as if expecting to see her choice of drink preceded by the word ‘builder’s’.

Evan waved Al over and gave him the order, ignoring the mumbled ‘last of the big spenders’ he heard in reply. ‘So, how is she?’ he asked, once Al had shuffled back behind the counter.

Grace shrugged. ‘How do you think? Confused, angry, upset.’

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset her. I just . . .’

‘What did you think would happen?’ interrupted Grace. ‘That she’d welcome you back with open arms a week before her
wedding
?’

‘I don’t know what I thought, Grace. I just knew I had to
do th
is.’

‘Did you not consider that it might be a little selfish?’

‘Maybe.’ He sighed. ‘But I’m not the only one.’

‘What?’

‘I’m not the only selfish one. Sarah was the one who picked me up without telling me she was already seeing someone else. So, you tell me – how does that make me the bad guy in all of this?’

‘Because . . .’ Grace was still glaring at him, but he sensed that a little of her hostility had evaporated. ‘Because that was then. Now? She’s made her choice.’

Evan looked anxiously round the café, conscious that some of the other occupants were watching what they probably assumed was a lover’s tiff, though given the average age in the place, they probably couldn’t hear what was going on without turning up their hearing aids. ‘She didn’t
have
a choice, Grace. I didn’t give her one.’ He paused as Al – evidently sniggering at his last sentence – placed a steaming mug of tea in front of Grace, although by the dismissive look she gave it, drinking it wasn’t even a remote possibility. ‘And in fact, I did the decent thing by both her and David by leaving them to get on with it.’

‘So why did you do the indecent thing by coming back? And now, of all the times.’

‘Because I realised something while I was away.’

‘Which was?’

‘Like I told you. That I love her.’ Each time, the admission seemed to drain him a little more, and Evan leaned heavily back in his chair.

In the silence that followed, he toyed with the idea of ordering another coffee, but he was starting to feel like he’d done nothing but drink coffee these past few days, and worried for his ability to sleep for the rest of the week if he did. Though that might not be a bad thing, he realised, given how the clock was ticking.

Grace picked her tea up wordlessly, took a tentative sip, then put it straight back down again, so Evan thought he’d try a different tactic. ‘And you think she’s doing the right thing, do you?’

Grace frowned. ‘In what way.’

‘Marrying
him
.’

‘As opposed to marrying you, you mean?’

‘That’s not what I meant. Is David really the kind of person you can see Sarah being happy with?’

‘Well, that’s Sarah’s choice, isn’t it? Not mine.’

‘If it was a choice, yes.’

‘What is this really about, Evan?’

‘It’s about . . .’ Evan swallowed hard. ‘About her marrying someone who doesn’t deserve her. And who certainly doesn’t respect her.’

‘I hardly think you meeting David for five minutes in Waitrose qualifies you to make a character judgement.’

‘I went on his stag night, Grace. I think I know him a little better than . . .’

‘Whoa.’ Grace sat bolt upright. ‘You went on his
stag night
?’

‘He invited me. In Waitrose. Sarah didn’t say?’

‘No, she didn’t, Evan. Probably because she couldn’t believe you’d do something so stupid, so
selfish
. But that still doesn’t mean you can decide whether or not he’s good enough for her, unless . . .’ Grace peered at him accusingly. ‘Did something happen? On the stag?’

Evan shifted uncomfortably in his chair. ‘Grace, I can’t . . .’

‘Oh god.’ She closed her eyes for a second, then looked at him levelly. ‘Does Sarah know?’

‘I’m not saying anything. And I’ll bet he hasn’t.’

‘And you want
me
to,’ she said, staring at him in disbelief. ‘Is that why you asked me here?’

Evan shook his head, already worried he’d let too much slip. ‘No. I’m just trying to show you that he’s not right for her. What kind of person he is. Sarah’s your best friend, Grace. Do you really want to see her end up with someone like that?’

Grace smiled, although there wasn’t a lot of humour behind it. ‘I’m sorry, Evan. Even if that were true, just because David might
have done something meaningless with – what, some
stripper? – on
some drunken night out, which the vast majority of men have
probably
done . . .’

‘I haven’t.’

‘. . . it doesn’t mean he’s not fit to marry her.’

‘Grace, I’m not saying he did – or didn’t do – anything, and if he did, he has to be the one to tell her. But something like that isn’t meaningless. It shows a lack of respect.’

‘Whereas sleeping with you behind his back was her showing him respect?’

‘That’s not the point. They’d only just met, and it was only the once.’ He hated saying that, as if it diminished what he and
Sarah ha
d.

Grace regarded him for a moment, as if weighing something up. ‘Evan, if you had any idea how headstrong Sarah was, you’d know you were wasting your time. And even if I were to talk to her, what good would it do? Besides, what’s her alternative?’

‘Well, she could, you know . . .’ Evan stared into his empty mug. ‘Marry me instead. Eventually.’

Grace let out a short laugh. ‘And have you asked her?’

‘How? She won’t take my calls, and whenever I do manage to see her, she storms off before we can finish a conversation.’

‘And doesn’t that tell you something?’

‘It tells me that she still has feelings for me. Strong ones. And that’s not good if you’re getting married to someone else.’

‘That depends what those feelings are, doesn’t it?’

‘Why are you giving me such a hard time?’ Evan asked exasperatedly. ‘What would you have done?’

‘We’re not talking about me here, Evan, are we? We’re talking about you.’

‘Even so. Tell me, Grace. Please. You’re the psychiatrist. What’s your professional advice in all of this?’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Deadly.’ Evan retrieved his wallet from his jacket pocket and pulled out a handful of notes. ‘What do you charge for a private consultation?’

Grace placed both hands on the table. ‘Tell you what, Evan. I’ll do you for free. You’re delusional, and irrational, and suffering from a severe case of . . .’

‘I’m in love, Grace. That’s all.’

‘Well, I’m afraid there’s no cure for that.’

‘Yes there is. It’s giving the person who loves you the opportunity to love you back.’ Evan regarded her across the table. ‘I’ll be playing at the club tonight, Grace. Just tell her that . . .’ He sighed. ‘Just tell her that. Please.’

‘If you really loved her, you’d leave her alone.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Christ, Evan,’ said Grace, standing up angrily. ‘It’s taken Sarah the best part of a year to get over losing the baby, and now you’re putting her through this . . .’ She shook her head vigorously, then without another word, made for the door.

And as Evan watched her go, it didn’t even cross his mind to follow her. He was too busy thinking ‘what baby?’

36

S
arah stared nervously at her mobile as it buzzed on her desk, relaxing when she saw Grace’s name on the screen. She’d known she was meeting Evan, though when Grace had asked what she should say to him, Sarah hadn’t known exactly how to answer that. She picked her phone up, walked over to close her office door, and answered the call.

‘How was he?’ she said, surprising herself, when ‘How did it go?’ was perhaps what she should have opened with.

‘Well . . .’ Grace sighed. ‘He said that he loves you. Again.’

‘And did you . . .’ She swallowed hard. ‘Tell him to leave me alone?’

‘I did my best. I’m not your enforcer, Sarah. And I think it would take a lot more than me telling him where to go to get him to, well,
go
.’

‘Thank you. So what now?’

‘I’d say you’ve got a choice to make.’

‘Do I really?’

‘Of course you do.’

Sarah walked over to the window and stared out at the darkening sky. ‘Tell me what the alternatives are, Grace. I go ahead and marry David, which is what I’ve been planning for the past nine months, or I lose him, risk losing my job, and all for what? The promise of what might have been?’

Grace sighed loudly down the line. ‘Well, that depends.’

‘On what?’

‘On whether you want to have any regrets.’

Sarah smiled, wistfully. She already had regrets, where both Evan and David were concerned: That she’d accepted David’s proposal so quickly, that she hadn’t even thought about how Evan might have felt when she’d picked him up – and then sent him away. But she’d been confused. It had been a tricky enough situation as it was, and then there was the pregnancy, and the miscarriage . . . She shuddered at the memory. The miscarriage was the key to all of this, and the reason she and David were getting married, even though the baby possibly hadn’t been his. She’d never told Grace what had actually happened. Maybe now was the time.

‘I already do, Grace,’ she said.

‘About Evan? Or David.’

‘Both.’ Sarah took a deep breath. ‘You don’t know the full story . . .’ Her voice trailed off, and she felt guilty for not having been honest.

‘Whatever the circumstances were, David was the one who did the decent thing. That counts for a lot.’

‘Even if it wasn’t his baby?’

‘You don’t know that. You’ll never know that. So there’s no point beating yourself up about it. At least he didn’t ignore it, unlike . . .’

‘Evan didn’t know!’ Sarah almost shouted.

‘What?’

‘I didn’t tell him I was pregnant.’

There was a pause, and then, ‘Tell me you’re joking.’

‘No,’ said Sarah, meekly.

‘Why ever not?’

‘Because I didn’t want to guilt him into coming back and messing up the biggest break of his career because of something that might have been nothing to do with him.’

‘But it probably was his, right? You said that you and Evan didn’t take any precautions.’

‘No.’ This was true. She’d wanted to feel him inside her, with no barriers, nothing between them. When she and David had sex – in the early days at least – David would always break off from her and head into the en-suite to get a condom from the bathroom cabinet, coming back a minute or two later ‘suited and booted’, as he’d always describe it, and there had always been something so mechanical, so
impersonal
, about that. Whereas with Evan, she’d wanted sex to be personal. ‘We sort of got carried away.’

‘But you only did it the once?’

Sarah started to colour. ‘Three times, actually.’

‘In one night? Tell me why you’re not marrying Evan again?’

‘
Grace
!’

There was a pause on the other end of the phone, before Grace spoke again. ‘Tell me something,’ she said, sternly. ‘Is there, sorry,
was
there any chance that the baby could have been David’s. Any chance at all?’

‘Of course there was,’ said Sarah, indignantly. ‘Accidents happen. Condoms break. You never know.’

‘But there’s more chance it was Evan’s?’

Sarah nodded, then realised it was a pretty pointless gesture on the phone. ‘I guess.’

‘And you didn’t think you
ought
to have told him?’

‘I didn’t know how to get in touch with him.’

‘That’s not really true, is it?’

‘Okay. Maybe not. But I wasn’t thinking straight. Finding out I was pregnant kind of sent me into a spin, and before I could get my head around what had happened, David spotted my discarded pregnancy testing kit in his bathroom waste-bin – I don’t know how I could have been so stupid to have left it on show – and put two and two together. I thought he’d be angry, but to my surprise he was the exact opposite, so when he so selflessly got down on one knee in front of me, I was confused. Didn’t know how to react.’

‘So you said yes?’

‘Yeah. But mainly because saying no would have been too difficult, too
complicated,
to justify. And then, instead of wondering whether to tell Evan that he might be a father, I had a bigger problem to contend with – telling him not only that, but that I’d got engaged too – and that had kind of made the first part irrelevant. Besides, he’d only just gone. It wouldn’t have been fair to make him feel he had to come back – or at least, that’s how I justified my actions to myself. And then a few weeks later, when I lost the baby, I was fully expecting David to say the engagement was off. But if anything, it made him keener to marry me. And that really threw me.’

‘And you haven’t thought to tell Evan since?’

‘What would have been the point? I’d lost him, and the baby had . . . I’d lost it too. I couldn’t cope with losing David as well. He’d been so good about it all, and yet I knew that inside he was devastated. So how could I take
us
away from him as well?’

‘How does David feel about it all now?’

‘He’s . . .’ Sarah thought for a moment. ‘Very matter of fact about it. You know, we’d got pregnant once, we can do it again, that sort of thing.’

‘Have you been trying?’

‘Well, we haven’t been trying not to, if you see what I mean?’

‘But nothing’s happened.’

‘No.’

‘And how do you feel about that?’

Sarah stared out of the window, grateful she didn’t have to look Grace in the eye while she thought about her answer. There were dozens of people milling about on the pavement below, and she suddenly longed to be among them, anonymous. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, eventually.

‘How did you feel when you thought the baby might be Evan’s?’

‘Scared. But like I couldn’t wait to tell him. Though didn’t dare.’

‘Because you thought he’d be pleased? Or because you were worried about what his reaction would be?’

Sarah began to pace around the office, the four walls she’d fought so hard to earn suddenly making her feel claustrophobic. ‘A bit of both, perhaps. But maybe . . . maybe losing the baby was a bit of a blessing. Because how would we ever have told whose it was? And what would I have done if I’d had it and it wasn’t David’s?’

Sarah was surprised at how clinical she sounded. In truth, back then it had surprised her how much the whole episode had hurt. With Evan not around, she’d kind of resigned herself to the fact that she was marrying David, and having his child – well, having
a
child, and David would be the father – just perhaps not the biological one, and if there were potential problems down the line as a result of that, she’d convinced herself she’d deal with those if and when she had to. Then, when she’d lost it a few short weeks later, Sarah had cried for days, and while she knew that was probably hormonal, maybe it had also been because she’d lost a part of Evan, the last bit of him that she’d been desperately clinging on to. Once or twice, she’d even thought about writing to him to tell him, but tell him what – that he might have made her pregnant, and then she’d lost the baby anyway? She hadn’t seen any upside in that.

‘Anyway,’ she continued. ‘Why all the questions about the baby? I thought that subject was pretty much . . .’ She stopped herself – she’d been about to say ‘dead and buried’, but the phrase seemed overly harsh. ‘Forgotten about.’

‘Maybe not,’ said Grace, awkwardly. ‘In fact, I think Evan might suspect something.’

‘About what?’

‘You having been pregnant.’

‘What? How on earth . . .?’

‘I was mad at him. I let it slip out, okay? And besides – I wasn’t aware he didn’t know.’

Sarah forgave her friend instantly. After all, mistakes happened. As she well knew. ‘And how did he react?’

‘I didn’t give him a chance to.’

Sarah slumped down into her chair, stared wistfully up at the ceiling, and suddenly realised what her biggest regret was.

Neither had she.