The Foster Husband Page 21

  And after a while he just stopped turning up at all.

  30

  London

  Curled up on the sofa, my head resting on Matt’s knees, I let my eyes close. I don’t think he was really watching television either. I could feel his hand gently stroking my hair. I wondered if it was a bad thing that the only time I felt really close to Matt these days was when we were silent like this.

  Our conversations lately had taken on an almost sitcom feel; it was all ‘Hello, darling, how was work?’ ‘Fine thank you, darling, don’t you look nice?’ Skating politely over the fact that I still hadn’t got a job and that Matt had given up asking me about it. Even though we were arguing less it made me feel worse, as if we’d become polite strangers in a house share; considerately accommodating one another for reasons of domestic harmony rather than love.

  ‘This is nice,’ I murmured, as his fingers combed through the hair at my temples.

  Matt grunted, which I took as agreement.

  ‘Matt?’ I plucked at a thin grey thread that was poking out from the seam of his trousers. It stayed firm.

  ‘Mmm?’

  ‘Matt, do you like that I’ve started cooking more?’ I twisted the thread around my fingers to get some purchase on it.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Who knew you had it in you? You do a great job.’

  ‘I like it,’ I said as the thread snapped. ‘I never thought I would, but I do. And it’s nice how the fridge is always full these days, isn’t it? And that there are fresh flowers every week.’

  ‘Umm, yes,’ said Matt. I suspected he hadn’t noticed either of these things, but if I had to point them out to him, then so be it.

  I sat up and crossed my legs on the sofa. ‘I just think the house is more of a home since I left Hitz,’ I said. ‘Don’t you? It’s more welcoming, not just the place we dump our suitcases before the next work trip.’

  ‘The house is great, Kate,’ said Matt dutifully.

  ‘Only it’s made me think,’ I said. I twisted a strand of hair in front of my face.

  Matt stretched an arm along the back of the sofa and leaned backwards into the cushions. A slow smile spread across his face. ‘Spit it out.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re building up to something. I can tell.’

  ‘I’m just saying that I think there’s a silver lining to redundancy. It’s made me appreciate what we have at home. I’m really grateful for it.’

  Matt raised an eyebrow. ‘And?’

  I picked up a cushion and held it protectively against my chest.

  ‘And, well, okay, you know how I stopped taking the pill a few months ago . . .’

  Matt looked incredulous, then delighted. ‘You’re pregnant?’ he exclaimed. ‘Oh my God, you’re pregnant!’

  ‘No!’ I said quickly. It broke my heart to see how Matt caught hold of himself, trying not to let me see his disappointment. But it also made what I wanted to say next that much easier. Asking for things directly had never been one of my strengths.

  ‘No, of course you’re not. Bad timing,’ he said.

  ‘Do you think so?’ I asked, clutching my cushion more tightly and letting my highlighted hair fall across my face. ‘Because I was thinking that maybe . . . maybe not getting a job is, I don’t know, a sign or something. That maybe I don’t need to get another job straight away.’

  ‘It’s not exactly straight away,’ said Matt. ‘It’s been six months.’

  ‘I know,’ I said, not rising to the bait.

  ‘I’m not having a go,’ Matt said. ‘I just mean that I know you miss work, it’s obvious.’

  ‘I don’t know if it’s work I’ve missed,’ I said, ‘or just having a purpose. What if I made my purpose something different from now on? If I’m going to have to give up work for maternity leave anyway, why don’t I just take some time out now, while we’ve got the rest of my redundancy money to fall back on?’

  Matt poured himself another glass of wine. The bottle was nearly empty now.

  ‘That money won’t last for ever,’ he said. ‘What’s wrong with taking on a few projects here and there in the meantime? You don’t have to commit to a full-time job again, I know it’s hard to find one, but are you sure you want to give up completely?’

  I sighed. ‘It’s not giving up, Matt. It’s giving us a chance. Don’t you see? We hardly ever saw each other until I lost my job. We were always on different continents, in different time zones. I couldn’t do that if we had a baby. I’m trying to think of the future here.’

  Matt looked unconvinced, his forehead wrinkled in consternation.

  ‘Come on, Matt, you told me you wanted me to give my all to you, instead of to work. That’s what I’m trying to do.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Matt. ‘I didn’t mean you had to give up everything else. You love your work; you’ve always lived for it. I’m just worried you want to have a baby for the wrong reasons.’

  ‘Don’t you want to have a baby?’ I snapped. ‘I thought this was what we both wanted?’

  ‘Kate,’ Matt said gently. ‘Of course I do. I’m not saying that. But are you sure this is the right way to go about it? Are you sure you’re not just getting freaked out by not getting any work for a while? It doesn’t have to be a choice between a job and a baby; there could be a balance here.’

  See what I mean? Every time we moved away from our sitcom script, it turned into an argument. He always challenged my decisions, even when I was making them for the best reasons, for both of us.

  I kept my voice calm and patient. I had rehearsed this the entire week he’d been away.

  ‘I just think that if you’re going to do something, do it properly. What’s the point of being half arsed about this? Come on, Matt. This is what we both want. Let’s be serious about this and really try to make it happen, instead of just hoping.’

  Matt stared at me in silence for a moment, then his lips twisted into a half smile. ‘Are you asking me this, or are you telling me?’

  ‘Asking?’ I said carefully.

  ‘Oh good,’ he smirked. ‘I’d hate to think you’d already made up your mind about this without any kind of discussion.’

  I wondered if he’d found the folic acid tablets in the bathroom. I was sure I’d hidden them behind the toilet cleaner where he’d never see them.

  ‘Matt,’ I insisted, taking his hands in mine. ‘I’m doing this for us.’

  ‘Are you going to keep me to a very strict procreation schedule?’ he asked, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

  I knew I had him now.

  ‘Ve ry,’ I said, sidling up next to him on the sofa.

  ‘Will you have a doctor’s coat? And a clipboard and glasses?’

  ‘Do you want me to have a doctor’s coat, clipboard and glasses?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ he nodded. ‘Essential. We must take this seriously, after all.’

  ‘Very seriously. I wouldn’t want you to think this might be fun,’ I teased. I shifted myself up onto his lap, and put my arms around his neck.

  ‘Absolutely not,’ he agreed, his expression comically grave.

  I moved my face closer to his and grinned. I knew I’d make him see it my way. Turning my head, I licked slowly along the edge of Matt’s left ear and began kissing his neck.

  ‘Well, if you put it like that,’ he said, ‘I think we’d probably better get on with it, don’t you?’

  And we got on with it right there on the sofa, if you must know.

  31

  When we come out of the restaurant, clutching each other for support after Eddy has taken an unintended detour into a hatstand by the door, the freezing night air hits my face like a slap. The clouds have gone, and the cold is so sudden and brutal that we both burst out laughing in surprise. But the reward for this drop in temperature is a sky full of stars, the Milky Way twisting through them all. With our arms interlinked we look up, our faces turned towards the crescent moon. The cold is sobering, exhilarating. Inside, full and warm, all I had
wanted to do was go home to sleep. Now I feel like I could run all the way to London. But what would I want to do that for?

  The night is so still and clear that the boom and wash of the waves can be heard, pounding against the walls by the museum.

  ‘Let’s go and see the sea!’ I exclaim.

  Eddy grins at me, bemused. ‘I see the sea every day, Kate. So do you.’

  ‘Every day,’ I say. ‘Not every night. Come on. Race you up the steps.’

  Before he has a chance to answer I unlink my arm from his and run towards the wooden steps that lead over the mill stream, taking them two at a time. I can see my breath coming out in puffs of white against the cold air. Behind me I can hear Eddy catching up, and a kind of excitable panic makes my heart beat faster, as if he’s really in pursuit of me.

  At the top of the steps I stop, panting.

  ‘I won!’ I announce, arms held triumphantly over my head in a victory salute.

  ‘You always do, Kate,’ says Eddy, pulling himself up the last few steps and leaning on the handrail.

  It’s weird to see myself through Eddy’s eyes – the confident winner that he thinks I am; the girl who left Lyme and made something of herself. I think spending time with him is good for me, after the last few months. To be with someone who likes me, admires me even.

  ‘I’m not sure it counts if you don’t even tell me we’re playing until you’re halfway up the steps, though,’ he teases.

  ‘Don’t be a sore loser, Eddy,’ I say. ‘How am I meant to win if I don’t make up the rules?’

  And then I take off across the car park, hearing his shouts behind me.

  We run through the alleyway that brings us out to the seafront, where the water, lit by the moon, shines like the scales on the back of a giant, restless creature. There is no one else around on this freezing night. We have the seafront to ourselves. I breathe in a deep lungful of night air.

  When Eddy catches me up he throws an arm around my shoulders. ‘Won’t you stay still?’ he begs, his breath coming in ragged gasps. ‘Jeez, you’ve nearly killed me.’

  I elbow him in the ribs. ‘You’re getting old, Eddy.’

  ‘What’s got into you tonight?’ He laughs. ‘You’re like a teenager.’

  I start laughing. I feel like a teenager, full of hope and possibility. Maybe it’s the ozone from the sea, or the unaccustomed night out. Maybe it’s the attention from Eddy. I don’t know. I just like how I feel.

  Eddy turns to me. ‘This is how I always think of you, Kate. Always laughing, always running, one step ahead of everyone else. No one could ever catch you.’

  His arm feels heavy on my shoulders, and I feel it tighten and tense. I turn my head towards him, and he pulls me closer so that we’re facing one another. The wind whips my hair across my face, covering my eyes, and Eddy uses his free hand to push it behind my ear. He keeps his hand there, cradling the back of my head.

  I feel a fluttering in my chest, and I can’t decide if it’s excitement or panic. Or if there’s any difference between the two.

  ‘Eddy, I—’

  He bends his head and kisses me once, drawing away almost immediately, as if he has made a mistake.

  ‘I didn’t want you to talk me out of it,’ he says quickly. ‘I knew you’d make me lose my nerve. But I wanted to kiss you, Kate. I’m glad I did it.’

  His speech entirely disarms me, and my protests stop in my throat. I feel my lips lift into a smile that Eddy takes for encouragement; he presses my head towards his again and I let him. His mouth is warm against my cold face.

  ‘Oh God, Kate,’ he moans into my neck.

  I press my body against him, his hot breath against my ear. He is trembling – from the cold, I think. I am trembling, too.

  I know I’m safe with Eddy. He’d never hurt me. It’s me I don’t trust.

  But I kiss him back anyway.

  32

  The lights are off when I let myself into Granny Gilbert’s bungalow, so I take my boots off at the front door and tiptoe into the hallway, risking going flying in my socks on the slippery parquet. But of course Minnie has heard me come in and skitters through from the kitchen, excitement overcoming her usual caution on the treacherous floor.

  And then someone calls out from the living room and I realize that Prue is still here.

  ‘Hi,’ I whisper, peering into the living room, where Prue is illuminated by the flickering light from the television. It makes her seem as if she is moving, though she is sitting quite still, pinned down to the sofa by one of Ben’s sprawled legs. He lies next to her, fast asleep, his head hanging back on the arm of the sofa, his mouth wide open.

  ‘Hi, yourself,’ she says in a normal voice, looking me up and down. ‘Ben can sleep through anything, don’t bother whispering. What have you been up to?’

  ‘I’ve just been out with Eddy Curtis for a bite to eat,’ I say.

  Prue stares at me, squinting through the half dark, her eyebrows knitting together. ‘Get over here.’

  I hesitate in the doorway. When Prue was little we all thought it was funny that she bossed us around. We obediently lined up where she told us to and played at schools with her teddy bears and dolls, reprimanded if we dared to step out of line. I don’t think any of us expected that she would continue to treat us like underlings once she’d grown up, but I guess old habits are hard to break.

  ‘I’m going to bed,’ I say, mutinously refusing to move.

  Prue tosses her head at my refusal to play by her rules. ‘I can see from here anyway,’ she says. ‘You’ve been kissing.’

  ‘What?’ I exclaim, my hand flying to my lips as if they’ve given me away somehow.

  Prue smirks. ‘You used to look exactly like this when you snuck in from seeing boys. Don’t think I don’t remember.’

  ‘Well in that case you were staying up way past your bedtime,’ I say, pathetically struggling for a comeback.

  ‘Yup, definitely kissing,’ says Prue. ‘I remember that expression, all dreamy and cat that got the creamish.’

  ‘Yeah, okay, thanks, Prue,’ I snap. ‘Thanks for noticing.’

  Prue’s smirk drops. ‘I was only joking, Kate,’ she says. ‘Jeez, you’re so touchy. Whatever. Don’t tell me about kissing Eddy Curtis then.’

  ‘I won’t,’ I say, dropping down into the chair next to Prue. ‘I’d rather hear all about your exciting night. Ben really knows how to romance a lady, eh?’

  Prue looks over at her fiancé and sighs heavily. ‘He’s just exhausted, poor man. With all the work you’ve had him do on this place, and the stuff he’s doing for Baileys’, and the wedding things. Is it any wonder he can barely stay awake?’

  ‘Did you, er, talk about the honeymoon at all?’ I ask casually.

  Prue’s head whips round instantly. ‘Yes,’ she hisses. ‘What is this about you telling Ben that all I want is to go to the Maldives? I couldn’t care less about the Maldives. Why would you interfere like that? Are you trying to make trouble between us?’

  ‘I never said you wanted to go there, Prue,’ I say steadily, under her fierce glare. ‘I said he should try to find out where you did want to go. Since I thought you probably had an idea or two.’ Or forty-eight, but obviously it would be more than my life is worth to wind Prue up further.

  ‘Well, God knows what you actually said to him, but he was in a complete state when I got here. Surrounded by women’s magazines all over the floor and waffling on about luminosity and spa retreats as though he’d been brainwashed. He barely touched his pheasant, just drank a stupid amount and passed out before I’d even managed to tell him that I want to go to Barbados.’

  ‘Really? Barbados? Do you want me to drop some hints?’

  Prue sighs again. ‘Judging by how well your helpful hints worked last time, maybe you should just stay out of it.’

  On the floor by her feet are the magazines Ben had obediently purchased. I can see that he has ringed certain pictures in magic marker – palm trees and beaches. So he was
listening a bit.

  ‘Right,’ says Prue, pushing Ben’s leg off her lap and getting up. ‘If you’re not going to dish about Dready Eddy then I’m going home. I will get it out of you, though.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it for a moment,’ I say, resigned to my fate. She will surely force a confession soon.

  She surprises me by bending down to kiss me on the cheek. ‘Good for you,’ she says unexpectedly. ‘It came out all wrong when you came in, but what I meant was, it’s good to see you back to yourself a bit. Happier, I mean. I know things have been a bit shit for you lately.’

  ‘Thanks, Prue,’ I whisper, my voice unsteady at her sudden kindness.

  ‘I told you,’ she says, striding to the door, her voice ringing through the living room. ‘Nothing wakes Ben when he’s like this. No need to whisper. Night.’

  She slams the door behind her. Minnie and I both jump, but Ben doesn’t stir. He is breathing in that heavy way that’s always threatening to turn into a snore without ever doing so. It used to drive me insane when Matt breathed like that, I’d find myself unable to relax, lying there rigidly awake, furiously anticipating the moment he’d start snoring properly.

  I pick up the magazines from the floor and stack them in a pile next to the sofa so Ben doesn’t slip on them if he wakes in the night. As I’m walking over to turn off the television I tread on the magic marker and let out a yelp. Again, Ben remains motionless.