15
Soon everything was sorted. The mortgage was in my name only, Alex had moved his things out, and Amy had moved in as my lodger. Unfortunately, I was also working six or seven days a week, and I was so tired my teaching was suffering.
Life was just work, largely sleepless nights, then more work. Mine and Amy’s paths didn’t cross very often, but when they did, I tried not to moan about my situation. The last thing I wanted was to make her wish she’d never moved in. Matt was away with work quite a lot, and Inga seemed distracted whenever I saw her. I didn’t know if she was missing him and didn’t like to say so to me because I was dealing with my break-up from Alex.
Anyway, I struggled on as best I could. Until my boss called me in to see her.
“I understand you’re going through a difficult time at the moment, Lily. I was so sorry to hear about your engagement ending. But the thing is, when we’re involved in such important work, we simply cannot allow our personal lives to get in the way. I popped into the women’s refuge on Monday and was told that on several occasions your sessions have been ... well, chaotic was the word used, I think.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but she leant towards me across her desk, cutting me off before I could say anything.
“These poor women have had enough chaos in their lives, Lily. Our art sessions should be an oasis of calm for them. An opportunity for them to just be. To express themselves and have some fun. To forget everything.”
“I know, I—”
“Do you, Lily? Do you really understand what’s at stake here? It wasn’t easy to get us into that refuge, you know. I had to overcome a great deal of doubt and resistance. And it’s a huge thing for a woman to sign up for one of our courses. When she signs up, she’s making an investment in herself. Telling herself she’s worth it. And at a time when her self-esteem is likely to be at rock bottom, the importance of that cannot be underestimated. I won’t allow all that hard work and potential for good to be put at risk because your life happens to be at a low ebb at the moment.”
She sat back, lecture delivered. “Which is why I’ve decided to take you out of delivering community-based courses for the time being.”
I stared at her, horrified. “You’re cancelling my teaching?”
“Not at all. I’ve some more leisure-based courses coming up soon. I’d normally give them to Ruby Wallace—you know Ruby, I think? But she’s going to take on your community courses, including the one at the refuge.”
I nodded, still stunned. I ought to be thanking her for not firing me altogether, I supposed, although I couldn’t view the prospect of taking on more leisure courses with much enthusiasm. They were aimed largely at retired people and were more like a social club than anything else. Entertainment. But there was nothing wrong with that, and I couldn’t afford to be snobby about it. I’d enjoyed feeling as if I was making a real difference to people’s lives, though. Except that I hadn’t been doing that lately, had I? I’d just been making a mess. And my boss was right. Those women deserved so much more than that.
She stood up, the interview over. “I’ll be in touch with further details once they come available, Lily, okay? And do try to get some sleep, won’t you?”
I’d been scheduled to teach that afternoon, but suddenly I had several hours with nothing to do ahead of me and no desire to go home yet. With no fixed purpose, I wandered into town, cutting through the park near the shopping centre. I’d always liked this particular park; it had some spectacular trees, and I walked along the meandering pathways, taking them in, appreciating their shapes and colours. The music their leaves made in the breeze. Diverting myself from my problems. Then, suddenly, I saw Matt, seated on a bench beneath a magnificent copper beech tree eating his lunch.
We caught sight of each other at the same time.
“Lily!”
“Matt!”
He put his sandwich down on the bench and got up to hug me. I hugged him back, hugely pleased to see him.
“How are you? It’s been ages since I’ve seen you. I haven’t been avoiding you. Work’s been mental.”
“It must be difficult for you, though,” I said. “I’m sure you still see Alex.”
“I do. But that doesn’t mean I can’t see you. We must sort something out very soon.”
Close as we’d always been, Matt and I had rarely met up on our own. Either Inga or Alex or both of them had always been there too.
He moved his sandwich for me to sit down.
“I’d like that,” I said, smiling, taking him in, reassured to see he was exactly the same, aware the same could not be said about me.
“Want some of this?” he asked, holding up his sandwich. It was a doorstep, stuffed full of ham, cheese, and tomatoes.
I really shouldn’t steal somebody else’s lunch, but I hadn’t eaten. And besides, this was Matt.
“Yes, please.”
He smiled and broke the sandwich in half, handing me my share. “Here. I’ll even throw in a napkin too.”
“You’re too generous.”
“I know. I can’t help myself. Anyway, how’ve you been? Inga says you’re working all hours these days.”
I swallowed a mouthful of sandwich. “Well,” I said, “I was until today.” I told him about my recent interview with my boss. “Maybe I ought to have let the house go,” I said. “It’s a struggle to pay the mortgage on my own, and I’m so tired with all the extra work. That’s why my teaching’s suffered. She’s right. It’s not fair to those women.”
“None of this is fair to anyone, is it? Certainly not to you.”
I felt tears in my throat.
“I only wish there was something I could do to help.”
“It’s just good to see you,” I said.
“It’s good to see you too. Really good. And maybe this will turn out for the best, you know. If these new courses are less stressful for you to teach, that can only be good, can’t it?”
“Maybe,” I agreed. “I’ll have to let you know. How’s your work going?”
He shrugged. “I’m working on a difficult project at the moment. The couple can’t agree on what they want. Keep drawing me into discussions. ‘It would be better if we blah, blah, blah, don’t you think, Matthew? No, I’m sure Matthew thinks we should blah, blah, blah.’”
“How are you dealing with it?”
“I say something technical about steel girders or spiral staircases, mostly.”
I smiled. “And country life? How’s that going? I haven’t seen Inga for a few weeks, what with my extra shifts.”
Matt frowned. “Inga’s not been well, actually. Some bug, I think. She’s had to have a few days off work.”
“Oh, no. I’ll have to give her a ring.”
Matt caught my eye. “I don’t think she’s depressed again. Nothing like that. She’s happy, I think. Or she was, until she got poorly.”
“She never has coped well with having anything wrong with her.”
“World’s worst patient,” he agreed.
We munched on our sandwiches for a while, watching a squirrel run through the daisies and shin effortlessly up a tree.
“What’s it like working at the hospital?” Matt asked, crumpling up the sandwich wrapper. “Apart from being exhausting.”
“It’s not that bad. The work isn’t glamorous, but the people are nice. Well, mostly nice. Patients are either pathetically grateful or peevish and complaining. I can understand both attitudes, really. I mean, they both describe me, don’t they? Pathetically grateful for the extra money, peevishly complaining that I can’t stay in bed at the weekend. Just as well Amy’s out for the count when I leave for work, or she’d be on the receiving end of all my moaning.”
“Amy, that’s your new flatmate, right? It’s so odd to think you’re living with someone I haven’t even met yet.”
“I know. You’ll have to come over for dinner when Inga’s feeling better.”
“We’ll bring dinner to you,” Matt said.
I smiled. “All right, deal.”
In the end Inga dropped round a few days later, before we could arrange an evening for her and Matt to bring dinner over. I was pleased to see her but also selfishly wary, because she looked pale and peaky, and I couldn’t afford to catch anything to keep me off work.
“This is a nice surprise. Amy’s just put the kettle on. D’you want a coffee?”
Inga dumped her bag beside the armchair she usually sat in. The armchair Amy had taken to sitting in. “Have you got one of your herbal concoctions? Peppermint? Gooseberry? Something like that?”
“Is gooseberry tea even a thing?” I asked. “I thought you despised herbal teas.”
She threw herself down on the armchair. “People change.”
“I think I’ve got some peppermint tea,” I said, registering how tired she looked.
“Perfect.”
When Amy and I came back with the teas, Inga had her eyes closed.
“Should we tiptoe back out?” asked Amy.
Inga opened her eyes and sat up straighter, taking her tea. “No, it’s all right, I’m not asleep. Just bushed. How are you, Amy? Settled in all right?”
“Yes, thanks.”
“There’s something different about the place,” Inga said with a frown, looking around her.
“I brought a few cushions with me,” said Amy. “I’m a bit of a cushion fan.”
“No, it’s not that, it’s the smell. Normally it stinks of oil paint and turpentine.”
“I’ve been using acrylic paints,” I said. “Not surprisingly, Amy wasn’t keen on the oil-paint stink. Not that I’ve had time to do much painting lately. Well, none, actually.”
Inga was frowning. “But you love oil paints.” She turned her gaze towards Amy. “You do realise my friend is an actual genius, don’t you? She needs to create with whatever medium she needs to create with.”
“Inga,” I said, because her tone had been quite severe.
“I didn’t tell Lily to stop using oil paints,” Amy said. “She offered.”
“Well, she would, wouldn’t she?” Inga retorted. “Lily’s the type to let people walk all over her given half the chance.”
There was an awkward silence. Part of me was worried about what Amy was thinking, and the other reeling from what Inga had just said about me.
Amy stood up. “I think I’ll take my tea upstairs,” she said. “I’ve got teaching prep to finish.”
“Something I said?” Inga asked sarcastically as she left, her voice a little too loud.
“Of course it bloody was,” I hissed, angry with her. “She’s right, I did offer to use acrylics. And I don’t let people walk over me.”
“You hate acrylics.”
“Well, it’s time I stopped hating them, then, isn’t it? I need to have Amy living here more than I need to paint with oil paints.”
“Don’t be cross with me.”
“Don’t be a bitch, then,” I snapped right back, but was horrified to see Inga’s eyes fill with tears.
“Oh, God, I’m sorry,” I started to say. “I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just so tired, Ing, what with working at the hospital and ...”
But she interrupted me. “I’m pregnant again.”
“ What? ” I stared at her, unable to believe what I’d just heard.
“I’m pregnant.”
My heart squeezed with dread. “Shit, Inga.”
“I know.”
Jesus, Matt. It had been so awful the last time, keeping Inga’s abortion from him. I shook my head. “I can’t keep it from Matt. Not again. Please don’t ask me to, Inga. I just don’t think I can do it.”
She looked at her hands. “It ... the baby isn’t his.”
I just stared at her, unable to comprehend what she was telling me.
So, she said it again. “The baby. It’s not Matt’s.”
I shook my head. “Are you sure?”
She nodded. “Positive.”
I shook my head again. Or maybe I’d never stopped shaking it because my mind was like a whirling fairground ride as it tried to make sense of what Inga had just told me. She’d slept with someone else. She’d been unfaithful to Matt. Was pregnant by someone else. I literally had no idea how this was possible. Kind, beautiful Matt, who’d never been anything but good to her. To all of us. A sudden wave of anger ripped through me. I clenched my hands together to stop them shaking.
“I can’t believe this,” I said. “Whose is it? When did you ...?”
But suddenly I had a flashback to Inga cosying up to Harry on that ill-fated trip to the nightclub when I’d ended up back here with Patrick, and with sick certainty I knew.
“Shit,” I said. “It’s not Harry’s?”
She nodded, tears in her eyes. “Yes.”
“God, Inga.”
She held her head in her hands. “I know. I fucking know, all right? You don’t have to make me feel a million times worse than I already do.”
I waited for a moment to calm down, processing it all. I wasn’t very good at maths, but I didn’t have to be to work out that Inga must have slept with Harry more than once. That she must have been having an affair. Then I asked, “Have you told him? Harry?”
“No.”
“Are you going to?” But even as I asked the question, I already knew the answer. Inga hadn’t even told the man she loved when she was pregnant with his child, so why would she tell someone who was just a fling? She would get a quick abortion, and Harry would never know anything about it.
“No, I won’t tell Harry,” she confirmed. “He’s not exactly father material. Besides, he’s transferring to the Cambridge office soon.”
I gaped at her. Father material? Did that mean ...? “Wait a minute. Are you planning to keep it this time?”
Her face fell. She brushed tears from her cheeks. “I don’t know. Yes. I think so. It feels ... I don’t know, as if the universe is trying to tell me something.”
The universe was probably telling her she ought to get better contraception. That she shouldn’t be unfaithful to someone who loved her the way Matt did. I felt sick.
“I’ve not said anything to Matt yet.”
“You’ll have to, though, won’t you?”
The anger simmering inside me had probably been reflected in my voice because Inga was suddenly defensive.
“I’m not stupid, Lily. I do know that. I haven’t exactly got much choice, have I? I already don’t fit into lots of my clothes. And with Harry being Black ... What? Don’t look at me like that.”
“I’m not looking at you like anything.” But I knew I probably had been, because I was just so fucking appalled by the possibility that, had Harry been white, Inga might have passed the baby off as Matt’s.
No, I was jumping to conclusions. That can’t have been what she meant.
“You always said you didn’t want children.”
“I didn’t. I don’t.” She began to cry again. “I just can’t go through another abortion, Lil. It was hideous. I felt like a murderer.” She looked up at me, her expression resentful. “I was hoping you’d support me. I’ll need you to.”
“Oh, Ing,” I said with something close to despair. “Of course I will, but ...” My voice trailed off, a cold fist clenching around my heart at what that support might mean. Babysitting. Listening to Inga moaning about night feeds and teething problems. The possibility of my close bond with Matt gradually ebbing away as I did so. I couldn’t bear it.
But this was Inga—my best friend, my family. I was angry with her now; furiously angry, wondering whether I’d ever really known her if she could behave like this. Yet at the same time I knew my anger would blow over. I loved Inga, so I’d end up supporting her in any way I could. And besides, she would make new friends to do all that stuff with. Mum friends.
I wanted to cry, though, because I was just so damned sad. “Whatever made you do it?”
Inga was already crying, and when she wiped a tear away, another instantly took its place. “I don’t know. I’d had too much to drink, that first time anyway. Too much. Work is ... well, it’s fun. There’s all this supercharged banter flying around the office when there’s no customers about. But it can be stressful too. Harry and I ... well, it’s always been a bit flirty between us, if I’m honest. Harmless stuff, but exciting, you know? It made me feel good. Better than I’ve felt for years. And he taught me a lot about the job when I started—I appreciated that.”
Another flash of anger. “You slept with Harry because you appreciated him training you to do your job?”
Her eyes flashed at me through her tears. “Of course not. Nothing would ever have happened between me and Harry if we hadn’t run into him at that nightclub. At least, I don’t think it would. I don’t know, Matt and me, it’s all got so ... well, grown up, I suppose.” She started crying again. “I’m not old, Lil. We’re not old. I don’t want to be all paint colours and dinner parties, not yet.”
She blew her nose. “But the irony is, Harry’s all set to be paint colours and dinner parties anyway—he’s off to Cambridge to move in with his girlfriend. So I’m sorry if I offended your lodger by sticking up for your right to use stinky oil paint in your own home, but I’m a bit on edge at the moment, and I want at least one of us to have the kind of life we want.”
I closed my eyes at that, doing my best not to think how utterly different my current life was from the life I wanted.
“Harry or no Harry, there won’t be any bloody banter at work after I’ve had the baby, will there?” Inga continued, wiping her eyes. “It’ll all just be rush, rush, rush; got to nip into the shops in my lunch break to get formula and fucking breast pads and rush back at five o’clock to relieve the child minder.”
“You’re quite sure about keeping it, though?”
Inga drew in a big shuddering breath, pulling a sodden tissue apart with her fingers. “I’ve picked up my phone so many times to call the abortion clinic I’ve lost count. But I never dial, Lil. Not one fucking digit. I just sit there and stare and stare at the card. So, yes, I guess I’m sure about keeping it, even if it’s by default. I’m either brave or crazy—I’m not sure which. Jesus, I’m going to get fat, aren’t I? I’m going to have melon tits. I’ll be up every night feeding it. Changing its nappies.”
She began to properly cry then—great gushing tears and shuddering shoulders.
The last bit of my anger drained away. I held her. “Shh ... it’ll be all right,” I soothed, even though I couldn’t really see how it would be, at least, not for quite some time, and I remembered the four of us on our holiday in the Welsh mountains—me, Inga, Alex and Matt. The innocence of us, eating the meal Matt had prepared and talking about Alex’s experience of hearing his uncle’s guiding voice. Out of all of us, Matt was the least changed, perhaps because he’d always been so strong. And now, through no fault of his own, the rug of his life was about to be pulled from beneath him. I couldn’t bear to think about how hurt he was going to be. It broke my heart; it really did.
“Shit, Lily, how am I going to tell Matt?”
“I don’t know.” I didn’t. I only knew she had to do it as soon as humanly possible. “But please, do it as soon as you can. I don’t want to know about this and still see him. He’s planning for you two to bring dinner over here soon.”
“I’ll make some excuse. Put him off. Tell him you’re too busy with work or something. Don’t look like that. I will tell him, but in my own time, okay?”
I looked at her, wanting to object. To insist.
“I don’t know why you’re so worked up about me keeping Matt in the dark for a few weeks while I get my head together, anyway.”
“Because he’s my friend. I care for him.”
Inga frowned at me. “ I’m your friend.”
“You both are. You’re Matt and Inga.”
“You were Lily and Alex, and look how well that turned out. But if you two hadn’t split up, and you’d shagged someone else and got pregnant, I wouldn’t tell Alex about it before you were ready for me to.”
We were getting angry again. “I haven’t said I’d tell Matt. I’ve asked you to tell him as soon as possible so I don’t have to lie to him, that’s all. You’re the one who just told Amy I let people push me around. This is me not being pushed around.”
She looked at me. “I think I preferred the old you,” she said.
And when she stood up to leave, I wasn’t sure whether to call after her or scream at the top of my lungs with frustration and despair. In the end, I did neither thing. I went to bed and lay there in the dark thinking about Matt. Imagining his face as Inga told him the truth. Wondering what would happen next. Oh, Matt. Poor, poor Matt.
When Matt texted a few days later to set a date to come round with food, I knew full well Inga still hadn’t told him, because I’d texted her only that morning to ask her and had received an abrupt reply by return.
Soon, ok?
So, the day before they were due to come—my first night off in a week—I phoned the agency to volunteer for an extra shift. Then I sent Matt a message to cancel, saying work was short staffed and I wouldn’t finish until around midnight. It wasn’t a total lie—work was always short staffed, and they’d accepted my offer to do extra hours with enthusiasm. But I still felt bleak about it.
“I didn’t think I was going to see you tonight? I thought you had the night off?” my favourite patient Beryl said when I went onto the ward.
Beryl was eighty-five, an ex–botany professor with weeks to live. I’d been rostered onto the Coronary Care Unit several times and had got to know her well enough for her to talk to me in quick snatches about her adventures—the field trips to far-flung countries in search of rare specimens. Her close encounters with civil wars, earthquakes, and terrorists, none of which had managed to snuff her out. And now a failing heart was about to succeed where they’d failed.
Beryl’s voice was croaky. She had a constant, insatiable thirst because of her medication.
“I wasn’t rostered to work, no,” I said. “My plans changed.”
Beryl’s eyes were the observant eyes of a woman who had spent her life noticing minute details and infinitesimal changes. “Happens to us all,” she said. “I was supposed to be the keynote speaker at an international wildflower conference next year. Now they’ll be delivering my eulogy.”
I busied myself with checking her blood pressure and made a note on her chart. Beryl was very matter of fact about her illness and her imminent death. I hadn’t quite got used to it yet, but I knew she wouldn’t appreciate mawkish sympathy.
“I bet it would have been a good talk.”
“Oh, indubitably,” Beryl said, then frowned at me. “You look tired, my dear, if you don’t mind my saying so. You ought to have said no when they asked you to work.”
Beryl’s tone was so kind. I’d never had a grandmother, or at least, not one I knew, but if I had, I’d have wanted her to be like Beryl, and I had a sudden desire to sit on the edge of her bed to spew the whole thing out—Inga’s infidelity and pregnancy. The fact that she hadn’t told Matt about it yet, and that I was getting increasingly anxious about Matt realising at some future date that I’d known about it all along. But it wouldn’t help to unburden myself to poor Beryl. She had enough to deal with as it was. Besides, nothing except Inga doing the decent thing would help.
“I’m all right,” I told Beryl brightly. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Ah,” Beryl said. “The classic response of someone used to dealing with things on her own. Believe me, I know.”
“What about your son?” I asked. “He seems very helpful.” I’d met him once when he’d been visiting his mother.
“Of course he is. But he’s also married with three children and a stressful job. I’ve never liked to bother him with my problems unless I absolutely can’t help it. I think you’re the same.”
I smiled a little at that. “Maybe.”
Beryl smiled back. “Definitely.” She looked at me. “So, come along. It does no good at all to keep one’s demons bottled up.”
With that, she sat there looking at me, waiting patiently for me to unburden myself. And I might have done just that because Beryl was so kind and so special, and I did badly need to talk to someone. But then Sister Brown looked into the ward with a frown, reminding me I had lots of other patients to see to.
“I’d better get off,” I said to Beryl. “But thank you. Sleep well.”
“Come back to talk any time you like,” Beryl said. “I’m not going anywhere, well, at least until I die, anyway, and I’ve been told I’m a good listener when I’m not waxing lyrical about ghost orchids or crested cow-wheat.”
When she squeezed my hand, I squeezed hers back, feeling emotional. It was all I could do to stop myself from throwing myself down onto her bed to sob my heart out, but I managed it somehow, moving on to the next ward to help an elderly patient use a bedpan.
My shift dragged on, finally finishing at midnight, after the buses had stopped running. I’d come by bike because of the lack of buses, and I was just unlocking it when someone called to me.
“Lily?”
I whirled round. “Matt!”
He was holding a takeaway bag, smiling at me. “I brought your meal to you here as we couldn’t bring it round earlier. I thought you’d be hungry when you finished your shift.”
It was such a kind thing for him to have done, I was beyond moved. I wasn’t convinced it would even have occurred to Alex to do such a thing when we were together, and Matt’s thoughtfulness made me want to cry. Especially when I searched his face, trying to gauge whether he knew yet or not, and all I could see was concern for me.
I swallowed. “That is ... so ... Thank you.”
“Come on,” he said, looping the takeaway bag over one of my handlebars and taking hold of the bike. “Let’s shove this in the back of my car. I’ll run you home.”
Matt’s face was all shifting planes and angles in the passing streetlights, his hands strong and capable on the steering wheel.
“Inga okay?” I asked. It was a question I’d normally ask, but somehow, with everything I knew, it felt loaded.
Matt, being completely innocent of everything, just sighed. “I still don’t think she’s a hundred percent, to be honest. You’ve seen her recently, haven’t you? What did you think?”
Fortunately for me, he carried on speaking, not waiting for me to reply. “I told her to make an appointment at the doctor’s, but you know how she is.”
There was affection in his voice as well as worry. He trusted Inga. Loved her. The truth was never going to occur to him on its own. The pressure of my unwanted knowledge was like a clamp pressing down on my head. I loved Matt. It was just so wrong for him to be hoodwinked like this.
“Are you sure you’re all right, Lily? D’you want me to pull over?”
“No, it’s okay. Bit of a headache, that’s all. Long shift.”
“Sure you don’t want me to stop for a bit?”
“Sure.”
He carried on driving, and we didn’t speak again until we reached my street. What could I say that didn’t feel like lying by omission, after all? And Matt, I assumed, was keeping quiet because of my headache, which was becoming more of a reality by the second.
By some miracle, there was a free parking space outside my house. As Matt pulled into it I saw the lights were still on in the sitting room. Amy must still be up.
He got out to take my bike out of the boot.
“There you go.”
“Thanks.” I took a deep breath. Looked up at him. “You need to talk to Inga, Matt. She ... she’s not too happy right now. I ... I can’t ... Look, please don’t mention I said anything. But ... just talk to her. Please.”
Matt stared at me, his gaze as penetrating in its own way as Beryl’s, taking in my worry and concern. He took my hand. Squeezed it.
“I will. I promise.”
I could feel tears in my eyes. Blinked quickly. Started pushing my bike towards the house. “Thanks so much for driving me home.”
“Anytime, you know that.” He reached into the car, pulling out the takeaway bag. “Don’t forget your dinner.”
“Thanks.” I hooked it over the bike handlebars knowing I wouldn’t be eating it. Hungry as I was, my churned-up stomach would reject anything I tried to feed it right now.
“See you soon, Lily.”
I reached over to kiss his cheek, somehow managing to do it without meeting his gaze. “Bye, Matt.”
“Bye, Lily. Take care.”
I propped my bike against the house wall and fumbled for my door key, listening to him drive away. Even if Matt didn’t say anything about my prompting him, Inga was bound to guess anyway. I hoped she wouldn’t be too angry with me. I hoped Matt wouldn’t be too heartbroken. I hoped they both knew that, no matter what happened, I would always be there for them. Prayed that I could still be friends with them both. That Matt wouldn’t react so badly he moved away, out of our lives forever.
Bone weary and emotional, I turned my key in the lock and pushed my bike into the house. To find my sister sitting on the sofa, waiting for me.