22
“Are you okay?” Inga asked when we got back, carefully taking her sleeping son from the buggy and going to sit down on the sofa.
“It should be me asking you that. Did you sleep?”
“Like the proverbial dead. Thank you so much, Lil. You literally saved my life. Or Noah’s life, I’m not sure which. But don’t deflect. You look as if you were mugged while you were out. Something happened, didn’t it? Wait a minute, don’t tell me, you had an epiphany moment. Noah worked his magic on you, and now your hormones are on the rampage. You’ve abandoned all thoughts of being an artist, and you’re on the hunt for a man to churn out babies with.”
I had to laugh at that. “No, nothing like that. I ran into Alex in the park. He had his new baby with him. Lola.”
“Shit.”
I nodded. “Exactly. It was just that. Shit. Not because of the baby, but because—” I broke off, my feelings too confused to continue. I missed Alex, and yet, at the same time, I didn’t miss him at all; at least not him on his own. I missed the four of us, together, a unit. Family.
“Oh, babe, I’m so sorry. Come over here.”
She held out her free arm, and I went, squeezing into the space next to her on the sofa to be hugged.
“Look at me,” she said after a moment. “I’ve got twins. Though for the life of me I can’t think how the fuck I gave birth to a big one like you.”
I laughed, relieved and glad to hear her sounding like the old Inga. “Twit.”
She smiled at me kindly. “Takes one to know one. So, what did you feel, then? When you saw the boy wonder?”
I sighed, still uncertain what I was feeling. “I’m not sure, really. Panic, mostly, I think.”
“Not a sense of regret, then? That you didn’t have his babies? That it wasn’t your baby he was being all gooey about?”
“No.” I sighed. “If I regretted that, I’d have to regret being the person I am, wouldn’t I?”
“Never regret being you, babe. You’re an absolute star.”
“Hardly.”
“You are. Look at you, dashing over here to take my son off my hands so I could sleep my way back into sanity. You’re perfect, absolutely perfect.”
“That’s not what you said the other day,” I reminded her.
“I’ve already apologised for that. And I think it’s very unfair of you to bring up the tortured ramblings of a postnatal single parent on the edge.”
I pulled back to look at her. “Are you on the edge? Because, if you are, please get some help. I’ll come over whenever I can, but ...”
She put up a hand. “Listen, I’m sure every new parent feels like they’re on the edge at some point, don’t they? Why should I be any different? I’m hardly the only single parent in the world. But excuse me, I think we were discussing your emotional needs, not mine. What d’you want to do about Alex?”
I shrugged. “What can I do? I’ll just have to avoid him, I suppose, at least for a while. Things will settle down in time.”
“Is he happy, d’you think?”
“As a dad? Blissfully. With Fliss? I’m not so sure. But it doesn’t make any difference, does it? We can’t go back. It was just awkward, seeing him, that’s all. But hey ho. Onwards and upwards and all that.”
Noah began to stir, and Inga took her arm from around my shoulders to pull up her T-shirt. “You forgot to mention your stiff upper lip,” she said. “Oh, and the fact that every cloud has a silver lining.”
I smiled. “Or that good things come to those who wait?”
“Exactly,” she said, fitting Noah to her breast and smiling down at him with a tenderness that reassured me more than any of her words could do that the two of them would be all right.
“The ball’s in your court as far as your future’s concerned, babe,” she said, looking up to turn the smile onto me. “There are other fish in the sea, apart from Daddy Alex. Just don’t hide your light under a bushel and remember that it takes two to tango.”
“Oh, God,” I said, laughing aloud at her stream of idioms, thrilled the tension between us had gone and our friendship was back on track again. “I’m off to get on with some painting since you’re obviously feeling so much better. That’s if I can still remember how to paint.”
Inga smiled. “Of course you can remember, babe. It’s just like riding a bike.”
I was almost home when my phone rang. I smiled, thinking it was Inga with another helpful idiom to cheer me on my way. But it wasn’t Inga; it was Matt.
“Matt, hi.”
“Hi, Lily, how are you?”
“Fine, fine. Just on my way home from Inga’s.” I wanted to tell him how worried I’d been about her. But of course, I couldn’t. Matt might be the person I’d be able to speak to most easily about my worries, but he was also exactly the person I couldn’t speak to about this particular worry.
So, when he asked, “How is she?” I just answered, “Fine, fine,” and waited for him to tell me why he’d called, guessing it would be with news about the job.
It was.
“Good,” he said, “that’s good. Listen, I wanted you to be the first to know. Spain just rang. I got the job.”
And just like that, my heart, which was already piled high with regrets about Alex, worry about Inga and Violet, and stress about the forthcoming exhibition, felt utterly crushed, right down to my purple Dr. Martens boots.
“Lily?”
“Yes, I’m here. That’s fantastic, Matt. Wonderful. Congratulations! I’m so pleased for you! When d’you start?”
“Not until the New Year. I’ll probably go before Christmas, though. Spend a bit of time settling in and sorting things out before I start my job.”
“Christmas in Spain!” I gushed, aware that I sounded a bit manic. “How wonderful!”
“Says the world’s worst Christmas-phobe,” Matt teased, and suddenly tears sprang to my eyes, and I knew I’d have to end the call if I didn’t want to sob my heart out.
“Listen, Matt,” I said, “I’ve got to go, but well done again. I’m so pleased for you. Speak soon, yes?”