15. Marlowe
CHAPTER 15
Marlowe
‘ I have some amazing news,’ I tell my parents, Tabs, and Daniel the Spaniel at dinner.
‘Well, two amazing pieces of news, actually.’
They—my folks and Daniel—usually pick her up from school and keep her until I’ve finished work, but I’ve been on school run duty since I got sacked, so they haven’t seen her as much.
I know they miss their afternoons with their granddaughter, but God, have I loved seeing her huge smile every afternoon at the gates as she hurls her slight frame against me.
I’m treasuring these brief times together, because my job at Sullivan Construction will be a whole other level of commitment and intensity.
Tabby squirms in her seat, her wide smile showing off the two huge adult front teeth making their slow descent into her mouth.
I try to keep things positive around her, but we’re not exactly drowning in good news these days, so it’s no surprise she picks up on the excitement in my tone.
‘What kind of news?’ She’s not so interested that she can’t forage in the depths of her stir-fry for a piece of chicken and feed it to Daniel, who is sitting by her chair with all the wide-eyed, vibrating intensity of a hunting dog in the presence of a high-value treat.
I shake my head at her firmly, because he’s a fucking nightmare if you encourage him, before grinning at my parents’.
I can feel my eyes filling with tears even as I prepare to lie to the three people I love more than anything else in the world.
The lies are necessary, but I’m intent on keeping them to the bare minimum, for practical purposes as much as ethical.
The tears aren’t because I’m lying.
The tears are because this news will change their lives.
We’re sitting in my parents’ small flat, which is a five-minute walk from my flat in New Cross.
When I got the job at the RA, they gave up a pleasant suburban home and downgraded to an underwhelming ex-council flat so that they could support me in raising Tabs.
Even worse, they gave up their beloved garden in favour of hanging baskets on their dingy balcony and a share in an allotment a mile or so away.
They’ve never uttered a word of complaint.
I’ve never stopped feeling guilty.
‘Okay, first,’ I say with a watery smile at them all, ‘I got a really good job.’
Their faces light up right on cue, and Tabby pushes back her chair so she can round the kitchen table for a hug.
‘That’s amazing, honey!
’ my dad says. He’s a quiet Englishman, far more mellow than his fierce Dutch wife and, since the appearance of his granddaughter, anyway, a total softie.
Mum nods at me. ‘Huge relief. Well done. Doing what? Daniel, come here .’ She’s still formidable, a former model and singer with posture that puts mine to shame.
At fifty-six, her pale blonde hair is growing silvered.
She has it up in its usual dignified French twist, and her don’t-mess-with-me vibes are as strong as ever.
They don’t go unnoticed by Daniel, who reluctantly abandons his sentry position next to Tabs and ambles stiffly to Mum’s side.
At eleven years old, her beloved golden show cocker spaniel is starting to show his age.
Here goes. ‘So Athena introduced me to her boyfriend Gabe’s brother Brendan.
He runs the family construction company—he’s the CEO.
Anyway, he needed a new executive assistant and, thanks to Athena putting in a good word, he agreed to interview me.
And, well, I got the job!
’
Mum and Dad exchange a delighted look.
I know they’ve been worried sick since Dean the Dick fired me.
‘That’s amazing,’ Mum says.
‘And it’s a good job?
’
‘It’s a great job,’ I say softly, hugging Tabby to my side and enjoying the sensation of her arms around me.
‘The pay’s a lot better than the RA, too.
’
Dad reaches across the table and squeezes my hand as it rests next to my bowl of stir-fry.
‘That’s bloody marvellous, honey.
We’re so proud of you.
Isn’t your mummy clever, Tabs?
’
I allow myself a second of genuine pride and happiness before the guilt kicks in.
Yes, it’s great news.
Yes, it’ll change Tabby’s life.
And yes, I’ve taken this role for all the right reasons.
But my parents are looking at me like I’m their golden girl, and it’s the way they’ve always looked at me, and I don’t deserve it.
I fell for my professor and for all the silken lies he poured into my ear, and I got myself knocked up, and I had to take a year out, and since then, my parents have made sacrifice after sacrifice for me and Tabs.
And now I’m selling my body and agreeing to be the fuck toy of some rich, entitled guy, and it makes me feel so dirty and grimy and sullied and ugh.
Just ugh . So yeah, it’s shitty to sit here and feel the light of their pride shining on me when it would one hundred per cent kill them to know what I really have planned for my summer.
It would finish them off, truly.
A swift gulp of water has me pushing on.
‘The other news is even better, guys.’ Here goes.
The lie won’t hurt them, because the news is so wonderful.
I twist my body so I’m facing Tabby and wrap an arm tightly around her.
In this position, we’re exactly at eye level.
‘We’ve been awarded a grant, my love, and it means we can go to America, you and I, and get your heart fixed very safely by doctors who are the best in the world at what they do.
’
Mum’s whimper is matched by Dad’s shocked inhale, but my gaze is fixed firmly on my daughter’s face, which seems to light up before my eyes.
‘America?’
‘Yep,’ I tell her with a smile that feels far too wobbly.
‘You and I are off to the States in a month or two.’
She gasps theatrically.
‘Can we go to Disneyland?’
That makes me laugh.
‘Not Disneyland this time, I’m afraid.
We’re going to a very fancy hospital that has very good doctors and very clever machinery, and they’ll be able to replace your valve without even opening you up.
They’ll make a tiny hole the size of a keyhole, and they’ll do it that way.
’
‘No open-heart surgery?’ Dad asks, his voice cracking, and I tear my eyes away from Tabs.
‘Nope. No open-heart surgery. They can do it laparoscopically. They’re experts in this kind of procedure for kids.
’
My parents are staring at me like I’ve pulled off nothing short of a miracle.
If you remove the ethics from the situation, I suppose I have.
‘But how?’ Mum says.
‘How did you get it?’
‘The grant? One of the applications finally came through.’ I clear my throat and blink away the tears from my eyes as I stroke up and down Tabby’s back.
‘Here’s the thing, though.
It covers a lot, but it doesn’t cover everything, so this is where the new job is really important.
I’ll be able to afford it all,’ I add hurriedly, because I absolutely don’t want my parents worrying about the money side when I’m about to have the fruits of my prostitution raining down on me.
‘But the downside is that, for the next month or two, I really have to put my nose to the grindstone.’ I turn back to Tabs.
‘That means I have to work really, really hard. So Nana and Grandpa will start picking you up from school again, if that’s okay with them?—’
‘Of course it is!’ Dad interjects forcefully.
‘Okay then. Thank you. But the other thing is’—I scrunch up my face—‘I have to prove to my boss that I’m really committed.
So if you have to go to hospital during school hours, it might have to be Nana and Grandpa who go along with you and not me.
’
I can’t believe I’m saying this.
I can’t believe I’m telling my daughter that I’ll have to prioritise my new job over being there for her during one of her terrifying trips to A&E.
‘But it’s just for the first few weeks,’ I hasten to add.
‘Because once we’re back from the US, you should be right as rain and you won’t need any more hospital trips.
Not emergency ones, anyway.
’
‘Really?’ she asks, her brown eyes wide.
Yeah, she got my eyes.
Fuck you, Professor Joseph Penn, and your recessive genes.
It hits me that she hasn’t fully processed the implications of her operation, and why should she?
She’s eight years old, for crying out loud.
‘Really, sweetie. The doctor I spoke to earlier put it really well, actually. He reminded me that you’re not sick, you’ve just got one little piece of equipment that doesn’t work so well.
It’s a bit like a bike that has a punctured tyre.
If you change the tyre, it’s all good.
So once they swap out your valve for a bigger one that can carry enough blood to your lungs, you should be dandy.
No more blue spells.
No more feeling faint.
No more trips to A&E.
That’s the plan, anyway.
He said you’ll be turning cartwheels in no time.
’
I give her my brightest, most optimistic smile, and she returns it.
‘Can I start rollerskating?’
‘Rollerskating. Dance lessons. Parkour. Whatever you like.’ I make a mental note to save a few extra grand for my daughter’s fully fledged extracurricular fun.
‘Will your new boss be okay with you taking time off to go to the US so soon after you’ve started?
’ Mum wants to know.
A worried frown creases her forehead.
Time for the next porky.
‘He’s been really understanding,’ I lie smoothly.
‘He says I can take it as holiday or work remotely. He gets how important this is.’