16
Spike broke the news that Elspeth had died, leaving him the house – this being the main reason why he’d returned from Australia.
‘I’ve been up in London, putting her house on the market. Jeez, I had no idea houses in London were worth so much.’
Polly couldn’t stop the begrudging voice in her head going: That’s because unlike me, you didn’t spend time with a very small baby watching daytime shows like Escape to the Country . ‘I’m so sorry about Elspeth,’ she said, out loud. ‘I liked her.’ ( Even though she wouldn’t give me your number that time , she thought but didn’t say.)
‘She died very suddenly, so there’s no need to look sad. These things happen.’
A momentary shadow seemed to pass over his face, and she ached for him. Already an orphan, and now he’s lost his godmother too.
‘Still,’ he said, stirring his tea with a teaspoon, even though he didn’t take sugar, ‘Bam – my girlfriend…’ he added (as if she needed reminding) ‘…her family live here in England, so it made sense for us both to visit the UK. And then there’s the boat… So. Here we are.’ She was about to say something, but he held up his hand. ‘Polly, look, I know I was cross last night – what with the whole not-knowing thing.’ He glanced across at where Rowan was engrossed in a jigsaw. ‘But once I’d had the chance to talk things over with Bam…’
Polly winced inside at the mention of her name. ( Stop it , she told herself. Stop being so stupid. )
‘…I could see how difficult it must have been for you, and how you might have thought it was for the best. And then I remembered how you did try and contact me. You phoned Elspeth, isn’t that right?’
Polly nodded her assent – ah, so she did tell him .
He sighed and leant back in his chair. ‘Turns out I was a right eejit. Handled it all badly.’
‘You weren’t to know,’ she said, feeling conciliatory in the face of his almost apology. ‘And I could have tried harder to contact you.’ She attempted a smile. ‘It’s all water under the bridge now.’ She took a sip of her tea – but she’d forgotten to take the teabag out and her teeth practically shrivelled from the strength of the brew. ‘Anyway,’ she looked up at him. ‘What on earth were you doing outside…’
‘…the café?’
She smiled. ‘Well, yes.’ Acutely aware of how – back in the day – he would finish her sentences. She cast him a coy glance, wondering if he remembered too.
Meeting her gaze, he said, ‘Leo’s been renting my boat,’ and then looked away. ‘I didn’t sell it in the end.’ It crossed her mind that he might have kept the boat in Bristol so that he’d have a reason to return. ( There you go with your wishful thinking again .)
She offered him a plate with Jammie Dodgers. ‘Ah, my favourites,’ he said, taking one and dunking it in his tea.
‘So when are you planning…’
‘…on returning to Australia?’
‘Stop that,’ she said, giving his arm a playful punch. ‘Stop finishing my sentences, you rotter.’
They both appeared to physically relax. ‘It’s a rotter I am now, is it?’ he said, full-on grinning at her. Polly blushed as once this sort of behaviour would have led to play-fighting, tickling, and then ending up in a wrestling match – which would lead to…
She swallowed hard.
‘If all goes to plan,’ he continued, ‘then we should be returning to Oz round about…’
October , she thought in her head.
‘…October,’ he said out loud, and then fell silent. It was October the last time he’d left for Australia.
‘October.’ She determined to be cheerful about what was inevitable. ‘That means you’ll be in the UK for Rowan’s birthday. It’s on the twenty-seventh of June,’ she added, as he couldn’t be expected to know or mind-read that fact, could he?
‘When she’ll be three, is that right?’ He gazed across to where their daughter sat galloping a bright pink My Little Pony across the kitchen floor. ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’ He squinted at Polly. ‘Isn’t that a few days before yours? You’ll both be Leos – now isn’t that grand. I might’ve guessed – a lioness and her cub.’
Well, this is pretty civilised , she thought, rather pleased at how grown up they were being. ‘Care to stay for tea?’ she asked. ‘I’m sure Rowan will like it.’
‘I don’t mind if I do, thanks. Shall I be staying for my tea then, Rowan?’ he asked, but Rowan was busy stuffing My Little Pony underneath the dresser, and as she had her back to him, she didn’t hear. ‘I’ll give Bam a call and let her know,’ he said, pulling his mobile out from his inside pocket. ‘I’m sure,’ he added, waving his phone at Polly, ‘that once you and Bam get to know each other, you’ll get on like a house on fire. Everybody likes her. She’s a grand girl.’
Well, whoopy-doo , she thought, unable to stop her face from falling.
*
As Polly sorted the food, Spike lifted Rowan into her child seat (much to Rowan’s surprise), but once ensconced, she merrily chatted away to him. Polly made herself busy while surreptitiously watching the two of them, thinking how this was a scene she’d never envisaged. The three of them, almost like a happy family. As. If.
‘Hurry up there, Poll,’ Spike said, good-humouredly. ‘We’re starving, aren’t we, Rowan?’
Polly dished up their plates of fish fingers, oven chips and peas.
‘See your cooking’s improved,’ he said, with a conspiratorial wink at Rowan. Gripping his knife and fork, he made yum yum noises – which highly amused the child.
‘Tomato ketchup?’ Polly plonked the sauce bottle on the table.
‘Shall I join you in a dollop of the red stuff? What do you say, Rowan? Yes?’
Ro was demurring like a right little coquette. Guess I’d better start saving now for the years of therapy she’s clearly going to need , thought Polly. What with her incipient absent-father crush coming along nicely.
Spike was giving his daughter a thoughtful look. ‘Rowan. That’s a beautiful name. I think I shall also be calling you Roly Poly for short. How would that be?’
‘Water?’ said Polly, pouring him a glass.
They ate the rest of the meal – ice cream for afters – with accompanying small talk: what was the weather like in Australia this time of year? Did water really drain down the plughole in the opposite direction? (It did! She knew it! That was twenty quid Mel owed her.) At turns they were awkward and relaxed, while Spike barely took his eyes off Rowan, and she, in turn, chattered away – mostly nonsense – while he listened, as rapt as if she were imparting the wisdom of the Dalai Lama.
‘So, you and Bam?’ Polly managed to get in. ‘Serious, is it?’
‘Oh, you know. Let’s just say we get on.’ He gave her an inscrutable look. ‘How about you and yer Max fella?’
‘Early days,’ she muttered, deciding to leave things at that – if he wasn’t forthcoming then why should she be? It was hardly any of her business if he and Bam were love’s young dream or not. Unless of course Bam was to become some sort of unofficial stepmother to Rowan. She began to clear away their plates, thinking this could get complicated. Still , she told herself, small steps. We have all summer .
‘I plan on paying my way, Polly. With the maintenance.’
‘There’s no need,’ she said, collecting up the glasses. ‘You weren’t around when I decided to keep the baby, so I don’t see why you should have to pay for my decision.’
He linked his hands in front of him. ‘I would have been over the moon to know about a baby,’ he said, giving her an inscrutable look. ‘I’m not someone to shirk their responsibilities.’
‘You were very young then.’
‘I’ve grown up a lot since,’ he said, looking her in the eye. ‘And as I remember, you didn’t think I was that much of a kid…’ The tension in the air sparked between them, and she half expected her hair to stand on end, like when you rub it with a balloon. Then he looked away and broke the spell. ‘There’s plenty of time for us to sort things amicably.’ His voice softened. ‘It must have been tough for you. Bringing up a baby on your own.’
You’ll never know , she thought, and had no intention of telling him about all the worries, the fears, the sheer terror some nights that she was getting it all wrong, the feeling guilty about going to work, guilty if she stayed at home, about Rowan’s hearing loss, being unable to comfort a little girl screaming with earache, the nights she sat on the kitchen floor, exhausted, with a glass of wine and just sobbed and sobbed as she didn’t know how she was going to manage to hold it all together for one more day. Ah, but the days with sunny smiles and little chubby arms reaching out for a hug made it all worthwhile. She wouldn’t have changed a minute of it.
He sat up straight. ‘So. How’s the shop doing? In this recession an’ all.’
‘Doing just fine and dandy, thanks,’ she said, filling the washing-up bowl with soapy hot water. No need for him to know, either, that if it hadn’t been for Suze stepping in and buying her house, covering the shop’s lease and business rates, she would have gone under a long time ago. She barely had enough to pay Donna’s salary as it was. Still, she thought, rinsing a plate under the tap, it didn’t sit comfortably, being beholden to her mother, and she had no intention of being beholden to Spike, either. She was proud of how well she’d done without any help from her child’s father, and saw no reason why that might change just because he was on a flying visit. She wiped her hands on a tea towel and placed it on the back of a chair.
‘I mean it, Polly. About the money.’
‘I’ll not change my mind.’
He looked as if he was about to say something else but instead turned to Rowan. ‘Right ye are, young lady, let’s get you out of this contraption. If that’s okay with your mother? Good.’
Once firmly on the floor, Rowan pulled him towards the sitting room – ‘Help, I’m being kidnapped,’ he called – as Rowan ordered him to sit next to her on the floor, and play Sylvanian families and Lego, by the sound of it, thought Polly as she finished the clearing-up.
Once done, she stood in the doorway to watch the father of her daughter playing with their child. Nothing was ever going to be the same ever again, was it?
Spike said he’d wait downstairs while Polly gave Rowan her bath and put her to bed. ‘I’ll finish off the crossword for you, shall I?’ He smiled as he picked up the Guardian from where Polly had abandoned it. ‘I was always better at it than you,’ he reminded her.
‘Yes, well.’ She placed a hand on Rowan’s head and gave her a little push towards her dad. ‘Give Spike a kiss goodnight, Ro.’
So much for telling Rowan not to talk to strangers , she thought, now watching her toddle over to his arms. Because even though they’ve clearly taken to one another – which is good , she grudgingly acknowledged – Spike is – let’s face it – a stranger to Rowan . He gave Polly a grateful look over the top of Rowan’s head as he embraced his daughter before lowering her to the floor.
In the bath, Polly set about washing Rowan’s hair; her thoughts going over the afternoon.
‘Mummeee!’ complained Rowan.
‘Whoops. Sorry, darling.’
Spike had unnerved her. She’d been expecting angry, but instead he’d oozed his Irish charm. Pouring a jugful of water over Rowan’s head, she thought it a bit of a nerve. How he’d waltzed into the back garden as if… well, just… as if…
Rowan splashed the surface of the water, some bubble bath catching Polly in the eye. ‘Oi, madam. Watch it,’ she said good-naturedly.
Spike might have been able to come and go as he pleased in the old days – when they were together. But these were new days. She lifted Rowan’s arm: rub-a-dub-dub. He can’t just swan in and out whenever he pleases… upsetting Rowan’s routines… ground rules, that’s what’s needed.
She took the flannel to her child’s face. ‘Owww!’
‘Sorry, Ro Ro.’
Polly sat back on her heels. There again, she’d been the lucky one, hadn’t she, while Spike had missed out on getting to know their daughter. Their beautifully delightful daughter. She contemplated her child, happily splashing away, all deliciously slippery with bubble bath. Irresistible. She collected foam into her hands then plopped it onto the end of Rowan’s nose.
‘Mummeee!’ Rowan giggled and wrinkled her nose to huff it off. But Polly scooped more foam, blowing it at her so that it dotted all over her face, her hair, her chest; Rowan now squealing with delight as she sploshed the water, drenching Polly in the process. ‘Silly Mummy,’– splash splash – ‘Silly Mummy!’
Daughter tucked up for the night, and story read, Polly made her way downstairs.
‘I see you’ve been making changes in here,’ Spike said, as he turned from where he’d clearly been carrying out an inspection of her sitting room.
‘The whole world doesn’t stand still waiting for your return, you know,’ she said, rather more tartly than she meant. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.’
The doorbell interrupted them with its loud ring. Both stared at each other and, for a split second, she couldn’t think who on earth it could be. And then she recalled. ‘Oh my God, is that the time? Max. That’ll be Max.’ She looked about her, as if for inspiration. ‘I’m not ready or changed or anything. God, look at me, I’m still soaked.’
Spike raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Shall I let him in?’
‘No. Don’t be ridiculous!’ she couldn’t stop herself saying. ‘I’ll… umm… I’ll do it.’ Dashing over to the mirror above her fireplace, she ran her fingers through her hair. Where was her brush?
‘Just coming,’ she called out.
‘You look fine,’ offered Spike.
Ignoring him, she smoothed down her skirt. ‘Wait. Lippy – Bum. Where’s my lippy?’ Doorbell ringing again. ‘Hang on!’ she shouted, as she rooted around in her handbag. ‘Ah, there it is!’ Holding her lipstick aloft then quickly applying it to her lips with a ‘That’ll have to do,’ she hurried to her door. ‘Max!’ she said, throwing it open.
There he stood, all spruced up with a just-shaved glow about his face.
‘You are expecting me, aren’t you?’ he said, uncertainly, as she didn’t appear to be letting him in. ‘I’m not going to be sent down the pub like last time, am I?’
‘Yes. I mean No. I mean Yes. Of course.’ She opened the door wider. ‘I am indeed expecting you. Come on in. Umm. Spike’s here… he’s…’
She turned to discover Spike just a few steps behind her, wearing an expansive smile, looking for all the world as if he owned the place. She ushered Max inside as Spike advanced, hand held out before him. ‘We weren’t properly introduced last night. I’m Spike.’
Max stepped past Polly to shake his hand. ( It’s all getting rather crowded in the hallway , she thought.)
‘Yes, I know who you are, Spike. I’m Max.’
‘So I heard.’
*
G ood grief , she thought, looking from one to the other as they stood in the kitchen, sizing each other up. If not squaring up. She wasn’t quite sure what the difference was but thought she ought to keep a beady eye on them both. Meanwhile they sidestepped around each other, as light on their toes as two fencers in a tournament – or a duel! She had a fleeting image of frock coats, floppy shirts, a rising mist just after dawn, and herself riding over the brow of a hill to stop them… but too late… and… we’re back in the room.
‘I do hope I wasn’t interrupting anything,’ Max was saying.
‘You’re all right,’ parried Spike. ‘Polly and I have concluded our business. For now.’
Polly threw Max a look that said Sorry . This wasn’t lost on Spike.
‘In any case,’ Spike added, with a wry smile. ‘I believe it’s me who’s in the way.’
Polly stepped forward. ‘I’ll see you out,’ she said to Spike and, turning to Max, added, ‘There’s wine in the fridge. Why don’t you help yourself? I’ll only be a moment.’
Spike stood on her doorstep.
‘Hey, while I have the chance here, I wanted to say…’
‘Yes?’
‘I wanted you to know that I do forgive you. You know. For not trying harder to contact me an’ all. Even though,’ he said with a devilish air about him, ‘it was a terrible thing keeping the knowledge that I had a child from me.’
She could have said it was a terrible thing he did, leaving her, but deep down she knew he was right. She could have made more of an effort. How much of that – at least on some subconscious level – had been down to her wishing to punish him? Oh, great time for this revelation, Polly.
As if on cue, an overhead cloud parted.
‘I did try,’ was all she could find to say.
There was a pause.
‘So I’ll be taking Rowan out for the day on Saturday, will I? Like we agreed.’
We did? She must have missed that somehow…
‘We have agreed that I ought to get to know her. Before we both tell her that I’m her daddy.’
‘I don’t know…’ She was unsure what the etiquette might be for access with visiting fathers.
‘I do know about kids, Polly.’ He wore a determined look on his face. ‘She’ll be perfectly fine with me. I’m an old hand these days.’
She stared at him. Kids? Did Spike and Bam have kids? Don’t be daft, they’ve no time to have kids. Plural. But they could have squeezed one out…
He gave a broad smile. ‘I can practically hear those rusty cogs in your brain going round there, Poll. I’m talking about my Uncle Dermot, not me. I’ve not got any children – other than Roly Poly. Auld Dermot got married again, and it’s him who has a kid. A little two-year-old girl. Wee bit younger than Rowan here.’
The relief on her face must have been obvious, and she could feel herself begin to colour up. ‘Oh right. Good. I mean good for Dermot – that your Uncle Dermot has a child. Not that you can’t or couldn’t have a child…’ ( what? Stop now, while you’re ahead ) ‘…and… good that you’ve had some practice.’
‘Quite.’
Her mind appeared to have undergone some sort of brain-freeze, as she couldn’t fathom what might be the thing to say next. Spike leant in towards her and, what with his being on the step below and now roughly her height, she thought for one giddy moment that he was going to kiss her. Instead, he reached up for something in her hair.
‘Got it!’ he said. ‘Spider. There you go, little fella.’
‘Oh.’
‘Saturday it is, then. Yes?’ He had an annoying grin all over his face.
‘Erm, yes. Of course,’ she said. ‘Oh, and when you’re out with Ro, do make sure you keep a tight hold of her hand, won’t you?’ He gave her a quizzical look. ‘I’m not being overprotective or anything. It’s because of her hearing, you see. It’s so bad that she can’t hear traffic, and she might run off, not hearing you call her. She doesn’t fully get the danger, you see. I’ll be trusting you with her, and it’s very, very important.’
‘I promise I’ll keep a good hold on her, and I’ll make sure Bam knows too. How’s that?’
‘Hmm. Yes, okay. Saturday it is, then. I’m working all day so Rowan is at Daisy’s in the morning and then Mel collects her at twelve. I’ll ask Mel to bring her back here, if that suits? What time are you thinking of collecting her?’
He appeared to be considering this, so she waited. Finally he said, ‘You work often then, Polly?’
What was he implying? ‘Of course I do. Someone has to support us.’ Unnecessary, she knew, and she could see him flinch.
‘Which is why,’ he insisted, ‘I fully intend to contribute to Rowan’s upkeep.’
Belatedly, she was acutely aware that Max was inside; she didn’t want him listening so lowered her voice. ‘I neither need nor want your money. Truly. Is that clear? Okay?’
‘Clearly now’s not the time to be discussing this.’
She stared at him. He could be so infuriating. ‘No,’ she started, ‘now’s not the time—’
‘Right you are,’ he interrupted – all affable. ‘That’s settled for Saturday, and I’ll collect Rowan from here at one o’clock. From Mel.’
‘Yes, that’s fine,’ she said, glancing over her shoulder as if expecting Max to be standing there, listening to make sure she’d got it right, and that she wasn’t a mercenary conniving cow like he’d said his ex, Claire, was.
‘Make sure you have her back by five.’
‘I’m thinking a picnic if the weather’s fine.’
‘Okay, but don’t give her Coca-Cola or chocolate. Makes her hyper.’
He gave her a quizzical look. ‘I’m not some Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory child snatcher, here.’ He almost cracked a full-on smile, made to leave then stopped, and in pure Detective Columbo-style added, ‘Just one more thing…’
‘What?’
‘Aren’t you at work ’til six o’clock?’
‘Mel will be—’
‘Tell you what, why don’t I give Rowan her tea as well? That way I could bring her back at seven? Give you time to have a cuppa and a couple of Jammie Dodgers.’
( Damn him for remembering her addiction to those biscuits… ) ‘Why not. Yes, seven will be fine – now scoot – go!’
He touched her arm, and those familiar electrical currents excitedly zip-zapped up and down it. ( Muscle memory , she told herself. That’s all it is .)
‘See you Saturday,’ he called with a cheery wave, and set off down the path.
No going back now , she thought, sensing that a rubric had been crossed, and that hers and Rowan’s world had tipped on its axis. Because , she thought as she closed the door, when there’s a child involved, you’re forever linked, aren’t you? One minute you’re sailing along and the next – urrhh – creak and roll as some head wind forces you to set sail in a different direction. Why do I always think in seafaring terms when Spike is around?
Turning, she noticed Max skulking in her kitchen doorway. Just how much had he overheard?
That night she discovered what all the fuss was about Max. After Spike had gone, there was wine, kissing, and touching and flirting – until Polly pulled Max upstairs to her bedroom, for their very first shag. And what with all the pounding, the roiling, the wet and the salt, the ebbing and flowing, the tossing and heaving, then the undulating, Polly was finally left softly murmuring like a spent mermaid. Yes, she knew. Still with those bloody sea analogies!