Chapter 51
FIFTY-ONE
I was in my bedroom, folding the washing I’d taken to the launderette earlier and putting it away in my drawers, when I heard Luke come home. I recognised the sound the door made when he closed it – not a gentle click like Orla’s nor a vigorous slam like Beatrice made, except when she made no sound at all – and the tread of his boots on the wooden floor. Over the months, I’d become attuned to the noises of him in the house, and each one brought me joy.
Now, though, I heard him speaking to Orla: the note of excitement, almost wonderment, in his voice and her soft responses, congratulating, questioning, comforting.
I knew what had happened and I knew what I was going to do.
I scooped up the last of my underwear and threw it into the drawer, followed by my unpaired socks, sat down on the bed and waited. A few minutes later I heard Luke’s feet on the stairs and a tap on my door. He didn’t wait for me to answer but opened it instantly, bursting into the room, his face alight with happiness in spite of the dark shadows beneath his eyes.
‘Rachel had the baby,’ he told me. ‘A boy, obviously, like we knew it was going to be. She’s called him Charlie, after her grandpa.’
‘Congratulations.’ I got up off the bed and hugged him, feeling the strength of his arms around me. ‘Is she okay? Is the baby okay?’
‘Mother and baby doing well, like they say in those swanky birth announcements in The Times . Me, not so much. I’m knackered and starving. I’ve ordered a pizza – you want some?’
‘I’m all good. Was it… Did it take a long time?’
‘Thirteen hours from when she went into hospital.’ He sat down on my bed abruptly, as if imagining what Rachel had gone through had sucked the last of the energy from his body. ‘Apparently that’s about average for a first baby. Her mum was with her the whole time and I waited at the hospital, but I got to give him a cuddle afterwards. I’ve got some photos on my camera but I left it at Rachel’s mum’s place. He weighs seven pounds four ounces and he’s eating like a champion. Takes after his dad.’
Tiredness and pride shone out of him. I ached with love for him and sadness at what I was about to do.
‘Is she still there, in the hospital?’ I asked.
He nodded. ‘They still need to do some checks, but they should be okay to go home tomorrow. Rachel’s mum wanted her to go back to hers for a couple of days but she wants to go back to her flat because all the baby stuff’s there. I said I’d go there in the morning and help. Apparently I need to figure out how the car seat works – my first dad job.’
‘Beats changing nappies,’ I said.
‘Oh, I’ve already done that.’ He grinned.
‘Wow. Hands on, or what?’
‘I know, right? God, he’s adorable though, Liv. His little hands. And he’s got a good pair of lungs on him. I can’t believe someone so small can make that much noise.’
I listened to him, the pleasure and enthusiasm in his voice just the same as when he talked about some breakthrough he’d made on the house, or a painting he’d finished. But those were achievements I’d been able to share with him, triumphs I’d experienced at first hand. This was different. What had happened in that hospital had created a distance between us that hadn’t been there before; the arrival of this new life marked the end of our old one.
No matter how much Luke intended that not to be the case, it was – and there was nothing either of us could do to change it.
‘Maybe in a few days you can meet him,’ he said tentatively. ‘I said, when Rachel feels ready, I’d like to take him out for a walk in his buggy, show him the world, while she gets some rest. If she’s okay with it, you could come.’
‘Luke,’ I said, as gently as I could, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. ‘I don’t think I’m going to do that.’
‘Why? I mean – okay, I guess it might be a bit weird. But later on, when you’re ready. Only they change so much, so quickly, Rachel’s mum says. Literally from one day to the next.’
Like everything else , I thought.
I said, ‘Luke, there’s something I need to tell you.’
He literally winced, then looked horrified, and I realised how badly I’d messed up.
I couldn’t help laughing. ‘It’s not that. Don’t panic. One baby is great, but another would be a bit much, right? I’m not pregnant.’
‘Thank God.’ He laughed as well, a bit shakily. ‘I know you didn’t mean to but you had me there for a second. What is it? Is everything okay?’
‘I’m okay,’ I reassured him. ‘But us – I’m so sorry, but I don’t think this is going to work.’
‘What? Liv, what are you saying? I know I haven’t been focused enough on you. I’m sorry. But I love you. The way I love Charlie – it’s completely different. It doesn’t mean anything in terms of us.’
‘It does, though.’ I reached out and took his hands. ‘I can tell how much being a dad means to you. And you’re right – it should. But I can’t be part of it. I’m not ready. I don’t want to be.’
‘Then don’t.’ His hands in mine had gone still – he didn’t pull away, but I could tell he wanted to. ‘It’s fine. You don’t have to meet him, ever, if you don’t want to. It doesn’t have to change things between us.’
‘It would, though. It already has. You’re a father now, Luke. That’s a massive change – it hasn’t just changed your life; it’s changed you. And it should. I admire what you’re doing – I really do.’
‘You just don’t want to be with me while I’m doing it.’ Now he did pull his hands away.
With a lump in my throat, I said, ‘That’s right. I don’t. I think you need to focus on Charlie, and I know if you did that, I’d end up resenting you for it. And that’s not fair – it’s not right. I’d end up hating you and you’d end up hating me.’
‘I could never hate you.’
I wouldn’t bet on it. Already, I could see anger in his face, alongside hurt. I had wanted to keep my own expression calm but I could feel my lips twisting into the grimace of a sad clown as I fought back my tears.
‘It’s just not going to work,’ I said again.
‘Liv, this is bullshit. I thought we had something special together.’
I felt my hands reach out for his as if he was the only thing saving me from drowning, but I forced myself to pull them back.
‘Me too,’ I said. ‘But I don’t want to be a stepmother. Not now and probably not ever.’
‘So you’re saying you don’t want me to be part of Charlie’s life? You’re asking me to choose between you and a one-day-old baby?’
‘I’m not saying that. There’s no choice for you to make – he’s here, he’s your son. It’s a done deal. I just can’t be part of it.’
‘I can’t deal with this right now.’ He put his head in his hands.
I longed to hug him, tell him I’d made a mistake, that everything would be all right and somehow we’d find a way through it – a way to make everyone happy, him and me and Rachel and Charlie.
But I knew there wasn’t a way.
I heard a knock on the door downstairs and Orla’s footsteps as she hurried to answer it.
‘I think your pizza’s here,’ I said.
Luke looked up, tiredness and hunger overcoming emotion for the time being.
‘I’ll eat downstairs,’ he said stiffly. ‘We’ll talk in the morning.’
‘Okay.’
He got up and left, not dramatically, not slamming the door or swearing at me or anything. I’d been holding off crying, but now I found I didn’t want to cry any more. I felt numb and empty, like all my feelings of love and loss and sadness had passed through the door along with Luke. I ached for him. I hoped that Orla would be able to offer him the comfort I could not. I hoped when morning came he would see things the way I saw them.
Because I knew there was no other way it could be, even though my heart was breaking.