Chapter 6
Nick groaned and pulled a pillow over his head, wishing uselessly that whoever was at the door would give up.
The bell rang again, followed by sharp, insistent knocking.
He grabbed his phone and checked the time.
Eight a.m.? Who the hell was ringing his doorbell at eight in the morning?
Surely Margot wasn’t back so soon. He clicked open the security app and blinked at the image on screen.
A woman stood there, jabbing at the bell, her face half-hidden by a shock of tight curls.
Something about her tugged at his memory.
With a sigh, he climbed out of bed, grabbed a robe from the ensuite and, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, went to open the door.
‘Nick Andrews?’ She fixed him with a stare so intense he couldn’t help but squirm.
Nick squinted and rubbed his eyes again. ‘Who’s asking?’
‘My name’s Carla, you might remember me from your partying days in Plymouth. We were part of the same crowd for a while,’ she said. Then, pointing to a little girl hiding behind her legs, she added, ‘This is Emily.’
Nick’s brain was too foggy to bother with pleasantries. ‘You look familiar-ish, I suppose.’
Carla shook her head. ‘Familiar-ish? You don’t remember me, do you?’ she said, already stepping past him. ‘Do you have somewhere Emily can sit? Maybe a TV?’
‘Hold on, you can’t…’Nick’s protest came too late. Carla was halfway across the hall, her hand still gripping the little girl’s.
‘This’ll do.’ She glanced around the open-plan room as though she was doing a home inspection. ‘Nice place.’
‘You can’t just barge in here!’
‘Sit tight, Emily,’ Carla murmured, pointing to the snug. ‘See what’s on the TV, OK?’
Emily’s eyes darted between them, unsure, but she did as she was told.
Nick ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the fog. ‘Alright. Start again. Who are you, and what do you want?’
‘Plymouth, 2019.’ Carla pulled out her phone and scrolled through photos. ‘Here, see?’
Nick squinted at the photo of himself, younger and probably drunk. ‘Zizi’s nightclub,’ he muttered.
She nodded. ‘You came to mine afterwards.’
He let out a low whistle. ‘Right. OK. I don’t remember much about that night. Did we take photos or something? Are you trying to accuse me of something I didn’t do years after the event? Is this is some kind of blackmail?’
Carla actually laughed. ‘Relax. I don’t want money.’
‘Then what do you want?’
‘To talk.’ She glanced towards the snug, checking on the child. ‘Preferably where Emily can’t hear.’
Nick gestured to the sofa, feeling like a guest in his own house. Carla sat, perching on the edge, hands clasped tightly together.
‘I’ll make coffee,’ he muttered, retreating to the kitchen area.
It gave him a moment to breathe. There was a familiarity to Carla that irritated him, and she’d brought with her a heaviness that hung in the air like the thick heat of summer.
When he turned, two mugs in hand, she was watching him carefully.
‘You said you didn’t want money,’ he said, passing her a cup. ‘And you’re not here to accuse me of anything. So what’s this really about?’
Carla took a long sip before answering. ‘Emily is your daughter.’
Nick’s fingers froze around the handle. He blinked, convinced he’d misheard. ‘I’m sorry, what?’
‘You heard me.’
He set his mug down too quickly, coffee sloshing over the rim. ‘That’s ridiculous. You can’t show up out of nowhere and say something like that.’
‘I wish it were ridiculous.’ Her voice had softened. ‘I didn’t plan this. I’ve been putting it off for weeks. But I’ve run out of options.’
‘You expect me to believe you had a kid with me and never told me?’
Carla’s eyes flickered, guilt and pride battling for space. ‘I was young. I’d just come out of a mess of a relationship, and you, well, you were a mistake I couldn’t undo. I told myself I’d manage on my own. And I have. Until now.’
Nick rubbed a hand across his face. His heart was hammering, not from anger so much as confusion. ‘Why now? Why today?’
She hesitated. When she spoke again, her voice shook. ‘My dad’s dying. Liver failure. He lives alone in Bristol. I need to be with him for a few days, maybe a week. And I can’t take Emily. It’s not safe. He’s… not a kind man, even when he’s dying.’
‘Then find a friend, a neighbour, a…’
‘I’ve tried. Everyone’s working, away, or can’t have a child in the house. I’ve been making calls nonstop.’ She took a shaky breath. ‘You were my last hope. Believe me, if there were anyone else, I wouldn’t be standing here.’
Nick stared at her, searching for any sign she was lying. Her eyes were glassy, her fingers trembling around the mug.
‘You can’t drop a child on me,’ he said quietly. ‘I don’t know her. I don’t even know you. You don’t know me either. I could be… I could be an axe murderer.’
‘I guess it sounds mad,’ she said. ‘But even if you don’t remember me, I remember you. We hung around with the same crowd for several years, not that you paid any attention to me until that fateful night. We have enough mutual friends for me to know Emily will be safe with you.’
Nick sank down, torn between outrage and disbelief. ‘And none of these mutual friends thought to tell me I’d got you pregnant?’
‘They didn’t know. I was embarrassed, especially after you ghosted me.
And anyway, shortly after our hook-up, the pandemic hit and everyone from that old crowd went their separate ways.
Look,’ said Carla, leaning forward, ‘I’m not asking you to take her forever.
Just for a few days. I’ll FaceTime her every evening, and if you want a DNA test, fine, we can do that too.
I wouldn’t be doing this if I had any other option. ’
Nick’s instinct was to tell her no, to slam the door, to crawl into bed and pretend none of this was happening.
Something inside him, some uneasy recognition, stopped him.
He cast his mind back to those reckless party days, remembering a girl with bleached curls, shy, always on the periphery of the group.
‘You changed your hair.’
‘I did.’ As she tugged at a black ringlet, a flicker of emotion crossed Carla’s face. Hope? Relief that she’d been recognised? Nick couldn’t tell.
‘She looks nothing like me,’ he muttered, a weak protest even to his own ears.
Carla’s eyes flicked towards the snug. ‘Check again when she smiles.’
For the first time, Nick looked closely. The shape of her nose. The tilt of her eyes. Something shifted in his chest, painful and undeniable.
He swallowed hard. ‘You really want to leave her here?’
‘I don’t want to.’ Carla’s voice cracked at last. ‘I don’t have a choice.’
Nick didn’t answer. The silence between them stretched, filled only by the faint sound of cartoon voices from the next room.
‘Listen.’ Carla spoke quietly. ‘I’m very happy for you to do a DNA test. In fact, I’d encourage it, because I’m certain what the result will be.
I was getting over a breakup when I hooked up with you.
I hadn’t slept with anyone in the previous six months, and I haven’t slept with another man since. ’
‘You haven’t had sex for six years?’
Carla scowled. ‘That’s your greatest concern after what I’ve told you? Funnily enough, while raising my daughter as a single mum, there hasn’t been a lot of time for dating.’ Emotion smothered her voice until it came out as a growl. ‘Anyway, I said I hadn’t slept with a man since. A man. Get it?’
‘You mean…’
Carla sighed. ‘Before you get a complex, I’d always fancied women, just never had the guts to do anything about it until recently.’
‘Let’s say you’re right, and the girl is my daughter.’ Nick swallowed the lump of dread in his throat. ‘I’m struggling to believe you have no option except to leave her with me.’
‘Trust me, there is no other option I haven’t explored.
If I could take her with me, I would. I’ve already said my father’s not an easy man.
He’s a lifelong alcoholic who can be verbally abusive.
You could say he’s an arsehole. But he’s the only family I’ve got, and I want to be with him in his last days.
I can’t look after Dad and Emily at the same time.
So, Nick Andrews. The question is, are you going to help me out or not? ’