30. Jack
Chapter 30
Jack
H e’s been a bloody idiot. He’s known it all along, deep down, but now he has to face it, and deal with it. Fancying another woman is not a crime. Half the men he knows are at it. But trying to get that woman into bed, telling her he wants to leave his wife for her… what was he thinking?
Since that evening in Carly’s room, he has kept his distance from her, and from Suze, as much as he can at work, and tried his best to show more interest in the baby, because he does love Molly. He really does. Things may have settled into being more homely than wildly passionate lately, but he supposes that happens to all couples in time, and he can’t really imagine a life without her.
Carly was right. This is not the same as the first time. Molly is no silly teenager, giggling as she lay on her back in a field with too many alcopops in her belly and her knickers round her ankles, desperate to prove how grown up she is and panicking like mad as soon as it all goes wrong. This baby, the baby of now and not of then, may not have been planned but this is not the same stupid careless mistake. Not this time. Molly wants this baby, so much, and is already in love with it. And with him too, hopefully.
Molly has changed though. She’s not such a quiet country mouse anymore. Coming here to London was a huge step for her, but she has done it, for him. And now she is building a life of her own, making new friends, going into business, making plans. She’s even going to be interviewed for the local newspaper. He feels proud of her and, somehow, worrying though it is, he knows that she would survive without him if she had to. If he left her now, she would be desperately upset, and angry, and she would never understand, but she would survive. She would go home, to the village and her parents and everyone who loves her, and she would have the baby, a child he would rarely see and would probably never form a proper connection with, because of what he had chosen to do. This baby has given her a new determination, a purpose, something beyond her life with him, something he knows she will cling to above all else.
Maybe that’s it. That’s why he has been feeling so unsettled, so unsure of what he wants, where his future might lead. It hasn’t just been about seeing Carly again, the thrill of starting some illicit secret affair. It’s about Molly growing into an independent woman, blooming into impending motherhood. It’s about not being needed, being the spare part, the outsider now that Molly has someone else to love. He shakes his head. He hates to admit it, even to himself, but he’s jealous. He’s jealous of a little unseen mango-sized blob of a person who hasn’t even been born yet, who has no name, yet is already pushing him out. He wants unconditional love, to be wanted, needed, to be the centre of someone else’s world. Carly’s world? Molly’s world? Does it even matter which, especially now he realises, suddenly, that he is not?
He has been on some crazy seesaw these last few weeks, rocking backwards and forwards between two women, wanting them both. A classic wanting-his-cake-and-eating-it situation, which is pretty ironic considering the dominance of cakes in Molly’s life and in their own kitchen lately. Forget special boy or girl centres. He has thought it before, but she might as well fill her little cupcake thingies with some kind of Carly versus Molly stuff. Bite into one at random and have the decision made, like flipping a coin. It’s never that easy though, is it? And now the decision has been made for him. Carly has stepped away, told him to forget about her, to go back to Molly. Not that he actually ever left her. In his head, in his fantasies, in some future la-la land that was never going to be maybe, but Molly need never know about that. Sweet, dependable, trusting Molly need never know.
Jack sits in a noisy pub, half watching the TV screen, which is semi-obscured by a group of teenagers, standing in a circle, most of them looking barely old enough to be in here, let alone downing pints. Having promised Molly a lazy Saturday at home together, he has only popped out for a magazine she wants and a loaf of fresh bread, but it has started to rain, and he doesn’t have a coat with him. Any excuse! He has come across Syd by chance, taking a quick breather and an opportunity to use the Gents between driving lessons. Saturdays are his busiest day and there’s no time to nip home for lunch.
Jack laughs at Syd as he finishes his pint of lemonade, taking the slice of lemon out and sucking at it until the sourness makes his eyes water.
‘More than my life and job’s worth to get caught drinking and driving,’ Syd says, totally unembarrassed, dropping the nibbled rind onto his empty sandwich plate. ‘Not that I’d ever do it. It’s a dangerous game, and I have a wife and kids to think of now. They need me in one piece. So, you can stop the sniping about my choice of liquid refreshment. There’s nothing wrong with lemonade, I can tell you. Perhaps you asking the barman to stick a paper umbrella in it was a step too far, but laying off the booze and being responsible for a change is no laughing matter. You should try it sometime.’
Jack makes a mock salute. ‘Yes, boss. But yeah, you’re right. I can’t go breathing beer fumes all over the baby when it comes, can I?’
‘No news about what you’re having?’
‘Scan’s next week. Friday.’
‘And you’ll be there?’
‘Hope so. I’m pretty busy at work, but I’m sure I can get away early. It’s not until mid-afternoon.’
‘Well, make sure you get a picture. Everyone’ll be drooling over it, trying to work out who it looks like, whether it’s smiling or waving its fists about, and which way up it is!’
‘I just want to see if it’s got a willy or not. This “what is it?” thing has gone on long enough now. If it has to be some kind of fruit or veg, I’m hoping for a cucumber!’
‘No idea what that even means, but it sounds vaguely phallic, so I’m guessing you want a boy. Well, what man doesn’t?’
‘I haven’t actually said that out loud yet, but yeah. A boy would be good. Only one thing wrong with it though. It would mean having to admit the mother-in-law has been right all along.’
‘The women are always right, Jack. Haven’t you figured that out yet? If you want an easy life, the women are always right! And my mum’s over here now, so I’ve got yet another woman telling me what to do. I’m just glad we don’t have the room and they’re all shored up in a hotel! Don’t forget the welcome party tomorrow, by the way, if you can make it. I’d like you to meet the folks, especially my brother, Daz. I get the impression he’s thinking of staying on for a while if he can. There’s only just over a year between us but he always did follow me around, copying whatever I did. My little shadow, although not so little these days. He’s a good six inches taller than me and he’s got muscles like Popeye! Living in the UK and getting a job over here is the logical next step for him, while he’s still single and fancy free, and now I’ve been the advance guard and shown it’s possible! I can’t see Mum being very happy about losing both of us, but he needs to spread his wings a bit, and she’ll always have Victoria.’
‘Your sister?’
‘Yeah. Married with a six-year-old. Which is why she’s not come with them. A kid in school. A husband not able to get away from work for long enough. And the cost. The air fares aren’t cheap. No, our Vic’s not likely to be emigrating anytime soon. Mum can be confident of hanging on to one of the brood!’
After Syd dashes away for his next lesson, which Jack is pleased to discover is not with Carly, he sits alone for a while, savouring his beer. It hasn’t really occurred to him before but he misses his own brother. They might be like chalk and cheese but he’s always been there, from occupying the bed on the other side of their childhood room to standing beside him as his best man on the day he got married. He’s quite looking forward to seeing him, and all the family, when they go home next weekend. It’s been too long.
He peers out of the frosted glass behind him and is fairly sure the rain is easing off. He picks up Syd’s discarded pink paper umbrella, shakes the liquid off its cocktail-stick handle, folds it down carefully and slips it into his pocket. It will give Molly a laugh when he brandishes it later and tells her it was the only one he had with him and it didn’t quite manage to keep the rain off.
He hesitates at the door, looking both ways, before heading for the little row of shops with the baker’s right slap in the middle. It’s a small family-run place, somewhere he had once thought Molly might find herself a job, or a few hours’ casual work at least. But she has bigger ideas these days, and a bigger belly, and he can no longer imagine her there behind the counter, in a fitted green overall, on her feet all day, pushing someone else’s cakes into paper bags.
He can smell the bread already. It entices him in, and makes him buy far more than they need, but he can never resist a good thing. He almost forgets the magazine Molly has asked him to find, but doubles back to the newsagents before he’s got as far as the corner. They have flowers outside too. He pushes the thought of Carly and the bouquet, if you could call it that, that he’d bought her that night when he’d gone to her flat, from his mind. It’s ages since he’s bought Molly flowers. He knows what she will say, making a joke about what he has to feel guilty or sorry about. But she will love them anyway, and appreciate the gesture, even if the choice is somewhat limited and they come without all the fancy cellophane and ribbons.
He picks out the biggest and best-looking bunch. He has no idea what they are, except that they are pink and white and pretty. Will she read something into that? That he’s decided they’re having a girl? That that’s what he’s hoping for? They have nothing in blue, so he can’t even buy a bunch of each. But colour-coded flowers could be the way to go when they tell his parents next week. Molly will want to do it with cake, but he has to have some say, doesn’t he? And his mum’s always on some kind of diet. She will prefer flowers to cake, although a pile of cupcakes, whatever colour their middles might be, will no doubt keep his dad happy.
He realises that he’s starting to look forward to telling them, to sharing the excitement. Because, fired up with Syd’s enthusiasm for the joys and responsibilities of fatherhood, he knows deep down that it is exciting, and a special privilege, bringing a new life into the world.