I hadn’t expected that. “A puppy? Wow.”
“Yes, I know. I’m not stupid. I don’t think a puppy’s going to magically solve all our problems. But it will be a little being to care for together, won’t it, until we get pregnant? Something to practise on? I think . . . I hope that will bring us closer again. And if nothing else, it will get me out of this flat, because I’ll have to take it for walks. That’s got to be good.”
He sounded so excited. Like a little boy who’s found out he’s getting a new bike for Christmas.
“So anyway, the reason I called the other night was to ask your advice about the best breed to get. But it doesn’t matter anymore because I’ve chosen now. One of my old work colleagues has some pups at the moment, so I’ve reserved one of those.”
“What is it?”
“A border collie. You should see him, Beth. He’s so cute—a little black-and-white fluff ball. I know Grace is going to melt when she sees him.”
A border collie. God. Milo and his train chasing. His incessant ball fetching. So gorgeous but so . . . relentless with his constant, inexhaustible energy. Of all the breeds Mark could have chosen, a border collie was the very last one I would have advised him to get if we had spoken.
“You do know border collies need lots of exercise, don’t you?”
“Of course. Like I say, that’s no problem with me working from home.”
I tried to think of something positive. “The two of you can both take him to puppy socialisation classes. Let him meet other dogs.”
“We can, can’t we? It’ll be fun. It feels like eons since Grace and I had fun.” The bitterness was back in his voice.
“Well,” I said, “I can’t wait to meet him. What’s his name?”
“That’s for Grace to decide. He’s her present. Anyway, you’re waiting to make your call, aren’t you? Don’t let Jaimie give you any grief. You did so much for those girls. And I hope it works out for you, the adoption thing. Let me know if Jaimie gives you a hard time, and I’ll go round and hit him.”
I had to smile at that. “I bet you’ve never hit anyone in your life.”
He laughed. “True. But I do a great line in terrorising people with fake dog poo and itching powder.”
“I’ll bear that in mind if things get nasty.”
“You do that. ’Night, Beth. Love you. We’ll miss you at Christmas.”
“I’ll miss you too.”
Of course I would. But I certainly wouldn’t miss watching him give Grace a puppy as a surprise gift. I could imagine every detail of it in Technicolor. Mark’s secretive smile as he left the room. Him saying, Close your eyes. No peeking! A telltale yip that had Grace’s eyes springing open before Mark could place the wriggling ball of fluff into her outstretched hands. His wall-to-wall grin as she reached out for the puppy. Oh, Mark, he’s gorgeous!
No, thank you.
“Bye, Mark.”
“Bye, Beth.”
I got up to refill my glass of water, then sat back down and waited for my churned-up emotions to settle. It took a while. First, I had to do quite a lot of fantasising about relocating to somewhere on the other side of the planet. Somewhere remote, without phone reception. No way for me to see or speak to Mark until I’d got him out of my system once and for all.
But then, in a sense, that was exactly what I’d tried to do when I’d moved to Ely, wasn’t it? And look how well that had turned out.
Sighing, I returned my attention to the one thing I could do something about: my adoption application and the dreaded phone call to Jaimie.
When we’d split, I’d thought I’d never have to speak to him ever again. And now here I was, voluntarily ringing him. If anything could be called a test of my commitment to the adoption process, this was it. And it was one thing I couldn’t afford to stuff up.
“Beth?”
“Hi, Jaimie.”
“What do you want?”
I’d intended to start off by asking after the girls, but nothing about Jaimie’s stark question invited conversation. But then, I should hardly have been surprised, should I?
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I need to ask a favour.”
“You need a favour from me? Ha! That’s a bit rich, isn’t it?”
He sounded so cross. What would I do if he hung up?
Haltingly, I explained. To say he was incredulous was something of an understatement.
“You’re applying to adopt a child? You? Miss Unmaternal of the Year?”
Heat swept through me. How bloody dare he? I’d tried—over and over again—to make headway with his girls. To judge me unmaternal because they hadn’t really been interested in getting close to me was completely unjust. But I couldn’t get mad at Jaimie, not when I needed him on my side. So for about the five hundredth time in a fortnight, I bit my lip. “That’s not really fair, is it?” I said as mildly as I could manage. “I did my best with your girls. The fact is, they didn’t want me to be maternal towards them.”
“Is that what you’re going to say to the social worker?” he said scathingly. “‘I did my best’？”
“Isn’t that all anyone can say?”
I heard his impatient sigh. “Look, I was just on my way out to pick them up from Harriet’s.”
“Would you like me to call back?”
“No, it’s all right. I’ll do it.”
“You’ll speak to the social worker?”
“I said so, didn’t I?”
“Thank you, Jaimie, I—”
“But it’s a lot more than you deserve, okay? I just want you to know that. And I’m not lying for you.”
“I don’t expect you to. Of course not. Is there any time that’s best for you for her to—”
But I was speaking to myself. Jaimie had gone.
27
Two days before Christmas, Rosie called me after work to say she wasn’t going to Mark and Grace’s for Christmas Day after all. She was flying to Rome to see Giorgio instead.
“I know, I’m stupid. I’ll probably get off the plane and want to get straight back on it again.”
“You won’t. You love Giorgio.”
“Yeah, but what good’s that? Nothing’s changed. I still don’t want kids, and he still does. It’s crazy.”
“Maybe you should just enjoy this time together.”
“Well, I will, won’t I? God, I can’t wait to see him. But in a few days, the heartache will start all over again. God, listen to me. Prebooking heartache.”
I gazed at a strip of photos of me and Rosie displayed on the shelves Richard had made me. They’d been taken in a photo booth on a day trip to the coast years ago. Both of us were smiling like idiots, neither of us with a care in the world. “Oh, Rosie, I don’t know what to say.”
“Of course you don’t. You’re too nice to say what his family probably thinks—what he probably thinks himself—that I’m unnatural because I don’t want kids.”
We’d had this discussion so many times before, Rosie and I. As much as we adored each other, we were wired up totally differently when it came to having children. For me, it was a fundamental need—I couldn’t imagine living my life without having a family. For Rosie, it was the exact opposite.