On top of the changes in the kitchen, she had even set up a corner of her bedroom as a baby-station of sorts, with the changing mat and nappies and all Romany’s little outfits. She couldn’t guarantee that they would stay put, but at least her intentions were good. Her home hadn’t looked so tidy for ages, and definitely not since she had moved her business out of her lounge and into Live Well. And that felt good, too. A welcome element of control was creeping back into her life.
By the end of Sunday, the flat was, if not exactly show-house tidy, then certainly transformed beyond recognition, and Angie felt far more positive about her future as a result. What kind of an excuse was the fact that she had just had a baby? Pretty poor, she thought. Thousands of women gave birth every day, many in far more challenging situations than she found herself in, and they didn’t have the luxury of wallowing in self-pity. They got up and got on with their lives without complaint or thoughts of giving up. And Angie Osborne was just as good as they were. She was no quitter.
On Monday morning, with Romany dressed in the largest of her babygros, all the others now being a little too tight, Angie wheeled the pram round to Live Well and parked it in the little yard at the back. Then she scooped her baby up in one arm and headed inside and up the stairs. The familiar scent of lemongrass wafted into her nostrils as she opened the door, and the tinkle of the bells over the door brought Kate out from her room. When she saw who it was, she broke into a huge smile, but then her mouth fell open as she took in Angie’s new look.
‘Oh my God! Your hair looks fantastic! Wow! Turn round – let me see the back.’
Angie obliged, turning full circle on the spot. Her hair was now sitting a little flatter to her head but was, as yet, without a style.
‘Can I touch it? Is that too weird?’ asked Kate, putting out a tentative hand and rubbing it across Angie’s newly shorn head. Angie flinched a little, her scalp still not fully recovered from the shock. ‘It’s so soft.’ Kate laughed. ‘It feels gorgeous. What made you chop them all off?’
Angie shrugged. ‘New beginnings, I suppose,’ she replied simply.
Kate made a fuss of Romany next, who, whilst not yet smiling, did not object to the attention. Then, with mugs of steaming green tea in front of them, they sat down to discuss how best to proceed. By lunchtime, they had agreed on a new part-time working day for Angie and had rung the nursery down the road to get a place for Romany.
‘Why did I think I could bring a baby to work?’ Angie said, the mere idea now entirely ludicrous to her.
Kate gave her an indulgent smile ‘Well, you didn’t know,’ she replied diplomatically.
And nobody dared correct me, Angie thought but didn’t say.
But she was on it now. By the end of the week, the appointments diary, whilst not yet full, was looking much healthier, and life was beginning to return to some sort of reality.
How could Romany be two months old already? Angie couldn’t understand how the days had whizzed by so quickly, and at the same time it was almost impossible to remember life without her daughter in it. The workings of time were one of life’s great mysteries. The chaos of the first few challenging weeks was only too fresh in her mind, but at the same time, she could barely remember how low she had felt back then. Now, though, the fear and despair had cleared and, whilst she still had the odd day when things seemed bleak, she no longer felt frightened by what lay ahead.
The two of them now had a routine, of sorts, and Angie sensed that they were learning to understand and trust one another. When she put her daughter to her breast, Romany’s clear eyes searching for hers, she knew that she had discovered the all-consuming maternal love that you read about. This was how it felt to love another person totally and unconditionally. The feeling was new to Angie, but already she knew she would never lose it, that it had become a part of who she was.
It was a Saturday teatime in the flat and she and Romany were enjoying a cuddle on the sofa when the doorbell rang. Angie wasn’t expecting anyone. Maggie called by sometimes but, being Maggie, she always rang beforehand to check that it was convenient. She would never just turn up unannounced.
Settling Romany into the crook of her arm, Angie went downstairs. The clocks had changed and the street was already dark, the sodium orange of the streetlights turning the night sky a chocolatey brown.
At first, she didn’t recognise who was standing on her doorstep.
And then she did.
Jax. He was here. After all this time. Just standing there on her doorstep in the dark.