When they were outside again, he said, “I’ve made a bloody mess of everything: my life, her life, and now this with Rosie. I should never have . . . And here we are.”
Barbara excavated this and came up with Ross, Rosie, and the pregnancy. The news of it must have devastated Teo. She knew that she was meant to say to Teo’s estranged husband, “Don’t blame yourself. You couldn’t possibly have known how things would play out,” but the truth as she saw it was that he could have known and he should have known. She said, “Rosie’s misinformed my colleague about Teo’s adoption by the Bontempis. She’s given more than one reason why she and Teo were arguing. She plays fast and loose with the truth when it suits her. That being the case, I’m not on board with the idea that Teo didn’t tell her what the surgery was for, once she asked her to take her to and from this clinic on the Isle of Dogs where she was meant to have it. But that’s what Rosie wants me to believe. What do you think?”
He pressed his fingers to his temples as if this would help him straighten out his thoughts. He said, “I just don’t . . . Why did she decide to have it now? Why wouldn’t she have it earlier? I’d told her surgery existed. I kept asking her to have someone examine her, at least. To talk to a surgeon, if nothing else. To try anything and everything because together we could find someone . . .”
“Seems she wasn’t ready then,” Barbara told him. “Seems by the time she was ready, circumstances made it seem too late.”
“Unless it wasn’t,” he said. “Unless she decided it wasn’t too late and it was worth trying.”
“Well, yes. Right. But you see that puts Rosie straight into it, don’t you? She’s up the spout, she has expectations, and Teo’s about to bollix up everything. She knows—Rosie does—that you’ve done right by Colton even if you didn’t want to marry his mum. She knows you love and haven’t got over Teo. And Teo’s about to walk back into your life in the way you’ve always wanted her. Which, let’s face it and all things considered, makes the situation look bleak for our Rosie.”
He looked skyward, through the smog-stained air. He closed his eyes. He seemed to be trying to make a decision about something, and he finally did just that. He said, “There’s something else.”
“Something else Rosie knows about you?”
“Something I haven’t told you.”
“When?”
“When we talked about the night I found Teo. She . . . she said something to me when I got her to her feet. She said, ‘She hit me, Ross.’？”
To which Barbara sighed and said, “Bloody goddamn hell.”
CHELSEA
SOUTH-WEST LONDON
Deborah was working again on choosing portraits, and she had Simi with her as her “assistant.” They were on the fifth-floor workroom of the house, Simi perched on one of the room’s tall stools, with Deborah next to her but on her feet. They were going through a series of portraits of a thirteen-year-old called Jubilee. Her picture was going to do double duty: as part of the booklet Deborah was assembling for the Department for Education and as one of the images in the larger photo book that she hoped would be her next project. Simon was below, holed up in his study with a colleague from a new independent forensics lab hoping for a contract with the Met. Her father was in a room off the kitchen where he was employing his recently acquired toy—an impressive rotary steam iron—upon freshly laundered sheets, pillowcases, table napkins, and a tablecloth. This was his new and favourite occupation. He would have ironed the carpets if given his way.
Simisola put her index finger on the edge of one of the portraits and said, “This one. She’s pretty, she is.”
“I think you’ve found the best one,” Deborah agreed. “She’s back with her parents now, and I expect they’ll like a copy of this.” She glanced at Simi and saw her fingering her spiky hair and looking thoughtful. “She’s thirteen years old, is Jubilee, just a bit older than you are, Simi. And the way she’s back with her parents? That’s what you’ll be doing when everything’s taken care of: going back to your parents. You do know that, don’t you? You’ve nothing to fear on that score.”
Simi gazed at her with her wide dark eyes. She said, “Will Mummy come for me?”
“That’s something I’m not sure of. I think we must wait for news. No one wants you going anywhere you won’t be safe.”