Forget Me Not (13 page)

‘What else would you do?’ the wife asked.

I looked at the back of the house, which was featureless and south-facing, then inspected the patio, which had been paved with simple concrete slabs.

‘We could brighten up these stones by cleaning and re-grouting them, then we could build a large arbour over the patio, which would provide a shady area for eating outside, or for your baby to play under. It wouldn’t cost very much. You could grow a summer jasmine over it, or a honeysuckle – there’s a lovely red one called Dropmore – I’ve brought a few plant catalogues with me, I’ll show you.’

We agreed a total budget of three thousand pounds. Jamie undertook to do the landscaping and within three days he’d started work. When I went round to the house to check its progress I found him kneeling by the newly emptied pond.

‘You can hop but you can’t hide,’ I heard him mutter as he peered into the mud. ‘Gotcha!’

‘What are you doing, Jamie?’

He looked up. ‘Oh hi, Anna. Catching frogs. I need to get them all out before the guys start rotovating the lawn because we don’t want any casualties. Here you go, little fella …’ He cupped his gloved hands together then dipped them into a yellow bucket. ‘I think that’s the lot now.’

I peered inside where a dozen or so khaki-coloured frogs were pawing uselessly at the sides. I watched them for a few seconds.

‘Are you keen on frogs?’ I heard Jamie ask.

‘Not especially – I’m just wondering which one to kiss.’

He laughed. ‘Do you need to?’

‘Sometimes I think so.’ I smiled. ‘Anyway, what are you going to do with them?’

He heaved some old bricks into a wheelbarrow. ‘I’ve found a foster home for them three doors down. They might have jumped along there on their own,’ he said as he straightened up, ‘but I didn’t want to risk it. They’re taking the newts too,’ he added, nodding at another bucket which was full of water and weed.

I found Jamie’s tender-heartedness touching – he also refused to cut back the plum tree as he’d seen some late fledglings nesting in it – and his workmanship was first-rate. He and two of his landscapers took a day to remove the raised flowerbeds, another day to rotovate the lawn and re-lay it, and a further two days to build the arbour and put a seat round the acacia tree. Then I went in with the plants. In under a week the garden had been transformed. The clients then recommended me to a friend of theirs – a young solicitor who wanted her courtyard garden completely redesigned. Things were beginning to take off.

In the meantime Elaine left – she was booked to look after a new baby in Norfolk – but promised to visit us when she was back in London. I cried for two hours after she’d gone – not just for the practical help she’d given me, but for the bond of friendship we’d formed. But I had to accept that my ‘babymoon’ was now over and that the ‘new life’ I’d started had truly begun.

FIVE

Until Milly was three months I took her everywhere with me, trying to schedule appointments to fit in with her feeds. I’d take her with me to see clients, and to the trade nursery in Chobham where I bought all my plants, and to the builders’ merchant in Maida Vale where I selected decking, paving and bricks. At home she’d sleep in her Moses basket as I worked on my drawings, or I’d cradle her in my left arm, or she’d lie next to me under her Baby gym, batting at the pendant toys with her tiny hands. Sometimes it worked well, but at other times, especially when she was colicky, I’d get very little done. As she got bigger I knew I’d have to have proper childcare for her. An au pair was the only option, given my uncertain income, and I struck lucky the first time with Pavlina, who was Czech.

Pavlina was twenty-six, serious-minded, organised, quiet and hard-working. She had cared for babies before, had wonderful references and was to stay with me for nearly two years. She looked after Milly every morning while I went out on site to meet Jamie, or to client briefings. In the afternoon I’d have Milly with me in her playpen, or on her bouncy chair watching Baby Einstein or the Teletubbies while I made phone calls or did administrative jobs. If I needed additional help I’d pay Pavlina extra. She was more than happy to have the money as she was saving to buy a flat in Prague.

Then when Milly was nine months, I got the e-mail from Xan that I’d both hoped for and dreaded:
I’ll be in
London for five days from 25 March and would like to
meet Milly. X
.

I felt as though I’d fallen down a manhole. I’d had no word from him for so long. Now, faced with the prospect of seeing him again and having my emotions churned up, a big part of me wanted to refuse. How much easier it would be if I could simply airbrush him out of the picture, as Jenny seemed to have done with her ex, but I had to put Milly’s needs before my own.

I clicked on Reply.
Come on Sunday, 27, around four
. Then, my stomach in knots, I clicked on Send.

My heart was banging against my ribs when the bell rang on that afternoon. I’d hardly slept the night before, dropping off just before dawn. I checked my appearance once more in the large circular mirror at the bottom of the stairs, took a deep breath and opened the door.

I had Milly in my arms and Xan’s eyes instantly lighted on her, with a blend of wonderment, recognition and guilt. Only then did he see me. As he crossed the threshold I noticed that he looked tanned, that his hair was cut short and that his temples were now stippled with grey. He tried to kiss me but I turned away, determined to project a chilly dignity. He’d called me an ‘iceberg’ after all.

‘Would you like tea?’ I asked him as I moved the buggy out of the way. ‘I’m afraid I still don’t have any PG Tips,’ I quipped. ‘I should have got some in specially.’

Xan didn’t react. ‘A cup of coffee would be great.’ He took off his leather jacket and hung it up.

I put Milly on her play mat while I went into the kitchen. When I went back in with the tray, my hands trembling so much from the encounter that the cups rattled in their saucers, I found Xan standing by the window, in the same spot where he’d begged me that night not to have Milly, holding her in his arms, just gazing at her.

Everything will change. Because it always does
.

To my amazement Milly wasn’t crying, or struggling. She was just staring at Xan, as if transfixed. Perhaps she understood in some inchoate way that she was inextricably bound to him – as I now truly realised I would be for the rest of my life.

‘Hello,’ Xan said to her softly. ‘I guess you’re wondering who I am … Well … this may sound a bit funny to you …’ I heard his voice catch. ‘But actually, sweetie, I’m your dad. Yes, that’s right, darling, I am. No kidding.’ Milly put one dimpled little hand on his cheek. Xan’s mouth quivered for a moment but my heart didn’t melt – he’d made me cry enough after all. ‘She’s just … sweet,’ he whispered.

‘Thanks. I think so too.’ I silently congratulated myself for keeping my composure. ‘So, Xan …’ I sat down. ‘Why now? Has curiosity finally got the better of you?’

‘Don’t be bitter, Anna,’ he murmured. ‘I know you think I’ve behaved badly …’

‘You have behaved badly. Do you take milk?’ I asked. ‘It’s been so long since I’ve seen you I’m afraid I can’t remember. We had a lovely christening by the way. In case you’re interested, Milly’s godmother is my former PA, Sue – who, you may recall, was with me the night you and I met – and her godfather is my brother, Mark.’

‘I thought you had no contact with him.’

‘Very little,’ I replied. ‘Which is precisely why I asked him – to keep the channels open. Anyway, he did at least fly over for it. But what a pity you couldn’t make it,’ I added pleasantly. ‘Your own daughter.’

‘Please, Anna.’ Xan sighed. ‘Don’t. I’ve been in such turmoil.’

‘Poor you. Whereas I’ve been having a ball, obviously, being a working single mother.’

‘Please don’t punish me,’ he went on. ‘I want to do the right thing, but you have to understand my anger at having no say in whether or not I had a child.’

‘But you did have a say,’ I replied calmly. ‘Because you chose to sleep with me that night and, as everyone knows, one and one sometimes makes three.’

‘I’ve felt so terrible,’ he went on. ‘It’s been hard to concentrate on my work – impossible at times to sleep. All I could think about was Milly.’ I wondered how much he’d thought about me. ‘I was paralysed – not knowing what to do. Gradually I realised that the only way I was ever going to feel better was by meeting her.’ I didn’t reply. ‘I could have seen her in December,’ he added after a moment. I looked at him. ‘I was in London for three days …’ I felt a sudden pang at the thought that he had been so close. ‘I wanted to see her, but I felt … confused. I even walked past your house –’

‘No,’ I murmured. I imagined his footfall echoing on the pavement.

‘But I couldn’t face it, so I walked away. I’m sorry, darling,’ he whispered to Milly, his voice breaking now, as he held her closer. ‘I promise I’ll never do that again. I’ll come and see you whenever I can, my little girl.’

‘And how often is that likely to be?’

He put Milly down on her play mat. ‘It’s hard to say. Probably no more than three times a year. I wish it could be more, but I live seven thousand miles away.’

‘I’m aware of that,’ I said grimly. I pushed down the plunger on the cafetière. ‘But Milly needs to know you. I do think you could have replied to my e-mails about her,’ I added bitterly.

‘I’m … sorry, Anna. But I was … scared. That may sound strange but I was terrified.’ So Elaine’s analysis had been right. ‘But I’ll try and make it up to her from now on.’

Then Xan reached into his holdall and produced a Harrods carrier bag. Out of it came a soft, caramel-coloured teddy bear with a pale mauve ribbon and a sweetly perplexed expression. Milly clutched it to her face with both hands, squeaking with delight.

‘I do intend to support her,’ he added as I poured his coffee. ‘You’ve refused to let me, but I want to.’

‘Well … now that you’ve met her, I don’t mind. I didn’t want your money.’ I sighed. ‘Just your involvement. But I won’t deny that a little help would be welcome.’

‘I’ve already opened an account for her – here.’ He reached into his bag and handed me a statement. ‘I put money in it each quarter – I’ll convert it into a joint account so that you can access it – I’ll send you the forms.’

‘Thanks.’ We stared at each other for a moment, then I looked away.

‘I’m not a bastard, Anna,’ he said quietly.

I struggled to suppress the longing I still felt for him – a longing that made my bones ache. ‘I know you’re not,’ I replied.
It would be so much easier if you were
, I thought miserably.
Then I could get over you
.

‘I’m sorry I behaved as I did. I hope you forgive me.’

His features began to blur as my eyes filled with tears. ‘Yes,’ I whispered. ‘I do …’

He suddenly reached for my hand and I gave it to him, elated at the familiar pressure of his fingers round mine. ‘Don’t cry, Anna,’ he said after a moment. ‘Please don’t.’ He handed me his hanky and I pressed it to my eyes. ‘Can we be friends, now?’ I heard him say. ‘For Milly’s sake?’

Friends
…

My chest filled with sadness. ‘Of course.’

From then on Xan would reply to my e-mails. He’d send Milly presents – Indonesian dolls, and carved animals, and colourful wall hangings. He’d ring up sometimes and speak to her. Her face would light up like a firework at the word ‘Daddy’ and she’d burble delightedly into the phone. Her happiness was both a shard in my heart and a profound comfort. I put out a photo of him that I’d downloaded from the BBC website as I didn’t have a good one of my own. For Milly’s sake I needed to let bygones be bygones; so I explained that although Xan lived a long way away he would come and see us whenever he could. We watched the six o’clock news in case he was on.

Then, when Milly was almost a year, Nicole from my antenatal class threw a first-birthday party for her son Jacob. There’d been a couple of reunions in the interim, but I hadn’t been able to go.

‘I hope to God Citronella won’t be there,’ I said to Jenny, as we pushed our buggies down Nicole’s road in the May sunshine.

‘She’s bound to be,’ Jenny said. I looked at all the flowering plants in the front gardens – azaleas, clematis, tulips and wallflowers. If Citronella were a plant, I suddenly thought, what would she be? Ivy. Insidious, hard to shake off and quietly destructive. Jenny would be a Sensitive Plant – rewarding to grow, but if you touch their leaves they fold up. Cassie would be a Venus flytrap, I reflected, seductive but dangerous. Xan would be … a sunflower – offering a glorious, but dismayingly short-lived display.

What would I be? I wondered, as I rang Nicole’s bell. A
Dicentra spectabilis
, I realised bitterly – a Bleeding Heart.

The other mums were already in the balloon-festooned garden, sitting on plaid rugs with their wobbly offspring on their laps, or holding them up like puppets as they toddled around.

‘-Jonah’s been walking for two weeks now.’

‘-Shall I kiss it better, darling?’

‘-Erasmus walked at ten months.’

‘-I’m still breastfeeding Phoebe.’

‘-Good for you! I was useless at it.’

‘-You should have eaten more grass!’

‘He’ll be going to Sweet Peas,’ I heard Citronella say. My heart sank – that was the nursery school I’d put Milly down for. ‘Isn’t he
gorgeous?
’ Citronella suddenly said to me, looking at Erasmus with smug adoration.

‘Er, yes,’ I said politely.
To you!
He was wearing a blue T-shirt emblazoned with ‘I’m Mummy’s New Man!’. He’d inherited Citronella’s sturdy physique and her coppery hair.

‘And did you get the invitation for Erasmus’s birthday party?’ she asked.

‘I … did,’ I replied, my heart sinking. ‘Thanks.’ I’d gasped when I’d opened it, not so much because I was surprised to be invited, but because enclosed with the invitation had been a list of acceptable gifts, with suggested retailers, like a wedding list. Jenny had told me that she’d thrown hers away. ‘But I’m not sure … that we’ll be … able to make it,’ I floundered as I picked Milly up. ‘I’m afraid I’ve got a client briefing that afternoon.’