Frisky Business (13 page)

‘Um, because … I kind of told her you were.’ She winced,

waiting for him to go ballistic on her. ‘But before you say anything,’ she rushed on when he remained silent, ‘don’t worry. I’m going to straighten her out.’

‘But – but –’ Kit stammered, struggling to find words. ‘Why would you tell her that?’

‘Because … I didn’t want to tell her the truth – which is that I don’t know who Luke’s father is.’

‘You don’t?’

She shook her head. ‘No. No idea.’ She watched his face, trying to read his expression. ‘Are you shocked?’

‘Well,’ he frowned, ‘not shocked exactly, but … yeah, actually, I am kind of shocked. It just doesn’t seem like …
you
.’

‘It’s not like me. Honest!’ She smiled. ‘I haven’t turned into some heinous über-slut since you left. It was just this one time. I was all over the place—’

‘Hang on. If it was just one time, then how come you don’t know who it was?’

‘Oh, it was at this party where everyone was wearing masks – and then later I was blindfolded—’ she trailed off, blushing.

‘Long story,’ she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘Anyway, it happened and I got pregnant, and I just couldn’t face telling Mum that I hadn’t a clue who the father was. I couldn’t bear to disappoint her like that.’

Her mother had characteristically respected Romy’s wishes and not asked any questions – until one day she had broken down and admitted that Romy’s silence on the subject had led her to imagine the worst. She didn’t want a name or details, she just wanted to know that Romy hadn’t been raped. So, horrified that she had been unknowingly causing her mother such anxiety, Romy had told her a lie to reassure her. She told her Luke’s father was someone she had known for a long time, someone she had loved, who now lived abroad …

‘I didn’t
exactly
tell her it was you, but I led her in that direction and let her come to that conclusion.’

‘But why did you pick me?’

‘Because you were safely out of the way – or so I thought,’ she added, flashing him an accusing look. ‘You weren’t supposed to come back here – ever.’

‘Tell me about it,’ Kit said glumly. ‘But how could she have believed that? I mean we haven’t seen each other in years. I live in New York; you live in Dublin. She does know how babies are made?’

Romy sighed. ‘She knew you were home last Hallowe’en for your dad’s sixtieth. She heard it on some ladies-who-lunch grapevine or whatever. Anyway, she was on my case to look you up – kept telling me how well you’d done for yourself, what a catch you’d be,’ she smiled at him teasingly. ‘So I pretended I had – looked you up. Well, not exactly looked you up – I wouldn’t want to look desperate, after all. But I pretended I bumped into you, and coupled with the other things I’d said about Luke’s father … well, she kind of put two and two together. And I let her.’

‘So
does everyone think I’m his father?’

‘No, I only told my mother – and I swore her to secrecy.’

‘And you trust her?’

‘Yes, absolutely. She’s very honourable like that. As far as she’s concerned, it’s my secret to tell.’

‘So why didn’t you – look me up?’ Kit asked.

Romy shrugged. ‘I figured if you wanted to see me you knew where I was. You could have called.’

‘Right back at you,’ he said, cocking an eyebrow challengingly.

‘But you were the one coming and going. I was here all the time.’ She tried not to show that she had been hurt that he had never bothered to contact her when he had been home. It would have been nice to see him now and then. ‘How was I to know when you were home?’

‘I don’t know – through your mother’s ladies-who-lunch grapevine?’

She laughed, relaxing. ‘Touché.’

‘I wish I
had
kept in touch. I did think about calling you sometimes, when I was home. But I guess I was afraid.’

‘Of?’

He shrugged. ‘That it wouldn’t be the same.’

‘Afraid you wouldn’t like me anymore?’

He smiled, shaking his head. ‘Maybe afraid
you
wouldn’t like
me.’

They were interrupted by Luke, who started to cry, his small whimpers building up to a deafening crescendo as he squirmed in Romy’s arms.

‘I think he’s hungry,’ Romy said.

‘Oh!’ Kit’s eyes darted around in panic. ‘You’re not going to—’

‘What?’

‘You know – feed him?’

‘Of
course I’m going to feed him.’ She got up and went to the fridge, taking out a bottle she had made up that morning.

‘Oh, right,’ Kit sighed in relief as she put the bottle in the microwave. ‘For a minute there, I thought you were going to whip out your tit.’

‘And how do you think my mother fed him last night? Actually, don’t tell me – I don’t want to know. Or did you just think I’d let him starve for the night so I could have a party?’

‘I didn’t think. I mean, jeez, I don’t know how babies work.’

‘Well, maybe you’d better find out in case someone decides

to leave you one in their will.’

‘Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Anyway, you could have used one of those milking machines.’

Romy rolled her eyes. ‘Cows have milking machines. Human beings have breast pumps.’

‘Potato, pot-ah-to.’

Luke was sucking contentedly on the bottle, and Romy sat down again. ‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘I’m sorry I pretended you were the father.’

‘So I’m a shit who abandoned you when you were pregnant! No wonder your mother doesn’t like me.’

‘No, not at all. You didn’t know. I never told you about Luke.’

‘God, that’s a bit cold, isn’t it?’

‘No, it’s just … sensible. It made sense. There wasn’t really anything between us, and I didn’t want to trap you. I didn’t want you to be with us just because of a split condom. You had a life abroad and I was happy to raise Luke on my own.’

‘Weren’t you ever going to tell me?’

‘No,’ she admitted. ‘Mum thought I should, but …’ She shrugged. ‘I decided it was for the best if you didn’t know.

‘Huh!’
Kit appeared well and truly flabbergasted. ‘You should write movies or something. You’ve really thought of everything.’

‘Mmm. Except you moving home.’ She smiled wryly at him, chewing her lip. ‘But, like I said, don’t worry about it. I’ll come clean.’ Luke had guzzled the whole bottle, and his eyes were drooping as she pulled it from his mouth and wiped his face with his bib. ‘I’ll tell Mum everything the next time I see her.’

‘But won’t she think you’re a heinous über-slut?’

‘That’s my problem,’ she said, trying to sound tougher than she felt. ‘Besides, I don’t have to tell her the whole truth. I can just tell her she got the wrong end of the stick about you. I only ever hinted that it was you anyway.’ She got up and laid Luke gently in his Moses basket.

‘You know, maybe you don’t have to tell her anything.’

She spun around. ‘But I can’t let her go on thinking you’re Luke’s father.’

‘I don’t mind.’

‘You don’t?’ She looked at him in amazement as she sat down opposite him again. He really did seem remarkably calm. She had expected her revelation to unleash a shit-storm; instead, Kit looked perfectly relaxed, leaning back in his chair, smiling at her, his hands crossed behind his head.

‘It’s the least I can do,’ he said, smiling. ‘I mean, I landed you in it by coming home.’

‘Don’t be silly. You have a perfect right to move home. You weren’t to know I was making up slanderous stories about you. No,’ she said firmly, ‘I got myself into this mess and I’ll

get myself – and you – out of it.’

‘Well, it’s up to you. But if you want to let your mother go on thinking I’m the father, that’s fine by me.’

‘But it’s not just my mum. Now that you’re home, it would seem
weird if your family didn’t know, and if you weren’t involved with Luke.’

‘So we could tell my family,’ he said calmly. ‘And I could be involved.’

‘We couldn’t lie to your parents like that – let them think Luke is their grandchild when he’s not.’

‘Would it really be so bad? It’d make them really happy, and they’d love … Whatsisface.’

‘Still, it’s not right.’

‘Honestly, Mom would be delighted. She’s always on at me

to find a nice girl and settle down, start a family. And it’d take

the heat off me if she thought I already had.’

‘It’s a bit drastic, isn’t it? Pretending you have a baby just because your mother’s on your case a bit about settling down.

Besides, what if I find Luke’s real father?’

‘Is that likely?’

She knew it wasn’t at all likely, and she had, just last night, resolved to give up on the idea for good.

‘I could do the dad part for real,’ Kit said earnestly.

‘You really think you could do that?’

‘Yeah, sure. It’d be fun.’

‘You’d have to stop calling him “Whatsisface” for a start.’

‘Well, of course, I’d learn his name – it
is
a boy, right?’

‘Yes. Luke. The name’s a bit of a giveaway.’

‘Sorry. I’m not very good with names. Better with faces. Although not with babies because they all look the same, don’t they?’

‘No.’

‘Well, anyway, I could buy him presents and take him to his football matches or whatever, and go to his school concerts …’

‘Yeah, well, that’s all down the road a bit,’ Romy said, smiling. ‘But what about when you move back to New York?’

‘Then we could go back to your story that we’re not

into
each other and don’t want to stay together for the sake of wh – um …’

‘Luke.’

‘Right. And I could be a long-distance dad. It happens.’

That was true. Plenty of children grew up rarely seeing their fathers. And she could tell Luke the truth when he was older and explain that Kit was a sort of step-dad.

‘He’d still have more of a father than he does now,’ Kit said, and Romy felt a tug of temptation. Kit’s idea would give Luke some sort of father figure – not to mention another extended family. And it would be nice not to have to tell her mother the truth …

‘I don’t know, Kit … ’ She was touched that he had made the offer, but it was a crazy idea and she didn’t see how it could possibly work. Just trying to think through all the implications was already making her brain ache.

‘Well, think about it. And
please
come to Hannah’s wedding with me anyway – as my date. I need someone to protect me from my nosy relations – not to mention Wedgie.’

‘I have no problem going to Hannah’s wedding with you. Besides, I kind of owe you for letting Mum think you’re Luke’s father.’

‘You can have that one on me,’ he said, smiling.

‘Thanks. Do you want some more coffee?’ she asked.

‘No, thanks. I’d better get home,’ he said, standing and

stretching. ‘Mom will be wondering where I got to.’

‘I hope you don’t get grounded for staying out all night.’ He smiled. ‘Thanks for the bed, Romy. It was really good to see you again.’

‘Yeah, you too.’

She saw him to the door and they made arrangements to go and look at Kit’s house the following week.

Romy leaned against the door after she had closed it behind
him. She felt like she had been run over by a train. Her head was spinning from everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours – Kit turning up on her doorstep, his amazing offer to pretend Luke was his – she couldn’t keep up with it all. She didn’t know what to make of Kit’s bizarre offer, but she was touched that he had made it. No doubt when she thought it through she would realise that it couldn’t possibly work. It was already making her brain ache.

Pushing herself away from the door, she galvanised herself into action. Going into the kitchen, she took Luke from his Moses basket, careful not to wake him, and put him in his car seat, then packed a bag with bottles and nappies.

‘Come on,’ she whispered to him. ‘We’re going to see your Auntie Lesley.’

It
was only when she pulled up outside Lesley’s house that Romy remembered that today was a Tuesday and Lesley would probably be working. She looked at her watch – it was only eleven thirty. Maybe she should have called and suggested meeting up for lunch. Still, she was sure Lesley wouldn’t mind the interruption – especially when she heard what Romy had to tell her. Lesley worked from home now, but Romy knew she found it a bit isolating and was always grateful for a distraction. She could have a mid-morning break. Luke was still asleep, so she lifted his car seat out gently and walked up the path.

‘Romy!
Lesley greeted her with a big smile when she opened the door. ‘Boy, am I glad to see you. Come on in.’ She led Romy down the narrow hall towards the kitchen.

‘I hope I’m not interrupting your work,’ Romy said as she followed her.

‘Believe me, I was gasping for an interruption. This site I’m working on is doing my head in. The client’s a nightmare – vetoes everything I come up with, and then complains that it’s taking me too long and accuses me of spinning it out so I can charge her more. I can’t wait to get the stupid wagon off my back.’