Happy Endings (17 page)

That morning, I called Jack numerous times but it kept going to his voicemail. He was obviously angry and ignoring me, having assumed I was cheating on him just because Rhys answered my phone. That hurt. Why didn’t he have more faith in us? In me? As the day went on, I began to worry and thought about going home, but I needed to see the day through first. We were scheduled to have a read through after lunch and so I spent the late morning wandering the gardens. I felt like Elizabeth Bennett as I strolled among the manicured gardens and around the grounds. I imagined Mr Darcy walking up from the lake, just as Colin Firth had done, but it wasn’t him, or even Rhys Connelly, it was Jack. My Jack. It had always been Jack.

I knocked on Matt’s door.

‘Come in,’ he said. I walked in and as usual he was tapping away on his laptop. While the rest of the cast and crew had been meeting, relaxing and going through the script, Matt had generally been locked away in his room, head down and fingers frantically typing. ‘Em, darling, what’s up?’ said Matt, spinning around and looking at me. ‘Fuck, what’s up?’

‘I have something to tell you.’

‘Right. And whatever it is, we can work through it.’

‘I’m pregnant,’ I said, before letting go of the tears.

‘Oh shit.’

‘I’m so sorry. I don’t know how it happened. I’m on the pill and it wasn’t planned and Jack doesn’t even know yet and I’m freaking out because I want to do this film so badly, I do, but I know I can’t if I’m pregnant. I’m just . . .’

‘It’s all right,’ said Matt, getting up and walking over to me. He put his arms around me and gave me a hug. He knew right away that I couldn’t do the film. ‘The film will go on. You’ll have other chances if that’s what you want. You’re a brilliant actress, Emma, and it’s been a pleasure.’

‘Thank you,’ I managed to sniff out.

‘You’re definitely going to keep it?’ said Matt suddenly. ‘Sorry, just checking.’

‘I have to. I want to.’

‘Stay tonight. We’re having a huge meal and you should stay.’

‘I’d like that.’

The film and everything that came with it was what I’d always wanted. It was in many ways my happy ending. At least that’s what I always thought. Then, as soon as I knew I was pregnant, something inside of me changed. Acting had been my dream, but it wasn’t all about me anymore; it was about the baby growing inside of me. They were a part of Jack and me. A small, tiny, little version of us and I couldn’t let that go.

It was just before midnight when I sat down on my bed. I checked my phone but Jack hadn’t called. It would be fine when I got home and told him the news. Our news. I wanted to try him one more time before bed. I rang his number and waited. It rang and rang before eventually going to voicemail.

‘Jack, darling, it’s me. I hope everything’s OK. I really miss you. I don’t know if you’re angry with me or jealous about Rhys, but there’s nothing to worry about. I love you so much and I’m coming home tomorrow. Let out for good behaviour. Sorry, bad joke. I have some news though and I can’t wait to tell you. I love you, Jack. Always have, always will. Good night.’

I lay in bed and thought about Jack and the baby. Our little baby. It wasn’t the life I’d ever imagined, but I knew it was the life I wanted. It seemed so obvious. Jack was always going on about defining moments. He thought we all had a pivotal moment in our lives – a piece of random luck, good or bad timing, a pivotal decision that made us who we are – but I hadn’t always agreed with him. I thought life was like a film: just a series of shots worked together to create a whole. It had a beginning, middle and an end and within that framework were important milestones: first steps, first words, first kisses, first loves, first jobs, marriage, kids. It all rolled into a life.

It dawned on me that when I was sixteen and had the abortion, had lost the baby that Mum said was impossible to keep, that was my defining moment. That baby would have been thirteen now. My life would have been unrecognisable from my current one. I always thought back to that and a part of me regretted it, felt awful for doing what we did, but another part of me knew Mum had been right. That baby was impossible, but this one was different. Once I knew I was pregnant, I knew I had to keep it. It wasn’t really a choice and maybe, just maybe, it would help heal the wounds of the first one.

I fell asleep thinking about Jack, holding my phone in my hand, hoping that tomorrow, when the sun came up, everything would be all right. The last noise I heard before I closed my eyes was giggles on the landing and then Rhys’s whispered voice telling someone to be quiet, before I heard the door to his room open and another young heart about to be broken creep inside.

To: Kate Jones

From: Emma Fogle

Subject: Re: Oz

K,

I’m going to keep the baby. In the end it wasn’t even a choice. It’s Jack and me and we made this life and whether we meant to or not, it doesn’t matter because we did. And I’m really excited about it.

It’s strange, and I don’t want to go all weird and girlie about it, but something biological shifted in me and I can feel it. It’s like once I was pregnant my motherly hormones just kicked in and I know more than anything in the world I have to take care of and protect this little life. It isn’t something I thought I’d ever feel, but I don’t miss the film because this is so much more important. And you were right about that too. I’m young and I got this role, I can get other parts. This isn’t the end of my acting career, but the start of something else.

It’s my last morning at the mansion and it’s early because I couldn’t sleep. I’ve been up most of the night thinking about Jack. I have to go home and tell him now and as happy as I think he’s going to be, I’m still worried. This baby wasn’t planned and a part of me is terrified because we can’t afford it and I know it’s going to put even more strain on Jack to do something. I know he’s going to be a brilliant dad, but I’m just concerned because he’s already been acting weird about the film and now this. I’m probably worrying about nothing, as usual. Wish me luck.

I hope you’re having fun and still enjoying yourself in Australia. I’m so glad you found a suitable travelling buddy – and a girl this time! I’ll write again soon. Your pregnant and happy BFF. Love you.

Love Em X

Jack

I didn’t know what it was. I couldn’t place the sound. I turned and felt my spine concertina as if I’d been sleeping inside a small wooden box, but then I realised it was almost as bad – I’d slept on the sofa. The small two-person sofa we’d been meaning to replace for ages, with the lumpy bits that dug into my back. I could still hear the noise like a gentle tapping on wood. I tried to open my eyes and get my bearings, but my head was banging and a sharp pain sat just behind my eyes waiting for its cue to go on. I opened my eyes and the sharp pain suddenly released itself upon the rest of my head. A blurry but familiar image was standing in front of me.

‘Oh my God, what happened to you?’ said Emma. I sat up slowly and it was then, as Emma leant down to kiss me that I remembered. Everything came flooding back in a millisecond, crushing me beneath its sheer weight of awfulness. Memories like snapshots of another life flashed through my mind. Emma. Rhys Connelly. Depressed. Therese. Drunk. Dancing. A club. Back to mine. Naked on the sofa. Sex? I stopped and looked at Emma in horror. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘It’s not what it seems,’ I managed to garble out as Therese came walking out of the bedroom in a pair of Emma’s pyjamas. Emma’s face dropped. It looked terrible. It was terrible. ‘Emma,’ I said, but it was too late because she was already turning around and walking out, slamming the door behind her.

‘Sorry,’ said Therese from behind me. ‘I thought she was gone for the week.’

‘Me too,’ I said, grabbing my crime scene pile of clothes from the floor and getting dressed.

The night before on the sofa, Therese and I had started out with an almighty passion. We’d grabbed and pulled at each other until we were naked. It seemed for all the world like it was just a matter of time before we would go that extra mile. But I couldn’t. I pulled back at the last moment because something deep inside of me knew that if I had sex with Therese, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.

‘What’s the matter?’ Therese said breathlessly.

‘I can’t do this. I’m sorry. It isn’t you, it’s me. It’s Emma,’ I said and then we were getting up and covering ourselves with a sort of awkward embarrassment; our nakedness, which only moments before had seemed so natural, suddenly felt like the strangest thing in the world. The darkness of the room was replaced with light as the world in all its complicated glory stopped us in its tracks.

We sat and talked for a while and she wanted to get a taxi home, but it was late and so I told her to stay the night in the bed and I would take the sofa. I didn’t think Emma would be back for days and so I didn’t think it would matter. I didn’t think and that was the problem.

I caught up with Emma just as she was getting into her car, tears streaming down her face.

‘Emma, please don’t do this.’

‘Do what, Jack?’

‘Let me explain.’

‘Five minutes,’ she said, the tears replaced with a face of sheer calm. She looked shocked, not angry but disappointed, and that was far worse. When I was little and I did something so terrible that Dad didn’t even shout, but just stood and looked at me, disappointed, it was the worst feeling in the world. When you did something so awful it was beyond punishment, you felt it and I had the same feeling again. I wanted Emma to shout at me, punish me and then forgive me. What I didn’t want and couldn’t stand was the quiet, sullen disappointment.

We walked around the corner to Frank’s Café and took a seat outside. I ordered us a couple of coffees and we sat and looked at one another. Emma and Jack. Jack and Emma. We were getting married in a matter of months. We were going to spend the rest of our lives together, but at that moment, nothing was further from my mind.

‘I called and Rhys was in your room,’ I eventually said. ‘And I thought, after your kiss . . .’

‘You thought I was shagging him.’

‘I’m sorry, Em. I freaked out. I made a mistake. I should’ve trusted you.’

‘So you thought, Emma’s screwing Rhys, I’ll go out, pick up a random girl, bring her home and fuck her in our bed. That will teach her.’

‘We didn’t have sex.’

‘You didn’t?’

‘No.’

‘But something happened. A girl in a pair of my pyjamas did walk out of our bedroom if I’m not mistaken.’

‘Her name’s Therese. We work together. It was just a stupid drunken thing, Em. It didn’t . . .’

‘I know, “It didn’t mean anything”. But you know what, Jack, it usually means something,’ she said, her face cracking again. A tear leaked out and slid down her beautiful pale cheek.

‘I don’t know what to say to make it OK. I just want to go back and change what I did, make a better choice. I love you, Em, so much and I hate that I hurt you, hate that I did what I did.’

‘And what did you do?’

‘Nothing, we just kissed.’

‘Just kissed?’

Perfectly balanced moments like that didn’t come along very often. I had an opportunity. The truth was that we didn’t have sex and surely that was all that mattered. We were drunk, it was foolish, but why should I ruin everything because of a stupid, silly mistake? People talk a lot about the importance of truth and honesty in relationships, but what good was the truth if it was going to hurt Emma and possibly ruin the rest of our lives?

‘We just kissed. We were drunk and that’s why she stayed over because I didn’t want her going home late at night. She slept in our bed and I slept on the sofa. It was nothing, Em. A stupid, stupid kiss that meant nothing. I would never cheat on you. You’re going to be my wife.’

She looked at me and I could see she was breaking. I felt rotten, but I couldn’t risk losing her because of one night.

‘And it’s never going to happen again?’ she eventually said, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

I smiled and a great weight suddenly fell from my heart, breaking off like an iceberg and floating away before being dissolved in the ocean. Emma would never know the complete truth about Therese, but it was all right because it didn’t matter. It was nothing. The shameful truth is that sometimes one-night stands do mean nothing. Sometimes it’s just a senseless, thoughtless, rash concoction of alcohol and irresponsibility.

‘Never. I love you too much.’

‘Love you too and I’m sorry, I . . .’

It suddenly dawned on me I still didn’t know why she was back so early. What had happened with the film, the week away and why was she looking at me like that? Her face had changed again. Only this wasn’t an expression I’d seen before. I couldn’t read it and I didn’t know what she was going to say next. How could I have known?

‘What’s the matter?’ It was then that she broke down again, the tears flooding out of her. People at nearby tables looked across at us as I got up and knelt in front of Emma and held her. She sobbed into my shoulder for what seemed like an age. I felt her body shudder and shake uncontrollably. It scared me. She eventually pulled herself from me; I wiped her eyes and nose with the back of my hand, before she looked at me with a smile.