The Baby (16 page)

Her face is pinched and there's tightness to her lips. Elbows are locked into her waist as she stands before him, a forced smile on her lips. She pulls her hair behind her ears. His own lips are dry. He scrambles to his feet.

‘Hi,' he manages.

‘Hello,' she says, and looks around her. ‘God, I've not been here for ages.'

‘Me neither.'

There are a few seconds of silence where the warble of some unknown bird lays down layer after layer of a song.

Olivia peers into the buggy. ‘She's gorgeous.'

A small swell of pride. ‘Yeah, she is.'

Olivia darts a look at him. ‘Nicola says you're good with her.'

He shrugs. ‘I'm trying.'
They're friends then
.

She screws up her eyes and he knows that she's thinking about her words. He recognizes the signs. ‘No offence,' she falters, ‘but it's a bit of a surprise.'

‘You thought I'd ignore her?'

The breeze whips her hair over her face again and she spends time trying to tame it behind her ears. He itches to touch it for her, but knows he can't. His nerve endings scream,
I still love you
.

She sits down. Her hair immediately falls still. She picks at the knee of her jeans. He sits down next to her. Not too close. ‘I wouldn't be the only one.'

It's a fair point.

She goes on. ‘Can I ask a question?'

He nods. The smile fading off his lips. Nervous.

She opens her eyes wide. He could fall into them. He's probably spent the last six years swimming in them. ‘What's made you so keen? How come you are now trying to be Dad of the Year?'

He smiles at her small joke. ‘Oh, I dunno. I wasn't at first. I didn't want anything to do with her.' He tugs at some grass. ‘But then I remembered what it was like as a kid …'

‘What do you mean?'

‘What it felt like … you know …' He nods. ‘Without a dad and stuff …'

‘Oh, and you didn't want that for her?' She nods at the buggy.

‘No.'

‘So you stepped up?'

‘Yeah.' He rubs the grass between his fingers. ‘I s'pose.'

She nods.

A sigh ripples through Eliza's little body. It makes them both smile.

‘Thanks for coming,' he says quietly.

Olivia links her fingers together. ‘S'OK. After last time, I wasn't sure.'

He takes a deep breath, feels the blood fill the back of his neck. Thousands of words force themselves up his throat. ‘Um … I wanted to say sorry, I guess.'

‘For?' She's staring at her jeans.

He lifts his palms. ‘For everything, really.' And then the words come. Like a torrent. Like an unblocked dam. Maybe
it's because he's sitting in this place – it's always done weird things to him. Besides, this conversation is long overdue. ‘For bloody everything. For messing up. For sleeping with Nicola. For hurting you. And her. For being a twat. For losing you. For messing you up.' He's embarrassed to hear his words judder in his throat and he holds his breath for a few seconds to try to calm them down. Lowers his volume a notch. ‘I don't think I ever said sorry. Not properly. And I wanted to. Just wasn't sure how.'

Olivia is slim. The way she's sitting, for instance, her spine bent over, her shoulders hunched, picking away at her jeans, he knows that if he lifted her hair off the back of her neck, he'd find three small bumps of vertebrae poking beneath her skin. He knows exactly how they feel. His fingers hold the memory.

But he doesn't do it.

And then there's something ugly when he remembers pinching her there. Just under her hair at the back of her neck. She'd been flirting with Justin Caldwell and he had wanted to make her stop.

He looks away.

‘Why did you do it?' Her voice is a whisper as she attacks her jeans with her fingertips.

He jams his fingers under his thighs. Knew this would come up.

‘See Nicola?'

She nods. Just the once, like it hurts.

‘Jealousy, I s'pose.' He checks her profile. ‘There were boys after you. All the time. It pissed me off. You were flirty with
them. It felt like you were encouraging them. Sometimes I felt pushed out. And I think Nicola felt like that too.' This is difficult. He's never been so honest. His words are short like barks. ‘I wanted to show you what it felt like. Wanted to prove you weren't the only one who could have someone else if you wanted.' He sighs. ‘It was shitty, I know.'

She's pulled her knees up to her chin now. He can barely hear her. ‘But it didn't only happen the once, did it?'

‘No.' He shakes his head. ‘It happened a few times. We got a bit … obsessed. But then it was over. I think we were stupid. And the guilt was shit.'

‘I told Ben I thought you'd attacked her.'

His heart hammers, a flush flares in his cheeks. ‘Rape? You thought I'd raped her?' His eyes snap wide. ‘Jesus, Livvy! I'd never do that! Surely you couldn't think I'd do that?' Stares at her. ‘Look, I know I hurt you, I know I did some bad things … but rape? I'd never.'

Stupid flashes of shame zigzag behind his eyes.

She shakes her head quickly. ‘Can you blame me? You were going through a pretty horrible phase.'

Embarrassment rocks him, blow after blow. ‘I'd never—'

‘It's OK.' Her words are still hard. ‘She told me. She told me that you didn't. That she wanted it as much as you.' Now
her
voice wobbles. She sighs. ‘It was the worst thing you could have done. Both of you. Can you imagine how lonely I felt when I found out?'

He nods, pressing a finger against his lips so that it hurts. ‘Sorry.'

‘Even Ben left me for a while.'

He couldn't imagine Ben without Olivia. ‘I didn't know that.' Flicks his trackies. ‘He's cool by the way – Ben. I was wrong about him. Are things OK with him now?'

She relaxes at his name. ‘Yeah. We're mates again.' She shrugs. ‘I think we are all OK now.'

No! No, I'm not. I still love you
.

He watches as she fiddles with a stick. He knows her look. Realizes that she has more to say. He waits, expecting more grief. It's what he deserves.

She takes a breath. ‘And why did you hurt me? Physically, I mean?'

He feels a flush creep up his neck, prickling under his skin.

‘I don't get it, Jonty. I didn't deserve it. You weren't like that in the beginning.'

There's a dizziness behind his eyes. ‘No. Think I panicked. Think I thought you were going to dump me.'

Olivia stares at him, pulling his eyes towards hers. ‘But I don't get it. Why would hurting me keep us together? And where did it all come from? It's not like anyone was violent with you.'

Jonty winces. Knows the answer. He's discussed it with the woman from anger management. She forced him to look at himself. At everything. Forced up things which had been jammed to the back of his skull for years.

Remembers when he was four years old, how he was hit three times around the shoulders by his mum for not finishing his juice. How at five he was given nothing to eat for tea
because there were still crumbs on the floor from lunchtime. How five slaps across his face reminded him not to do it again. His mother was a stickler for neatness and cleanliness and wasn't afraid of using her fists to push the point. She did this right until the day she left.

Jonty doesn't want to say it. Doesn't want to sound like he's using it as an excuse.

‘I s'pose my mum pushed me around a bit. Maybe I got it from her.'

Olivia's eyes are steady now. ‘You never said.'

‘Well, it's not something you want to advertise.'

He feels her eyes on his skin, on his mouth, on the small hairs on his forearms. They lift under her gaze. ‘Oh my God.' Her eyes widen. ‘And that's when it all started … When she left … that's when you started hurting me.'

Jonty can't stand it – that she thinks of him like this. ‘I'd never do it again. It's not the same any more. I've changed.'

‘Why?'

‘Having Eliza. It's sort of made me realize. How you shouldn't do that. How hurting people isn't cool. How it doesn't help anyone.' He frowns. ‘I've had anger management.'

‘Yeah?' She looks up.

‘Yeah.' He drops his head. ‘They talk you through it. Make you find ways of dealing with it.'

‘And it's working?'

‘Kind of. I still get angry and stuff but I know what to do when the red mist hits.'

‘Like what?'

‘Like counting. And thinking of other things and working out why you feel like you do. The woman – she's a bit creepy, but she says I should find out more about my half-brothers and sisters. Stop me feeling alone.'

‘How do you feel about that?'

‘Bit weird.'

She pushes her hair back. Looks at him through squeezed-up eyes. ‘You wouldn't hurt the baby, would you?'

He shakes his head. Knew this was coming too. But gets it. Gets why she has to ask – why Nicola used to ask his nan if she was staying with Jonty when she left Eliza at their house. Tries to stay calm even though his blood is fizzing like a jet spray. ‘No. No way. She's tiny and she's mine and she doesn't deserve it.' Bashes his knees with his palm. ‘I'm here to protect her, not hurt her.'

She whispers, so he has to lip-read. ‘You mean that, don't you?'

His head's heavy with it. ‘I do. I'd let down my nan. I'd let down Nicola. I'd let down Eliza. I'd be worse than my own dad, as bad as my mum. She was a lot of things. She turned good things bad. If I took my anger out on Eliza then I'd be worse than them both put together.'

She lifts her shoulders. ‘Even when you were doing bad things to me, Jonty, I don't ever think you really meant what you were doing.'

Stupid tears fill up behind his eyes. He squeezes his fingers together. ‘I didn't. Shit, I loved you.' Grimaces. ‘Still do. Think I always will.'

His words make a silence between them. A breeze hits the top of the trees. He holds his breath.

She sighs. ‘And you'll always mean a lot to me. But—'

‘It's OK. I know—' Brushes his legs. Can't bear it. ‘Things are better now.'

‘I can't forget it. I can't forgive you.'

‘I'm not asking you to. I just … I just wanted to explain it.'

Olivia drops her gaze. ‘I've got something to tell you.'

He knows exactly what she's going to say. It's what he's been dreading.

He stares at the horizon and waits for Olivia's words like a funeral procession.

‘I'm seeing someone else, Jonty.'

He closes his eyes at her use of his name. It's still velvet coming from her mouth, whatever she's saying.

He nods. ‘I thought so.'

‘He's nice. He's good for me.'

He winces again. She means that he doesn't hurt her. That he won't go sleeping with her best friend.

He coughs and tries to measure his voice. ‘It's Blake Johnson, isn't it?'

He sees her nod out of the corner of his eye because he can't quite manage to look at her properly yet.

‘Yeah.' Her voice is gentle.

‘OK.'

It wasn't like he didn't expect this.

Taking a deep breath and feeling it wobble out as he exhales, he whispers, ‘I've really messed up haven't I?'

A soft silence. Only the chirrup of a bird.

And then a gentle movement of Olivia's neck. Her hair sways from behind her ears like a curtain. She lifts her right hand from her jeans and gestures towards the buggy. ‘Not entirely.' She nods at Eliza.

And then smiles.

Despite himself, he smiles.

With less of a wobble this time, feeling brave from her words, he lifts his head. ‘Well you might think I'm heading for Dad of the Year, but I've remembered something.' She looks at him. ‘I've only gone and left her bottle at home. Fairly soon she'll wake up. And when she does and she realizes that she's hungry, this whole field will hear about it.'

He starts to stand up.

Realizes he's babbling. But it doesn't matter.

‘My nan says you should never cross a woman when she's hungry. And I'm learning that pretty fast with Eliza.' He places his hands on the buggy handles. ‘I'm not that good when she cries. I kind of panic.'

Olivia giggles. A bit musical. ‘Listen, Jonty. Do you want to come to a party?'

Sticks up his head. Temples thrumming. ‘What party?'

She's standing up, her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. He remembers her thighs, how they can push against his. It hurts his stomach. ‘Oh, nothing very big. Just the usual crowd. Just a picnic.' She nods at the buggy. ‘Eliza's coming.'

He imagines them all. ‘I don't think so.'

She shrugs. ‘Suit yourself. It's just … just I thought it might
be nice for Eliza. You know, her mum and dad being there and stuff.'

‘Will Blake be there?' Hates himself for that.

She's careful. ‘Not if you don't want him to be.'

She's far nicer than he deserves.

Feels foolish. Knees wobbling like an idiot. ‘Dunno. Um … can I think about it?'

‘Course.'

Lets her straighten up and brush grass off her legs and arse. Lets her smooth her jeans around her ankles and walk off. Just like that. Doesn't say a thing. She just walks away in silence.

He stands like a jerk. Squinting in the sunshine.

He spends the next five days as jumpy as a box of frogs. Snaps at his nan. Goes to sleep with a scowl on his face. Wakes up with the crease marks still ingrained in his skin.

His nan gets wind of it. Nicola must've told her. ‘Are you going to this party or not?'

He's fiddling with his trainers, in the hallway, about to go on a run. It's the only thing which keeps him sane.