A Friend of the Family (13 page)

Bernie wandered back in with a crossword magazine and cup of coffee. It always amazed Ned that Mum was able to drink a cup of full-strength Colombian coffee at midnight and then go to bed half an hour later and fall into a deep, impenetrable slumber. Ned only had to look at a teabag after six to ensure that he’d be awake until the early hours, listening to his heart pounding like a locomotive in his chest. ‘Aaah,’ she cooed, stopping at the threshold to survey the scene in front of her, ‘look at you both. Polishing away. Just like the old days.’

She fell into the sofa next to Ned, curled her feet up
under her, stroked her coffee cup affectionately and sighed pleasurably. ‘Now
that’s
what I call a lovely evening. All my boys, good food, good wine, and a big fat helping of good news on top.’

Ned and Gerry grunted in response and carried on polishing and watching TV. Bernie reached for her Ultras and lit one up. She stared at her magazine for a while, but Ned could tell she wasn’t concentrating. She was about to say something – she had that air about her.

‘So,’ she said finally, a couple of minutes later, ‘what do you think?’

‘Think of what, love?’ said Gerry.

‘About the news? Millie and Sean. What d’you think?’

‘Lovely girl,’ said Gerry, absent-mindedly, ‘really lovely girl.’

‘Ned,’ she nudged him gently with her elbow, ‘what about you?’

Ned shrugged. ‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘I liked her.’

Bernie put the magazine down. Ned could hear her sucking in her breath, preparing to say what was really on her mind. ‘You don’t think… you don’t think it’s a bit soon, you know? They’re rushing it a bit?’

Ned put down his candlestick. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I suppose it is a bit soon. But they really like each other, you can tell that just by looking.’

‘Yes,’ said Bernie pensively, ‘but that’s what worried me. I mean, when you first start going out with someone you’re
supposed
to really like them. That’s the whole
point. You’ve got all these chemicals swirling around your body making sure that you really like that person. It’s what happens after that that’s the problem. I’ve always thought you shouldn’t get engaged when you think the other person’s perfect – that you should wait until you know they’re not but you still love them anyway. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I really liked Millie – I thought she was a lovely girl. But she and Sean, well, they’re quite
different,
aren’t they?’

‘You mean she’s the poshest fucking person you’ve ever met in your life?’ said Ned, smirking.

‘Well, yes, she is quite
posh.
But it’s not that. She’s just not his usual type, is she? And then there’s the age gap – she’ll be wanting babies soon. D’you think Seany’s ready for babies? Gerry?’

Gerry glanced at her through a cloud of tobacco smoke. ‘Course he is,’ he said. ‘Thirty years old – I had three of them when I was his age.’

‘Yes, but boys these days. They don’t grow up as fast. And Seany’s always been a bit – irresponsible. You know…’

‘’ Bout time he had a bit of responsibility, then, isn’t it?’ said Gerry.

Bernie sighed. ‘Maybe he’s just getting carried away by the romance of it – you know what he’s like.’

Ned snorted derisively. ‘Sean’s not romantic,’ he said.

‘No – but you know what I mean. Maybe he’s just a bit overwhelmed by the idea of marrying into that kind of
society
.’

Ned snorted again. ‘Mum, you’re basically saying that your son is a shallow, social-climbing dickhead who just wants to marry into the upper classes.’

Bernie looked momentarily flustered. ‘No – that’s not what I meant.’

‘Other way round, if anything,’ muttered Gerry. ‘She’s probably trying to piss off her old man by marrying into the proletariat.’

‘Oh, I don’t know – she’s a bit old to be rebelling against her family, isn’t she? Besides, Seany’s hardly a prole these days, is he, Gerry? What with his book and everything.’

‘Anyway,’ said Ned, ‘you two aren’t really in a position to talk, are you? Nice Jewish boy marrying a good Catholic girl. And look at the disaster your marriage has been, eh?’

Bernie and Gerry smiled at each other. ‘You’re right, you’re right,’ said Bernie, ‘but besides all of that, this getting-married-in-a-hurry thing. I don’t know, it’s not very Sean, is it?’

Ned nodded. He couldn’t argue with that. But then again, writing a bestselling novel, earning a shedload of money and becoming the hottest young writer in town wasn’t very Sean either.

‘Maybe he’s just growing up,’ said Ned. ‘You know – he
is
thirty; it’s about time.’

‘Yes,’ said Bernie, picking at his fingernails, ‘I suppose so.’

‘I mean, look at Tony and Jo – they’d known each other for years when they got married, they seemed like they were perfect for each other. And it still went wrong.’

‘Hmm,’ said Bernie, nodding.

‘And me and Carly – ten years we were together for and it didn’t work out.’

‘Yes. I know what you’re saying, but there’s just something worrying me about it. I just feel like Sean’s not emotionally ready for this level of commitment. If it was you, say, or Tony, I’d feel more comfortable. But Sean – he’s always been such a loner. He’s always done everything for himself, never had to think about anyone else besides himself before. I just can’t see him being ready to share his life with someone.’

‘So you’re saying that Sean should just spend the rest of his life on his own, then, are you?’

‘No, I’m not saying that. I’m just saying that they should at least try living together for a while first before they do something as important as getting married. I’m just saying, I don’t think Sean’s ready yet. That’s all.’

‘Well, I do,’ said Ned, feeling suddenly defensive of his older brother, ‘I think he’s ready. I think he’s going to be a brilliant husband. And he’s going to be a brilliant father one day, too.’ He heard a familiar tinkle from his mobile phone, which was sitting in his jacket pocket in the hallway. A text message. Who the hell would be sending him text messages at this time of night? A shiver went down his spine and he wandered out of the living room to get it.

An innocuous little envelope icon flashed jauntily on the screen, trying to convince him that it was there as a symbol of something good and nice. Ned thought otherwise.

He pressed the OK button and the message opened up:

cuntcuntcuntcuntcunt

cuntcuntcuntcuntcunt

cuntcuntcuntcuntcunt

cuntcuntcuntcuntcunt

cuntcuntcuntcuntcunt

cuntcuntcuntcuntcunt

He sighed, switched off his phone and went back to the living room to polish candlesticks.

Pregnant?

‘Pregnant?’

‘Uh huh.’

Sean tucked himself slowly back into his trousers and turned to face Millie. She was looking up at him like a small girl who wasn’t sure whether the felt-tip-pen mural she’d painted directly on to the living-room wall was a good thing or a bad thing.

Sean felt something freeze inside him at that moment – and it was exactly the same part of him that should have melted.

‘What do you mean, you’re pregnant?’

Millie’s face fell when she heard the annoyance in his voice. ‘I’m really sorry, Sean.’

‘How did it happen? I mean, we’ve always used condoms.’

‘I don’t know, Sean, I really don’t know.’

Sean’s mind fast-forwarded through every single sour-breathed early-morning nuzzle, every late-night, giggly, drunken fumble, every quickie on the sofa and leisurely Sunday-afternoon marathon session, until it settled on a point, two weeks ago, when Millie had stopped him reaching for the condoms. ‘Not yet,’
she’d said, ‘put it on later. I just want to feel, you know…’

‘No,’ he’d teased, ‘what?’

‘You know.’

‘No,’ he’d laughed, ‘I don’t! Tell me – tell me what you want to feel.’

‘
You
,’ she’d said. ‘I want to feel
you.
Properly. Inside
me.
OK?’

And it most certainly had been OK. Fantastic. Magnificent. Silken. Warm, soft and made for him. And a fine, fine development in their relationship, in Sean’s opinion. After all, that was it, wasn’t it? Once you’d reached the condom-on-at-the-last-minute stage, there was no going back. It was all part of the natural forward momentum of a healthy relationship – like leaving a toothbrush, like referring to each other as boyfriend and girlfriend, like saying ‘I love you’. It was one of those no-turning-back-now rites of passage.

‘Jesus,’ he muttered, ‘it’s the condoms, isn’t it, using them at the last minute.
Shit!
So stupid. So stupid.’

‘Sean! It’s got nothing to do with the way we use condoms. I’m seven weeks gone. It happened weeks ago.’

‘Seven weeks?
But we’ve only been going out for eight and a half!

‘I know. I know.’

‘But I don’t understand. What were we doing?’

Millie raised her eyebrows at him. Sean felt another flash of annoyance. ‘No – for God’s sake – I mean, what night? Where had we been? What did we do differently?’

‘Oh God, Sean. What does it matter? I’m pregnant.’

‘It matters because… because…
I don’t understand
! I’ve used condoms all my life and I’ve never got anyone pregnant before. Are you sure it’s mine?’

‘What?!’

Sean knew he’d overstepped the mark. He reached out to touch her arm. She flinched. ‘Look. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. But maybe if you’d slept with someone just before we met. You know…’

‘Sean. You know I didn’t. We’ve talked about this…’

He sighed. ‘Let’s go into the other room, eh? Talk about this properly.’

They moved into the living room and sat awkwardly at opposite ends of the sofa. Sean felt overcome by sadness as he glanced at the full cushion of space between them. This was, Sean thought sadly, their first row. He never thought that he and Millie would have a row. Ever. There hadn’t been so much as a cross word between them in two months. But this – this was
worse
than a row. This was a cataclysm. Because no matter what anyone said or thought Sean didn’t want a baby and the only fibre of hope he had to hang on to was that Millie didn’t want one either.

‘So,’ Millie broke the silence.

‘So,’ Sean sighed and cupped his kneecaps.

‘What do you think?’

‘What do I think?’ That note of irritation crept into Sean’s voice again and he laughed hoarsely. ‘I think it’s a fucking nightmare.’

‘Oh.’

They were both quiet again. Sean’s jaw was clenched so tight his ears were aching.

He threw Millie a quick glance. ‘What do
you
think?’

He heard Millie suck in her breath. ‘I don’t know. I’m confused.’

‘Well, do you
want
it?’

‘Sean.’

He turned to look at her. There were tears shining in her eyes.

‘Why are you being like this?’

‘Like what?’

‘So…
cold?’

‘Well, you didn’t expect me to be
pleased,
did you?’

‘No. Yes. Well. I just thought you’d be more…
kind.
I thought you’d be kinder.’

‘I am being
kind
.’ He spat out the word as if he were confessing to a love of fluffy kittens. ‘I’m just a bit shocked, that’s all. I mean, we’ve only been together a couple of months. And now – a baby. It’s just… it’s…’

‘I know. I’m shocked, too. But, Sean…’

Here it comes, he thought, here it comes. The five-word sentence that’s going to destroy my life for ever.

‘… I want to keep it.’

There it was. Sean grunted and slapped his palms down on to his thighs. ‘I knew it,’ he said. ‘I
knew
it.’

‘Sean, you’re acting like I did this on purpose. Like I deliberately got pregnant to mess your life up.’

Sean grunted again. She was right. He
was
acting like she’d done something wrong, but he couldn’t help himself. She was the one with the womb, she was the
one with the power to decide, the power to change the course of his life irrevocably. He felt completely helpless.

‘Well,
I
don’t, Millie.
I
don’t want a baby. I don’t. I so,
so
don’t.’ Sean’s ears buzzed with adrenaline. He waited for Millie to react. The silence lingered on.

Finally Millie turned towards him. ‘I need to explain something to you. I’m thirty-six years old. And I always said that if I was going to have kids I wanted them late in life, because I was having too much fun being young. I thought that it was a waste of your youth, rearing children when you could be drinking tequila slammers in a bar full of beautiful men every night. So I never really thought about it. To be honest, I’ve never had a maternal urge in my life. And then I met you and I thought, Aha, now here’s what you might call perfect timing, Mr Right, just when I should really be thinking about this baby malarkey. And I thought we could have a couple of years, you know, hang out, have some fun and then maybe force ourselves to try and make a baby. But, here’s the thing, Sean – I’m pregnant now. Right now. And if this had happened to me ten years ago, shit, if this had happened to me
five
years ago, I know what I’d have done. I’d have got rid of it. But when you’re thirty-six and engaged to be married then you’re not really talking about a whole bunch of options. Are you?’

Sean breathed hot breath into his clenched fist. His mouth was dry with fear and stale champagne. He got to his feet and headed for the kitchen.

‘Where are you going?’

Her voice already sounded different in his ears; shriller, more invasive. ‘Getting some water.’ He held his breath. ‘Do you want some?’

‘No.’

She was staring at her fingers when he walked back in. He sat down silently.

‘Why does this feel like we’re having a row, Sean?’

‘I don’t know,’ he replied bluntly.

Millie suddenly got to her feet and spun around to face him. ‘I’m really sorry, Sean,’ she cried. ‘I’m really sorry that you got me pregnant. And I’m really sorry that I love you enough to want to have your baby. I’m really, really fucking sorry, OK!’