A Part of Me (20 page)

T
HE THUMPING THING
had hardly left me throughout the journey back to the mill. I’d driven most of the way with one hand clamped apprehensively to my neck.

When he opened the door, Lily was wrapped in a bath towel, comfortably perched on her father’s side. He’d changed, into a plain blue shirt, rolled up past his elbows. Damp patches showed where Lily’s body had pressed against his.

‘Hey, Lily.’ I smiled, trying to break any residual ice from earlier. Given my record with her father, crampons and a pick might have been advisable.

Lily looked wide-eyed from the door. ‘Hello. I’ve got plasters now.’ She hung over Rohan’s arm, directing me to her knees.

‘I found some in one of the bags. Come on in.’ He smiled, stepping aside. I took the bag in past them, the hallway was filled with the delicate aroma of soapy water and shampoo, and the more spiced accents of whatever clung to Rohan’s skin. ‘Thank you for this, really,’ he said, offering to take the bag from me. ‘I’m just getting her into
her pyjamas, would you like to come up? Unless you need to get back?’

I shook my head. ‘No, I’m good for a little while.’ I smiled. He smiled too. I tried not to be affected by it.

Rohan held out a hand towards the honeyed-oak staircase. I started up the stairs, realising that the mill felt strangely alien. Not the echoing shell I’d been working in but a home I’d been invited into. Warm and snug and lived in. Rohan followed on with Lily and the bag.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in jeans,’ he said, behind me. I should’ve let him lead, then my backside wouldn’t have been so perilously close to his eye level.

‘Have you been in a bath, Amy? Your hair is all wet.’ I looked down at Lily behind me and smiled.

‘Yep. I have. I bet it wasn’t as bubbly as yours, though.’

‘I got Daddy wet.’ She grinned, looking at him for his reaction.

Rohan feigned disapproval and pinched at her tummy. Lily exploded into throaty giggles.

‘Did you?’ I laughed back. ‘Did you like Daddy’s new bath? It’s a bit like a swimming pool, isn’t it?’

Lily nodded enthusiastically enough that the hood of her towel fell back from her head. ‘You’ve got wet hair too!’ I exclaimed.

‘I don’t own a hairdryer,’ Rohan noted.

‘You should’ve said, I have a spare,’ I said, walking across the gallery. Even the lounge below looked different,
more homely. ‘Do you have a brush? You should tie her hair back when she’s ready for bed. Keep the damp off her pillow.’

Rohan nodded, gesturing for us to walk on through to his room. Like everywhere else, his bedroom had taken on a whole new air, the design scheme we’d rolled out in here suddenly pulled together by the simple but magical act of its being put to use. It still wasn’t quite dark outside, but the wreath of pendant lights hanging over the tub and the bedside lamps were all on, throwing warm light onto the stone walls, enriching the tones of the floorboards.

‘Excuse the mess,’ he said, setting Lily down on already disturbed bedclothes. She looked marooned in the centre of Rohan’s bed. I watched her roll over, snuggling into the furred throws there that had already been rolled in before. Rohan began collecting up the line of toys running like a breadcrumb trail to the bathtub in the centre of the room.

‘It’s not mess, is it, Lily? You’re just settling in.’ I smiled, watching her wriggle her toes through the mottled brown fur. Rohan, realising he had nowhere to put his armful, lobbed the lot down in the corner next to me. He ran his fingers back and forth through his hair, and yawned.

‘Hard work?’ I asked, slipping my hands into my back pockets. I wasn’t really sure why I was up here.

Rohan laughed softly, looking at Lily then back to me. His eyes held something I thought I’d seen before, when
he’d laughed at me for eating Carter’s pie. ‘I guess she gets that from her dad.’ He smiled. ‘I don’t suppose you know how to do hair?’ he asked. ‘I have a My Little Pony brush and absolutely no clue.’ He looked so hapless I was already grinning as he hunted through the pile, victoriously producing a miniature pink plastic brush.

His hand looked enormous around it, like King Kong wielding an aeroplane. I rolled my eyes and took it from him. ‘Lily?’ I called, walking over to the bed. ‘What does Mummy do to your hair before bedtime?’

Lily held a hand to her head, pudgy white fingers over wet matted hair helping her to think through my question. ‘First she dries it with her hairdryer on her bed and then sometimes she makes a plait. Or sometimes she doesn’t make a plait.’

I looked at Rohan.
Plait?
he mouthed. It made me smile. ‘Okay, sweetie. We’ll just put it into a plait for tonight.’ Rohan had relaxed his shoulders a little. ‘You know my mum has a spare car seat – for my nephew. She hardly uses it. I’m at the office tomorrow so I’ll run it over at lunchtime.’

Rohan lolled his head to one side and smiled gratefully. ‘Thanks. I bet you think I’m useless, right?’ I moved beside Lily and began towelling her hair.

‘Lily Bywater! Where are your pyjamas? I can see your tummy!’ I squealed. Lily grinned up at me. I pretended to be shocked. Rohan was smiling too. He was such a different creature with her around. ‘Rohan, you worry too
much. She’s clean, and fed – you have fed her, right?’ I teased. I sat down beside Lily and started to gently tease out the snags in the ends of her hair. ‘You should see my sister-in-law, she’s a brilliant mum and half the time, she doesn’t know what day of the week it is. She dropped Sam off at nursery last week wearing odd shoes. Him, not her. It happens.’

Rohan picked up a stack of clothing and brought it over to the bed. ‘Shall we get your PJs on, Lils? Before Amy plaits your hair?’

‘Does she have any hairbands?’ I asked.

‘Will they sell those where I can get the hairdryer?’

I rolled my eyes, and pulled free the band in my hair while Rohan pulled Lily through her white pyjama top and little pink shorts. He watched with interest as I sat her down on my lap, sectioning off her hair into silky cords, quickly weaving them together. ‘I might get Carter to do that,’ he said, as I tied my band around Lily’s hair. She looked even smaller with her hair all tied down. Ready for a snuggle and a snooze. ‘Right then, little lady. We’d better let you get to bed. You’ve got a busy day shopping tomorrow.’

‘You don’t have to leave, unless you want to?’ Rohan said. ‘I plugged the appliances in after you left, brought the kettle and things up from the boathouse. You could make a couple of coffees, if you wanted? While I get her off?’

Lily was rifling through the bag I’d brought. ‘Okay?’
We both looked at each other. Rohan rubbed the back of his neck sending a waft of his aftershave my way. ‘Don’t forget the nappy,’ I said, nodding to Lily, stacking them up on the bed. ‘Oh, and there’s medicine in that bag too. If you wanted to put it up somewhere.’

Rohan nodded. ‘Got it.’

I wondered if I was going over the top again, if he thought I was interfering. I decided that was my cue to leave it at that. I got up, wished Lily a good night and walked for the door.

‘Amy?’ Rohan called after me.

‘Yep?’

‘Thanks, I appreciate it.’

*

I was admiring John’s elegant craftsmanship in the kitchen when Rohan came down twenty minutes later. ‘Sorry, I wanted to check that she was sleeping before I left her up there,’ he said, padding across newlylaid flagstones to the cooling cup of coffee on the side. ‘How much do I owe you?’

‘Honestly, it’s okay.’ I smiled, ‘So, Megan’s in Barcelona huh? I bet she’s missing Lily already.’

Rohan’s hair had grown out a little since that day he’d first come into the boardroom. He looked different now in his shirt and jeans, and yet not different at all. Maybe I was different.

‘She will be. But Megan’s job is important to her.
She still feels the buzz when she goes out covering the games.’

‘The games?’

‘Gravity Force Games. You probably haven’t heard of them.’

I shrugged, letting my shoulders sell the mistruth.

‘G Force is an international sporting event. Extreme sports, so you’ve got your BMXing, motocross, skateboarding. And then there’s White G Force, which is the winter equivalent, so snowmobiling, snowboarding, competitive sledding, et cetera.’

Rohan’s eyes warmed as he talked now.

‘Sounds fun.’ I smiled. ‘And dangerous.’

He nodded. ‘That about covers it.’

‘And Megan photographs these events?’ No wonder she liked her job.

‘Yeah, and she blogs; writes articles, too. Right now she’s out there following a Spanish guy, Sebastian Barros. He’s pretty prolific in the freestyle motocross. Can you imagine us guys with engines? They are some crazy cats.’ Rohan’s eyes had that look again.

‘You sound like you miss it.’

‘I miss the guys. Megan’s going to be bumping into old friends I haven’t seen, for sure. I miss the thrill of competition; that’s just something that’s there, in your blood. But no one can compete for ever. You have to find new ways to turn yourself on – adapt or die, I guess.’

Rohan had definitely adapted. My hair was beginning
to frizz, I tucked it away behind my ears, hoping I didn’t look like a Def Leppard groupie. ‘Where are the games held?’

‘All over the world. I’ve been to some amazing countries.’

‘Which was your favourite?’

‘Probably Canada. I have a thing for totem poles. I wanted to bring a couple back to the UK, have them standing either side of the ramps, but the shipping costs were …
interesting
.’ He grinned.

‘Do you ever go and watch the games now?’

‘And be a spectator? No. It would drive me nuts. If I had a reason to go out there, work of some kind maybe, but …’ He was slipping away somewhere, somewhere frantic and exciting and committed to memory. ‘Anyway, like I said: that’s my old life.’

I knew that feeling. That constant rolling current between accepting what you’ve become and mourning what you once were. And then there was the injustice. Of being the unlucky one, blundering obliviously through your own life until
fate
singled you out. A bike stunt gone wrong. A placenta that fails.

‘Amy?’

‘Hmm?’

‘I said you’re about to lose your ear— Too late.’

I heard the delicate impact of silver on stone somewhere near my feet. Rohan bent down to retrieve my stud for me. He held it up between his finger and thumb. His
eyes moved from the stud to me. My chest tightened as he closed the two or three steps between us.

His voice seemed to have sloped down to somewhere lower when he spoke again. ‘You were miles away, just now. What were you thinking about?’ He took another step towards me, and I could smell him again.

‘Nothing.’ I smiled cautiously. ‘Old lives.’ I watched his hand lift towards my neck, the smell of him filling my senses, locking me to the spot. My hair tickled as I felt him feed his fingers over my shoulder. I swallowed.

‘You need this part too, don’t you?’ he asked, carefully teasing from my hair the tiny silver back to my earring.

I nodded and swallowed again. He leant in to me, and gently pressed the pin of my stud into my ear, his fingers deftly finding their way along the line of my neck to the back of my lobe. When I swallowed again, to my utter embarrassment I knew he’d heard it.

‘I’m getting better at the girl stuff,’ he said gently, fixing my earring in place.

I wanted to say thank you, to say anything coherently, but I couldn’t think of a word short enough to risk speaking. His eyes were glorious, almost unearthly.

Oh no. No, no, no, this was not happening. This could not happen
.

‘Thanks,’ I croaked, my unready voice cracking. ‘I … have to be getting home now.’

J
AMES RARELY LOST
his cool, but there was a tell-tale vein that popped out on his forehead whenever he was that way headed. A fork of lightning pointing down towards his nose and the lines around his mouth that had steadily hardened during the last few miles to work.

‘I’ll go to five per cent over the asking price. But for that, it needs to be taken off the market today,’ he warned, staring out at the road ahead. The man on the other end of the call gave a placatory promise to pass on James’s offer and excused himself from the conversation. James hit the button on the steering wheel ending the call.

‘Five per cent over? But we agreed last night—’

‘It’s Park Lane, Amy. This might be our one chance. We have to go in hard.’ He’d been so preoccupied with the renovation opportunity that when I’d made it home last night, he hadn’t even asked about my time out of the house.

I looked out of the passenger window, the glint of my silver earring in the weak reflection there. I’d practically
hot-footed it out of the mill last night. Rohan had been calm while I’d bumbled my excuses and left him watching me drive off the yard from the front door.

Guilt twisted in my stomach. Nothing had happened, but …

I filled my lungs with air and tried to be rational. James was staring at me in between checking for movement in the traffic ahead, waiting for my agreement on the need to
go in hard
. I nodded briefly and looked for something else to watch outside.

‘You look tired this morning.’ He sighed, pulling off the main street into the biscuit factory car park. ‘You were sleep-talking about that plonker Bywater last night. Are you over-working again?’

Adrenalin flared beneath my skin at his name on James’s lips.

‘No. Actually I was thinking of asking Phil to wrap up there for me. So I can get going on the hotel project Adrian has lined up.’ This had been the fruit of my laborious nocturnal thinking. The best and only suggestion I’d managed to come up with. Safe distance.

‘You’re always thinking about work, Ames,’ James said, pulling into one of the reserved bays. ‘How are you going to cope with twelve months’ adoption leave?’

‘I’ll cope.’ Ayear away from my life right now sounded like a pleasure cruise.

James turned off the engine and began checking his teeth for muesli in the rear-view mirror. ‘So did you sort
out your brother’s crisis last night?’ he asked, moving his inspection to the evenness of his shave.

A burning heat crept over my neck.
Don’t be a liar, Ame
.

‘Oh! I keep forgetting! Mum was wondering if you’d help out at the fete this weekend? It’s at Earleswicke community centre. She needs men to help put the gazebos up for the stalls if you could spare an hour?’

‘That place? It’s a dump, Amy. What’s the point?’ he guffawed. A strange affinity for Earleswicke community centre suddenly awoke in me.

‘The point is my mum thinks that there’s a point. And actually, she’s right. The local kids do need somewhere to hang out—’

‘Somewhere to hang out!’ he scoffed. ‘Amy, kids will always hang around in the street causing problems, regardless of what you lay on for them. A derelict community centre won’t change that. Right, sorry to kick you out, baby, but I’ve got a site inspection at nine,’ he said, reaching for my bag on the back seat. I put a hand on the door handle and paused, suddenly cemented to the spot. Everything was falling back into the old rhythm. That was the plan, wasn’t it? To get back to normal.

Over on the corner, two office types kissed each other tenderly, sharing a goodbye before going their separate ways for the day. She was smiling, gesturing with her wristwatch that she would be late, him more intent on a
few extra seconds at her lips. A peck on my cheek diverted my attention.

‘Have a good day in the office. Once Anna gets things moving, you’ll be a lady of leisure.’

The city was warm outside James’s car, just enough of a breeze to sweep a few loose strands of hair over my face. James was already driving away by the time I’d crossed the square to the cluster of trees where Marcy and Tom usually perched for a crafty afternoon smoke. A burst of birdsong in the leaves above me spurred me on into the offices.

I needed to talk to Phil. Anna was coming to go through some serious stuff in two days, I needed to focus and there was too much swimming around my head. Things that didn’t belong in there. Phil had to take over at the mill, so everything could calm down again. I strode through the reception lobby with renewed verve, straight through the first office space ablaze with hazy morning light, past Alice hovering over Tom’s shoulder and Dom hunched over a greasy café breakfast sandwich, straight to the cluster of desks where Hannah and Philippa sat back to back. Hannah was munching through a breakfast sandwich too – bacon judging by the audible reaction of my stomach. She widened her eyes and bobbed her head in an expression of speechless greeting as a globule of ketchup fell onto her desk. Phil was slowly stirring a spoon around her coffee cup as if winding up the mechanism that would power her movements for the day.

‘Phil, I need a favour.’

Phil’s shoulders slumped as if I was breaching the universal curfews of favour requests. ‘Morning to you too. Can I sink my shitty coffee first?’ she asked, slowly spinning her chair. ‘What the hell happened to you? You look like you’ve been shot.’

I followed her eyes to the red spatter across the right shoulder of my blouse. The sinister-looking splodge there was a similar shade to the berries I’d noticed the birds fighting over in the courtyard trees.

‘You have got to be kidding me.’

‘It’s good luck.’ Phil grinned, already perkier.

‘Ugh. I’ve got to go sponge this off. Any chance of making me a grim coffee to perk me up?’ I asked, turning for the loos.

‘Ame?’ Phil called. ‘Just a heads-up. Sadie’s in there. She made a dramatic dash in, about ten minutes ago. Probably building up to another sickie.’

My skin prickled.

‘What’s wrong with her?’ I asked, taking in the streak of bird poo next to my face.

Phil sipped her coffee and grimaced. ‘Nothing, probably. Tom asked if anyone wanted a bite of his sausage-and-egg sandwich and she bolted for the toilets. Yesterday it was the smell of Ali’s tuna salad. Hard-faced and delicate-stomached, that one.’

‘Maybe it’s a bug,’ Hannah offered. ‘She has been sick a lot.’

Phil rolled her eyes. ‘It’s not a bug, Hannah, or someone
else in here would have had it.’ She turned back to her desk. ‘She’s just not a breakfast person. Would rather still be in bed, the slacker. Well, we’d all like to roll in to work at eleven, if we could.’

My skin stopped prickling, turning cold instead.

For five long weeks, James had taken to eating his breakfast at work. Even the smell of the toaster had been enough to trigger the nausea.

Hannah turned back to her breakfast. I could feel myself slipping into some sort of autopilot. Calmly, I turned and walked across the office towards the ladies’ toilet. I could hear a pulse inside my ears as I stepped inside, the faint sweet scent of sickness hanging in the air. Sadie turned from where she had been trying to dust more colour over her cheeks. She looked lost, eyes wide and bewildered. I needed to breathe, but my lungs were holding onto their air. Sadie had stopped fussing with her make-up. She opened her mouth and then swallowed the words that never surfaced.

I began to feel giddy. The tremble in my chest pushed its way into my voice.

‘Is it James’s?’

She was trying to hold herself rigid, but I could already see it in her. A lead weight plummeted inside me, my centre of balance dropping from its rightful position. My heart was fluttering uselessly in my chest, trying to break free like that little blackbird. Sadie’s eyes began to glass over.

My voice was suddenly brittle. ‘Does he know?’

Sadie’s features wrinkled, eyes giving up the tears I knew were there. I watched as her shoulders began shaking around her petite frame.

‘He doesn’t want to know,’ she broke, clamping her hands over her face. ‘He’s wants me to go to a clinic. He doesn’t want us, Amy. He wants you.’