Authors: Anouska Knight
G
UY SUNK HIS
teeth into another bite of the baguette he’d just constructed after his merciless fridge raid. I couldn’t see the point in driving Harry around the neighbourhood to settle him off to sleep with the sorcery of engine vibration, only to bring him here to Mum’s once mission had been accomplished. Other than the noises Guy made as he ate and the low drone of the TV, the lounge was subdued, suiting my mood just marvellously.
The news was about as uplifting as usual: death, war, displacement, politics. All the things that should have reminded me to be grateful for my lot. The presenter promised a weather update after the following sports headlines, the screen flashing through to footballers limbering up on a floodlit field.
‘How come you’re home tonight, anyway? Thought you’d be over at the Bionic Man’s,’ Guy said, picking a piece of ham off his shirt. Rohan had called yesterday afternoon after I hadn’t shown for our ice-cream date. The miserable ride home had given me enough time to prepare a whole speech about why it was better that we were
friends, how I probably shouldn’t be rushing into anything new, a handful of other paper-thin reasons that didn’t touch on what I really wanted to say – that I knew what Megan wanted and that I couldn’t blame her for wanting it; that despite the way my normal faculties seemed to shut down just by being in the same vicinity as him I couldn’t act on it the way I wanted to; that Lily deserved more than a fully-fledged attempt from me to steal away her father.
He’d never got to hear a word of it, of course. I’d taken the coward’s way out, again, and had made up an excuse about helping mum with her e-petition.
‘So what is the crack with you and Terminator?’ Guy said, looking at me over his sandwich. ‘Mum said you’ve been getting it on with him? I like him more than that knobhead you were stuck with before.’ Guy ran the butt of his baguette around the mess on his plate. ‘Who d’you reckon would win in a fight: knobhead or the Terminator?’
‘Do you want another sandwich, Guy?’ I asked, thinking of other, more violent ways to occupy his mouth. He ignored me.
‘I like him. Like what he did for the grubby kid at the fete.’
I felt the murmurings of a sinking feeling. I didn’t want to be reminded of Rohan’s virtues right now. They were already cast into my memory, into every place I’d felt his touch the night before last. It already seemed a distant event. The ghost of a sensation ran along my collar bone as my body remembered his kisses there.
Guy startled me. ‘What was his last name again? I swear I know him.’
I rubbed the back of my neck, the television screen flicking through coverage of another sporting event, eager spectators standing in the shadows of huge structures covered in advertising for energy drinks.
‘Whose last name?’ I mumbled, zapping the channel onto something else, a period drama with not a skateboard, BMX or adrenalin junkie in sight.
‘Oi! I was watching that!’
The front door clicked open, echoing through the hallway, a jovial commotion as Mum stepped into the house laughing and chattering enthusiastically.
‘I know! And his face! Did you see it, when they had to read it out themselves?’ Mum exclaimed, thrill in her voice.
‘I have to say, I was quite surprised, Vivian. I think everyone in that room tonight was!’ chuckled her very male companion. Guy and I looked across the lounge at one another, then to the partially open door onto the hallway. My brother had almost completely stopped chewing as Mum crossed the hallway and popped her head around the lounge door.
‘Hello, son. Harry not settling again?’ she asked, regarding Guy and his armchair picnic. Harry was still strapped into his car seat, plonked on the carpet beside Guy’s feet.
‘How did you get on?’ I asked, trying to make out
the shape of the shadow hovering in the hallway behind her.
A smile reached across her face before she answered. ‘You’re not going to believe it, sweetheart. Nearly four
thousand
signatures!’
‘What? Four
thousand
? But, there aren’t that many people in Earleswicke, are there?’
I heard a small agreeable laugh from somewhere behind Mum.
‘We’re part of a wider cyber community, sweetheart! Karen said the numbers jumped once she’d put the e-petition on the Twittering thing Rohan was explaining to me.’
There was that name again.
‘I said he was a good lad,’ came the gruff voice from the hallway.
‘Jumped?’ Guy guffawed. ‘That’s one hell of a jump, Mum. What did you do, offer free homemade cake to every signatory?’ I sat up in my chair, trying to see the stranger in the hallway. The stranger who knew a
good lad
when he saw one.
Mum was shaking her head in happy disbelief. ‘Guy, I couldn’t tell you how it worked out to come to such a high number. All I know is, some of the other people on the site Karen put the link on passed the information around their friends and it just …
grew
.’
‘And now that old fool and his council cronies have had to swallow their words! They’ll lose too much face if they
go back on their promises now,’ the voice from the hall said.
‘Come on in, John,’ Mum said, stepping aside. A flat cap popped into view. John Harper looked even more like an off-duty Santa in his berry-red shirt and coffee-coloured corduroy jacket.
‘John was at the meeting too,’ Mum declared happily. ‘All these years living in the same town and we didn’t meet properly until I overheard him talking about the work he’s been doing down in Briddleton. I thought, Hang on a minute! He must know my beautiful daughter. It’s a small world.’ She smiled, slipping the scarf from her neck.
‘Well, I can see where she gets her looks from,’ John said bashfully. ‘Hello, young lady.’ He tipped his cap.
‘Hello, John,’ I said, bemused.
‘Your mother here tells me you’ve been having some bother with a sticky door?’ Guy still hadn’t returned to his sandwich.
‘John’s going to take a look at it for me,’ Mum added, reading the question in Guy’s face.
‘I’ll bet he is,’ Guy muttered.
‘You’ll be in safe hands, Mum. John’s an excellent carpenter.’ Guy noted my endorsement.
‘Why, thank you very much, young lady. The boss has been singing your praises too, you know. You’ve done a beautiful job of that place, young Bywater’s very pleased with you.’ John nodded at me.
‘Bywater?’ Guy said. ‘Rohan Bywater …
Rohan Bywater …
’ He was like a hound, rolling around the scent of Rohan’s name.
‘He’s been a good lad to work for, too. I’ve still got a few things to finish off around the place, but he’s off tomorrow, so the lad’s paid me early. I told him I could wait, but—’
‘He’s going somewhere?’ I asked, that sinking feeling starting to resemble more of a twenty-thousand-leagues-under-the-sea type of sensation.
‘Oh, you’ve missed all the excitement today. Him and his pal with the hair have been scurrying all over the place, getting their things together for some big opportunity with that leg contraption they’ve been playing with. When I left there earlier, Rohan was loading his cases into his truck.’
Something somewhere between anxiety and nausea rolled inside me. He’d called me this morning, but I didn’t trust myself not to make a complete U-turn and ask to meet with him. I hadn’t answered the call. An hour later, I’d wimped out again. Then nothing. No more calls after that. I knew he wouldn’t keep trying then, it wasn’t in him any more to chase the unwilling.
‘Would you like something to eat, John? I have a lovely hock of ham? I could do you a bit of salad?’
‘That sounds lovely, Vivian. Heckling councillors is hungry work!’ John said, led away by my mother.
I sat gazing into the emptiness, trying to find that tiny
speck of relief that somewhere, a right decision had been made. Harry stirred in his seat, his hand rubbing clumsily over his face before sleep sucked him back under.
I’d seen another two buses, this morning, both with the same advertising campaign showing the same faces, asking the same question. I knew the answer to whether I could or not, I just didn’t know whether I could do it alone. I’d put my head down, run harder, but like a catchy jingle the question had found its foothold and had stayed with me throughout the day.
I didn’t have the luxury of running now.
Guy was studying his phone. I thought about asking him his views on single-parenthood. Anna had said I hadn’t turned out too bad from a single-parent upbringing. Guy had turned out better than me. And then there was him. Rohan. Flying the flag for triumph over adversity.
I was pretty sure Rohan would have dragged himself, aching and bruised, through every second it had taken to learn how to walk again, swim again, ride a stunt bike like a professional again. He was fearless that way.
Guy’s voice burst through my thoughts. ‘Rohan J. Bywater, age: thirty-six; born: Newcastle, UK; height: six foot one inches; weight: one hundred and sixty five pounds; event: Freestyle BMX; medal record: first place Double Vert 2008 G Force Games Madrid; second place Vert 2009 G Force Games Vancouver.’ Guy scrolled through the rest of the information on his phone screen,
eyes widening. ‘I
knew
I knew him. Holy shit, no wonder he whooped my butt, the guy’s a machine. Didn’t think he had a Geordie accent, though.’
He didn’t. His accent could’ve been from anywhere and nowhere.
‘Do you want anything from the kitchen?’ I asked, rising from my chair.
‘Hang on, don’t run off.’
‘I’m not running off, Guy,’ I said. ‘I just don’t want to hear your running commentary on a guy you don’t really know anything about,’ I added, dragging myself across the carpet.
‘I know there are a
lot
of people happy to see him back on Twitter,’ Guy said, reading his screen. I narrowed my eyes at him. ‘Up until last week, his last tweet wasn’t since …’
Four years ago
.
‘… four years ago.’
I left him to it. I’d made a point of not rooting around the net, inputting Rohan’s name to find out just how much of a sporting career he’d had before fate had struck. He’d played it down, but I wasn’t stupid. He had to have had some serious sponsors to have the sort of insurance pay-out that would have bought the mill and left enough cash to keep him and Carter afloat.
In the kitchen, Mum was chirpily running through all the DIY jobs she’d never got round to around the house while John listened attentively, stopping occasionally to
nibble on the platter of food next to him. I tried not to disturb them.
‘Would you get that please, sweetheart?’ Mum said, turning to John. ‘It’s probably Lauren, my daughter-in-law, looking for her child,’ she tittered.
‘Get what?’ I asked, just as someone knocked at the front door. I hadn’t heard it before. Mum was already back hovering over John’s shoulder.
Sure
. It was probably Carter and Phil come to announce their unrequited love in an explosion of white doves.
Love birds
. The very term should’ve forewarned how my romantic life was destined to turn out. A feathery horror show with elements of window-splattering disaster. I pulled open the door, absently thinking such thoughts.
The colour of his eyes never grew any less staggering.
I was gawping, taking in his features, serious and uncertain. It was still like opening the door to a glorious pool of light I couldn’t look away from.
Rohan’s jaw tightened. ‘I just wanted to stop by. See you before I left.’
Still gawping. ‘Are you going away?’ I asked, feigning my usual ignorance.
He looked at his feet, nodding to himself. ‘Just for a couple of weeks,’ he said, burying his hands into his jean pockets. ‘It’s not good timing for me, I had other things I wanted to focus on,’ he said, stealing a look at me. I felt my cheeks warm. He looked regretful, as if maybe
he wasn’t sure about going to Stockholm. His expression changed. ‘But something’s come up. I wasn’t expecting it to, honestly I don’t think I’m ready for it, but … it’s an opportunity.’ I smiled and looked at my feet too. I’d staked my claim on the dino slippers.
‘Sounds good. You should go for it.’ I smiled, already picturing him and Megan under a Nordic sunset. Rohan wasn’t saying anything. ‘Well, take care.’ I smiled again. ‘Travel safely and, er … whatever you get up to, break a leg.’ I laughed but it fell flat like a stunned blackbird.
I was still inspecting the edge of the step when the scent of that same spiced soap reached closer to me. I kept my eyes on the floor, at the battered leather boots stood either side of my ridiculous furry dinosaur claws. He ducked down, angling himself so that he just caught the edge of my mouth. That taste again, laced over my lips. I swallowed as he kissed me softly, trying not to lose my nerve and just grab onto him, pull him into me so I could kiss him frenziedly until my air ran out.
And then he broke from me. I heard him swallow before he spoke. ‘You know, maybe I could not go tomorrow. Maybe I could stay instead. Go get that ice cream?’ I watched him feed his fingers through mine, his thumbs exploring the soft grooves of my hands. But his hands weren’t mine to hold.
‘No,’ I swallowed, ‘you go. You should go.’ I backed into the doorway. He looked unsure. I’d had no such self-control the last time he’d touched me. He ran a hand
up over the back of his neck and nodded, dropping his feet back off the step.
‘Can I call you when I get back?’ he asked, less sure now.
I pressed my lips together and nodded politely. ‘Sure.’
‘Sure?’ he asked.
I bobbed my head, unable to look at him again. We stood that way for just long enough that both of us knew this silence wasn’t going to get any easier.
A new expression washed over him. An understanding.
‘I guess I’ll see you then, Amy,’ he said, turning slowly for the end of the driveway. He gave me enough time to call after him, but thoughts of Lily kept me quiet.
T
WO WEEKS OF
June afternoons sat in Mum’s back garden trawling through design agency jobs boards had seen my skin deepen enough shades that my first official fortnight as an unemployed woman could’ve been spent in the Med.
Phil’s skin colour never changed, she was one of those all about the preservation of youth, recoiling at the prospect of wrinkled cleavages and white triangles. I couldn’t pick at her logic, she was healthier than I was, as demonstrated by her unchanged breathing into an effortless lap of Jackson’s Park. I, on the other hand, had abandoned the gym long enough ago now that I was sure I could taste a little bit of blood in the back of my throat, as per my school days with the PE teacher who was a closet Paula Radcliffe fanatic.
‘Claire left on Friday,’ Phil breezed, striding along the path like a spring-footed antelope.
There were eight of my strides between the billowy maple trees lining the park footpaths, seven of Phil’s I’d noted. I paced my breathing so I could answer without
inviting another stitch. ‘Yeah, I know. We had lunch last week.’
‘I know. She said. When’s the big interview?’ Phil asked, checking her stats on her wrist watch.
I tried to take a sip from my water bottle but a good eighty per cent of the attempt ended up soaking through my vest. ‘Friday. Ten thirty. I won’t have too much time to sweat over it. Hopefully.’
‘Well, I hope you do, and that you stink when you get in there and they won’t even consider hiring you for your lacking personal hygiene.’ Phil had rejected the
I’ll-try-to-be-happy-for-you
bit and had stayed staunchly with
leave-and-our-friendship-will-never-be-the-same
, instead. Save for a few tears, Mum was trying much harder. I hadn’t even had the interview yet.
‘I probably won’t get it, Phil.’ I shrugged, though the movement was lost in my ungraceful jogging.
‘Are you kidding? Back-breaking hours, ball-busting clients, and a few well-placed words from their newest partner? This job has your name all over it and we all sodding know it. You’ll be shopping for York apartments with somewhere to park your Audi come Saturday morning.’
A little flutter of panic bothered my insides. Devlin Raines were a big deal. This job would be demanding, and difficult and all-consuming.
If
I got it. It would also be my fresh start. In exchange for an attractive package, Devlin Raines would take all of my time, and with it any room for
idle reflections of ex pro-bikers, ex-partners and fruitless dreams.
Phil was on the cusp of sulking. ‘How’re things with Carter?’ I asked, changing tack. ‘I’ve missed not seeing him around.’
‘Yeah, me too. Him getting hammered at the party gave me an excuse to cool it off for a little while.’
‘But he’s great, Phil!’
‘I know! And I’ll call him in a few weeks, we’ll hook up. I just need a breather. I got a bit too into him too quickly. It was really freaky, actually,’ she said, visibly blown by the effect Carter had had on her.
‘I think that’s okay, Phil. It’s called
liking someone
.’
‘I know … I just don’t know that I
like
that I like him. I mean,’ her voice dropped to a whisper, ‘a yoga-loving hippy.’ Phil looked genuinely pained. Considering her usual demeanour with men was something akin to that of a partner-munching praying mantis, she was handling her voyage of self-discovery with Carter fairly well. It seemed I was the big fat hussy in this circle. Unlike Phil, I’d already made my ultimate discovery and then had waved it off to Stockholm.
Phil and I had already agreed that Rohan was off conversational limits until I’d got my head around what had almost happened there.
‘I need a breather, Phil. Like right now,’ I wheezed, letting all the pounding of my body move from my thighs to my lungs. I came to a giddy halt at the foot of one of the
park’s bridges. Phil, already at its pinnacle, stopped and jogged back down towards me. She began stretching out against the railings.
I took a long refreshing glug of water, eyeing the row of Victorian townhouses across the park. James had told me that he’d bought it, but seeing the SOLD sign hammered it home.
‘He is going to be able to buy you out of the house, isn’t he? Now that he’s taken that on as well,’ Phil said, following the direction of my eyes. James hadn’t resisted telling the office of his latest bargain.
‘He said he would, if it didn’t sell. But the agent’s already shown a few people around. It’s a good family home, in a quiet cul-de-sac. They say it’ll shift fairly quickly anyway.’
‘Won’t you miss it there?’ Phil asked, knowing the varied history that went with those walls. The hopes made, and dashed, and made again.
‘No. It’s better this way, Phil. There’s nothing here for me to work towards. The jobs pages are telling me that in clear bold print.’
‘But, you’ve had an interview already.’
‘Yes, one, Phil! I found one job that necessitated my qualifications and that was for a job-share at mid-level.’
Phil grimaced. ‘Were the hours good?’
‘For spending half the week dossing at home on my own? Yeah, the hours were great.’
‘Well, it must work for someone, Ame, or there
wouldn’t be a job-share, would there? Did they tell you anything about the person you’d be sharing with?’
‘She was in the interview. She was lovely, actually. She’s separated from her husband and wants to spend more time at home with her little boy. I don’t think they’d had many takers for the position, the pay wasn’t great. They probably wouldn’t have offered it to me on the spot otherwise.’
‘Oh, Ame. Of course they would. So I take it you told them to stick it up their bums?’
‘Face to face?’ Phil knew me better than that. ‘Thought I’d see what Devlins come back with first. If it’s a no-go, I might need the job-share to tide me over.’
‘I’d love to go back to mid-level,’ Phil sighed, ‘let someone else have all the hassle, leave the work behind when you walk out of the building. Where was it at?’
‘Clayton Associates.’
‘Where are they?’
‘Just on the outskirts of the city.’
‘Never heard of them.’
‘Exactly.’
Phil skipped past me up over the bridge. ‘I’m seizing up; come on, let’s walk.’ I screwed my drink shut and followed, falling in beside her lithe stride. Sundays in the park were always my favourite. The days where you could see couples on benches, old men reading newspapers, children learning to ride bikes with their parents running anxiously behind.
Phil pulled the band from her hair, ruffling her fringe back into place. ‘So, am I at least allowed to ask about the kid?’
‘Nope.’
Phil tapped her hands against her thighs. ‘I know you miss her.’
‘Not talking about it,’ I said, repositioning the jacket tied around my waist.
‘I was watching you, you know, when you were holding her that night, while he-who-we-shall-not-speak-of was showing off.’
‘He wasn’t showing off, Phil. He’s just—’
‘Amazing, I know. I saw.
‘You were completely natural with her, Ame. The way I would be with a Gucci puff-sleeve jacket. It was like she just … fit you. And you fitted her, too.’
The endorphins from my run were already starting to wane. I did miss Lily. I missed them both. ‘What are you suggesting, Phil? A bit of light abduction?’
‘We could probably swing it, but even with Carter’s help, Rohan’s going be a heavy lift.’ I shot a look at her. ‘Sorr-ee. I won’t mention him again.’ We’d fallen into one of those idle walks, more of an amble, where your feet felt heavier with each step.
‘Would the job with the split hours really be so bad for you, hon? It wasn’t that long ago you were trying to talk Adrian into splitting your leave with James. Now here it is, offered up on a plate.’
I tried not to laugh. ‘You’re right! But my life is like a Rubik’s Cube, Phil. One piece twists into place and three others get messed up. I have no reason to take a part-time job any more. Other than having zero income, and going mad at Mum’s.’
‘So find a reason.’
‘Like what?’
Phil stopped walking, rested her hands lightly on her hips and turned to me.
‘Amy, I like my life. Even with that weirdo Carter in it, I like my life – like my freedom. I know that I
don’t
want to be a mum. Ever. I like being able to lavish all of my money on myself, on indulgences like expensive cosmetics that I can leave out next to my pill, because some kid who’s nearly as demanding as I am isn’t going to wake up before I do and eat them. I am just not meant to be that woman, Ame. But … that isn’t you. You
are
meant for it.’ Other than peripheral updates on the adoption that never was, we did not do the kiddie talk. Any strand of conversation even remotely linked to the subject of child-rearing was nearly always administered by Phil with a short sharp scratch. She lifted her hands and let them slap noisily against her thighs. ‘Ame, you’re meant to be a mother. And there’s a kid out there who’s waiting for you to go and be their mum. I can feel it, Amy. I believe it. You can think I’m just trying to make you stay, and you can go all the way to York if you want to, but you’re going to find exactly the same truth up there.’
The park was so pretty, dappled in sunlight and shade. ‘I don’t think it’s meant to be, Phil.’
‘Bullshit,’ she snapped. ‘You’ve done it before and you could do it again, if you wanted to. It wasn’t James driving everything on the last time, Ame, it was you. It was always you. They’re going to offer you that job on Friday, Ame, and you can think that I’m being selfish, because I don’t want you to move away, but I’m telling you, there isn’t a job out there that’s going to fill that hole for you. There just isn’t.’
‘Go through it all again? Apply to be a single parent?’
‘Just
a parent
, Ame. Why put any more labels on it than that? In an ideal world, we’d all have someone to hold our hands but sometimes we’ve just got to take a bloody big breath, be brave, and dive in.’
‘Phil, you’ve got Carter just waiting for the chance to hold your hand, and I don’t see you diving in! You’ve blown him off!’
‘I didn’t blow him off, I just cooled it for a few weeks. Blowing him off would have been turning him away on my mum’s doorstep when he’s about to leave the country.’
‘I’m not talking about him!’
‘Why not? Anyone could see that Rohan’s into you. Why just let him go off with his ex, if he’s asking you to talk him out of it? What else has the guy gotta do?’
‘Nothing. He hasn’t got to do anything. He should just … get on with doing his thing.’
‘And what if his
thing
is you?’
‘Phil!’ I said in exasperation. ‘I’m not it! His
thing
is his daughter … and his sport. That’s why he’s out there with Megan, in Stockholm, and I’m here. We have nothing in common! You’ve seen his lifestyle, Phil, he was a professional sportsman. He’s got thousands of followers online, people who are like him, into the same things he’s into.’ People like the mother of his child. ‘It would never have worked out anyway.’
I started walking again.
‘Thousands of followers, huh? You’ve been stalking him, then?’ she said, reaching a hand onto my shoulder.
I stopped moving and let out a long breath. ‘No … my brother has.’
‘Well, let’s have a look, then,’ she declared, ripping her phone from its strapping around her arm. ‘Phil, I don’t—’
‘So don’t. I will.’ She began tapping the screen. ‘
H-o-t-b-u-n-s …
I’m kidding,’ she teased. I stood there, conspicuously silent as Phil rifled through the internet pages. ‘Ah. Here we go … Bloody hell, nineteen thousand followers. He is a popular fella. No wonder Viv hit her petition figures, Rohan put a call out to all his biker disciples,’ she said, her thumbs making light work of the information in front of her.
‘Rohan did what?’
Phil’s eyebrow twitched, happy that she’d hooked me. ‘He offered up one of his old bikes for anyone who signed and forwarded the link for the petition. I guess that makes him a nice guy.’ She carried on scanning through the phone screen, looking for more proof that I should’ve pulled him into Mum’s house that night and locked the door behind him.
‘Damn, Ame, he looks good in a suit. These photos are recent – wanna see?’
I shook my head, dawdling beside her, trying to occupy myself with the other activity in the park and purge him from my head. Megan probably took those pictures. I did not need to think about any of it –
see
any of it.
‘Looks like he’s been a busy boy. He’s doing a lot of handshaking with other guys who
don’t
look so good in suits. They don’t look very Swedish, either.’
‘I don’t think everyone in Sweden necessarily looks like Sven and Ulrika, Phil.’
‘Okay, so how many of them have names like …’ She peered closer at her phone. ‘David Green and Roger Phillips? Of
Liverpool-based
global non-invasive orthopaedics company Ortho-Ped Technologies?’ Phil’s voice lilted with the same confusion that was starting to fuzz my own head.
‘What?’
‘That’s what it says. That he’s been in meetings with these guys, some sort of manufacturing deal with this Ortho-Ped place.
Ortho-Ped Technologies are market
leaders in the development, manufacture and supply of prosthetics, bracing and support products—
’
I interrupted Phil’s spiel relay. ‘Rohan’s in Liverpool? As in England?’
Phil peered at me over the top of her phone. ‘Now I’m no Judith Chalmers, Ame, but I’m pretty sure there isn’t a Liverpool in Sweden.’
I pulled the phone from her hands, fingers hungrily whipping through the pictures on Rohan’s profile. She was right. He did look good in a suit, but then we already knew that. There were entries, too, Rohan’s updates on the meetings he’d had, the potential for his knee brace. I scrolled through them impatiently. For every snippet of information he’d posted, flurries of followers had replied to the thread, encouraging, congratulating … asking when they’d see him return to competitive sport.
‘He never left the UK, hon.’
‘But, she said … going to the games would open doors for him …’