My Best Friend's Girl (11 page)

The woman’s question, “What are you doing?” still hung in the air. I looked back up at her and smiled sweetly.

“What am I doing? I’m buying shampoo.”

Tegan slipped her hand into mine and, pushing the cart, we strode away from the aisle with our heads held high.

My heart was racing in my chest and thudding loudly in my ears. This was going to happen a lot in the coming weeks, months and, probably, years. Outsiders were going to question my status in Tegan’s life, they weren’t going to instantly believe I was Tegan’s legal guardian, her parent. Since I’d sent the adoption papers off, I’d found out that it wouldn’t be straightforward to adopt Tegan. It’d take months, possibly years. I had an array of official hoops to jump through, a mountain of forms to fill in, masses of personal information to disclose to any stranger who asked, but even then it might not be enough. Cross-racial adoptions were very, very rare, especially this way round, a black woman adopting a white child. I had to do it, though.

As Tegan’s crying had subsided that day in the hotel, as she stood limp and helpless in my arms after learning her mother had gone to heaven, a moment of clarity came over me. There was something I could do to make it up to Adele for not being there at the end, for not helping out when I could have. There was one way I could prove to Tegan that she really did have me—I had to adopt her. Not merely take her on, be her legal guardian, but make her part of my family. Be her mother like Adele wanted. From what I’d found out so far, however, I might not be allowed to.

“Mummy Ryn,” Tegan said, making me jump out of the thoughts I’d been immersed in. I frowned down at her.

“What did you call me?”

“Mummy Ryn,” Tegan repeated, as though it was every day she called me “Mummy” when she’d been calling me Auntie Ryn most of her life.

“Why did you call me Mummy?” I asked.

“You said you are my new mummy,” she whispered, her royal blue eyes filling with tears, her voice accusing me of lying to her.

I crouched down to her height, willing her not to cry. My last experience with her weeping had been harrowing and we’d both taken mental blows from that, it’d taken hours for us to calm down. I didn’t want her breaking her heart in the middle of a supermarket over something as trivial as what she called me. “I am,” I reassured her pale face. I stroked her hair and tried a smile to calm her.

She shook her head. “But you are not my real mummy. My real mummy has gone to heaven. And she’s not coming back.”

A lump rose in my throat. “That’s right,” I agreed quietly.

“So you are not Auntie Ryn no more.”

“I suppose not.”

“You are Mummy Ryn,” she concluded. I was impressed with her reasoning skills, it proved how intelligent she was. I’d forgotten that about her, how even when she was three Tegan could put forward a good argument to change her bedtime.

“OK, I’m Mummy Ryn. What did you want to ask me?”

Tegan sniffed, wiped at one of her teared-up eyes with the back of her hand. “Am…” She gulped. “Am I allowed to have some chocolate?”

“Yes, but only if you eat all your vegetables as well.” Responsible adults were meant to say things like that, weren’t they?

Her heart-shaped face suddenly brightened with a smile. She shook her head. “We haven’t got no vegetables,” she giggled, pointing to the food in our wire-framed cart.

I decided we weren’t going to buy vegetables today. It’d been so long since I heard soft little gurglings rise up from her throat in a giggle and so long since I saw her face spread wide in a smile, there was no way I could force vegetables on her now. “You’ve got me there,” I agreed with a grin. “No vegetables today. But tomorrow, we’re going to start eating healthily. OK?”

She nodded. Then, before I could stand up, she slipped her arms around my neck, gave me a quick squeeze, then let me go. She went back to her position beside the cart and stood there, cradling Meg in both arms, staring off into the distance as though she hadn’t hugged me at all.

As I straightened up I remembered the one time I’d been on a boat and how I’d clung to the side, feeling as though my insides were being churned over in a solution of bile and brine. That violent nausea rose and fell in my stomach again.
What will we do if I’m not allowed to adopt her?

chapter 13

I
had this life before I got Del’s card and went to London and inherited Tegan. It was a life of work. Nothing but work. It was what kept me sane when I moved to Leeds.

My job title was national marketing manager for Angeles, the department store. The chain had begun a hundred years ago as a haberdashery store in Leeds and the head office was still based there, not in London. We had branches in every major British city and our long-term goal was to become the country’s biggest department store chain. I’d started in the London store as a regional marketing assistant and had worked my way up to my current position as second in command for the entire company’s marketing department—main role: running the in-store magazine,
Living Angeles
. I did everything from picking the magazine’s theme for the month to signing off on the finished copies. I’d helped the national marketing director, Ted Payne, set it up and, two months before my non-wedding, the plan had been for me to spend a month in Leeds coordinating the magazine’s launch. After I left Nate and Adele, I’d asked Ted if I could accept the job as national marketing manager that he’d been offering me since we’d met. When he agreed, I’d then pushed my luck by asking if I could work out my notice for the London job in Leeds.

In the past few years the magazine had grown from being published once a season to coming out every month. My workload had tripled, but I didn’t mind—work was my life.

All my life I’d lived with people: my family, then Adele, then Nate. The echo of a permanently empty flat in a suburb of Leeds was something I had to psych myself up to face every time I left the office. It seemed too big for me. I wasn’t cut out for living in silence and solitude.

I knew I had two choices at that moment: buckle under the strain of it all or spend as much time as possible at work. I didn’t see the flat in daylight for months. I’d get into work at 7 a.m. and leave around 10 p.m., then would be too tired to do anything but crawl into bed. I’d even work weekends, just so I wouldn’t be alone in the flat.

As time wore on, of course, I eased off the manic work schedule and made some real friends at work. One of them was Betsy Dawali, who I shared a glass-walled office with. The other was my boss, Ted Payne. I was closer to Ted than anyone else at work.

Ted was fifty or so, one of those older men whose neat white hair and barely lined, strong-jawed face made him exceptionally attractive. It wasn’t simply his looks, though; Ted had an unwavering decency, and a calm, straightforward way of talking that made him incredibly sexy.

The night he came to visit me after my return to Leeds he wore an expensive, immaculately pressed navy blue suit with a white shirt and red tie. He sat on my sofa, staring into a glass of white wine. He’d destroyed his neat, work-day appearance by loosening his tie and raking his hand through his white hair. But while he’d relaxed his facade, he’d been unsettled since he walked in the door. He never met my eye for any length of time and had cast his eyes down as soon as he accepted a glass of white wine with a thin smile. I’d settled myself down on my big red beanbag with a glass of wine and watched Ted avoid looking at me.

I didn’t like to see him like this. He’d always been steady and strong, not hesitant and nervous. He always knew what to do in any situation. Ted had been the one who had arranged everything when I’d asked for a sabbatical for six months so I could take care of Adele—he’d come up with the idea of me working three days a week from home. When I called him after Adele died to tell him I’d fostered a child, he’d organized for me to have both compassionate and maternity leave.

Ted raised his head and studied me for a long moment. “Kamryn,” he began and I held my breath, scared of what he was going to say. “I have some news. I didn’t want to worry you while you were away. I’m…I’m leaving.”

The glass slipped in my hand and I clutched it tighter to stop the wine spilling onto my carpet. He was leaving me, he was walking out of my life. Ted’s dark eyes held my gaze for a lot longer than was strictly necessary—there was something else. Something final about this. “Why do I get the feeling I’m never going to see you again?” I asked cautiously.

“Ava and I are moving to Italy, starting again over there.”

Not only leaving the company but leaving the country, too. “That’s…It’s great for you. Sorry, that sounds fake, but it’s not. I am really pleased for you, but I’m also feeling sorry for myself. I’ll miss you.”

“You’ll hardly know I’m gone,” he said with a laugh.

I didn’t laugh. Ted knew how much he meant to me.

Since we’d met six years ago working on a project in London, Ted had been offering me a job as his second in command. Although he knew I was settled in London, he’d say, “One day, Matika, I’ll wear you down.” Just over two years ago, three days after I found out about Nate and Adele, I’d preempted his usual offer and asked if the position was still open. He’d been shocked. It’d showed on his face, in his slight frown, but he’d asked me no questions, simply told me what I’d have to do to formally apply and gave me the job almost straightaway. When I’d stepped into my new role, we were setting up
Living Angeles
so we worked many a late night together.

One particular Friday night he walked me back to the hotel, wished me a good weekend and left me in reception. I went to the room that was my home while I was finding a flat and sat on the edge of the bed in the dark. Scared and alone and unable to do anything except wring my hands. Minutes later there was a knock at the door. I took my time answering it because I could barely move. It was Ted.

“Kamryn,” he said, his face creasing in concern, “are you OK? You’ve been a bit down these past few weeks but today you seem even more…What’s the matter?”

“It’s my wedding day tomorrow,” I confessed. The burden of that had been weighing on me for most of the week. I was meant to be marrying Nate the next day.

He hid his surprise behind a look of deep concern, as he said quietly, “Oh, Kamryn.”

I nodded. “But it’s over. I’m not getting married. I’m all alone.”

He folded his arms around me and I crumpled. He led me to the bed and lay with me all night, holding me, stroking my hair as I swung between silence and quiet sobbing. In the morning, I looked at him to say thank you and found him staring at me with the same look of intense concern he’d had when I’d opened the door. Silence and understanding swelled between us, then he bent his head and kissed me. He kissed me and I decided to go with it. I knew he was married and that while he and his wife, Ava, had split up recently they were talking about getting back together, but I still decided to go with it. I was tired of feeling loss and pain and loneliness. I wanted to feel something else. Anything else. Even for a few minutes. Even if it would only compound my problems. I reached for the button on his shirt but he stopped me. “I—I…” he stuttered, “I’m sorry. I’m back with Ava. I’m sorry.”

I was relieved. Unburdened. I hadn’t been sure I could go through with sex and now, thankfully, I didn’t have to. Ted took me in his arms again and said he’d stay as long as I needed him. We spent most of Saturday lying on the bed and I even fell asleep. He left on Sunday and, although we never mentioned the night again, we were closer. He’d seen a fragile side of me and I saw the same side of him six months later when his wife left him again and I spent the night watching him drink himself into oblivion then making sure he got home safely. We had a friendship that was mutually supportive; I’d always notice if he wasn’t around.

“It’s going to work out with you and Ava, then?” I asked.

“Absolutely.”

His troubled expression belied the conviction of his reply. “This is what you want, isn’t it, Ted?” I asked, worried that he’d been pushed into this decision by his wife. She’d left him several times in the twenty years that they’d been married but he always took her back because, he said, “I love her.”

“Yes, Kamryn, it is what I want.”

“So, what’s up? What aren’t you telling me?”

“There’s no easy way to say this…”

“Just say it, then.”

“They’ve already found my replacement. I’ve been working with him on a handover for the past couple of weeks.”

The glass of wine slipped in my hand again. “You mean I’ve not even been given the chance to apply for the job? Don’t they think I’m up to it?”

“It’s not that, Kamryn, you know you can’t do this job now that you’ve got a child, not with all the late nights and traveling to London and Edinburgh.”

The heat of indignation began in my feet and burned its way up through my body to the tips of my hair. “That’s why? Because I’ve got a child?”

“No one has said that officially. They want someone new, someone who’s going to be able to put in the hours, look at the company’s marketing strategy with a fresh eye and make some big changes. You can’t do that if you’ve got to leave on time every night, you know that, Kamryn.”

“This wouldn’t be happening if I was a bloke, would it? No one makes judgments about men’s dedication to the job once they become fathers. A man can work all the hours God sends and still be seen as a good father because he’s providing for his family. Or he can leave on time every night and his boss won’t question his commitment, they’ll simply think he’s a good father who wants to spend time with his children. It’s a win-win if you’re a man.”

“We all make choices, Kamryn,” Ted stated calmly, unruffled by my rant. “I’m not saying what they’ve done is right, but would you really want to miss out on the time with Tegan? She’s only going to be this age once, do you want to miss out on that? Especially when she’s just lost her mother and will need you. How would you feel if you squandered the hours you could spend with her at work?”

Although the man in the blue suit was right, resentment still thudded through my veins. “That should have been my choice, it’s my life, after all. I’m annoyed that I didn’t even get the chance to apply, to prove I was up to it. Who are they to make decisions about my life? I’ve worked for Angeles for seven years and this is how I get treated? Who do they think they are? Who do they think I am? Do they think I’m going to take this lying down?”

“It’s a testament to how much the company respects and likes you that they were willing to let you work from London, then gave you all this time off for compassionate and then maternity leave,” Ted reasoned.

“That’s also what alerted them to the fact that my priorities might have changed.” I took a mouthful of wine, held it there, letting the sharp tang of the pale liquid seep into my taste buds before swallowing. “God I’m pissed off,” I stated, my whole body slumping in resignation. It wasn’t simply the job. It was the sense of powerlessness that had engulfed my life. Everything was out of control. First I couldn’t do anything to stop Adele…
going
. I didn’t stop Tegan from being hurt by her grandparents. I had motherhood forced upon me and now my job, the one thing that always kept me sane, the thing I could rely on to remain constant, had been snatched away from me. I wasn’t mistress of my own destiny anymore; circumstance had taken a sledgehammer to all my best-laid plans. And I wasn’t even allowed to complain about it. I had no control over any part of my life.

“What’s the new marketing director like, then?”

“Luke Wiseman? He’s ambitious,” Ted stated diplomatically. It got worse. “He was headhunted for the position.” And worse. “From a management consultancy firm.” And worse. “He’s a Harvard Business School graduate. He’s got lots of ideas, which is what Angeles needs.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Ted sat back, relaxed now that he’d imparted the grave news about my working life. “How’s parenthood?” he asked, his eyes alight with interest. Ted and Ava didn’t have children, and it was their infertility that had dismantled their marriage. Ava couldn’t conceive children and she’d been against adoption, but she wanted Ted to have children, so she repeatedly left him so he could find someone else.

“It’s fine,” I said. I couldn’t tell Ted how much I was struggling—he’d give anything to be in my position, to be a parent, to have a child asleep in the other room, knowing he was going to take care of her.

“Does ‘fine’ mean you’re barely coping?”

“No, it’s not that bad. I’ve just got a lot of other stuff to deal with.”

“Tegan’s mother?”

“Yeah, that among other things.”

“Would you like to talk about it?” His brown eyes were laced with that concern he had shown the night we kissed.

“To be honest, no. Tell me all about your plans for moving to Italy and, most importantly, when I can come visit.”

Hours later, I saw Ted outside to the waiting taxi and we shared a brief, friendly hug.

“You’ll make a good parent,” Ted said as we stepped apart.

I gave him a wan smile in return. “Thanks.”

“You will, I know you will. I have every confidence in you.”

“Thanks, boss. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

“Yes, you will.” Ted turned. “Oh,” he said and spun back.

“I forgot to tell you, someone called for you while you were still in London. Very pleasant young man. He wanted to know if you were going to the funeral. What was his name?” Ted clicked his fingers, trying to recall the name. He needn’t have bothered; I knew exactly what he was going to say.

“Oh, yes, Nathaniel Turner.”