He’d tried to forget the hateful day that they’d visited that clinic. It wasn’t one of their finest hours and there
had
been a point in the proceedings when the word ‘stop’ had entered his head - but frozen on his tongue. Half of him had expected Claire to blurt the word out instead and he wouldn’t have fought it. Only she’d not known that. And if he’d have been able to predict that that day would mark the beginning of the end for them then who knows what he’d have done.
“We probably could have made it work,” Jonah agreed, “but imagining things differently can’t change the past. If it makes you feel better, I do regret it.”
“Do you really?” Claire’s voice was so quiet he could barely hear her.
“Yes, especially since Martha was born.”
His response seemed to please Claire, allowing her to relax a little. Perhaps it was a relief to learn that at the very least he had shared the same burden and pain over the years. And it was true. He
had
always wondered about the child that could have been. It wasn’t a thought that consumed his consciousness, but it did flit through his mind from time to time.
“I never speak about it,” Claire admitted, “and sometimes I think I should have seen someone about it, a therapist or something. There’s a lot of blame and resentment stored in here.”
She took her free hand and placed it over her heart, her lower lip trembling. Jonah stilled her lip with his finger and then scooped her into his arms, hugging her tightly. She came across as so strong most of the time but this reminded him of her very sensitive, fragile side. He was pleased they were having this conversation. At least it gave them a chance to work through it
“I’m so, so sorry Claire,” he whispered into her hair. “And I can’t change the past, but we can take from it and move on. And concentrate on the future. That’s what really matters now.”
Claire sobbed loudly in his embrace. He was dressed smartly for a change, in a suit and tie and he could feel her tears dampening his shirt. He pulled away, not because he was worried about his shirt getting wet, but because he wanted her to see how serious he was.
“Do you see a future with me?”
She nodded, smiling through her tears. He saw her little Buddha statue sitting on the coffee table sandwiched between the two sofas. He reached across to pick it up and placed it on the palm of his hand.
“Do you know where I keep my Buddha?”
She shook her head and he continued.
“I keep it on my bedside table. I sleep with it looking over me every night. And do you know why?”
She shook her head again, smiling as she sniffled.
“I keep it close to me, because I’ve never stopped believing in us. I’ve never stopped hoping that somehow we’d be brought together again. I can’t change what we did all those years ago, but perhaps it happened for a reason. Perhaps the timing wasn’t right for us then. You wouldn’t have had Miriam and I wouldn’t have had Martha. Perhaps now is our time though. Do you believe that?”
Claire nodded, smiling once again through her tears.
“I need to hear you say it baby,” Jonah encouraged.
“I do believe and very much hope,” she whispered, “that now is our time.”
They hugged tightly, rocking gently back and forth, not moving for a very long time, soundless. It was Claire who broke the silence.
“Why are you here when you should be in Eastbourne?”
“I’d do anything not to lose you again,” Jonah replied honestly, “and I could feel you slipping through my fingers.”
eHe p
CLAIRE
Being in the presence of celebrities wasn’t something that had ever fazed Claire. Five years spent as Jonah Kennedy’s girlfriend had brought her into contact not just with some of the world’s most iconic sports stars, but Hollywood actors and even Presidents and Prime Ministers. They were, she always reasoned, just normal people. And because of that she never reacted to their fame. If anything, she tended to give them a wide berth, because the last thing they wanted was a load of hanger-on’s gushing around them. If she ever did find herself in conversation with someone well-known, her golden rule was never to discuss their work, because chances were that anyone in the public eye was probably sick to death of answering the same questions ad infinitum.
Claire would have been very happy sending Miriam to the local state primary school, but Anthony had insisted on her being educated privately. It quickly became apparent that a few choice celebrities had decided that Miriam’s school was right for their child too. One of them was an A-list rock star. Whilst fellow Mums and Dads had desensitized to his presence in the playground over the years, they weren’t quite so chill when his pals Beyonce and Cameron Diaz flew into town and joined him on the school pick-up. Claire had never seen such a scrum, parents and children alike ambushing them with their I-phone cameras at the ready. Their cameo appearance had been the talk of the playground for weeks.
Not Claire though. No, Claire was cool around fame.
Normally
. It was fast becoming clear, however, that today was anything but a normal day. Claire regretted that she’d not been there for Jonah the time he’d made the quarter finals of Wimbledon, especially because she was now benefiting from a perk of that achievement. A privilege for players making it into the last eight is that they become instant honorary members of Wimbledon’s illustrious All England Lawn Tennis Club. And members of the club are entitled to seats to watch its championships.
When Jonah had invited Claire to come this Saturday, she’d jumped at the chance. The timing couldn’t have been better. Miriam was with Anthony for the weekend which meant that Claire would be free to stay with Jonah at the lovely hotel where he was being accommodated: The Millennium Gloucester. This also happened to be where many of the players stayed too and, bizarre though it was to be in a hotel room in a city which she called home, she was thoroughly enjoying the pampering. She didn’t have to make the divine marsh mallow bed with its indulgent Egyptian cotton sheets. She didn’t need to do the cleaning. She didn’t even have to make the breakfast. No, they’d ordered room service. Creamy scrambled eggs with smoked salmon had arrived piping hot and accompanied by a basket of crumbly warm pastries. This was definitely the life! Jonah left early to attend a morning briefing and she called Georgia to brag about where she was going this afternoon. “Oh my God,” Georgia gushed. “Can I come too?”
Claire sent Jonah a text to see if it was remotely possible and an hour later, like a fairy Godmother, he replied to say that it was. Tickets to Wimbledon were like gold dust and this middle Saturday of the tournament was one of the best days to be there. It was a mix of men and women playing and it was still early enough in the event that most top seeds hadn’t yet been knocked out. It was a day for the people, for the tennis fans, with plenty of singles and doubles being played from midday till sunset. It was also, Claire now realised, a day for royalty.
When Jonah said he could provide tickets, Claire presumed they would be back row seats on some inferior, outside court, and quite frankly she’d have been delighted with anything. He nipped out from the commentary booth to meet her and Georgia at the entrance gate, furnishing the girls with VIP passes to hang round their necks. He also gave them two Centre Court tickets. Blissfully ignorant they followed signs for the stairwell and row marked on their tickets and it was only when they had been directed to their seats and turned round to face the court that she realised exactly where she was. She was in the Private Member’s stand, also known as the Royal Stand.
If only Jonah had warned her she’d have worn something a little fancier than her figure-hugging calf-length navy jersey dress, but then again, it could have been worse. She could have worn jeans! Georgia was far more suitably attired, wearing a flouncy floral dress with a string of pearls and a lightweight beige blazer. They were in the front row of the stand, perched high over one end of the court. Claire had stuffed all essentials into her leopard print clutch and was bending over, about to place it against the front wall when she heard a lady behind them say “Excuse me, I think our seats are next to yours.” Both Claire and Georgia rose to their feet, sucking in their stomachs to make space for the woman and her friend to pass. It was only when the woman turned to her and said “Thank you” that Claire, recognising the trademark magnetic smile and glossy long chestnut hairdo, realised exactly who it was. It was none other than Kate Middleton. Her ‘friend’ was sister Pippa.
Oh my God, do you realise who that is
? Claire had to literally bite her lower lip to stop herself from blurting out that very question and prevent her jaw from dropping. It took even more resolve to not make eye contact with Georgia. Instead she surreptitiously double flicked Georgia’s thigh and Georgia promptly flicked her leg back in response.
The crowd, by contrast, showed no restraint whatsoever. Spectators quickly cottoned on to the new arrivals, prompting a raucous cheer and slow hand-clapping. A Mexican wave began in the stand to the left of them. Little by little it travelled round the court, gaining in momentum as did the decibel levels of the accompanying whoop. The closer it got to their stand, Claire wondered what to do. Instinct was telling her that it would appear “bah humbug” if the wave came to a halt once it reached them but, on the other hand, did regal protocol permit Duchesses to flap their arms in public? In the end she couldn’t help herself. Better to hear it from the horse’s mouth. She cocked her head toward Pippa and asked “Are you going to do this?” “It would be rude not to,” beamed Pippa. A few seconds later the wave crept round to them and the four ladies, royal and otherwise, got to their feet, sweeping their arms from low to high and back again. Kate’s willingness to act like one of them made the crowd, clearly pleased by her performance, cheer even louder.
Sitting back down again, Kate leaned over her sister towards Claire.
“I love your leopard clutch,” she said. “Where’s it from?”
Claire could feel heat rushing to her cheeks, a crimson blush lighting up her face. Had Kate Middleton seriously just ask her that? Did she dare tell Kate where it was really from? Or should she lie and say it was Gucci or Armani?
“Top Shop,” Claire admitted. “And it was in the sale for £5.99.”
“Fabulous,” Kate replied, tapping her nostril conspiratorially, as if she’d been let into a big secret and would be heading to the cheap fashion retailer to snap up an identical clutch next week.
“And
I,”
Pippa began, “have to thank you. I loved your mackerel pate and potato gratin. I tried them both. They were so easy to make and you were absolutely right. They were seriously tasty.”
So much for Claire recognising
them
, Pippa had recognised
her
! The day was becoming more surreal by the second. This whole exchange was absurd and giddying. In last Monday’s slot on
Morning Cuppa
they’d been talking about the rise of lactose intolerance. As part of the segment Claire had demonstrated the two dishes Pippa had mentioned. The potato gratin tastes so indulgent it’s hard to believe it doesn’t contain dairy. Crikey, it was hard to believe that
anyone
at home was attempting her recipes, let alone Pippa Middleton.
“Thank you,” Claire replied, “that’s
so
nice to hear. I still can’t believe I’m doing that show. And I can’t believe you saw it. It makes me nervous.”
Claire felt as if the air was being sucked out of her lungs. She was blabbering nervously and wished she would stop.
“You shouldn’t be,” Pippa touched her arm. “You’re doing great.”
At this point the players walked out onto the court. Andy Murray followed by an un-seeded Dutch player Claire had never heard of called Otto Van der Welder. Claire heard her mobile beep. Oops, she’d forgotten to turn it off. She bent down to pick up her clutch and without checking to see who was trying to contact her, she turned the phone off.
-------------------
Two hours later, trailing one set to two, the Dutch player Otto Van der Welder skidded badly running for a wide forehand and twisted his ankle. Clearly in pain and clutching his calf he asked for injury time so that a medic could assess and hopefully repair the damage. Andy Murray returned to his courtside seat near the net, a ball girl holding an open umbrella above his head as the spectators relaxed filling the stadium with chatter. Claire turned and saw Jonah entering her stand. Still, now, whenever she saw him her heart flipped but today he looked especially dreamy. He was normally a T-shirt and jeans kind of a guy but he’d spruced up his image for his job as a commentator. The beautifully cut grey summer suit he was wearing was stylish and sexy. Pale blue shirt cuffs hung longer than the jacket sleeves and the navy tie with silver diagonal stripes he’d chosen, together with large dark sunglasses added just the right amount of bad boy cool.
I can’t believe he’s mine
. She smiled broadly in his direction and when Georgia saw him approaching she graciously moved into the vacant seat beside her so that Jonah could sit next to Claire.
“Hello ladies,” he grinned, settling himself between them. “How’s it going?”
“It’s a great match,” said Claire.
“Thank you so much for letting me come,” Georgia added. “They’re amazing seats by the way!”
If only Georgia and Claire could have said more or, indeed, squealed loudly about their excitement but Kate and Pippa were still right beside them, chattering between themselves.
“Are you finished for the day?” Claire asked.
“No, I’ve got a forty-five minute break in-between matches and thought I’d check out how you were doing.”
“It’s a great match,” Claire took his hand in hers, “and we’re having an incredible time.”
Claire bent down to retrieve a small bottle of water she’d stowed under her chair and her arm brushed against the leopard skin clutch. She could feel it vibrating. She discreetly slid it half out the clutch to see who was trying to contact her. It was her mother. Ten missed calls, two voice messages and now a text.
Oh my God, u r on the TV right now.
You’re sitting next to Pippa and Kate. How did you get to be so lucky?
Oh my God and now Jonah Kennedy’s there too. I can’t believe it. Why am I always the last person to know? Are you two back together again? Call me. V. soon please. I can’t contain myself any longer. Mum X
Claire slipped the phone quickly back into the clutch and laid the bag down, promising herself that she’d call her mother before the end of the day. She looked around the stands, trying to locate the camera which had given her away. It was ridiculous of her not to have thought of it. Of course the cameras would have found them. Kate Middleton was there. She suddenly became self-conscious as well as berating herself for not returning her mother’s calls this past fortnight. She deserved better, but Claire had wanted to keep things about Jonah private for a while. Her mother had always loved Jonah and had been upset when they’d broken up. She’d not wanted to tell her Mum about him being back in her life until she was certain that their relationship was going somewhere. And now she knew that it was. She’d have had to have come clean with her mother soon enough anyway because the flights were booked and they were leaving in just over a week. Claire had agreed to take Miriam and spend the next two months in California with Jonah and his daughter. Better still,
Morning Cuppa
had been delighted with the idea. They’d decided to make a plus of her being the other side of the pond and had arranged for her to do live broadcasts from the US. They planned to give her nutrition slots an American twist and the fact that she was abroad would lend a summer holiday feel to the show.
“Play will resume in two minutes,” called the umpire. Jonah placed his hands on his thighs and stood up.
“Excuse me?” Kate Middleton called politely. There was a tone about her voice that demanded to be heard. Jonah turned and found that she was looking straight at him.
“I was a big fan of yours,” Kate told him. “And that match you played in Melbourne against Federer was one of the best I’ve ever seen. I was so excited when you won.”