The see-saw tipped as she realised that a practical option might be right there in front of her. It felt as if the universe, having chucked her overboard into a stormy sea, had belatedly thought to toss her a life raft. And so, after a shaky breath, she replied, ‘Sure,’ in the hope this would take her to a better place.
‘Did you ever really love him though?’ Heidi had tentatively asked Lara, years later, during an alcohol-fuelled heart-to-heart about relationships gone by. ‘Like, “throw yourself in front of a bus to save him” love? Did you ever rip his clothes off with lust? Did he make you laugh every single day you were together?’
Sadly, Lara didn’t even need to think about her answer. ‘Not really,’ she had confessed, eyes down. ‘No. It wasn’t like that.’
You couldn’t fault the man for his reaction to hearing that Lara was pregnant, though. Sure, settling down with a kid had not been high on his list of priorities when he turned up for a second date with her, following Richie’s intervention, but he didn’t leap up and run screaming from the premises when she broke the news. He’d blanched, admittedly, and stared into his pint glass for several long seconds, probably seeing his future dwindling to a small cramped semi with a sensible family car, rather than the glorious wild-oat-sowing expanse he’d had the luxury of five minutes earlier. But then he’d looked up again, laughed nervously and said, ‘Wow. That was an unexpected plot twist.’
‘I know, right?’ Lara replied, her heart pounding. She would have understood if he’d tried to fob her off with excuses and a few quid, she really would. Even if he’d bolted, she’d have understood, because panic and denial had been her initial reactions too.
Perhaps his friend’s wedding had given him ideas about settling down himself though, because then Steve was clearing his throat as if he were about to make a speech. ‘Well,’ he began. ‘I mean, it’s not the most conventional start to a relationship but I . . . I do really like you, Lara. That night in New York – I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.’
Oh help. She wasn’t sure she could bear the guilt when he said this. Because of course, of the two New York nights she’d spent with different men, there was only one which kept returning to her mind, and it wasn’t the drunken fumblings with Steve.
‘So,’ he went on, apparently not having noticed her flinch, ‘we could . . . try making a go of things?’
Poor Steve. He was so trusting – some would say naïve – that he didn’t even think to ask, ‘By the way, is the baby definitely mine?’ And okay, so the baby wasn’t definitely his, but he didn’t need to know that, Lara thought with a squirm of guilt, as she nodded and smiled, and tried to squash down her feelings of apprehension.
‘I thought he would be a good dad for Eliza though,’ she told Heidi. ‘That was what it was all about – so that she’d have two parents to love her. And he did love her. He was a good dad.’
‘But you can’t stay with a man because of their dad qualities,’ Heidi had gently reminded her. Not that Lara needed telling by then. ‘Brilliant, if they make your kids feel great and that all works out too – but the starting point should be about you feeling great with him. And vice versa. Jim and I drive each other mad half the time but I still fancy the pants off him. He still makes me laugh like no one else can.’ She topped up Lara’s wine glass and pressed it into her hand. ‘Lara, you’re the loveliest woman I’ve ever met but I’ve got to tell you, you and Steve got together for all the wrong reasons. And there’s someone better out there for you, I just know it.’
These words had come back to Lara at intervals over the years and she knew that Heidi was right. Yes, Steve was solid and reliable but life with him had been quite . . . well, boring, if that wasn’t too unkind, like porridge or a duffel coat. With every day that passed, Lara had felt herself become smaller and duller too, trapped in their box together while the rest of the world around them had passionate affairs, went on adventures, and challenged themselves in exciting ways. She stopped caring about the things that had once made her happy – a fabulous top or a gorgeous coat. She grew out her fringe because she didn’t have time to keep getting regular trims. She couldn’t be bothered to faff about with make-up and jewellery unless they were going on a rare date night, because what was the point? She was too busy and the effort didn’t seem worth it any more.
Anyway, that was all in the past and there was no use crying over spilt relationships. Especially as they were currently approaching the centre of Cambridge, following directions to the cheap hotel Eliza had picked out, and Lara was possibly on the verge of coming full circle at last. Completing a puzzle that had mystified her for too long. Buckle up, kid, she told herself, as her arms prickled with sudden goosebumps. Things are about to get a whole lot rockier.
Chapter Eleven
Kirsten gently pressed the Doppler device against the woman’s belly and an anxious hush cloaked the room. It was her antenatal clinic at one of the city’s health centres and lying on the white-sheeted bed, hands clenched into tense fists, was Alice Weatherly, a woman who had so far endured the misery of three pregnancies ending in miscarriage. This was pregnancy number four and she had already shut her eyes as if braced for further bad news.
The device was used to listen to a baby’s heartbeat, but so far Kirsten hadn’t been able to detect a sound. She moved it gingerly along the soft swell of Alice’s belly, willing the baby’s tiny heart to still be pumping. Come on, little one. Please be okay. It was the worst part of the job, having to break this sort of bad news, seeing a woman’s face collapse with sheer grief, then hearing their wrenching sobs, knowing that there was very little you could say to make the pain any less agonising. She didn’t know how women like Alice put themselves through it again and again. It astonished her, the resilience and courage of some people, how strong and determined they could prove themselves. By comparison, she was left feeling weak and inadequate, fully aware that she had her limits. Did that make her a bad person? Or merely practical?
People tended to assume that, being a midwife, she must have borne a whole brood of healthy tots herself, but in truth, although she and Ben had tried for a while, including two rounds of IVF, it hadn’t happened for them, and do you know what? She was okay with that. She was absolutely fine.
Yes, all right, so every now and then she would find herself glancing at her friends’ children or their nieces and nephews, and marvelling that wow, they were five now, they were ten, they were at secondary school, they were getting piercings and drinking in the park and answering back, they were choosing A-level subjects, they were leaving home. She thought: that could have been me with our child. We could have been having those conversations too if life had taken an alternative route. It wasn’t so much devastating regret as a mild curiosity, a fleeting disappointment, but nothing that developed into outright sadness.