My eyes track his path to the bar. I think he’s just got out of the shower, judging by his damp hair. His curls are more defined than usual. He stands in front of the bar, like a customer, and places his order with the blond guy.
I pull my attention away, and a minute later, George returns, taking the stool beside Jamie. Jamie is telling us about the veterinary practice where he works in London.
‘About the most excitement I’ve had since I’ve been there was when a man brought his pet snake in. Otherwise it’s all cats, dogs and guinea pigs.’
‘Aw, no alpacas?’ I ask.
‘No farm animals at all, but at least the hours are more predictable. No more being called out at midnight.’
I’m so proud of him. I wonder if he would have become a vet if it weren’t for Dad. I’d like to think so, but he went through plenty of wobbly patches at school. I remember hearing Dad say to him more than once, ‘Come on, son, you need to work a bit harder. Don’t give up.’ And when he was worrying about the way his exams were going: ‘Come on, son, of course you’re going to get into vet school. Even if you don’t get the grades this time, there’s always next year. Don’t give up. You will do this!’
Dad fought for him all the way. Jamie barely scraped through his exams to get the grades he needed, but once he was at vet school, his confidence soared and he sailed through.
Grief is an unpredictable beast. Sometimes it strikes out of the blue, and other times it lies dormant, waiting to catch you unawares.
I blink back tears at the memories of Dad as George reaches for the bottle of Prosecco.
Mum covers the top of her glass with her hand. ‘I can’t, I’m driving.’
‘Dani and I can take you lasses home,’ Jamie offers. ‘Collect the car later.’
‘Or I could drive it over tomorrow evening?’ George suggests. ‘I’m insured to drive any vehicle.’
‘What’s happening tomorrow evening?’ Jamie asks with interest.
‘George is coming for dinner,’ I tell him.
‘Ace.’ Jamie seems pleased.
‘Go on then, I’ll have another,’ Mum decides. ‘I feel like celebrating.’
‘How did it go?’ George asks, topping up her glass and mine.
Becky dutifully sticks to her one.
As Mum recounts the day, Emilie starts to get wriggly. I pull her onto my lap for a hug, pressing my lips to the top of her head.
I glance up to see George studying us, a contemplative expression on his face. He averts his gaze.
I’m still thrown by the fact that he doesn’t want kids, that his relationship broke down because of it.
It occurs to me that, if things had worked out differently, if George hadn’t run away, if I hadn’t ended up with Theo… my daughter would not exist.
I feel sick at the thought.
I might have regrets – and some of them might be huge – but I wouldn’t change anything about the path that led me to becoming Emilie’s mother.
* * *
Later, on the way to the car, we pass a post box. I surreptitiously pull my letters to Theo from my handbag and slip them in.
I still haven’t written about George. But I will. I definitely will.
Chapter 24 Then
After Theo’s dad came to collect him on Wednesday afternoon, he didn’t return to school for the rest of the week. When I’ve called, his phone has gone straight through to voicemail, and my text messages remain unanswered.
George has been in a dark place of his own. He’s attended school physically, but mentally, he’s been an empty shell.
I’ve been going out of my mind with worry for them both, but trying to hide my feelings from my parents. It was Jamie’s eighteenth birthday yesterday, but he wanted to hold off celebrating properly until after his exams. He’s been stressed out about how they’re going, and Joanne keeps breaking down about Nia and Ashlee leaving us next month. My parents have their hands full.
What I need is to be able to vent to my best friend about what’s happening, but Becky and I are in a weird place right now. She’s ‘so tired’ all the time, and a bit over the ‘melodrama’, as she calls it. She insisted on spending the tail end of last week up on the high field watching the boys play football at lunchtime. Martin was one of those boys and all she could talk about was seeing him at Amanda’s birthday party. It was last night and I had no interest whatsoever in going – George and Theo weren’t invited – so I used Jamie’s understated birthday meal as an excuse.
Becky hasn’t come out and said it, but I’m pretty sure she’s angry at me for putting the boys and my family first. I feel very separate from her right now.
* * *
Theo is back on the bus on Monday, and I watch him board with such a wave of relief that I momentarily forget to listen to Becky’s mammoth recount of the party on Saturday night. She and Martin snogged and she can’t believe I missed the occasion. She’s now worried it was only a one-off and will be in no mood to have to repeat herself to me. There’s no way I dare to get up and go to speak to Theo, even though I want to.
I catch up with him on our way to form group.
‘We brought your things in with us,’ I tell him hurriedly. ‘Mr Balls is looking after them.’
‘Yeah, thanks,’ he says. ‘I got your text messages.’
‘Why didn’t you reply?’ I ask with a frown. ‘I’ve been worried.’
‘Sorry,’ he mumbles, averting his gaze. ‘My father confiscated my phone – I only saw them when I left the house this morning.’
‘Are you okay? I’ve been so worried.’
He gives me a small smile. ‘You’ve already said that.’
I shrug at him, feeling hurt. ‘Well, I have.’
He pulls me to one side of the corridor. ‘I’m all right,’ he says, leaning his shoulder against the wall and facing me. ‘My dad was pissed off because it was Sylvie’s birthday on Wednesday and we were supposed to be going out for dinner. He was angry I forgot.’
‘Is that all? Why weren’t you in school on Thursday and Friday?’
He winces. ‘I wasn’t feeling well.’
‘What was wrong with you?’
He shrugs and shakes his head, his lips pulled down at the corners. ‘I don’t know. I just felt off.’
‘Well, I’m glad you’re back,’ I say, going on to tell him about Hazel and her cria as we walk the rest of the way together. ‘Come over after school – he’s even cuter than Jessamine’s baby, and that’s saying something. I reckon he’s a “Periwinkle”.’ I glance at him when he doesn’t respond. ‘What do you think? Are you up for it?’
‘Yeah, maybe.’
‘You don’t sound so sure.’
‘I’ll tell you why later,’ he replies as the bell goes.
* * *
I risk Becky’s wrath to sit with Theo and George at lunchtime. George clearly has his mind on other things, barely engaging with our conversation at all, until Theo tells us that his father has banned him from ‘ever setting foot on our land again’.