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turned her head to examine one of the many photographs of George now littering every available bit of space in the living room. “How can she not want to spend time with him?”
“I don't know. I know that if I were in London I'd be there every day, and he's not even my relative.”
“Godson's the next best thing.”
“Don't I know it. I just wish I was around a bit more, being godmotherish. As it stands, all I'll end up doing is sending him presents from New York.”
“You know I didn't ask you to be godmother just because I thought you'd buy him expensive presents?”
“I should bloody hope not. Anyway, you wouldn't have asked if that was the case. Not on what London Daytime Television was paying me.”
They both laughed.
“But seriously, Sam, I know you asked me for the right reasons. I know I'm expected to give George moral guidance, and be the person who looks after him if . . . well, heaven forbid . . .”
“Yes, I know. That's exactly why I asked you. But I also want George to be able to come to you when he's older, to ask anything of you.”
“And I want to retain the ability to say no,” Julia laughed. “But Sam, can I just say one more thing about your mother . . . Your mother is your mother, she's not going to change. It's the only certainty in life and you have to stop expecting things from her.”
“I know. I know. It's just that it still bloody hurts. All these years I thought I'd buried all the pain of her not being around, not being interested, not knowing how to mother, for Chrissakes, and now I've had George, all those feelings of resentment and anger feel just as raw as they did ten years ago.”
“Maybe you should think about seeing someone.”
“God!” Sam started to laugh. “How long have you been in New York exactly? A few weeks and you're already buying into all that therapy rubbish?”
“I don't actually think it's rubbish,” Julia said defensively. “I wish I'd been to see someone when I was with Mark. Would have given me the impetus to leave years before.”
“How is Mark?” Sam's tone was tentative. “Have you heard anything?”
“Nope. Have you seen him?”
“Amazingly, no.” Amazing only because Mark lives just a few streets away, but Sam had always known that however much she loved Mark—and she truly did—when he and Julia split up she would have to make a choice, and her loyalties lay with Julia.
There was a long pause before Julia spoke. “The baby is apparently due any day now.”
“Are you okay with . . . everything?” Of course they've talked about Maeve. Sam and Bella both listened for hours as Julia poured out the tears. It took a week. A week of crying and pain, and then Julia professed to be over it. She said the tears were a result of shock, and the pain was for the life she had once thought she wanted, but by the end of the week she had closure. At least that's what she said.
Bella and Sam didn't believe her at first. Couldn't believe that Julia, Julia who had winced in pain at the sight of cooing babies, who could spend hours in Mothercare dreaming of chubby fingers and curling toes, Julia who was convinced the reason for her inability to get pregnant was Mark, could move on so quickly. So easily. So relatively painlessly.
But it seems that Julia had moved on. She still found it hard to accept that there might be something wrong with her after all, but with every day she knew she'd made the right choice. She was exactly where she needed to be, doing exactly what she needed to do.
“The amazing thing,” Julia said after a pause, “is that I think I'm genuinely fine. I wouldn't go as far as to say I'm happy for him, but if you'd have told me this time last year Mark would be having a baby with the woman who replaced me at work . . .” They both snorted with laughter at the ludicrousness of the situation before Julia continued, “I would have either smacked you or screamed with rage. But I'm fine. I'm actually . . . oh God. Am I going to say this? I'm actually relieved it's not me.”
“So children really aren't on your agenda, then?”
“Not yet. I'm having such a blast here. Working like a madwoman, out every night. I wake