The Single Mums' Secrets - Janet Hoggarth Page 0,64

up from his Adam’s apple, quietly shutting the door behind him. The lugubrious air he’d also dragged in with him tipped me off he wasn’t here about the mortgage.

‘What do you mean?’ Christa, you coward!

He sighed deeply and ran his hand through his hair.

‘You were seen at the antenatal clinic in King’s.’

I nodded resignedly. ‘Billy.’

‘Yes. They called your name, so he knew it wasn’t for Louise. He saw her too.’

‘Look, Tom—’

‘Christa, this is none of my business, and I would never normally ever say anything, but if this is true, I’m kind of in shock. This was what I’d always wanted…’

‘I know and I’m so sorry. I didn’t plan this; I’m not even with the father. I thought I was infertile, honestly I did.’ I could feel tears trying to waylay me. I should have come clean earlier.

‘I don’t think I can stay here and watch you grow a baby, when that could have been me and we could have been doing it together. You said you never even wanted to try the fertility options; you said you never wanted children.’

‘But you’re with someone else now, surely that helps,’ I said blatantly ignoring the words I’d chipped out in stone. ‘Won’t you have a family with her?’ I asked hopefully, wishing whatsername was already pregnant, exculpating me.

‘It actually doesn’t help. I know it should make no difference now. We’re not together, and my rational mind knows that, but unfortunately my rational mind hasn’t shown up for duty today. This feels like a huge betrayal.’ He blew sharply out through his nose like a horse showing its obvious displeasure.

‘I didn’t do it on purpose,’ I whispered. ‘And I can change my mind. It’s allowed.’

‘I know that!’ he cried now. My mind snapped back to a time when we were having the same futile fight on a weekly rotation but coming from opposite sides of the argument. There was always a bottle of wine refereeing between us, the alcohol somehow loosening Tom’s stoic shouldering of his genuine feelings. That was near the end when I couldn’t bear the guilt about holding him back, or my dread of returning to a house where the spare room epitomised so many of his lost hopes and dreams for the future.

‘What would make you feel better? A termination?’ I knew the minute it had slipped unwarranted out of my mouth it was a huge mistake – the meanest, below-the-belt thing I could utter.

‘Christa! That’s dreadful! I would never wish that. How could you?’

‘I’m sorry, so sorry, I know you would never think that, Tom. I don’t know why I said it.’ Tears caught me this time. A deluge. All the sorrow, the silences, the recriminations about the topic of starting a family showed up like a Greek chorus and stood beside my shoulder, wailing in protest that I could upset the one man who had been the object of my love for so many years.

‘I’m just hurt, Christa. Especially as I had to find out from a friend who thought I knew. I had to pretend I did know because I felt so stupid. Especially after I did the tests for you when you thought you were going through the menopause. I thought we were friends, but friends wouldn’t treat each other like this. I don’t expect you to consult me on your life choices, or indeed anything, but the common courtesy would have been to tell me before Billy did, especially when you knew you’d been spotted.’

I hung my head.

‘You owe me nothing really, but that would have been an honourable touch.’

‘I can explain everything; it might take the sting out.’

‘I don’t want to know. Maybe one day, but not right now.’ He put his hand out behind him and rested it on the door handle, as if making sure it was still there, ready to collude in his escape from all this.

‘OK.’ He stared intently at me then, just like the day I had left with my coffin-sized suitcase and a promise I would come and collect the rest of my things another time. His eyes were fringed with a veiny tiredness like that awful ending, both of us knowing it was over, finally ready to cut our hearts free from each other. If only this was different. But it wasn’t. What it had done was highlight the next task on my list. It wasn’t just about me any more, as Tom had edifyingly emphasised. Carl needed to know he was going to be