The Women Who Ran Away - Sheila O'Flanagan Page 0,75
in front of him until he put it down again.
‘I want something from you,’ she said.
‘What?’ His tone was wary.
‘I want you to get me pregnant.’
‘Huh?’ He looked at her in astonishment. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘We’ve established that you’re perfectly capable of sleeping with someone without loving them,’ said Deira. ‘We’ve also established that you’re packing healthy swimmers. You’ve managed to get two separate women up the duff, after all. So that’s what I want from you, Gavin. A baby. I realise . . .’ She held her hand up again as he tried to interrupt. ‘I realise that you wouldn’t want anything to do with me or the child. That’s fine. But I want a baby, and the least you can do after all our time together is give me one.’
‘You’re off your head,’ said Gavin. ‘I’m not sleeping with you to get you pregnant.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it’s a ridiculous idea.’
‘I wanted a baby before and you said no. You were totally into our power-couple lifestyle, and because I loved you more than I loved the idea of having a family, I went along with it. But I wanted a baby all those years ago, Gavin, and that’s when I should have had one. The ridiculous thing was me giving in. I’m running out of time. So I need you to do this for me now.’
‘No,’ he said.
‘Don’t make me beg.’ Deira’s voice cracked. ‘I don’t want to have to beg.’
‘Listen to me,’ said Gavin. ‘You’re asking the impossible. I can’t sleep with you now. I’m in another relationship.’
‘You slept with her when you were in another relationship,’ said Deira. ‘You slept with me when you were in another relationship. I don’t see what the problem is.’
‘I’m not a performing seal!’ cried Gavin. ‘I can’t just—’
‘Oh, I bet you can,’ said Deira.
‘Even if I slept with you, I wouldn’t want you to get pregnant,’ said Gavin.
‘It’d be none of your business.’
‘It would be my child,’ said Gavin. ‘And no matter what you think of me, I’ve never walked away from my responsibility to my children.’
He was right about that, thought Deira. Even when they had been so angry with him they didn’t want to speak to him, Gavin had kept in touch with Mae and Suzy. She’d always had to take their feelings into account. He hadn’t been a bad father to them. He wouldn’t be a bad father to any child.
‘You could be as involved as much or as little as you like,’ she said.
‘No, I couldn’t,’ he told her. ‘Because it’s not going to happen. Afton is pregnant now and we’re going to make a life together. I’m not about to jeopardise that for a whim of yours.’
‘It’s not a whim!’
‘If you want to have a baby, feel free to find another father,’ said Gavin. ‘But it’s not going to be me.’
Deira sat in silence. She’d been sure he’d say yes. Sure she could have persuaded him. And yet he’d refused her the only thing she’d ever really asked of him. The one thing he’d given to the woman before her and the woman after her. Why? What was wrong with her?
She wanted to ask, but the question she put to him was entirely different.
‘Are you happy?’
‘Huh?’
‘In your life? With Afton? Are you happy?’
‘Mostly,’ he replied.
His answer caught her like a blow to the solar plexus. If he’d said yes, she might not have believed him. But his reply had been honest, because the truth was that nobody was happy all of the time. He’d always been honest. Except when he’d been cheating on her.
She got up abruptly from the chair and turned towards the door.
‘Oh, Deira!’
She turned back towards him, thinking that maybe he’d suddenly changed his mind, that he would sleep with her after all.
‘The house,’ he said. ‘I know it’s in your name. But it’s still our family home. I don’t mind you living there. But you have to buy your half from me. It’s the only fair thing to do.’
She felt herself trembling with rage. He was right, of course; he’d put money into the house and he was entitled to his share. But how dare he call it a family home when they weren’t a family? They’d never been a family. And they never would be.
She picked up the glass award and threw it to the floor, where the slender, tapered spire snapped in two.
‘Fuck you, Gavin Boyer,’ she said, and walked out, slamming the door behind her.