Later, after Nick has changed into a tracksuit and we have eaten, I clear away the bowls of soup we’ve barely touched. Sweep the crumbs of crusty bread into the palm of my hand and sprinkle them into the bin. I’m tired but I can’t settle. I’m longing to talk to Nick about Lisa, but he’s shut himself in his study, said he had a few phone calls to make.
The laundry basket is overflowing and I start sorting coloureds, checking each pocket as I go. I’m stuffing Nick’s trousers and the clothes I wore yesterday into the drum when I notice a piece of paper flutter to the floor. Scooping it up I see it’s the receipt from The Farncaster Bean Café. Tiredness burns behind my eyes as I screw the receipt into a ball and lob it into the bin. After adding softener to the drawer and switching the machine on, I carry coffee through to the lounge, calling for Nick to join me.
He flops onto the sofa, looking exhausted. We’ve both aged these past couple of years. It’s time to tell him Lisa’s news. I kneel in front of Nick and take his hand. Heat passes between his palm and mine and a ball of longing begins to unravel. I press my lips against his, my fingers fumbling for the buttons on his shirt, but he clamps his hand over mine.
‘Kat, I’m knackered.’
Hurt, I try to pull away but he pulls me closer and shuffles back on the sofa, making room for me. I lie next to him, my head on his chest, feeling the thump-thump-thump of his heart.
‘Tell me what you’ve been up to?’ His fingers idly play with my hair and I feel myself sink into him.
‘The car window was smashed in a car park. Nothing was stolen though.’
‘I’ll get it repaired in the morning.’ He twirls a strand of hair around his finger. ‘Did you find her?’ he asks softly. ‘Lisa?’
There was never going to be anywhere else I was.
‘I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Kat,’ he says, after a beat of silence. ‘I don’t want to give up on having a family, I know how much it means to you, but can we just take a break? Be normal for a bit?’
‘Normal?’ The word stings but I know what he means. I struggle to think of the last conversation we had that wasn’t about adoption or surrogacy. Babies have become the forefront of our world and we don’t even have one yet.
‘I don’t mean you’re not normal because you can’t conceive, you know I don’t.’ He brushes my fringe from my eyes. ‘It’s all-consuming, isn’t it? The constant worry. The hope. The disappointment. I think we need a break, is all, and maybe resign ourselves to the fact we might not become parents.’
‘August.’
‘For a holiday? Italy?’
‘No. For becoming parents.’ I prop myself up on my elbow so I can see Nick’s face. ‘Lisa’s still pregnant.’
‘But she fell. Said she was bleeding. Had cramps.’
‘The doctor thinks it was twins and she’s lost one. She’s had a scan. She’s definitely still pregnant.’
‘Is that even possible? It sounds unlikely.’ His eyes search mine for reassurance.
‘It isn’t. I’ve googled it and it’s not uncommon to miscarry one baby.’
‘She’s really still pregnant?’ The expression on his face oscillates between disbelief and excitement.
‘Really. Look.’ I wave the picture of the scan in front of him, as though it’s a magic wand that can make his doubts disappear. ‘This is our baby.’
Nick can’t help smiling as he studies the photo. ‘You can tell he’s well hung, he must take after—’
‘Idiot.’ I punch his arm. ‘That’s his leg you’re looking at. Or her leg. It’s too early to tell yet.’
‘It was twins though?’ Nick’s face darkens once more.
‘Yes. They do run in Lisa’s family. Look. There’s something I haven’t told you.’ It suddenly seems important I’m honest. ‘Lisa had a twin, Jake – he died in a car accident.’
‘Oh no.’ Nick is shaking his head.
‘And I was with him. In the car. It wasn’t just a bump, like I told you. We were nineteen. Almost about to start uni. He was.’ I swallow hard. ‘My boyfriend. First love, I suppose.’
‘Oh, Kat, I’m so, so sorry.’ Nick looks horrified as he pulls me towards him and strokes my hair. His body is shaking, and I don’t know if he’s sad for me or Lisa. The boy who never got to live his life or the baby we have lost. I wait – giving him time to absorb everything while I mentally prepare for the inevitable questions, but when Nick does speak he says: ‘Sorry, darling, I’m knackered. Do you want to talk some more or is it okay if I grab a couple of hours’ sleep?’
‘I don’t mind if you’re tired,’ I say trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice.
Nick presses down on my hip as he climbs over me; our eyes meet for a moment before he averts his gaze, and I feel ashamed in so many different ways.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I say. ‘I should have told you.’
‘It’s okay.’
‘But what if the baby looks like Jake? I should have thought.’
‘Then he or she will be a reminder. Some things can’t be forgotten. They-they shouldn’t be forgotten.’ He stumbles over his words, and I don’t know whether it’s because of tiredness or emotion, but I do know, as I listen to his heavy tread climb the stairs, I have taken a step towards the truth, and I wonder what would happen if I revealed all of me to Nick. The floorboards creak above me, and I reach for the remote control and scan the channels looking for something mind-numbing. Dirty Dancing is showing again. It’s one of my favourites but as Baby carries a watermelon, my eyelids grow heavy, and as sleep beckons me over, I willingly surrender.
The darkness was all-consuming, swallowing my ability to think straight. To stay calm. Panic welled and despite knowing I should keep quiet – I shouldn’t make him angry – I couldn’t contain the whimper in my throat that morphed into a cry. Into a scream.
‘Please!’ I fumbled in the dark, trying to locate the door handle, my heart skipping a beat when, for one horrible second, I thought the handle was gone, but then my fingers located the cool metal that warmed quickly under my clammy palm. I pulled and twisted and rattled knowing it wouldn’t make any difference but I was unable to just do nothing.
‘Please.’ I smacked my palms against the door over and over but each slap only fuelled my fear. ‘Let me out!’ The words were ripped from me and, over the pounding of my hands, the whooshing of blood in my ears, at first, I almost don’t hear it. The sound coming from outside. I rested my forehead against the door, trying to contain my juddering breath, imagining him doing the same on the other side. My panic transformed to sheer terror as menace seemed to seep through the wood, and I stepped backwards, stumbling over something I couldn’t see. I fell hard. The last thing I remembered was banging my head.
I wasn’t sure how long I was out but when I came around, throat dry and head woozy, my bladder was full to bursting. My muscles cramping. I tried to stretch out my legs but as I slid them forward my feet hit the wall. I reached out with my hands feeling the solidity beneath my fingertips and fought to calm my breathing before I stood, knees buckling, and paused, wriggling my toes as I tried to get my blood flowing freely again.
‘Please,’ I whispered now, as I touched the door. Hot tears of humiliation pricked the back of my eyes. As much as I was afraid of what was on the other side of the door, the thought of wetting myself was mortifying. My fingers brushed against the door handle and, without hope, I twisted it once more. It was still locked.
I am disorientated as I wake, and cold with fear. I think I hear a baby crying but my cheeks are wet and I think it was me that was crying. Everything is getting so muddled. The nightmares I thought I’d left behind are coming more frequently again, and I think it must be Lisa coming back into my life, stirring up the past. Outside the lounge window the sky is dark, clouds obscuring the moon and stars. I must have slept for hours, although it’s not surprising as last night I barely got any rest. On the TV, the forecaster is predicting the imminent arrival of a storm that will wash away the snow. What has startled me awake?