A Part of Me (18 page)

No, I was being paranoid.

I shut the car door and turned around. ‘Hey. Busy day baking?’ I asked light-heartedly.

He widened his eyes as if surprised that that was the best I had to offer. It made me feel insubstantial. He really was reluctant but now I’d left a conversation hanging in the air. ‘I didn’t know you had a daughter, Rohan,’ I tried softly, sending it with an easy smile.

‘I didn’t know you had a BMW,’ he retorted.

He looked at me, eyes cold with something I wasn’t sure I’d earned. I looked behind me, at my reflection in James’s passenger window, and felt the whispers of some sort of betrayal I didn’t understand.

When I turned back, Rohan was already disappearing around the walkway.

J
AMES LOOKED LIKE
an Adidas poster boy when I went down for breakfast. I hated his Gore-tex bibtights. I didn’t understand their popularity amongst the cycling community, or why nobody had come up with a more flattering design, maybe something with a bum-bag to hide the lumpy bits of the male form. Even so, I probably couldn’t blame my unease on James’s cyclewear. It was early days, but I still felt like a stranger in my own home, and this morning wasn’t bucking the trend any.

‘Morning, gorgeous.’ James smiled, eager blue eyes happy enough to see me. ‘How did you sleep? You were doing a lot of mumbling last night.’ He chanced a kiss at the side of my head.

There had been lots of these kisses, gentle repetitive contact. It was good. We were on the right path then. I wondered what I’d been mumbling about, and how it had been loud enough to carry downstairs to him. ‘Sorry. Did I wake you?’ I said, moving into the kitchen. He’d already laid the table out with an impressive array of freshly squeezed juices, berries and muesli; two places
set with our new Vera Wang tableware, a gift from his mother.

‘Only when you started yelling.’ He flicked his head just enough to shake the blond hair from his eyes. ‘Something about not letting her get too close? And
armbands?
’ A lightning bolt shot through my recollection. I vaguely remembered dreaming of a large body of ominous black water. It wasn’t necessarily the millpond.

‘Sorry,’ I repeated, taking my place at the table. James brought the cafetiere over, sitting it on a small glass mat. He walked back to the fridge, pulling on its handle when the door jarred defensively against him.

‘Damn it, do we have to have these sodding door locks on everything?’ he growled. I couldn’t blame him, my finger had only just healed over.

‘It’s not for much longer,’ I reassured him. There were still things, lots of ugly things, that we would have to talk though at some point, but not now. Not when we were so nearly there. I got on with pouring the coffees while James busted his way into the fridge. ‘Blue top?’ he remarked, taking out the milk I’d bought yesterday. ‘How can a supermarket run out of milk?’

I waited for him to pour it begrudgingly into the serving jug he had ready on the side. ‘They didn’t run out. I thought we’d try blue for a while. It tastes better in coffee,’ I added, defending my boundary-pushing decision.

‘Okay,’ he said agreeably, ‘but it’s easy to forget how
quickly all those added calories add up over a month, Ames.’ I watched as he brought the offending milk to the table. ‘I have this new app on my phone, it lets you log everything, every last gram of food you consume over a day, offsets it against your exercise log, then gives you your accurate calorific intake. I’ll download it onto your phone later, then we’ll see how long you’re buying blue top.’

James watched me pour twice the usual amount of milk into my cup as the phone began trilling in the hall. ‘I’ll get it,’ I said, grateful for a chance to leave the kitchen. I walked into our hallway, barren except for a few abstract pieces hanging on gallery-white walls. James liked art, liked to collect beautiful things, then keep them all neat and tidy in their place. I picked up the phone from the hall console and checked again in the mirror there that I hadn’t made the wrong decision abandoning my hair straighteners this morning.

‘Hello?’

‘Amy? Hi, it’s Anna.’

‘Anna?’

‘Sorry to ring you early, but I’m going to be in meetings all day.’

I saw my gormless expression gawping back at me in the mirror and promptly turned away from it.

‘No, that’s okay,’ I offered, glad she hadn’t caught me at Mum’s again.

‘It’s about our meeting next Monday, I’m really sorry
to do this, you must be on tenterhooks I know, but can we push it back to the Friday? Same time?’

I skimmed through my mental calendar. ‘Yeah. Sure. Is everything all right? We haven’t forgotten to tick any boxes anywhere, have we?’

‘Oh no! Nothing like that. I thought you’d worry, but really no need. This is good news, Amy. I just need a few more days to organise myself before I accost you with any more paperwork.’

James had come to stand in the doorway, listening. I tried not to be distracted by his skin-tight shorts.

‘Okay. We’ll see you next Friday instead then,’ I said for James’s benefit.

James folded his arms. ‘What box haven’t we ticked?’

‘None. She just needs to organise more paperwork,’ I said, checking the phone was down properly.

‘Paperwork? What paperwork? What’s the next lot of paperwork about?’

I didn’t want to say it out loud in case I jinxed anything.

‘You look …
odd
, Ame. Are you okay?’

Maybe. Anna had sounded upbeat, enthused even. I shook my head to relax him, but I found myself wanting to cross the hall and sink myself under his spandex-clad arms. James watched me as the possibility that was taking shape in my mind grew. I mean, it wasn’t unheard of to be matched so soon, just as James had already pointed out. Not impossible that Anna had a child in mind for us, and
that the paperwork she was referring to was the child’s permanence report.

I tried to imagine my hands holding a CPR, the chronicle of his or her life, all neatly collated for us to absorb in rapturous anticipation. It had to be, had to be the reason for the delay.

I really needed to hold onto him while this sank in, but my legs had gone dead. James leant against the bottom of the stairs, studying me. We knew that there were lots of children waiting to be matched, but so many of them had brothers and sisters to consider, sibling groups that absolutely had to be kept together.
Needed
to be. James had been reluctant to adopt more than one child, so we’d agreed it would be a single child that we applied for, however long it would take for us to be matched with one.

I looked at James. A contemplative smile was warming his face. He’d come to the same conclusion, we’d been matched. It was happening! I was smiling now too, and began to move across the hall to him, but James’s smile threw me.

‘Are you going to work?’ he asked, his eyes sloping off to check his watch.

I ground to an abrupt halt. ‘What? Yes, why?’ I stuttered.

‘You’re cutting it fine, aren’t you? It takes you half an hour to sort your hair.’ He smiled. ‘It’s after eight now.’

I lifted a robotic hand to feel the waves I’d left in my hair tumbling past my shoulders.

James checked his watch again. ‘I’d better get a move on, I’ve got to be back for a call before ten.’ He walked over to fish his keys from the key dish on the console table, and laid a chaste kiss on my cheek. ‘Have a good day, baby. Don’t worry about Anna and her paperwork. Any kid will be lucky to have us, they know it.’

T
HERE ARE FEW
times I enjoy more than sunny lunchtimes in the city. The traffic seems to flow a little slower, the noises of the city are a little quieter, the birdsong a little more harmonic. Everything is hushed down beneath the billowy canopy of sun-infused sycamore leaves lining the avenue across town. We often headed to Marquis Avenue on days like these, there was a spot beside the memorial fountains just perfect for lunch from the deli on warm grass.

I’d spent seven nights back at home. After Megan had turned up with Lily last Tuesday, I’d hardly had any interaction with Rohan. The rest of last week had seen me spend my days wondering how to strike up a comfortable conversation with him, and my nights how to avoid an uncomfortable one with James. Cyan had actually made for a welcome alternative this morning.

‘So, how’s it all going at Hotbun’s place? Has he been rustling up something else for you in the kitchen?’

I pulled my sunglasses out of my hair and slipped them along my nose. Phil had been notably quiet on the matter
all morning. ‘He was just being friendly, Phil. No big deal,’ I tried. I had no right to feel hurt that there hadn’t been much friendliness from him since. No daily stocking of the mini-fridge, no salads, and definitely no pies. He was busy, with Lily. And I was back home, with James. ‘I expected to see a bit more of you there,’ I said, deflecting her enquiry.

Phil just smiled, lifting her chin to take in the sun on her face. ‘With a kid running wild around the place? I’ll pass. So has she been there every day?’

‘Who, Lily?’

‘If that’s the kid’s name,’ Phil purred disinterestedly.

The city was alive with other lunchtimers with the same idea, queues of dressed-down office types in each of the bistros we passed.

‘No. Not every day. I think Rohan goes to her at the weekends.’

‘So what’s this Megan doing? Leaving the kid with him while she goes out partying?’

‘No, Megan picks her up every afternoon. Carter says they’re getting Lily used to being at the mill, before Megan flies out tomorrow and leaves her with Rohan.’

Phil had already scouted a sunny spot and was steering us through the cool air thrown off by the fountains towards it. ‘Flies out where?’ she asked, weaving through the ice-cream-eaters and student tourists snapping each other on the fountain’s ornate plinth.

‘Barcelona. She’s some sort of photographer. Covers sporting events, or something.’ Phil had edged into the lead, eager to stake her claim on a particular patch of grass. She glanced back at me over her shoulder.

‘Hate her already. Is she stunning? Of course she’s stunning.
He’s
stunning. So why isn’t she with him? If he’s good with the kid and they’re all so photogenic?’

I didn’t know the answer to that. So I didn’t offer one. Phil had already lost interest anyway. We ran a rudimentary inspection for anything sinister lurking on the grass before we sat down, Phil settling gracefully like a swan beside me. Her pink glossy lips drew into a smile, and I realised why she’d wanted this spot.

Phil was smiling a
buongiorno
to the group of olive-skinned lads behind us. She wasn’t usually into exchange-students, but Phil was a sucker for an Italian accent and they were chattering away to her obvious delight. ‘How old is this kid?’ she asked, coming back to me.

‘Three.’

‘Just what you need with building works going on. Make sure the contractors’ liability certificates are all in, hon.’

‘I don’t think there’s much danger of anything happening to Lily, Phil. The way Rohan shadows her, if she tumbled he’d catch her before she made the ground.’ I knew this, because I’d found myself mesmerised by them. The way he held her on his shoulders so she could see the
fish in the millpond; the way he’d concentrate when he was pulling her hair into a ponytail, careful that he didn’t snag. The rough and rugged father and his delicate flower. Phil passed me my sandwich and a small salad bowl. ‘Besides, the work’s moving along pretty fast,’ I added. ‘We rejigged the schedule to prioritise upstairs, so Lily has somewhere safe and comfortable to stay.’

‘Where’s she sleeping, then?’

‘In the room next to his. He’s had a door knocked through now so he can hear her.’

‘Lucky her. Is it all going to be ready in time?’ Rohan had asked if I could have Lily’s room decked out in her favourite colours. It had been our longest conversation all week.

‘Their two bedrooms are finished. All the contractors pulled together for him, and Carter’s been helping the kitchen guy out, which has moved things along as well. There’s getting less for me to do there now, apart from occasionally keeping a few things on track.’

There was a growing sense of redundancy to my role at the mill. I wasn’t sure whether it had come when the work had started moving along, or when Megan had showed up with Lily. I was trying not to examine it.

‘That clown? I wouldn’t let Carter near anything more complex than a disposable knife and fork. What does he even do?’ Phil asked, biting into her ciabatta.

The truth was, I wasn’t really sure. ‘A bit of everything, I think. I know he helps Rohan out a lot, with maintenance
around the place, and in the workshop with the knee thing they’re making.’

‘Knee thing?’

‘I think it’s some sort of brace, to reinforce Rohan’s leg while he’s doing his tricks.’

‘Tricks?’

‘Tricks, stunts … you know what I mean. Daring feats of acrobatic ability.’

Phil cocked an eyebrow and fished a plastic fork and serviette from their wrapper.

‘Okay, so I don’t know much about it. But I think he’s good, Phil. The way he performs on those ramps … he’s talented. No question.’ That Rohan managed any of it with only one leg was nothing short of incredible.

Phil frowned. ‘You’ve changed your tune.’

‘He’s working on some kind of shoe, too. To connect his prosthetic leg better to the pedal. I’ve seen him trying them out,’ I said, digging uselessly with my plastic fork at evasive radicchio leaves.

Phil was making her own attack on a different tasty Italian, sending cow eyes over my shoulder at one of the lads behind us. She set him up with another smile. ‘Nice work if you can get it. Playing on bikes all day. Where’s his money from?’

‘I think he received a pay-out when he had his accident.’

‘Don’t tell me he’s rich, Ame. I’ve just talked him out of the running for having a kid.’

‘I don’t think he’s rich, Phil. I just think he’s paid off what he needs to to be able to do his thing.’

‘While the rest of us have to slog it out under a boss’s watchful glare. T’rific. You know, Adrian’s been a real pain in the arse lately, hovering at his office window.’

Triumphantly, I wangled a sporkful of battered salad into my mouth. ‘Actually, I don’t think that’s meant for us, Phil. James says Sadie’s on the way out.’

‘Glitter Knickers is? Ha! I knew it! She’s been in meeting after meeting with Marcy lately.
Crying
in one of them. I
knew
something was going on.’

Sadie wanted to try sitting in front of an adoption panel. That was enough to make anyone cry. ‘I’m not getting my hopes up. Her attendance has obviously improved. She was in before me this morning,’ I said begrudgingly.

‘She won’t keep it up, Ame,’ Phil said imperially patting her lips with a serviette. Anyway, I’m not talking about Sadie, Sadie’s old news. So, when is this social worker coming out?’

I felt an instant pang in my stomach. ‘Friday. Bleurgh.’

‘Good and relaxed, then? And how are things going
at home
?’

I tucked my hair behind my ears and let out a long sigh. ‘Awkward. He’s still on the sofa. But beyond closed doors, who would ever know, right?’
Awkward
wasn’t the word for it.
Forced
felt better. I was trying, really trying, not to dwell on anything negative, but James and I didn’t
even seem to be on the same page any more. How could it have got like this, without me seeing it?

‘Whoa, that was a serious sigh,’ Phil said, watching me over her glasses.

The Italian lads started chuckling behind us. A ripple of babbled language ensued.

Phil smiled along with them, and the laughter bubbled in response.

‘Do you want him to be on the sofa? Does
he
want to be on the sofa?’

‘He’s started dropping hints, but he was happy enough to keep his distance while I got over my cold. Didn’t want to risk catching it.’ There I went. Dwell, dwell, dwell.

‘He said that? The selfish pig. You’d think he’d be grateful.’

Another snigger behind me and I realised what was so funny. ‘Oh, Phil!’ I said, quickly hunting for a serviette.

The Italian merriment intensified.

‘What is it?’ she asked. I reached cautiously to dab at her chocolate-brown bob.

‘What is it? Has a bird just crapped on me?’ she said, looking accusingly into the trees overhead.

The set of Phil’s mouth suggested the Italian globetrotters had just become a gaggle of undesirable student travellers. She turned a look on them and for the most part, it cooled them off.

‘It’s supposed to be good luck,’ I said unhelpfully recycling Rohan’s words from the day of the blackbird.
But Phil was of the thinking that you made your own luck. It did not originate in the backside of any bird.

I tried to control the smile eking across my lips. Under normal circumstances, Phil would’ve gone straight back to the studio to use the showers there, but she wasn’t one for being run off any territory. I knew then our lunch-hour would run as long as was necessary to out-camp the Italian invasion.

‘Men are such knobs. Go on, you were saying about James,’ she said, offering me a hit of hand sanitiser.

I sighed again. ‘Honestly, Phil, I thought it might have been easier than it is, but we seem …’ What did we seem? What were we now? ‘Stagnant.’

Phil pulled off her glasses and looked straight at me, as if revealing some sort of polygraph technology. ‘Have you slept with him? Since all that business, I mean?’

‘No.’

‘You need to. Get it out of the way. You aren’t going to know where you’re at until you do, hon. Don’t leave it any longer, or you’re just gonna build it up until it’s an even bigger scarier monster. Like losing your virginity.’

‘So what do you suggest, Phil?’ Was I honestly this pathetic?

‘Dutch courage and a good run-up? You just have to get on with it, hon. Then you’ll be able to tell if it’s worth sticking with or not.’

If only sex were the yard stick to measure that one out
with. I was sure James would have no problems convincing most. Either way, the thought scared me.

‘Maybe next week. We have enough high jumps to get over this week. We just need to keep it together for a few hours on Friday.’

‘And then what?’

A new worry twisted in my stomach.

For two years we’d moulded ourselves into the ideal parents material, a desirable home in which to nurture a child. And now I,
me
, who had finely honed and polished every last detail of that picture, was the person questioning its integrity.

‘Ame? And then what? If you can get through this meeting?’ Phil pressed.

I pushed away the rest of my lunch and took a cautious breath. ‘And then we hope it doesn’t all fall apart.’