A Winter's Wish Come True Page 5

  Seconds later, his phone goes off again and he bursts out laughing when he reads his new text. My hackles rise, although I’m not sure why.

  ‘Something funny?’ I try to keep any trace of annoyance out of my voice.

  He shakes his head. ‘Nothing, Kayleigh just sent me a funny video of a dog on a skateboard.’

  Well, isn’t Kayleigh a hoot?

  I grit my teeth and consider asking him to let me see it – I need all the laughs I can get right now, after all – but decide not to. Something about Scott’s new gal pal has me riled, although I’m not sure what it is. Maybe it’s the dopey grin currently plastered to his face as he gazes at his phone, or the pregnancy hormones coursing through my veins but, whatever it is, I’m angry.

  ‘Isn’t that nice?’ I reply, my voice laced with barely concealed venom. ‘Anyway, I’d better get going. Lots to do and all that.’

  I start to walk away and hear Scott jogging to catch up with me. ‘Is everything OK?’ he asks. ‘I mean, you’re not … jealous of Kayleigh, are you? She’s just a client.’

  I splutter out an incoherent reply and fold my arms across my chest. ‘Of course I’m not jealous! We’re not together Scott, and we haven’t been for a while. You can see who you like whenever you like. It doesn’t affect me.’

  ‘Look, I can see you’re clearly upset about it. Plus you’re having my baby, so who I see does affect you, whether you want to admit it or not.’

  ‘OK, you’re right about that,’ I admit. ‘But I’m not jealous. I meant what I said, we’ve been broken up for over a year now and it’s not looking likely that we’ll get back together. It’s just …weird for me to think of you with someone else, that’s all.’

  ‘Well it won’t be happening any time soon,’ he assures me. His eyes fall away from me and I can see hurt cross his face. ‘Do you really think there’s no chance of us getting back together?’

  The words are so quiet I can barely hear them. ‘Scott, you left me. I didn’t want us to break up; you were the one who said you were going, with or without me. You knew I didn’t want to leave everything we had here, and that we’d have to break up if you went by yourself. I’m sorry, but I don’t see a way back for us.’

  He sighs and throws his hands up in the air. ‘Cleo, I know I made a mistake. There wasn’t a day I was in Australia that I didn’t think of you and how much I wished I’d stayed. I want to make it up to you, but you won’t let me! You know, sometimes I think you were waiting for something bad to happen with us. You still see yourself as that shy, anxious girl who was afraid to be a part of the world, don’t you? You still don’t believe that anyone could really love you enough to want to stick around.’

  Those words stop me in my tracks. I feel as though someone’s slapped me in the face as I turn around to face him, praying the tears don’t decide to come right now.

  ‘Well you didn’t, did you?’ I whisper. ‘You just keep on leaving me; first to go to Australia, then you did it again after we spent the night together. I let you love me, I trusted you, and you fucked it up twice. Not me, you. So spare me the armchair psychology, Scott. I’ve got bigger things to worry about right now, like having our baby.’

  Before we can snipe at each other anymore, I spin on my heel and stalk across the car park. Scott calls after me to come back so he can explain, but I ignore him. There’s nothing he can say that I’ll want to hear. I curse myself for nearly getting lost in the moment when he took my hand. That certainly won’t be happening again.

  *

  When I get back to my cottage, I flop onto the couch and burst into tears. Bloody pregnancy hormones. I can’t get the idea of Scott cosying up to his new client out of my mind, no matter how hard I try, and I can’t help feeling like I’m going to be the one holding the baby. He’ll be way too busy gallivanting around with his stunning new girlfriend to bother with me and the baby.

  And what happens if he decides he wants to leave again? Maybe he’ll want to seek out a new adventure in America or go back to Australia? What will happen with the baby then? I hate the thought of him or her growing up without a dad because he’s too busy chasing dreams round the world.

  I look down at my stomach and pat it. ‘I’m afraid it’s just you and me, kid. We’ll have to be our own little team since Daddy might not be around much.’

  How has it come to this, I wonder. How have I ended up alone in my cottage, talking to my unborn baby who, according to Doctor Maxwell, is barely the size of a kumquat? I let my head flop back against the couch as I try to remember the time where my life made sense. In just a few days, my tidy little world has been turned completely upside down and will never be the same again.

  I head to the kitchen to see if there’s any chicken paella left in the fridge, but my hand falls away from the handle when I see what’s pinned to the door.

  My bucket list.

  My wildest dreams, all in one place.

  I slip it out of its magnetic holder and can’t resist a smile. Quite a few of the items are ticked off: conquer my body issues, learn a new language, figure out what I really want to do with my life. My eyes drift to the last item – let myself fall in love – and my heart sinks. I ticked it off with unreserved glee when Scott and I finally got together, all the while thinking ‘aren’t I a lucky so-and-so?’ If only I could’ve seen what was around the corner …

  I neglected my bucket list for a while before my break-up. As I slipped into comfortable domesticity with Scott, my wildest dreams sort of fell by the wayside. Not forgotten exactly, just put on hold in favour of ‘living in the moment’ with my apparently perfect boyfriend. The remaining items – ridiculously exotic holiday, zorbing, getting a tattoo – can’t exactly be tackled right now, since I’ve got the baby to think of. Slipping into a giant plastic sphere and rolling down a hill doesn’t go well with being nearly three months pregnant. Nevertheless, since I became a single lady again, I’ve made a real effort to tick off the remaining items. It might be almost time to make a whole new list, filled with a whole host of other challenges to complete. If I do, will I be able to fit them in around my new and very unexpected adventure? Can I be Cleo the dreamer and Cleo the mum too?

  ‘Only me!’ A very familiar voice rings through from the hall.

  Oh great, just what I need: an impromptu visit from my mother.

  ‘I’m in the kitchen!’ I say, heaving a weary sigh. After the day I’ve had, I really can’t face my mum picking over every decision I’ve ever made. She’s not as bad as she used to be, luckily, but still has her moments.

  ‘Oh Cleo, you look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards! Please tell me you didn’t go out in public like that,’ she says, throwing her bag on the counter and coming over to fix my hair.

  ‘It’s a messy bun, Mum! Please, just leave it eh?’ I jerk my head away from her grasp and put my bun back to normal.

  She fixes me with a suspicious stare, folding her arms and narrowing her eyes. ‘Where were you off to so early this morning anyway? And you’ve got your black blazer on; you usually only wear that when you’ve got an interview.’

  My brain makes frantic scrambles as it tries to find a valid excuse. I can’t tell her where I’ve really been; I’m just not ready yet.

  Think Cleo, think!

  ‘I was … erm … I was …’

  I’m quite literally saved by the bell. As I make a mad dash down the hall to see who’s at the door, I breathe a huge sigh of relief. I’ve never been so grateful for a well-timed distraction.

  I throw open the door and Scott barges in without so much as a casual hello.

  ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ I ask, not entirely sure I want to know the answer.

  ‘Well, we didn’t exactly leave things on good terms this morning, did we? Not after you stormed off again!’ he shouts.

  My eyes dart to the kitchen and I cross my fingers that Mum hasn’t heard the commotion just yet. That’s the last thing I need today.

  ‘Ple
ase Scott, keep your voice down,’ I whisper pleadingly.

  ‘No, I won’t keep my bloody voice down! For the last eight weeks, you’ve pushed me away and I’ve had enough, Cleo! I’m going to tell you exactly why I left you the morning after we spent the night together and we’re finally going to clear the air about Australia too. Maybe then we can find a way to move forward. If you don’t like what I have to say then I’ll leave, but at least listen to me.’

  I can hear some footsteps coming from the kitchen. It’s my very own Jaws theme tune; my mum’s getting closer.

  ‘Scott, look—’

  ‘No Cleo, we have to find some way of clearing the air between us. It’s not just about us anymore, is it? In six months, we’re going to be parents and if we can’t be around each other, it’s the baby who’ll lose out. I don’t want to miss out on being part of my child’s life.’

  ‘And what baby would that be, Cleopatra?’

  Any hope I had of stopping my mum from finding out about the baby is well and truly gone. I shoot Scott a murderous glare, then turn around to face the music.

  ‘Mum … I’m pregnant. Ten weeks, and Scott’s the father. We … spent the night together after he got back from Australia, but we aren’t getting back together.’

  An eerie silence falls over my cottage as I wait for someone, anyone to react. Mum stares right at me, looking like she’s about to pass out, and Scott doesn’t know where to put himself.

  ‘I …’ Mum swallows and pauses as she clutches her chest. Her skin is the colour of chalk and she grabs onto the kitchen doorframe.

  Scott and I exchange worried looks.

  ‘Mum, are you OK?’ I ask. ‘Scott, run and get her a glass of water please.’

  He dashes off towards the kitchen while I try to manoeuvre Mum into the living room to sit down. It’s no mean feat doing it on my own, but I eventually manage it. Her head sinks forward and she covers her face with her hands. A strange noise follows, one that sounds like a cat having its tail stood on. I back away towards the door to give her some space, not wanting to startle her by getting too close. Scott returns a few seconds later with the glass of water.

  ‘Is she OK?’ he whispers. ‘Has she said anything? That noise doesn’t sound good.’

  I shake my head. ‘No, she’s just sort of … sitting there, really. Do you think she needs to see a doctor?’

  He shrugs. ‘I don’t know, I’ve never seen her like this before.’ He turns to look at me. ‘You know, it’s kind of funny, isn’t it? It’s taken your mum having a meltdown for us to be civil to one another.’

  I chuckle and nod in agreement. ‘Yeah, we were at each other’s throats a minute ago, and now we’re trying to work out if my mum’s been possessed or not! Should I go up to her, maybe give her a hug?’

  Scott frowns as he observes her. ‘No, stay back for a minute. She might lash out or something and I don’t want her hurting you.’

  ‘I can hear, you know!’ she yells from the sofa. ‘I might be in shock, but I haven’t gone deaf!’

  I breathe a sigh of relief. ‘Are you OK, Mum? Do you want a cup of tea or something?’

  She looks up at me and I can see tears shining in her eyes. ‘What I want is for you to sit down and tell me how you’ve made such a God-awful mess of your life. But a cup of tea wouldn’t go amiss either, I suppose.’

  I look at Scott, who nods and slopes back off to the kitchen. I perch myself on the edge of an armchair and prepare for a medley of ‘how could you? What will people think?’ Maybe there’ll even be a special encore performance of her favourite number, ‘you’re a bitter, crushing disappointment’.

  ‘So …’ Mum trails off for a moment to collect herself. ‘What’s been going on, Cleopatra?’

  That question is a lot harder to answer than it might sound. My mouth opens and closes as I try to work out the best way to tell her everything. Eventually, I decide there’s no way to make it sound better. I’m just going to have to come out with it and hope for the best.

  ‘Scott and I … we bumped into each other in the pub after he got back to Silverdale.’ I decide to gloss over the finer details for now. ‘And a few days ago, I found out I was pregnant. We’re not getting back together for the baby’s sake; in fact, we haven’t really decided what we’re doing yet. But we’ll figure it out, OK? And you’ll be an awesome grandma!’

  Scott comes back, carrying two cups of tea. He hands one to me and puts my mum’s on the coffee table.

  ‘She’s right,’ he replies. ‘The baby will be lucky to have you as a grandma.’

  Mum’s head snaps up and I can see a murderous glare on her face. ‘Under no circumstances will I be called grandma! The baby can call me Nina, since that’s my name.’

  Scott and I burst into fits of giggles and as the heavy atmosphere disperses, I finally feel that everything might be alright after all.

  Chapter Five

  Walking into the community centre to do my first Carb Counters meeting as a pregnant woman is a strange experience. Although nothing is actually different – apart from finding out about the baby, that is – it feels like everything has changed. As I go through the motions of setting the tables and chairs out, I’m all too aware that I’m not strictly alone. Although the baby’s still tiny, I can’t help but notice its presence. The nausea hasn’t let up much in the last few days and, at Scott’s insistence, I’ve enlisted Emma to do tonight’s workout session.

  ‘Well, what do you think?’ I turn my head just in time to see her burst onto the stage in brightly coloured workout gear. She’s also crimped her hair for the occasion.

  ‘I think eighties Olivia Newton-John has nothing on you right now,’ I reply with a grin. ‘What have you got planned for the group tonight then?’

  Emma picks up her phone and waves it at me. ‘Tonight, we’re going to have a dance workout to the best eighties playlist the internet has to offer! How does that sound?’

  ‘It sounds like they’re in for a treat! I’ll be sitting at the side, singing along badly to the music. Scott doesn’t think high-intensity exercise is a good idea right now.’

  I heave a sad little sigh. Emma jumps down from the stage and comes over to give me a hug. ‘I know you’d love to join in, but it’s probably best you don’t since you fainted last time. When you’ve had the baby, we’ll get our leg warmers on and strut our stuff together.’

  I nod and give her a squeeze. ‘I’ll hold you to that, you know. It won’t be easy taking a back seat to the exercise portion, but at least I can still do everything else. Well, until I get to be the size of a walrus that is!’

  Although it’s an offhand comment, it strikes a chord of panic in me. For the first time since discovering I was pregnant, I realise how my body’s going to change. Fear begins to curl its fingers around me, clouding my judgement and filling my head with awful thoughts.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Emma’s voice pulls me back to the present. ‘You looked like you were a million miles away.’

  I nod my head, even though I know I’m lying.

  ‘Yeah,’ I say, ‘I’m absolutely fine.’

  ‘Are you sure? You can tell me if you’re not. I’m going to grab Zara after the group’s finished to ask her about planning your baby shower.’

  ‘No!’ I yelp. ‘I … haven’t told her yet. She doesn’t know about the baby.’

  Emma’s eyes widen. ‘She’s one of your best friends, how come you haven’t told her?’

  I sigh. ‘She had such a hard time last year after Craig left her, and she’s had fertility problems for a long time. I don’t want to rub my news in her face, that’s all.’

  My best friend nods slowly. ‘She’d be really happy for you, you know. You should tell her.’

  As she slopes off to get ready for her debut, I watch Zara chatting away with some of the other group members. In the last twelve months, I’ve watched her pick herself up, dust herself off and start a new life. She’s a completely different woman to the one I met at Carb Counters.
She’s put her struggles with fertility and her marriage split behind her, and is living life to the full.

  Yet I know she’d kill to have what I do: a baby on the way and a man who cares about her (even if Scott and I aren’t together anymore). She’d embrace every part of pregnancy – including the not-so-nice bits – because she’s wanted it for so long.

  Then there’s me: I’m terrified of what the next six months will hold, especially my body going through changes I can’t control.

  Suddenly, I feel unbearably selfish.

  *

  The meeting goes well that night, although dark thoughts keep invading my mind. The standout slimmer is Zara, who has lost four pounds. Towards the end of the group’s sharing portion, we all stand up and give her a round of applause.

  ‘Thanks everyone,’ she says, wiping a couple of tears away. ‘You’re the best!’

  She comes over to me as the rest of the group goes to get ready for the workout.

  ‘How are you?’ she asks with a sheepish grin. ‘I’m really sorry I couldn’t come to the hospital with you, and that I’ve been terrible at keeping in touch. There’s a really good reason for it, I promise.’

  Part of me wants to tell Zara about the baby. She’s one of my best friends and it’s only natural that I want to tell her my news. However, I want to tread carefully; she’s struggled with her fertility for a long time, and I don’t want to come across as insensitive.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I reply. ‘It’s just a virus. I got some antibiotics and the doctor says I’ll be as right as rain soon.’

  My guts wrench as I lie to her, but I don’t like the idea of telling her such important news in the middle of a busy slimming group. Given the turmoil she’s been through trying to have a baby, I’d much rather tell her in private.

  ‘Glad to hear it.’ A huge, beaming grin spreads across her pretty face and she lets out a little squeal. This is her cue that she has Big News to share. ‘So … Craig got in touch again recently.’