The One That Got Away (13 page)

Heidi and I would treat each other to surprise nights out when the kids were with Jason. He was now at the stage of completely ignoring me whenever he arrived to pick them up—which I could deal with. At least he wasn’t attacking me anymore which was something neither I, Heidi, nor the kids needed. Second chances are created to be made the most of, and we made sure to do just that.

I hadn’t realised that I wasn’t spending much time in my own flat since that first dinner with the kids until Heidi mentioned it while we sat in the pub near my workplace one evening.

“When was the last time you slept in your own bed?” She looked at me, resting her chin on her hands, elbows propped on the table in front of her.

“Uhm . . .” I ransacked the memories I’d created since starting my new job, trying to figure out the answer, but couldn’t find it. “Wow, I haven’t got a clue.”

“I was trying to work it out last night, but I couldn’t remember.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” I teased.

Smiling, she sat back against the wooden chair and began searching through her bag. “The complete opposite.” She took hold of one of my hands and placed something in it and curled my fingers around it. “I think it’s time your living arrangements became localised to one place.”

After she withdrew her hand, I opened my own to see a freshly cut key on a key ring that had obviously been made by one of the kids. It was a slab of clay, moulded into a lumpy oblong shape, with the word ‘home’ painted on it in bright red.

“Oh . . . wow. This is . . .” My words stuck in my throat, blown away as I was by the thoughtfulness of the gift. I took Heidi’s hands between my own, trying to stem the tears that were threatening to fall.

“It’s just a key, Shane.” She gasped when I took her face between my hands and peppered her face with kisses.

“No, it’s not just a key. It’s a promise of a life together, and a way of welcoming me into your family.”

Within four days, I’d been released from my rental agreement and all my boxes were piled into Heidi’s bedroom. The forfeiture of my deposit was worth it. Taking a couple of days from my annual leave, I was able to sort through and organise a space for myself among her clothes while I unpacked.

The last item I pulled out of the remaining box was a packet of condoms. They’d been discarded once Heidi and I felt comfortable enough with each other to stop using them, choosing to rely on the birth control tablets she took with breakfast every morning instead. On a whim, I pulled out the single remaining foil packet, smiling at the thought of how everything had slotted into place, when I noticed the writing on the side.

The condoms had expired about a month before the reunion.

18 Years later

Will:

I ran my hand over my freshly-shaved head, the short hair soft and fuzzy under my palm. It was weird looking ‘round my room and knowing it wasn’t mine anymore. Boxes littered the floor, the bed had been stripped, and the walls were now bare of my football posters. Stephen’s side of the room was just as vacant since he’d moved out five years earlier. I’d been able to spread my crap around the room, but Mum and Dad had insisted I clear it all up now that it was my turn to leave.

“All sorted?” Dad walked in and stood next to me. Standing three inches taller than him, I looked down at him and was startled to realise that he was starting look his age.

“Yeah. How long are you and Mum waiting until you redecorate?” Stephen had his own life up in Glasgow with Michelle and the baby, and didn’t get to visit much beyond Christmas or special occasions. My sister Emma was living with Aunty Jo down in London, working at her pet shop. She came home at least once a month, but her bedroom had long since become Dad’s office.

“Oh, at least a week, I wager. We’ll need to give ourselves time to get over the house party we’ll have to celebrate being kid-free at long last.” He nudged me in the ribs with his elbow, almost knocking me off my feet. Readjusting my glasses on my face, I nudged him back, laughing out loud when he landed on my bed.

“Oh, God, it’s going to be wonderfully quiet in this house. Me and your mother will be able to hear the TV and won’t have to shout our conversations at each other.” He sat up and leaned back against the headboard, looking at me with a small smile on his face.

“Oh, get over yourself. You’ll both be bored witless within a month. Just in time for me to come back with a bag full of dirty washing.” I sat next to him, shoulder to shoulder.

“I know for a fact you know how to use a washing machine, so you can do your own bloody washing,” Mum’s voice from the doorway made both of us jump. “There’s a washing machine in your halls, too, so make the most of it. I’ve even bought you some washing powder and fabric softener, they’re in one of the boxes.”

How typical of my mother. Making sure all three of us were independent and able to look after ourselves when we ‘flew the nest,’ as she so often called us leaving.

“Spoilsport. How am I supposed to experience the true student lifestyle if I don’t get to bring dirty washing home?”

Mum walked through the maze of boxes and sat at Dad’s side, where I always remembered her being.

"One load for the first visit, and that’s it. Bring it home after that, and it goes back with you in the same state.”

We shook hands to seal the deal. My mother, the master negotiator.

“Nervous, honey?” Her voice had softened while she kept hold of my hand and began to rub circles on it with her thumb.

“Not really. Well, not yet anyway.” I’d never been able to lie to her. Apparently my face was like an open book when it came to how I was feeling.

“You’ll be fine, son, you’ll meet people in the halls and on your course. Soon enough you’ll be out drinking every night then schlepping to lectures with a stinking hangover.”

Dad had told me stories about his time at uni and had never held back. It was his stories that had cemented my desire to study away from home and live the full student lifestyle. Stephen had done it and had ended up as an engineer in Scotland. He and Michelle had married eighteen months previously, which was followed ten months later by the arrival of my nephew, Ned. Emma bypassed uni, though, deciding to move to London where she ended up running the pet shop for Aunty Jo after her stroke. Emma hadn’t married, but she and Henry had lived together above the shop for almost seven years, even after the twins had arrived.

I loved my nieces and nephew, but at eighteen, I wasn’t in any particular rush to settle down and have kids. A first class degree in Computer Science was the main goal over the next three years, but I wanted to have fun while I achieved it.

:: ::

The first time I saw Bex I was dancing on a bar, drunk on tequila, and wearing a hula skirt during Fresher’s Week. She, on the other hand, had been wearing a bright green Hawaiian shirt with neon-pink board shorts, which in no way distracted from the fact that she was gorgeous. Every guy in the place had his eye on her, with her long blonde hair tied up into a high ponytail and her bright blue eyes slightly bloodshot from the alcohol. I jumped off the bar, stumbling into one of the guys from the halls, and trailed after her while she manoeuvred through the immense crowd.

I tried a crappy line about needing shades to look at her, which had her rolling her eyes at me, but she laughed none the less. We ended up in bed screwing like rabbits, and I’d expected it to end there. By the time I got back home for Christmas, though, Bex and I had established ourselves as a rock solid couple around campus. Friends teased us for not sowing our seeds before settling down, but we ignored them and carried on.

Once I arrived home, Mum knew. She just knew without me saying anything. She badgered relentlessly until I broke and told her about Bex. I could practically see her melting with every word. Emma and Stephen took the piss, warning me that before long we’d be married and surrounded by chubby babies.

I froze a little at their teasing, laughed it off, and made my way into the kitchen to pilfer some of Mum’s pigs-in-blankets.

“Hey, I know that look.” Dad snuck in behind me and shoved a bacon wrapped sausage into his mouth, hopping around when it started to burn his tongue.

“What look?” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mum close the door from the front room to the kitchen, giving Dad and me some privacy. If he was going to attempt ‘the talk’ again, I was on the next train back to uni, presents be damned.

“You’re freaking out about what your brother and sister said.” He opened the fridge and pulled out two bottles of beer then handed me one.

I smiled, thinking about my eighteenth birthday and Dad buying me my first legal pint of lager. He’d been so proud, even if I did end up getting completely out of my tree with my mates.

“I can see the cogs turning away in your head, working out how you can break it to this girl why things aren’t working.”

How the hell could he know that?
Seeing Stephen and Emma so happy with their families was great. But when they started to project that onto my relationship with Bex, all I wanted to do was phone her and break it off.

“What’s so wrong with that?” I retaliated. The stubborn streak running through me came directly from my mother, and Dad knew that.

“Sit your arse in that chair, and listen. I have a story to tell you.”

:: ::

Bex:

When I started university, I expected to meet lots of guys, even flirt with them. Maybe get a bit drunk and sleep with a couple—generally enjoy student life to its fullest. It never crossed my mind that in the first week of classes I would meet
the
guy. Will was tall, strong, and made me feel special from the first moment we met. His shaved head gave him an edge which belied the truth. He had a big heart and an amazingly complex brain.              The entire three years we spent at uni we were more or less inseparable. Sure, we lived our own lives. Going out with our own friends from our courses, but we always went back to each other, and over time it became a way of life. Discussions late into the evening about our futures decided we would move to London and make the most of our degrees. With his top grade results he could walk into any job he wanted, whilst I could use my teaching degree to apply to any primary school in the country.

After graduation, our parents helped us moved into a flat in North London. It was a ten minute walk from the school where I’d secured a job and near enough to a tube station that Will could commute into the city. The first year was tough, but we braved it out after promising to follow advice from his Mum about always making sure we talked. About everything. Once that year was over with, however, we fell into the perfect routine of making time for each other every day, even if it was only ten minutes.

Our lives seemed to move forward a little too easily, something neither of us noticed until I received a frantic phone call at work from my Dad one day. In tears, I left work and drove to the flat. Will was already there packing, having received the same call. Within ten minutes we were on the motorway to go meet Dad at the hospital. We arrived fifteen minutes too late. Mum was gone.

At the age of twenty-five, I was lost and unsure of myself, and I began to push Will away while I wallowed in my grief. Though I knew I was doing it, I couldn’t seem to stop myself. Any time he came near me with a look of sympathy on his face, I would lock myself in the bedroom, sobbing until my voice was hoarse and my eyes were closing from being so puffy.

“Bex, honey? Can I have a word?” Will’s mum let herself into the bedroom a few days after Mum passed. The moment she and Shane arrived, she’d known things between Will and myself weren’t right.

I sniffed at her, unable to speak.

“Look, there’s no way in hell I can even begin to imagine how you are feeling. I’ve never been through a loss like the one you’re suffering from, but I do know you need to let Will in.”

I let her take hold of my hand and my tears began to fall again. Silently, I let them roll down my face and drip onto my jeans. I was unable to look up at Heidi knowing there wasn’t any way I’d be able to keep myself from breaking down.

“Honey, that boy
adores
you, and it’s breaking his heart seeing you hurting so much. You’re not letting him close enough to help or comfort you, which he needs to be able to do.”

“I’m scared.” I managed to find my voice.

“Of what, sweetheart?” Gently, she wiped away my tears with her thumbs and made me look at her. “Whatever you tell me will go no further than these four walls until you’re ready for it to.”

I looked into her kind eyes, marvelling at their youthfulness. Taking a deep breath, I began to speak, keeping my voice low to ensure no one else would hear me.

“I’m pregnant. I found out the day Mum died. I was going to surprise Will with a special dinner, but then I got that call from Dad.” I broke down and began crying once more, falling into my mother-in-law’s arms. I may not have been married to her son, yet, but that’s exactly who she was to me.

“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry. I completely understand, but you need to tell Will the truth, let him help you through this. Besides, a baby! Let me tell you, I can’t wait to be a grandma again. You’ll both make wonderful parents.” She pulled me to my feet and led me from the bedroom and into the bathroom to wash my face. Once I had managed to calm myself down, I walked into the kitchen to see the man I loved watching me, uncertainty in his eyes.

:: ::

Bang on my due date, our daughter was brought into the world, screaming her red-haired head off. I glanced over at Will, took note of the tears in his eyes, and flashed him an exhausted grin. He caressed my sweaty face with a gentle stroke, the three month old wedding ring glinting in the afternoon sunlight filtering through the blinds.

Despite the sadness I often felt knowing Mum hadn’t been physically able to experience my wedding and the birth of my first child, I knew she was aware and proud of us all. Dad was beginning to find himself again, thanks to joining the local senior centre. He still wore his wedding ring and spoke of Mum often, but the twinkle in his eye was returning, as was the spring in his step. He was always going to miss her, but I’d made him promise not to allow his grief to rule his life, the way I’d let it rule mine those first few days.

As the midwife cleaned the baby, Will wiped my face with a cool, damp cloth.

“I love you. I have ever since I saw you in that hula skirt,” I told him, smiling at the memory.

“I love you, too, and I’m glad Dad talked me out of ending things that first year.” He’d told me recently about the first Christmas at home. Eighteen and being teased about his future, I’d understood why he panicked, but was so glad his dad had talked him out of it.

“Me too.”

He helped me sit up so I could hold our daughter for the first time. I gazed into her perfect face, overcome with emotion so strong I didn’t know whether to cry, laugh, or start screaming again.