The Rose Petal Beach (7 page)

I wonder if something’s happened?

The taxi driver continues on his route to my house.

I’m not sure what could have happened on a Thursday evening in Hove that would cause them to go to bed so early, but if something has, I’m sure I’ll find out about it soon enough. Nothing stays secret on the Close for long.

Fifteen years ago

‘Are you sure?’ Scott said to me.

‘Yes. I wouldn’t have told you if I wasn’t sure, would I?’

‘And you’ve done a test?’

Reaching out, I picked up my cloth bag, delved inside and pulled out the white sticks to show him. ‘Try six tests. And, funnily enough, they all say the same thing.’

He brought the heels of his hands up to his face, pressed them on his eyes. ‘Ah …
Man
!’ Scott had just watched his dreams of continuing to better himself with an MBA disappear in a cloud of nappies, late-night feeds and Babygros. While watching his future plans disappear he was also wondering if he did in fact love me, if he’d made a mistake about that and how it might be possible to get out of it.

I sat with my bag on the floor between my feet, the tests burning a hole in my hand, watching him go through the same process I had done hours earlier: I had watched my next promotion to head of the Corporate Communications department shimmer and disintegrate in my mind’s eye, then had questioned my feelings for him. That had lasted for seconds, a minute at the most, certainly less time than his questioning seemed to last.

‘I thought you were on the Pill,’ Scott eventually said, his accusation buried deep in his tone, but plain in his phrasing.

‘I am. But that’s only ninety-nine per cent effective. Meet the lucky one per cent. I should buy a lottery ticket.’

‘This isn’t funny.’

‘Actually, it is.’ He sat in the only armchair he had in his bedsit,
his legs curled up under him, his face chiselled from stone. ‘It’s bloody hysterical. It’s going to get a whole lot funnier if you ask me if I’m sure it’s yours.’

He redirected his line of sight, even though his face remained like stone, telling me I was right, he had wanted to ask.

‘You’re a bastard, you know that?’ I said. ‘I can’t believe I fell for all that talk of love when you’re just a complete bastard.’

Leave, Tami, just leave
, I told myself.
Get out of here and start to make your plans.

I carefully laid the six white sticks on the edge of the bed, picked up my bag while I stood up and pulled myself together. ‘I’ll see you around,’ I threw at him, knowing I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t see him again. Even if he did try to change the course of this, if he did try to make things right, I wouldn’t want to see him again. ‘Maybe.’

When the front door to his flat clicked shut behind me and wasn’t immediately whipped open again by him asking me to come back, my heart fell. I stood for a few seconds, gathering myself together again. I had to have lunch with my family, I couldn’t go there in a state, I had to strengthen myself against this. I had to ignore the hollow space where my heart should be, concentrate on the future that was growing inside me instead.

In the darkness of the room, I stare out of the window, the unsynchronised breathing of Cora and Anansy the soundtrack of my thoughts. I watch a taxi turn into our road and then move at a snail’s pace up towards Mirabelle’s house. I’m sifting through my life, the mine of my memories, trying to find that imperfect jewel that has been hidden in my past, mostly ignored, but holds the vital clue as to why he is in a police cell and I am in a life that feels a lot like hell.

Fifteen years ago

‘I can’t believe you forgot to get chips for me,’ Sarto said, pouting.
The oldest of us three children – a man in his late twenties – and he still had it in him to pout.

‘You can share mine,’ I told him, pushing the splayed open white paper towards him. ‘I’ve said you can share mine.’ Once every few weeks we had a family lunch where we all pretended that we hadn’t deeply disappointed our parents in different ways – me with the university thing, Genevieve with the eloping to get married in Las Vegas thing, and Sarto with the taking his time to finish medical school thing. Genevieve and I came over (Sarto
still
lived there), and usually Mum cooked. Today, not long after Genevieve got there, she had said she would take care of the meal. We’d stared at her in amazement that she was going to cook. She, in return, gave us all scathing ‘as if’ looks and went to the chippy. Returning without any chips for Sarto.

‘That’s not the point, though, is it?’ Sarto complained. ‘My sister goes to the shop and comes back with food for everyone except me. What am I supposed to think about that? I’m a man, I should be served, not forgotten.’

I turned my laugh into a cough, knowing that was probably why Genevieve had done it. The things he said often brought out the radical feminist in her: I simply ignored him, which actually bugged him more than trying to get one over on him.

‘Silly me,’ Genevieve simpered. ‘Silly female me. Never mind, next time you should send a man to the chip shop and maybe he’d remember how superior you are to every woman on Earth.’

‘When will you learn, dear sister, I’m not superior to every woman on earth, I’m superior to everyone on earth.’

The doorbell interrupted us. All eyes automatically turned to me, because I was the youngest and answering the door, washing up, doing whatever the others would have me do was my role. I focused on my chips, using a fork and my fingers to scoop them onto the waiting plate. Scott’s reaction to the news I was pregnant was still smarting two hours later, I wasn’t about to let myself be pushed around by this lot, too.

Ding-dong
, the doorbell chimed again. I licked oil off my fingers and reached nonchalantly for the tomato ketchup and salad cream.

‘This family is out of order,’ Sarto said, pushing out his chair and stomping to the door. ‘You’re all out of order.’

Genevieve smirked and I smiled to myself. Poor Sarto was really feeling it today. ‘Tam-
mia
!’ he called a few seconds later. ‘Door.’

The way he said my name told me who it was. I couldn’t quite believe he had the audacity to show up knowing most people didn’t welcome his type (Challey) round these parts.

‘Tam-
mia
!’ Sarto called again, louder this time. ‘Scott Challey’s here to see you.’ He did that to let those at the table know what I was up to, who I was fraternising with. As he guessed it would, his pronouncement caused everyone to look at me, blinking in shock.

‘A Challey?’ Dad said quietly.

‘Here?’ Mum said just as quietly.

Genevieve did not speak, she simply pushed the waves of her long, black hair off her face and glared at me until I met her eye. Her expression softened from shock into deep, sorrowful disappointment.
Has this been going on since you were twelve?
she was asking me silently.

‘Don’t let Sarto eat all my chips,’ I said to fill the hole that shock had blasted into the room. ‘I only said he could have some of them, not all of them.’

‘I’ll guard them with my very life,’ Genevieve replied, now unable to even look in my direction. She had joined my parents in feeling disappointed in me. She had no idea how disappointed I actually felt in myself – becoming involved with someone I knew I shouldn’t have and discovering after I’d fallen in love, had become pregnant, that he wasn’t the person I thought he was after all.

With their eyes on me, I stood shakily and left.

While I grabbed my coat, Sarto muttered darkly, ‘Your lunch is waiting. Don’t be long.’

‘You’re not my father, Sarto, in case you’d forgotten,’ I replied, stepping over the threshold to leave.

‘Things would be very different if I was,’ Sarto called as I shut the door in his face.

‘Are you mad, coming here?’ I hissed to Scott when we were clear of the front path and on the pavement. I daren’t look back at the house in case they were all in the front-room window watching us. I marched quickly up the road out of sight. ‘My whole family were in there and now they all think …’
The truth
, I realised so stopped talking.

‘Sorry, sorry, I had to see you. I came after you but you’d gone. You weren’t at your flat and I remembered you said about your Saturday lunches here so obviously …’

‘Obviously what? What do you want?’

‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I behaved very badly. Of course I love you. Of course I know the baby’s mine. You’re the best thing that has happened to me, and the baby will be too if you want to keep him or her. If you don’t, that’s fine, too. But whatever you decide, I’ll support you. I’m sorry I didn’t say all that before.’

‘Thing is Scott …’

‘No, no. No, don’t.’ He stopped walking and threw himself to his knees. ‘Please don’t say “thing is” and my name in that tone of voice because that means it’s over. And I can’t stand the thought of that. I wish I had been a better man, but I’m here now. I want to be with you. I want to support you. Please give me one more chance. I probably deserve to be – what’s that thing they say on
Jerry Springer
– “kicked to the kerb” but please don’t.’

‘Why shouldn’t I?’

‘Because I love you. Because we’re good together. Because every time we’re apart it feels as if there’s a piece of me missing. Because I love you.’

‘Yeah, well, sometimes love isn’t enough, you know? How do I know you aren’t going to freak out again about something we’re both responsible for? Or suddenly start questioning if I’ve been sleeping around? A baby puts all kinds of pressure on people and
if you can’t handle it, I’d rather you weren’t around.’

‘Please, I’m begging you. I’ll do anything to make this work. Anything. You name it, I’ll do it. Just don’t give up on me, please.’

I could feel people in the street staring at us from behind their net curtains, formulating their gossip as fast as they could: the Challey boy on his knees in front of the Berize girl, hands clasped together as he begged her for something.

‘Get up, Scott.’

‘No. No, I can’t until I’ve made you understand how sorry I am and how much I love you and how much it would kill me if you didn’t give me a second chance.’

‘People are staring at us.’

He looked around, the street was empty but the weight of a dozen pairs of eyes was still upon us. ‘I don’t care. I love you and I don’t care who knows it.’ He opened his arms wide, threw his head back. ‘I LOVE TAMIA BERIZE!’ he bellowed suddenly. He lowered his head. ‘See? I don’t care who knows it. I’m yours from now until eternity. And I want to be the baby’s, too.’

Around us, front doors were opening and net curtains were being pulled back as people who hadn’t been watching came to see what the shouting was about.

‘Right, listen, I’ll give you another chance. But only one more chance, Scott, anything remotely bastard-like and I am gone. Do you understand me?’

‘I won’t need another chance, I’m not going to mess up like this ever again.’ He got to his feet, grinning from one ear to the other. He kissed me in front of all our neighbours, his hand resting on my abdomen, completing the circle that made us a family.

My mobile bleeps on my lap. My heart leaps and I immediately check it hasn’t woken Cora and Anansy. Their two forms lie undisturbed under the chocolate-brown duvet. It won’t be Scott. I know he’s not
getting out tonight, his mobiles are downstairs and what could he say in a text that would possibly explain what happened tonight? Without checking who the sender is, I turn off my phone, pull my legs up to my chest and tell myself I need to sleep.

Fifteen years ago

She was gentle and kind, her calmness filtered through the fug of pain and exhaustion. ‘How are you feeling, Miss Berize?’

‘OK, I suppose,’ I murmured through my blue-tinged lips. The tiredness wouldn’t allow me to keep my eyes open for more than a few seconds at a time; they kept slipping shut while the rest of me tried to drift off to sleep.

‘You’ve lost a lot of blood so I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re feeling exhausted right now.’

I nodded. Exhausted, devastated.

Scott’s hand was curled around mine like a sleeping cat laced around the feet of its beloved owner. He hadn’t let go in the time we’d been waiting in this cubicle.

‘I’m sorry,’ her gentleness continued. ‘There’s nothing we can do. I’m so sorry.’

‘You can’t save the baby?’ he asked.

‘Not at such an early stage. We’re not sure what causes this to happen, often it’s just one of those things. I’m truly sorry.’

I nodded.

‘Because of how much blood you’ve lost we’re going to have to admit you until we’re sure the process is complete. Is that OK?’

I nodded again, too drained and broken to say anything.

Scott’s tears crawled down his face in an unstoppable flow. He didn’t let go of my hand to wipe away his tears, he held onto me and let the world see how his heart was breaking too.

Fourteen years ago

‘Come outside,’ Scott said to me in the middle of the night. He tugged at the corner of the red and white eiderdown on our bed,
untucking it from where I’d wrapped it around myself.

Scott had stayed over to take care of me when I came home from hospital after the …
miscarriage
, and never really left again. Working in bars to fund his studies meant he kept odd hours sometimes but he always came back to me. Always crept into bed and curled up around me, the cold of his body often shocking me awake for a few moments before the comfort of his familiar shape let me drift back to sleep.
‘Love you, TB,’
he’d always whisper into my ear.
‘You’re everything to me.’

‘No way!’ I replied, turning over, trying to find that lovely warm spot I’d created. ‘There’s all sorts out there.’

‘Just come outside for one minute. I promise you won’t regret it.’

Huffing and puffing, I sat up and threw back the covers. ‘This had better be good, Challey boy.’

Standing at the foot of the bed, he was still wearing his black overcoat and still had his grey scarf wrapped around his neck. In his hands he held my long, grey coat. I gratefully slipped into it. The heating in the building was off till the morning and the chill of the February night had seeped inside. At the front door he handed me my snow boots, even though it wasn’t snowing outside.