What's Yours Is Mine (33 page)

Why was she even here?

“Grace,” Tom says nervously. “What I said, about missing you. It's true. It's been hell without you. I want to come home. Please, can we put it behind us and try again?”

If only he had come to me twenty-four hours ago.
Before Blake; before I crossed a line into a place I don't recognize.

What about his girlfriend?
I think suddenly. Where does
she
fit into this picture? Has it all fallen apart between them; is that why Tom abruptly wants to come home? Or is he planning to take a leaf out of Blake's book and keep the two of us on the go at once?

My anger builds. How dare he come over all indignant and jealous at the thought of me and Blake, when he's been carrying on with that woman for God knows how long! She was probably on the scene long before he left home. Men never quit one nest until they've got the next one feathered. All the guilt he pushed my way over Ava was just a smoke screen. How could he use his own daughter like that? How could he make me feel this was
my
fault?

I push past him into the kitchen, and pull out the folder my estate agent sent me.

“I've put the house on the market,” I say coolly, handing it to him. “I'm sure your lawyer will want to have it valued independently. Please let me know when you want to come around, so that I can make sure I'm not here.”

Tom stares at the brochure in his hand as if it's written in Aramaic. “Grace, please. Don't do this.”

“I can't afford to live in this place on my own. There should be enough left over for us both to start again. That's what you want, isn't it?”

“No!” He flings the folder on the kitchen table. “That's not what I want! I didn't want to leave; I didn't want any of this to happen!”

“But you did,” I say. “You did leave.”

“I just couldn't deal with it anymore,” he pleads. “You were obsessed with the baby. I just needed some time out, away from it all.”

“How do you think
I
felt, Tom? First I find out I can't have children, and then my sister takes away the one chance I have! And you take
her
side! Obsessed? Yes, maybe I was, but can you blame me?”

“I'm sorry,” he says helplessly. “I'm sorry about all of it.”

“Ava is your daughter. You can't just pretend she doesn't exist.”

“I know that. I'm not trying to. I'll support her financially, of course I will. Whatever she and Susannah need. I'd like to be part of her life, if I can. I don't want her to grow up without a father. But she's best off with her mother, Grace,” he says miserably. “You know that. You can't hold Susannah's health ransom over her baby, you must see that.”

I look away. “A donor came forward. Susannah has her new kidney. She's going to be fine. She doesn't need me.”

I don't know what prevents me from telling him the truth. I don't want what I did for my sister to change anything, I suppose. I want to see what he's really thinking, what he feels about the real, unvarnished me.

Tom looks startled. “But that's wonderful,” he exclaims. “Isn't it?”

“Yes. You're off the hook. Everything's worked out very nicely, hasn't it? For
you
.”

“I don't understand, Grace. Why are you being like this?”

I throw him a look of scorn. “Did you really think I wouldn't find out, Tom?”

He pales. “Find out what?”

“Please. Don't treat me like a fool.”

I can see it in his face:
do I lie, and hope she's bluffing, or do I go for broke and tell the truth and cross my fingers I can get away with it?

“I was going to tell you,” Tom says finally. “I just didn't know where to start. There was already so much else going on, with your mother and Susannah and the baby—”

“
Ava.
”

“Ava,” he corrects himself. “I didn't want to add to your stress. I didn't want you to worry.”

I can't believe he's admitted it. Just like that. I'm in agony over the thought that he might find out about Blake, and he's just held his hands up to an affair without a second thought. And now he's trying to package his deceit as
altruism
?

“You didn't want me to
worry
?” I exclaim.

“I should have said something right at the beginning,” he says quickly. “But the longer it went on, the harder it became to admit it. I won't go behind your back again, I swear. Grace, I love you. I want to come home. Can't we put this behind us?”

“Just go, Tom,” I say wearily. “Go. And next time you want to see me,” I add, “don't just turn up unannounced. Talk to my lawyer first.”

“NO,” I TELL
Nicholas. “No. She can't have.”

“I'm afraid she has.” He opens a folder, and takes out a letter. “She asked me to give you this. I'm sorry to have been so mysterious on the phone, Grace. I had no choice.”

“She can't have,” I say again. “She can't have just
gone
.”

“Read the letter. It might make things a little clearer.” It's written in Susannah's sprawling, extravagant script, and like Susannah herself, it doesn't beat around the bush.

I look up, my eyes bright with tears. “Her grammar really is awful. Too many years in the States.”

Nicholas smiles, and I carry on reading.

By the time I finish, I'm sobbing. Once again, Nicholas hands me a box of tissues and acts as if this is a perfectly normal occurrence.

“She signed everything when she came to see me ten days ago,” he says. “We'll present her affidavit to the court and ask it to grant you a Parental Order in the new year. But we don't have to wait until then for you to take her. Susannah's affidavit should be enough to give you temporary custody while we wait for the paperwork to go through. As soon as Ava is well enough to leave the hospital, you can take her home.”

I sit there, too stunned to respond. I don't know
what to think. Susannah's played fast and loose with my emotions for so long, I'm honestly not sure what I feel at this point. I'm sure she imagined I'd be overjoyed, and I should be—

Why now, Zee?
Why did you have to wait until now?

A few months ago, I had a husband and a home and a stable family life to offer this little girl. But my life is going to be very different from now on. Tom and I are damaged beyond repair. I love him far too much to share him with anyone. If he'd told me it was just a fling, I could have forgiven that, how could I not after what I've done? But the way he talked about this girl showed me it was far more than that. By his own admission, he shared things with her he couldn't share with me. That hurts more than the fact that he slept with her.

I'm sure Susannah does love Ava, in her own way, but she's treating her daughter like she's a flat or a timeshare you can just sign over to someone else. She's assuming I'll pick up the pieces for her, and fall into line with what she wants, just as I always have. Once again, she's abandoned her children; the boys as well as Ava. Already she's moved on, to the next job, the next adventure. The next man.

I close my eyes, trying to get a grip on the tornado of emotions. I've said goodbye to Ava once. I've walled up my feelings so deep inside I'm not certain I can reach them. I'm not even sure I want to try.

“She can't change her mind,” Nicholas says, reading mine. “She knows that. Surrogates are required by law to wait until a child is six weeks old before giving consent to
a Parental Order, but once they do, it can't be revoked. No one can take her away from you.”

“But Tom and I—We're not—”

“Divorce has no more bearing on this than if you'd had Ava together.”

I
want
to say yes. I want to seize this precious chance with both hands and never let go, but something holds me back.
Never mind what I want
. Is it really the right thing to do, for Ava? To make her part of a broken home before she's even known what family is?

“Nothing has to be done today,” Nicholas says. “It's a lot to take on board. The courts are winding down for Christmas anyway. As I said, you've got the authority to take Ava home if she's released before we get the paperwork in order. Why don't we talk the first Monday in January and see where we are then?”

I nod, too overwhelmed to speak.

“My wife and I were separated for a while after our youngest daughter was born,” Nicholas says unexpectedly. “I had a very stupid affair, and even lived with someone else for a while.”

“
You?
”

“I know.” He smiles ruefully, and for the first time, I see his charm. “You'd never think I had it in me, would you?”

“But your wife took you back?”

“I never stopped loving her, and she knew that. Our son was born the following year, and Finn—also known as
Ooops—eighteen months later. I've never been happier. I don't think she's ever regretted trying again either.”

I know what he's trying to tell me. I want to believe it could happen for Tom and me too, that my dream of a happy family with my husband and child isn't over.

But life isn't a fairy tale. And I no longer believe in happy endings.

I'M SORTING THROUGH
a stack of old photograph albums the following weekend when the phone rings. I reach for it without bothering to check caller ID, my mind still in Sardinia, where these pictures were taken. I can't believe how slim and happy Tom and I both look! It was the year after we got married. We didn't have two pennies to rub together, and spent most of our time drinking enamel-stripping Chianti at cheap trattorias, filling up on pasta and making love outdoors, since the only places we could afford to stay at were flea-bitten dives where you certainly wouldn't want to get naked.

I tuck the phone in the crook of my neck, and pull out the next album.
Atlanta, 1997
. “Yes?”

“Mrs. Hamilton? Jean Rook here. I'm one of the nurses on your mother's ward. I've got some very good news.” She pauses, aware she suddenly has my full attention. “Your mother is awake, and she's been asking for you.”

I make the two-hour journey in less than an hour and
a half. Dad is already at the hospital, looking as stunned and tense as I feel. Mum's been in a coma for more than ten months. I think we'd both said goodbye to her in our hearts. Even now, I'm filled with anxiety. What if Mum is brain-damaged; somehow not Mum anymore? Would it have been better if she'd never woken up?

We go into her room together. As soon as she opens her eyes and smiles at us, I know we have nothing to fear.

“David,” she whispers, her voice papery from disuse. “I'm so sorry to put you to so much trouble.”

Dad kneels beside the bed and pulls her into his arms. I look away, both embarrassed and deeply moved. I can remember on the fingers of one hand the times I've seen my parents kiss.

When my father finally lets her go, she smiles at me, and I perch on the edge of the bed and take her hand, bruised by the many months of IVs.

“I love you, Grace,” she says firmly. “Just as much as Susannah. Remember that. I always have, even if I haven't shown it all the time.”

“Sssh, Mum,” I deflect. “We don't need to go into this now.”

“We do. It needs to be said. I was wrong.”

She breaks off, coughing, and Dad moves in protectively. Mum waves him away. “I'm proud of you, Grace. I haven't said so often enough.”

“Mum, it doesn't matter now—”

“I wish I could hold the baby,” she says wistfully. “Ava. My first granddaughter.”