Thicker Than Soup (5 page)

*

The sofa wasn't a comfortable bed and Sally was irritated when she woke at around four o'clock. John would have seen her when he arrived home – why didn't he wake her? Then memory caught up. The empty bedroom confirmed his absence and the rest of the night filled with images of car crashes and accidents until daylight brought rationality and she guessed he was probably still at the restaurant, alone. At eight o'clock she called Seagrams but when the continuous ringing merely drummed the pounding ache in her head she replaced the receiver as nausea swept over her. Was this morning sickness, she wondered. If so, it had chosen a fine time to start. A slice of toast contracted her throat so she took tea to bed and prayed for sleep to blanket suffering, at least for a time.

It was early afternoon when she woke to cold tea and a still silent house. She rang the restaurant again and was greeted warmly by someone she didn't know. Echoes of conversation sounded in the earpiece as she waited.

“He's er … busy just now. He said he'll talk to you when he can.”

Nursing the silent receiver until she became aware that her feet ached with cold she moved to the sofa. Talk when he can. When? What does he mean? With her feet curled under a coat she tried to unravel her mind. There'd been a baby once before. And it had been John's baby. With a girlfriend, at art college. He'd left her – walked away from his own child. Had he been ill or had it made him ill? The knots became tighter. If, in January, she hadn't… Diane was due to arrive in little more than an hour. It would be the first time since… Where did Diane's loyalties lie? Her friend had worked with John during their rift and despite the pretence of indifference Sally admitted she'd been jealous. First and foremost, Diane had been
her
friend. The three of them – then four with Malik – had spent holidays and happy times together, and the friendship had deepened, but was Diane now the friend she'd once been? Sally's thoughts returned to the previous evening and she assured herself that Diane had been genuine. Her heart warmed; the quarrel was over. It had to be, she decided, she needed her friend more than she had ever done.

*

“He'll come home, Sally. He has to.”

Sally wasn't comforted; Diane couldn't know how wholeheartedly against fatherhood John was. Or how decisive he could be. “Hmmm, maybe to collect his things.”

“When's the baby due?”

“I'm not … sure.” Sally's hand moved across her stomach. “It's not exactly planned; I was on the pill until a few weeks ago but I forgot some in January so I think it's probably due in October.” She looked down, ashamed of the truth and wondering what she could tell Diane. “There're a couple of problems.” She hated that she couldn't have a cigarette. “Firstly, we don't want a baby. Not now. Not ever. John's even more against it than I am. And you know what happened to him at college.”

“But he was only a kid himself then and he's older now. And he loves you. Surely, that makes a difference?”

“I hope so, Diane, I really hope so.” Sally felt nauseous and it wasn't morning sickness.

“What about you?”

“I'm pregnant. I don't have a choice. I guess it'll grow on me.” She laughed mirthlessly at the pun.

“But you're worried about John.”

“Ah, there's the rub.” How, she feared, would Diane judge her? “It's not as simple as that.” But it was too much to bear alone. “I don't know… if John is the father.”

“You what?” Sally didn't think she'd ever seen a jaw drop before. “Sal? What happened?”

What happened? It was an appropriate question and Sally told her friend about ‘what happened', finishing with, “so you see, it could be James's baby.” She dropped her eyes, waiting for condemnation.

“You idiot.” Diane's voice didn't sound damning. “It could have been anyone, you know. James is a bastard. Does anyone else know – apart from James?” She touched Sally's arm. “Sally. Look at me.”

It felt unreal. Rousing herself she looked at Diane. “No, I don't think so. Or at least, I doubt it.”

“You poor thing.” They stared at each other until Diane spoke again. “Do you want to know what I think you should do?”

She nodded.

“Much as is grieves me that ‘Daddy's boy' will get away with it, the baby probably is John's and he must never believe otherwise. You're not James's first conquest…”

“You…?”

“No, not me, but there were others. You don't need to know. He's a predator. But you and John, well, you'll be terrific parents. John's older now, and he loves you. He'll be back once he's got his head round it. He might even grow to like it! The baby's his; it will grow up with John as its father which will make him so. Think about it Sally, life's tough enough without letting bloody James Black ruin it for you both – in fact, for all three of you.”

Words were easy. Sally shook her head then stood wearily. “I'm going to make some tea.” Once in the kitchen she sat and it was Diane who made the tea.

“Here. Tea – panacea for all that ails.”

“Thanks. You may be right but I don't think John deserves to have a baby dumped on him.”

“No, Sally, he doesn't. But he isn't going to have a baby dumped on him. You need to start getting used to the idea that the two of you are going to be parents. Together. Otherwise…well, you're going to ruin the lives of three people over one mistake. You're going to suffer, whatever you do – that's punishment enough. Don't ruin John's and the baby's futures too. Don't you think that James has some blame for what happened? I'll bet he's not thrashing himself to death over it!”

“He…”

“I know he doesn't know. But he'll know soon enough, and he's bound to wonder.”

“You don't think…?”

“No fear! He won't let you get in the way of what he wants. But if I were you I'd watch your back where he's concerned. Sally, think of it this way. If it had been me who'd been seduced by James, would you, as my friend, forgive me?”

She answered without hesitation. “Of course I would, and I wasn't seduced. I'm sorry to say I participated.”

“We're talking in circles. Think about it, Sally, forgive yourself, and get on with it.”

*

When Diane had left Sally felt more alone than she'd ever felt. “Fool,” she mumbled, “stupid fool.” Scrambled eggs and toast went un-eaten and calls to Seagrams were unanswered. Midnight came and went and at one o'clock she went to bed whispering, “Awful, awful.” Saturday became Easter Sunday and the days seemed pointless.

She'd taken tea and work papers back to bed when a key rattled the lock at the front door. Papers scattered and from the bottom of the stairs John's sunken, pink rimmed eyes looked at her.

“Hi.” She descended the stairs slowly, hesitantly. He was here. “Tea?” she asked. He seemed to struggle for words. “It's what people do when they don't know what to do, isn't it?”

*

His silence was unsettling. She passed a mug and jumped as he caught her wrist and held it despite spilling hot tea that hurt.

“Sal…” At last he spoke. He swallowed, and spoke again. “Sally. I'd been looking forward to this Easter more than I can tell you. The restaurant; my dream. But… I've been to hell and back.”

He wiped tea from her hand and tears prickled at the gentleness of his hand brushing hers.

“My mind's been taken over. By what was said. And not said. On Friday.”

His voice crackled and she could hardly bear his suffering. She had to tell him the truth, to release him. “John, please. I…”

“Sally, let me finish,” he urged, “or I don't think I can say what I have to.”

She held her breath; her heart was breaking. He didn't deserve to suffer like this; he had cause to go, to leave without guilt. She listened as he said he didn't want a child; the idea horrified him. But because he loved her – which he did, he said – he would learn to accept their child. Their child; his words pierced like arrows. It wasn't right to deceive him. She hadn't simply bought a pair of shoes without telling him, this was fundamental to their lives. But the truth might destroy him and all he was working for. She couldn't tell him! Diane had been right; she would suffer either way, but in keeping her secret John and the baby needn't.

“You'll have to help me, Sally, to be a father. You will, won't you? With you, I can do it.”

She'd longed for him to come home but now she felt all the happiness she'd ever known drain away and leaning forward her forehead rested against his. “Oh my love. I…. I… I don't know what to say to you. I wish I wasn't pregnant more than I can tell you.” She wanted to tell him she was scared, and that she wished desperately that it was his baby, that she could have an abortion and not live the rest of her life with the decision, and that she didn't have to live the rest of her life knowing she'd deceived him. But she couldn't.

Throughout the day and into the night they talked. Of their families, their feelings, their futures. About childhoods, parenthood, and changes to be made. They talked of their parents; when they should tell them; how surprised they'd be. And John talked of marriage. He said he wanted to give his family a foundation, and she sidestepped. “Marry in haste,” she stalled. Having hurtled down a path of duplicity, marriage was a deceit too far. Before exhaustion eventually overcame her later that night, and with her back spooned into John's warmth, she felt the strength of her love and knew it to also be the weakness in their bond.

*

When the phone woke them it was John who went to answer it. Minutes later he was back, saying he'd turned down a bank holiday ramble with his mother to spend the day with her.

The news pleased her. “What time do you need to be at work?”

Saying he had until six o'clock he lay down again, close so that he touched her side, and for a while she watched his face and tried to read his thoughts. “How long do you think we can keep this er… to ourselves?” The word ‘baby' didn't come easily.

He didn't answer and she was about to repeat the question when he turned to face her then saw the blue-purple tennis ball bruise on her shoulder.

“How did you do that?”

“Oh, I slipped. In the bath.” She lied as she recalled the moment he'd unwittingly slammed the door into her. “It doesn't hurt much.”

John touched the bruise gently. “You must take care.”

She rolled towards him, moved by his tenderness.

“If Diane guessed so easily, your mother and mine will too. We'd better tell them. What do you think?”

Life was galloping ahead and she was no longer holding the reins. “Not yet; soon.”

To her relief he nodded then asked if she'd like to have breakfast in bed.

*

Though they barely mentioned the pregnancy in the coming weeks, Sally's mind dwelled on little else. Her guilt, now shared, weighed less and though practical and financial matters added layers, she more comfortably set them aside. Income from the restaurant couldn't yet be relied on. Her salary was already paying the bills. She'd work for as long as possible and return as soon as she could afterwards. Her immediate predicament was her colleagues. They, she feared, would see her pregnancy as evidence that she didn't belong in the boardroom and assurances that six weeks leave of absence was all she needed would be easy compared to convincing them she could be a mother and still be professional.

A month passed without her condition being disclosed, but as she discarded a fitted skirt one morning in favour of a looser dress, she knew it was only a matter of time before her body gave away its secret. As the weekly exec meeting ended she invited the one Board member she felt treated her as an equal to the King's Head.

*

Andrew was a perceptive man. “It's nice to have lunch with you Sally, but I get the impression there's more to this than pleasure?”

“Hmm.” Sally took out a packet of cigarettes. She wanted one badly. “I'm going to have a baby.”

His surprised smile quickly dissolved. “I'd like to say congratulations, but your expression tells me otherwise.”

“You're right; I'm not pleased. And neither is John, though he's being amazingly positive about it. We didn't plan for this; in fact, we planned for it to never happen. But now it has, and it couldn't be at a worse time with Seagrams just up and running.” She sipped her orange juice. “I suppose you're shocked that I'm not being all mumsy, aren't you?”

Unintelligible chatter filled the gap as Andrew considered his reply. “Well, how you feel about having a child is none of my business. Everyone's different.” He lifted his glass. “But I suppose what you're telling me is that you'll be leaving us. I'm sorry….”

“No, Andrew, that's what I don't want!” Without a cigarette she bit the skin at the side of her thumb. “I need my job – for money and for sanity. I'm scared stiff of being at home with nothing but nappies all day.” Her cigarettes lay on the table and she offered one to Andrew.

“I gave up.”

“I'll have to.” Sally lit a cigarette. “My worry is Lawrence and the others. I need your support, Andrew. And your advice on how to win them over.”

“I'd like to support you Sally, but seriously, how are you going to be able to do your job when you have a baby? Jenny didn't work for nearly six years after we had ours and even now she only does part-time.”

So she was up against Andrew too. “Andrew, believe me, I can do it.” She held his eyes. “I'll sort out childcare; John's Mum will help, and I promise you it won't affect my job. Please Andrew, help me with the others.”

Andrew flicked a beer mat at the edge of the table and fluffing the catch, bent to retrieve it. “You've got guts, I'll say that. If anyone can do it you can. And you've never let me down on a promise, so yes, I'll do what I can. But if you have any difficulties you must talk to me before they become problems.”