to tell him!—that she was the one who so desperately wanted a baby? Nothing had been further from her mind at that point, but they’d got her, still reeling with grief on the day after the funeral, and talked her into it.
And she was furious. Deeply, utterly furious with them for lying to her, but even more so because it seemed they’d bullied James when he was so weak and vulnerable, in the last few days or hours of his life.
Bullied their own son so they could have his child and keep a little part of him alive.
She sucked in a sobbing breath. She’d been through hell for this, to have the child he’d apparently wanted so badly, and it had all been a lie. And the hell, for all of them, was still not over. It was just a different kind of hell.
She scrubbed the bitter, angry tears away and headed out of town, with no clear idea of where she was going and what she was going to do, just knowing she had barely a hundred pounds in her bank account, no job and nowhere to stay, and her prospects of getting some money fast to tide her over were frankly appalling.
Her only thought was to get away, as far and as fast as she could, but even in the midst of all the turmoil, she realised she couldn’t just drive aimlessly forever.
‘Oh, rats,’ she said, her voice breaking, and pulling off the road into a layby, she leant back against the head restraint and closed her eyes. She wouldn’t cry. She really, really wouldn’t cry. Not again. Not any more. She’d cried oceans in the past three years since she’d known James was dying, and it was time to move on.
But where? It would be dusk soon, the night looming, and she had nowhere to stay. Could she sleep in the car? Hardly. It was only April, and she’d freeze. Her old friends in Bristol and Cheshire were too far away, and she’d lost touch with most of them anyway since James had been ill and they’d moved back to Essex. The only person who would understand was Emily, and she and Andrew were away and in any case the last people in the world she could really turn to. It just wouldn’t be fair.
But Sam was there.
Sam, who’d as good as told her to get rid of the baby.
No. He hadn’t, she thought, trying to be fair. She’d thought he meant that, but he hadn’t, not that way. He’d come after her, offered his unconditional support, whatever her decision. Said he thought she’d made the right one.
If there’s anything you need, anything I can do, just ask… Promise me you’ll call me… You need a friend—someone who understands.
And he’d given her his card.
She looked down and there it was in the middle, a little white rectangle of card lying in the heap of sweet wrappers and loose change just in front of the gear lever where she’d dropped it. She pulled it out, keyed in the number and reluctantly pressed the call button.
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