‘I just thought you could … build up to it,’ Eddie says. How does he imagine I’d do that?
Frank, I need to break it to you that our firstborn is sexually active.
Darling, our son has been somewhat cavalier with contraception.
Frank, honey, sit down a minute. How does the idea of being a granddad feel to you?
I watch bleakly as Frank pulls on his jeans and T-shirt.
‘There isn’t really a way of building up to this,’ I start, then turn to Frank: ‘Eddie’s going to be a dad.’
He stares at me, frozen for a moment. Then his entire being seems to sag as he lowers himself onto the edge of the bed. ‘Oh, Jesus,’ he breathes.
‘I met someone,’ Eddie is explaining now, ‘on a night out. I know what you’re thinking butpleasedon’t start lecturing me because I know it’s a real fuck-up …’
‘Eddie,’ I start, ‘I’m not going to lecture you but—’
‘’Cause I know it was stupid,’ he barges in. ‘It justhappened. I was drunk and didn’t think much more about it. Then she got in touch and said she’s pregnant and I thought, God, right. Okay. Andthenshe said she wants to have the baby …’
Tears flood my eyes. ‘Oh, love. Is she really sure about that?’
‘Yeah.’
‘And … how old is she?’
‘Dunno. About the same age as me …’
I breathe out slowly. ‘And she’s absolutely certain, is she? I mean, does she need time to think it over—’
‘Nope,’ he says firmly. ‘She’s definitely going ahead.’
A silence hangs between us. Last time we saw Eddie he gleefully told us that, after just two weeks, his boss had taken him off kitchen portering duties and was training him up as a commis chef. A vacancy had come up and Eddie had proved himself to be eager and hard-working. ‘He said I’ve got potential,’ he announced, ‘and I’m picking it all up really fast.’
‘I wish you’d been this keen when we were doing the food truck,’ Frank had teased him.
‘Yeah, but this is real cooking,’ Eddie retorted. ‘It’s like,properfood.’
Frank spluttered and I thought:well, at least our boy’s found something.And maybe this could be his ‘thing’? He seemed so happy and confident and my heart swelled with pride. Now he sounds like a boy again.
‘Eddie,’ I start, ‘have you both really thought about this? I mean, d’you realise what it’s going to entail?’
‘Well, yeah! It’s going to entail a baby being born.’Obviously, thicko Mum!
I swallow hard. ‘That’s just the start of it. The easy bit! This is massive, d’you realise that? You need to talk it all through with her. Have you discussed it at all?’
‘Not really,’ he says defensively, as if that’s another of my ridiculous suggestions. Like getting a proper window covering for his room!
‘Well, might that be a good idea?’
‘Don’t shout at me.’
‘I’m not shouting!’ I take a moment to try and steady myself. ‘Sorry, Ed. I’m … shocked. That’s all.’
‘I’m sorry too,’ he mumbles. And now my tears spill over because, even though he’s been stupid, he’s still my son. Still the boy who loved my banana pancakes and wrote a story at school about a candle-shaped man made of ‘wacks’, as he spelt it. And right now, all I want to do is hold him close.
I wipe away the tears, telling myself to be calm, and wondering when Frank might think of doing something more useful than sit there staring at the wardrobe.
‘So, what’s her name?’ I ask flatly.
