‘Don’t worry,’ Jas had said to Kate when she came to pick Marisa up, packing her belongings into the back of the car. There were only two suitcases, which made Kate sad. ‘I’ve got her. I’ll look out for her. Make sure she’s taking care of herself.’
‘I’m just anxious about her after the birth,’ Kate said, arms crossed as she stood in the street. ‘I want her to be OK.’
‘She will be. She wanted to do this for you, remember?’
‘You’re very kind.’
Jas glanced at her sharply. ‘Ris is my friend. She’d do the same for me.’
In the end, Marisa had surprised them all with her strength. A few months after Leo was born, she went travelling. She called them before she left, and Kate put her on speakerphone as Marisa told them her plans. She was going to fly to San Francisco and make her way down the Pacific Coast, before wending her way to Mexico and backpacking through South America.
‘I’ve always wanted to do it,’ she told them. ‘And I’ve got some money set aside. Plus I saved so much on rent thanks to you guys, so now I can.’
Kate was taken aback by how emotional she felt.
‘Look after yourself, won’t you?’ she said, a grizzling Leo on her chest. ‘You’re very special to us.’
There was a static pause on the line and the sound of Marisa swallowing hard.
‘Thank you, Kate,’ her voice was faint. ‘That means a lot.’
‘And please tell us how you’re getting on,’ Jake added. ‘Let us know you’re still alive.’
She laughed.
‘I will.’
Marisa had been as good as her word. Every month or so, a postcard would slide through their letterbox: an image of the Golden Gate Bridge or bronzed divers in Acapulco or Christ the Redeemer spreading grey stone arms out across the mountains. On the back, Marisa would always write the same thing: ‘Still alive! Having a great time. Love to you both and kisses to baby Leo.’
The gaps between the postcards got longer as time went on and then they stopped altogether. Kate was secretly relieved. It was difficult for the three of them to know how to be with each other. So much had happened, and the experiences they had shared had been uniquely intense. It was necessary to maintain a distance between them now for the good of everyone involved. There was no easy place for Marisa to occupy in their family.
But she still wanted to know that Marisa was safe. Every now and then, Kate would meet Jas for a coffee at the cafe in Finsbury Park to check in on her.
‘How’s she doing?’ Kate would say and she wouldn’t have to refer to Marisa by name for Jas to know who she was talking about.
At one of these catch-ups, Jas told her that Marisa was dating an Australian yoga instructor she had met on the Machu Picchu trail.
‘He sounds great,’ Jas said. ‘Really down to earth and kind.’
‘But she hates yoga.’
‘I know!’ Jas snorted. ‘That’s what I love about it.’
Landscapes change and shift, Kate thinks, as she and Jake and Leo walk along the river. She watches their reflections distort in the shimmering windows of the smart new apartment blocks. This is their story now, not Marisa’s.
They would tell Leo when the time was right, when he was old enough to understand.
‘Mummy and Daddy had help to make you extra special,’ is what they would say. What happened after that, and whether Leo would want to make contact with Marisa, would be beyond Kate’s control. She tries not to think about it. She is his mother, she keeps telling herself. He is her dark-haired boy. She would do anything to protect him. She has come to realise that the ferocity of this kind of love is enough to drive you mad; that the tragic flaw of parenthood is that you equip your child to leave you. But what if you never want to let them go? And then she thinks, inevitably, of Annabelle.
‘Penny for them,’ Jake says.
She laughs.
‘Does anyone actually say that?’
His eyes crinkle.
‘I do.’
