I don’t want to see anyone. Not even Harring.
I spoke to him on the phone and I was very concise.
Haz, who is not famed for his diplomatic skills, tried to comfort me by sending a case of Armagnac.
Well, it’s not totally true. He also came to Denby a couple of times, but I wasn’t in the mood. As he was trying to distract me with amazing stories of his latest races, I stared at the ceiling, almost in a trance.
I am a shadow of myself. I go from one room to another, trying to feel her again.
I went to her room, I took the key of the main door away and I kept that of the connecting door.
Every now and then, I go back there and I imagine her on the bed, reading her magazines, the way I saw her so many times. And yet, she’s gone, and I can’t even smell her scent any more.
I would like to find her, force her to listen to my version of events, reason with her, but then I think that I have to respect her choice and let her go. I no longer have any rights over her, that is, if I ever did.
85
Jemma’s Version
Winter has a single colour: grey.
Everything is sombre, toned down by the constant fog and rain; even the smells are grey.
Sitting at the window, I look at the rain drops running down the glass, and I follow them with my finger.
I don’t know how long I’ve been here. If it wasn’t for my mother, who comes in carrying lunch and dinner trays, I wouldn’t even notice the passing of the hours.
“Come on, Jemma, you must eat something.”
“I don’t feel like it, Mum,” I say, pushing the bowl of quinoa away.
“You can’t fast. If you want to go through with this pregnancy, you must do it responsibly.”
I gently touch my belly, which is taking on a sweet round shape. “I don’t even know if this is the right thing to do.”
“I can’t give you the answer. You have to figure it out by yourself, but if you ask me, I love the idea of becoming a grandma. And so does your father.”
“I’m all alone.”
“You’re not,” says my mum, stroking my hair. “We’re here for you.”
*
I took three pregnancy tests, and all three gave the same result: positive.
I didn’t even consider termination.
I thought that, for a change, someone up there has given me a chance to be loved unconditionally and forever.
I will never be alone again. Yes, maybe it will be harder for this baby and me than for others, as we will only have each other, but I’ll give him all my love, the love that everyone else has always rejected. Ashford will never know. I won’t allow him and the negativity of his world back into my life.
I’m looking for the strength to go on, but it’s not easy. I can’t help thinking about the good times we had when it all seemed to be true, when it seemed that it was really happening to me.
And so, I’m here, watching the days go by, in this house I’ve rented to live in with my parents, who look after me with loving care.
It’s very different from my dark basement or their ramshackle flat. In the end, I reconsidered my decision and, not without embarrassment, I confessed to my mum and dad that I’ve received Catriona’s significant inheritance, omitting the tiny detail that I had to marry Ashford to take possession of it.
I can’t deny that at first they were pretty astonished, but resentment is an unknown feeling to them.
