Jake pushed his glasses further up his nose and gave a half-smile. “Only psychopaths find clowns funny. It’s a fact. Just look at John Wayne Gacy.”
I shivered as I plopped the final rose in place and gathered up the wrapping from the flowers, the trimmings caught within the folds.
“Don’t forget to wipe the side down,” Jake said, nodding towards the slight puddle of water I’d left on the counter.
I rolled my eyes but collected a tea towel from the rack to soak up the mess. It was a running joke that Jake had needed to train me to pick up after myself when we first moved in together. He said he used to coach me with praise and slight nudges in the right direction. If I’d been good he’d take me out for dinner. For the first six months, I hardly noticed at all. I’d never been concerned with mopping up a little spilled water or picking up my socks from the night before, not until I shared a living space with a neat-freak like Jake. Perhaps I’d been coddled too much by my parents after Aiden died. After all, I did remain living with them until they died. Then, when things became serious with Jake, I sold my parents’ cottage and moved into Jake’s luxurious three-bedroom property on Fox Lane, a stone’s throw from the school.
It was the opposite of my parents’ higgledy-piggledy cottage. My parents’ place was as quaint as an English cottage could get, with a thatched roof and narrow stairs filled with piles of books and old pieces of art. Jake’s house was colourless and neat. The ceilings were high and airy. My parent’s house had been painted in various shades of reds and browns, with low ceilings but plenty of windows to let in light. The kitchen had been filled to the bursting point with cast iron pans hanging from the beams and stacks of letters on top of the fridge. Jake’s kitchen was minimalist and stark, with white modern cupboards and a hidden fridge.
I set the roses on the table and took a step back, thinking how it was nice to have some colour in the kitchen for a change. Sometimes I missed the red walls of my old bedroom and the patterned duvets that inevitably lay in a tangled heap at the bottom of my bed. These days I slept—or rather tossed and turned—on crisp Egyptian cotton sheets in either ivory or white.
“Let’s go sit on the sofa and watch a box set.” Jake wrapped an arm around me and led me gently towards the living room.
“Don’t you want to read my card?”
“Oh yeah, of course,” he said enthusiastically. “Bring it with you. How have you been today? Any back pain?”
I almost laughed out loud. Of course there was back pain. And ankle pain. And then there was the baby ramming her foot against my internal organs. When I was pregnant with Aiden I’d been really squeamish about the thought of my baby sharing space with my kidneys and intestines and everything else squashed alongside the womb, especially when I learned that the body moves and adapts to make room for the baby. This time around I’d been determined to embrace all the joys of being pregnant. That had lasted until my first bout of morning sickness.
“No more than usual.” I settled into the sofa. Despite my bravado, I was tired from all the fuss. It was nice to take the weight off my feet. In fact, I probably wouldn’t want to get up again now, unless I needed the loo. I passed the card to Jake.
“It makes me sad, reading this,” Jake said. He stuck out a lip, imitating a pout.
“Why? I mean, I know John in the history department read the card wrong and wrote ‘sympathies’ but everyone else is happy for us. I hope he read the card wrong, anyway. Maybe he just feels very strongly about people bringing more children into the world.” My little joke turned sour in my mouth as I said the word ‘children’. It’s still there, that bitterness. For a long time, I couldn’t look at other people’s children. I couldn’t even say the word. I stared down at my bump and tried to force those feelings away. It was time to be able to say a joke and enjoy it.
“Because we won’t be working together for the next year. I won’t be taking you to work and bringing you home. I wish I could take the year off with you. I mean, would it be so crazy? Would it be terrible?”
“It might be if we want to eat,” I replied. “You’d have to quit your job completely. They aren’t going to let you take the year off. Not both of us, anyway.”
“I know. But… what are you going to do all day?”
“Well, I think this one will keep me busy.” I laughed and pointed to my baby bump. But when I saw the tense line of his jaw and the way he gripped the card, I leaned across the sofa and held his forearm. “I know there’s going to be a lot of change happening in our lives, but it’s for a wonderful reason. You and I have created life and we’re going to get the opportunity to watch that wonderful life be born and grow up.” My voice cracked and I steadied myself before continuing. “This is our new beginning.”
Jake let go of the card and wrapped his fingers around my hand. “You’re right. Our new life together. I’m sorry I got freaked out.”
I shook my head and squeezed his arm. I truly believed every word I said. There was a dark part of me filled with bitterness and grief, I could not deny that, but the rest of me was hopeful and strong, filled with the optimism of a new baby and a new life.
My thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of our house phone.
“Shall I get that?” Jake was half-standing, but I pulled him back onto the sofa and pushed myself onto my feet.
“No, I want to stand up and move around a little. I think I’m getting cramp again.” I walked over to the phone and picked up the receiver. “Hello.”
“Ms Price. Emma. My name is DCI Stevenson. Carl Stevenson. Do you remember me?”
The sound of his voice burst a bubble inside me and all the air left my body. I deflated, feeling myself double over. The room seemed to collapse around me, narrowing into nothing but the rushing blood in my ears, and the narrow spot of light by the telephone.
“Yes, I remember you.” My voice was breathless, only slightly louder than a whisper. Of course I remembered him. I gulped in a breath before I said, “You were DI Stevenson then, though.”
My heart beat against my ribs.Der-dun-der-dun.
“That’s right.” He paused. “Emma, you need to come to St Michael’s Hospital as soon as you can.”
Der-dun-der-dun.
Breathless again. “Why?”
“Because I think we’ve found Aiden.”
