He’s apologised to me more times during this one conversation than in our whole relationship. Maybe all I ever needed to do was stand up to him.
‘As for Vicky—’ he goes on, before I interrupt him.
‘No. I’ve said my piece, and I don’t want to know any more. You and Vicky are none of my business, either. Tell her, don’t tell her – I don’t really care. Harry, don’t ever contact me again, all right?’
I hang up, and let my phone fall to my lap. I now find that I’m definitely pitying him, and it is both liberating and frustrating. I also know that despite what I just said to him about Vicky being none of my business, it will play on my mind – he needs to tell her, and one day, when I’m feeling less shaken, I will entirely possibly contact him again to check that he has. Or even contact her directly, and try to be the better woman.
I shake my head to clear these thoughts. ‘So. As you gathered, you were right, Rosie.’
‘It seems so. Wow, Kate. You really have bad luck with men. One is a lying scumbag, and the other abandoned you when he found out you were pregnant.’
I look up at her sharply, surprise on my face. Abandoned me? She thinks Brody abandoned me? I shake my head, and realisation slowly dawns.
‘Oooh,’ she says slowly, processing this new information. ‘He doesn’t know? Kate, that’s not right – you have to tell him!’
‘I know that! Of course I know that! And I will tell him, once he’s back home in Chicago. If I told him while he was here, then he would have stayed.’
Understandably confused, she responds: ‘And that would be a bad thing how?’
‘Because I wanted him to stay for me, not because he felt duty-bound! And I wasn’t enough, Rosie. He’s not a bad man, he’s the opposite, but it would never have worked between usif he’d only stayed for the baby. And now he’s gone, and even though that all made sense before, I feel terrified! How the hell am I going to cope? I don’t even have a proper job, and my flat is on the third floor, and I’ll be all alone, and I know nothing about babies! Is this all a terrible mistake?’
The words tumble out of me in a torrent of fear. It’s been a hell of a day.
Rosie puts down her glass, and holds my hands in hers. ‘First of all, take a breath. There. That’s better. Now take another one. Brilliant. And no, of course it’s not a terrible mistake – it’s wonderful!’
‘But you were the one who told me being a mum was like having monkeys throwing poo at you!’
She laughs. ‘I did say that, didn’t I? And there is a lot of poo involved. But I’d never be without my kids, and you’ll feel the same. And Kate, you won’t be alone. You’ll have us.’
For a few more weeks, maybe. But when September comes, I’ll have to leave – back to London, back to being lonely. It suddenly all feels way too much. I put on a good show for Brody, and I amazed myself with how I handled Harry, but really, am I ready for this? Am I capable of being responsible for another human being?
I’m still fighting the rising panic when I hear a commotion outside. It’s a bit like when the bins are collected, a low-level ruckus. Then I hear Moira’s voice, and stare at Rosie.
‘He asked Moira to come too?’
‘No. I asked Moira to come. I have a tendency to just get drunk in these kinds of situations, so I called her and asked her to join us. Obviously, I didn’t realise it was going to turn out to be such an interesting night… do you want me to tell her to leave?’
I shake my head. Apart from anything else, this is Moira’s cottage. It’s her home, and I’m just squatting. I have no right to turn her away.
There’s a knock on the door, and Rosie jumps up to answer it. The noise turns out to have been Robbie setting up the ramp, and he wheels Moira through into the room. They both go silent, staring around them at the place.
It drags me out of my own self-pity party, realising that it must be so strange for them. For Moira, who has been living with Joanne, and for Robbie, who has been away in Australia. I know how many memories this cottage holds for me after such a short amount of time – for them it must be even more significant.
‘Och, it’s nice to see the place again!’ Moira announces. She holds on to Robbie’s hands and manages to get to her feet, letting him support her as she takes careful steps towards the kitchen table. I wonder what she’s going to do, how she’s going to react – this must be emotional for her.
With typical Moira character, though, she just reaches out and takes a Kettle Chip. ‘Ugh. Salt and vinegar,’ she announces, pulling a face. One prowl around the table, and she goes back to her wheelchair. I know she’s making amazing progress, but she also needs to not push herself too far.
‘Right, off to the pub with you, Robbie,’ she says, as he brings her over towards us. ‘This is a girls’ night if ever I saw one.’
‘Aye,’ he replies, taking in Rosie’s now half-empty prosecco bottle and my tear-stained face. ‘I don’t need telling twice!’
Once he’s gone, the three of us are left alone. Moira’s shrewd gaze misses nothing, and she asks: ‘So, what’s going on here then, hen?’
Rosie raises an eyebrow at me. I know what she’s asking, and I nod. What the hell. It’s not like I have anything to lose, and Moira is like the wise woman of Aberdeenshire. I’m guessingthere’s not much she hasn’t seen in life, and she’s never showed me anything but kindness. I don’t need to keep secrets from her.
‘Well, Kate’s pregnant, even though she thought she couldn’t have kids, and her ex is a toad, and Brody has left without even knowing, and now Kate is having a wee meltdown thinking she’ll be raising a bairn all alone!’
It’s a good a summary as any, and Moira’s eyes go wide. Then she makes a disapproving clicking sound with her tongue, and points a bony finger at me.
