As for how Lando took the news about Nemmie, I have no words.
20
Smuggler’s End, The Harbourside, St Aidan, Cornwall
What3words
Thursday
It’s dusk two days later, in the grown-up calm of Lando’s artfully lit sitting room when he finally makes time for what his text referred to as ‘further discussions’. I edge onto a sofa, get flattened by Martha who only quietens once she plonks her bottom on my knee, and then I launch.
‘Nemmie came from our night together. There wasn’t anyone else. The dates didn’t match up because she was premature. You are definitely her father, Lando.’
The words hang in the air between us.
After a long silence I peer past soft, black doggy ears to Lando, who is hovering by the door. ‘Martha’s still with you?’
He winces. ‘She dug up Erica’s mum’s prize allium border; there were some very rare specimens.’ From the dark circles under Lando’s eyes, it’s obvious he hasn’t had much sleep.
I brace myself for whatever’s coming and start again. ‘I’m sorry, the stepping stones weren’t an ideal place to break the news.’ I dig in the pocket of my jumpsuit and pull out a photo of Nemmie in her incubator. ‘I only found out I was pregnant as I went into labour, and she was nine weeks early. This is how tiny she was when she was born.’
Lando comes forward and I push the picture into his hand, and as he stares down at it, I hold my breath.
Eventually he swallows. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
If we’re straight onto recrimination, there’s only one way to reply.
‘You knew about her from Sav. Why didn’t you come to find us?’
Much as I’d have hated it, this has been the biggest question in my mind ever since.
He pushes his hands into his pockets, and his voice hardens ‘There were reasons. Complications.’
My voice rises. ‘And you think it was straightforward for me?’ I take a moment to steady myself. ‘This is just for you. I don’t want Nemmie to know. Not yet.’
Lando’s mouth is a straight line. ‘We can discuss things more fully when I’m more across this. Until then I’ll do my best to put my anger to one side and keep up our wedding shop commitments.’
My heart falters at how wrong this is going already.
He stands and blinks. ‘I fully appreciate there’s a decade of maintenance outstanding. With interest, that could run to a hundred thousand or more.’
All the things he could have picked to talk about, and he chooses this?
‘This was never about cash, Lando.’
He stares at me. ‘If you send me your bank details, I’ll make an immediate interim transfer.’
Every penny is accounted for at home, but I’m not here for handouts. ‘Don’t ever give me money, Lando. If you do, I’ll return it.’
His voice softens. ‘At least let me buy you somewhere to live? Or a car? Yours is so ancient. Is it even roadworthy?’
It’s got all new tyres and passed its MOT, but I’m shocked it’s under scrutiny.
‘I can’t believe you, Lando. You hear three little words and I forfeit the right to decide what’s safe to drive and what isn’t?’
Since Nemmie arrived, I’ve taken every parental decision myself and it would be hard to let go of that. Imagine the strings that would come with a house! Lando could be dipping into every aspect of my life, but I’m aware it’s a bit late to think of this now.
‘I’m only considering our daughter’s best interests.’ He rocks back on his heels. ‘If you won’t accept money, why tell me at all?’
