Be My Baby

‘What?’

‘Your life can go on. I won’t resent you. It’s my choice. Go to uni, come back at weekends... if you want to, I mean... I’m just saying, this doesn’t have to be your problem. This can be my problem.’

His eyes widened and he saw her fully then. She recognised that emotion, definitely. Anger.

‘Molls, how long have we known each other?’

‘Since Year Four when you poured that PVA glue over my head and the teacher had to cut some of my hair off.’ She blinked, ‘So?’

‘You’ve known me longer than most people and you still had me down as the drop-out deadbeat dad? The weekender? Come on babe, that hurts. Thought you were better than that.’

‘You shouldn’t have to–’

‘Be responsible for you? For us? For what we’ve done and what we do?’ Jamie tugged at his hair desperately, shaking his head, ‘Why do you have to be responsible? Why don’t you get the choice?’

His jaw was clenched and she watched as he physically stilled himself to hear her answer. Mollie looked down at the rickety park bench that had been there forever, the middle slat missing, and the clear etchings of ‘J Luvs M’ on the back, top left, just part of the scenery.

‘I do get the choice,’ Mollie said simply, ‘that’s the point. I choose whether I keep it. I choose what happens to my body, and what lives in it. And I make the sacrifices that come with that choice. Because I’m going on gut instinct. I can’t defend it. I know it’s not the smart choice, it’s not the choice either of us need to make right now, and I’m making our lives more complicated FOREVER. But I feel... pulled, like a magnet. And you don’t get to have a choice – I’m having this baby. So I’m saying I get that it’s not fair and you shouldn’t be forced into anything.’

Jamie growled, frustrated, and crouched on the floor, looking up at Mollie on the bench, desperately trying to catch her eye, even though she was refusing to look at him. Her bottom lip was trembling and she didn’t look up.

‘Molls, if there’s a little person in this world with your eyes and smile, and my stupid hair and loud laugh, I can’t not know them. I can’t not be there. So don’t ask me again.’

His eyes were soft, light as he swivelled even further, trying to catch her eye and eventually succeeding. He smiled, stroked her cheek and Mollie promptly burst into tears.

‘Why are you always so bloody NICE, you bastard!’ Mollie howled, burying her face in her hands, ‘It’s not fair! Whenever I plan for things, you never do what I expect!’

‘You expected me to go, “Nice one Molls, know I knocked you up and everything, but I really need to try out drinking eight pints of Snakebite at freshers’ week and learning about the French Revolution a bit more. Sorry, catch ya later”? Come on. You didn’t really think it would go down like that.’

Mollie wiped her eyes and laughed, ‘No, but... you’ve got this big life. You’ve got these amazing things you’re meant to do.’

‘So do you,’ He sat back up on the bench next to her, waiting for her to curl into his side and rest her head on his shoulder as she always did. He counted to five before he felt her move, the warmth from her helping him to breathe a little easier, ‘We’ll do amazing things together. With an amazing little person, who’ll be part of us.’

Mollie sighed, ‘I just... I know you’re trying to be helpful and supportive, but I just...’

He squeezed her hand, ‘What do you need from me?’

Her dark eyes met his fully, and her nails dug into his palm as she squeezed the hand holding hers.

‘I need you to tell me you’re scared.’

Jamie laughed, that big honking laugh, his head back against the bench as the bright summer sky mocked them both, ‘You’re pregnant, we don’t have jobs and we’ve got to tell our parents we’re quitting uni to raise a kid! I’ve never been so fucking terrified in all my life! But we can be terrified together, right? That’s the one good thing about this, Moll – if we’ve got to do something hard and crazy and amazing, I’m glad you’re with me.’

***

Mollie stared at the ghost of the boy she’d once loved, the tray clattering to the floor as her hands shook. She looked at the floor, the mini quiches scattered everywhere, simply mumbling, ‘I’ll get a broom.’

She ran back through into the kitchen and doubled over, her hands clasping the side of the kitchen counter, exhaling shaky breaths desperately.

‘You can deal with this, you can deal with anything,’ Mollie mumbled to herself, over and over until it became something more than words, a hum in time with the beating of her heart.

When she finally stood straight, her shoulders back and her head held high, Mollie was ready to re-enter the room. Well, she wasn’t ready, but as long as she didn’t think, beyond ‘it’s Jamie, it’s Jamie, it’s Jamie,’ things weren’t too bad.

He looked different, she thought as she peered around the door, seeing him on his knees, picking up the pieces of pastry and throwing them back onto the fallen tray. But not that different. His light brown hair was cut short, harshly so, as though he was afraid of the curl that would arise if he let it grow. She remembered plunging her hand through that hair, soft and childlike. So like Esme’s hair when she was little. He was tanned, in that solid, even way that seemed weathered, like he’d been working in fields or outdoors. He’d never seemed like that sort, always a boffin, going off to study history. Or at least, that’s what she assumed had happened, in the end.

He looked up at her, eyes a particularly bright blue that seemed even more vibrant against his tanned skin, and smiled. Mollie almost had to catch her breath, it physically hurt to see him smile like that.

‘It’s really good to see you Molls,’ his voice was deep, a little rough like he hadn’t spoken in a while, but he sounded more well-spoken than he’d ever been. More clipped edges to his words. Why wouldn’t he stop smiling at her? Mollie thought she was going to be sick. She gripped the edge of the doorframe tighter.

‘You look exactly the same,’ he went on, standing up slowly, taking her in, ‘I saw you on the telly this morning, with your baking and that. I heard about Ruby, so I tuned in, and there you were, looking just the same...’ He trailed off, the smile freezing on his face. ‘I mean, I know things ended... well, it wasn’t great, but I was hoping, well... I just wanted to see a friendly face, I’m only back on leave for a little while, and there you were, you know? It felt, sort of... like I had to come. Maybe it was Ruby, sending a sign.’

Mollie stood there, opening her mouth every few moments, and finding nothing there. She looked at him, frustrated with herself for her silence, and then shook her head.

‘Jamie,’ she said softly, ‘Jamie. How, why? I can’t...’

Mollie felt herself crumble, as much as she wanted to remain strong, as much as that voice in her head screamed that he didn’t deserve her tears and that she was so much better than this, all she could hear was, ‘He left. He left you with a child. He promised he’d come back and he left. And now he swans in to see you because he’s lonely. The bastard! The bastard.’

‘Molls, what’s–’

The concern and surprise on his face was real, and he moved towards her, crowding her space as she struggled to breathe and the tears squeaked from her, tracking her face with marks from all that make-up she put on for the interview. She covered her eyes so that she couldn’t see the kindness in his, so much more infuriating.

‘Aren’t you going to ask about her?’ Mollie screeched suddenly, shocking herself. She watched as Jamie retreated, blinking. ‘Aren’t you even going to ask anything about her?’

He frowned, but before he could answer, the door opened once again.

‘Mum! Killian has gone to deliver some furniture, do we have... are you crying?’ Esme rushed over, her arms around her mother’s waist, ‘Are you okay? You never cry!’

Mollie wiped her face and took a deep breath, bending down so that she was face-level with her daughter, ‘That’s not true, baby, remember the beginning of Up? I cried a lot.’

‘Yeah but not...’ Esme turned to face the source of her mother’s discomfort, ‘Look, I don’t know who you are, but you’ve made my mum cry and I don’t like it, so go away!’

Jamie stepped back, but didn’t take his eyes from her, tracing the outline of her blonde hair, the curve of her lip, the vibrancy of those perfect blue eyes as she glared at him, daring him to question her.

‘How... how old are you?’ Jamie asked, his eyes not daring to move to Mollie’s.

‘Eleven,’ Esme huffed. ‘Are you listening to me? I said you need to go now, and don’t come back!’

‘Eleven?’ he whispered to himself, searching for Mollie’s eyes and holding them once she looked at him, ‘Eleven.’

‘Go! Now!’ Esme roared, and Jamie nodded numbly, moving like a marionette, falling from the studios and out into the light.

Mollie took a deep breath and shook her head. That was not the look of a man who had abandoned his girlfriend and unborn child all those years ago. That was the look of a man who never realised he had a child at all.

Chapter Three (#u968e9870-d043-540d-8870-3275ca8b34ae)

‘So... he just stood there? Like an arsehole?’ Killian frowned as Mollie told the story.

‘What did Esme do?’ Chelsea filled up Mollie’s wine glass, then sat back down. They were sat in the conservatory, with the leftover bottles from the event that evening.