Be My Baby

‘She told him that people don’t make her mother cry, and screamed at him to leave,’ Mollie arched an eyebrow and sucked down half the glass in two gulps, holding out for a refill.

‘So he didn’t tell her, or anything?’ Evie frowned, ‘Weird.’

Mollie hesitated, ‘I... I think he didn’t know. The way he looked at her, when he did the maths... I mean, she looks so much like him, those eyes...’

‘The cheekbones and the nose too,’ Evie added, then noticed a pained look on Mollie’s face, ‘Sorry.’

‘Hold on, how could he not know?’ Chelsea rolled her eyes, ‘I call bullshit. He was there when he got you pregnant, he was there when you told him you were pregnant, he was there when he told his parents he wasn’t going to uni, because he was going to raise this kid... did the man get hit in the head with a shovel or what?’

‘I don’t know,’ Mollie shrugged, ‘But I know what I saw. Pure shock. The way I must have looked seeing him, he looked when he saw Esme. There’s no way he knew.’

Evie ruffled her dark curls and looked at Killian, then back at her friend. ‘Molls, I don’t mean this in... I mean... do you think it’s just that you want that to be true? I mean, we all liked Jamie, he always seemed like the good guy, but... you know, here we are... he left without saying anything.’

‘He did say something, didn’t he?’ Chelsea added softly, wincing.

‘He sent me a note, it just said, “I’m sorry,” so...’ Mollie felt her cheeks burn at the humiliation, ‘Look, it’s been a long day, and I really don’t want to talk about the past any more. I just want to sleep.’

She knew as she said it that there would be no sleep for her that night, only memories that would be raked over finely, in detail, rewound and replayed to give a hint of a story, to create an alternative to the story she had so readily agreed to – that he was a bad guy who had left her. The question now, she assumed, was whether or not he would come back.

***

‘He’s staying with me,’ Mollie said staunchly, arms crossed, chin jutted, ‘We’re going to do this together.’

‘Oh baby girl,’ her mum laughed, hollow and throaty as she poured herself another gin and tonic, heavy on the gin, ‘I thought you were smarter than that. You were the one who was going to university. They don’t stay.’

‘He will, Jamie will. He’s good. He’s promised me.’

Linda laughed again, shaking her head, ‘You don’t sound old enough to raise a baby. You sound like one of those silly princesses from those kids’ stories. This is real life, angel. He’s not your Prince Charming, this isn’t your happy ever after – it’s going to be hard, you know. You don’t know how hard it is.’

‘I know it’s going to be hard, that’s why we’re doing it together. Why do you have to tear everything down and make it awful?’ Mollie pressed her lips together, willing herself not to cry in front of her mother, whose blasé attitude since she’d announced her pregnancy was making her crazy. She was sure, in that moment, she actually hated her mother; goading her, taunting her, where was the love and support other people got? Surely, even if she’d screamed at her, shown that she cared in some way, it would have been better.

‘Where is he now, Mollie, huh? Why isn’t he standing here with you?’ Linda’s dark eyes met hers and held them, a small smile in place as she knew the answer.

‘He’s gone on a final trip with his TA mates. He’s saying goodbye before everyone goes off to uni. He’s coming back, why aren’t you hearing me?’

‘Because thousands of girls have said the same thing over the years, and they’ve all been disappointed.’ Linda rolled her eyes, ‘Besides, who needs ‘em? Your dad walked as soon as the line appeared on the pregnancy test, and you turned out all right, didn’t you?’

‘It won’t be like that for us,’ Mollie insisted, ‘This baby can have two parents, who both love it, who can support each other and work hard. It’s possible.’

‘It doesn’t matter baby girl, he’s already gone.’

***

He arrived at ten a.m., shuffling and awkward, ringing the doorbell this time, as the door wasn’t open. Mollie peered from the window above, and wondered if she should pretend that no one was home.

‘You go let him in!’ she hissed at Evie, who stared blankly.

‘I can’t do that.’

‘Why?’

Evie widened her eyes, ‘Because it changes the conversation, we chat about what the other has been up to, and you don’t need that.’

Mollie deflated, and her friend squeezed her hand. ‘You’re the bravest person I know. You go get your answers. I mean, the fact that he’s here is a good start, right?’

‘Right,’ Mollie took a deep breath and thundered down the stairs, not letting her brain form thoughts. She was going to be zen, and calm, and let the answers come to her.

When she opened the door, he was leaning against the wall, eyes closed, head back. He opened his eyes as the door creaked open, and it was suddenly clear that Jamie hadn’t had any sleep that night either. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, and he looked desperate.

‘You’d better come in then,’ Mollie said, standing back from the doorway, avoiding looking into those eyes that seemed to crave something; understanding, forgiveness... something.

He didn’t move.

‘I didn’t ask her name,’ Jamie said, his voice rough and dry, ‘I left and I didn’t even ask her name. And it’s been plaguing me, all night. Why didn’t I ask? I mean, she looks just... I should have asked. And I tried to see if you were on social media, if there was any way of finding her there, but you’re not and–’

Mollie cut him off, ‘Her name is Esme. Esme Louisa Williams.’

Jamie’s face crumpled, ‘Louisa was my grandmother’s name. The only family member I liked.’

‘I remember,’ Mollie said shortly. ‘Are you coming in or not?’

‘Why would you, if you thought... why would you give her that name?’

Mollie took a deep breath and met his eyes, ‘Jamie, we both have a lot of questions we need to ask each other, and you blubbering on my doorstep is not helping. Now can you come inside so we can be British and awkward and talk about it over tea, please?’

He nodded, and followed her through to the kitchen, hovering in silence as she put the kettle on and clattered with mugs. Mollie focused on her breathing, on the ritual of tea-making. She set out a tray, filled a pot, got out the red polka dot mugs she’d found at a car boot sale and a tray of biscuits that she’d made a few days before. Peach snaps. Something to crunch on so she didn’t say everything that was rolling around inside her head.

‘I’ll take it,’ Jamie said quietly, and picked up the tray, waiting for her to tell him where to go. She led him through to the conservatory.

They sat in silence as she poured the tea, her hands trembling just a little as she pushed the mug over to him. Mollie took this time to look at him, truly look at him, the sad man staring into his tea, his sharper features removing any softness that was once there. He wasn’t the same. The old Jamie fidgeted endlessly, he was always moving, always making noise. This man looked like he could impersonate a statue. The only way she could tell he was impatient was the little movements his mouth was making, like he wanted to talk and had to keep stopping himself.

‘I don’t even know where to start,’ Mollie said suddenly.

‘We could ask a question each?’ he offered, smiling hesitantly. The smile was the same. When he smiled he looked like a boy again. The same boy who promised her he would quit university and raise a child with her. She looked away.

‘So... Esme’s mine,’ Jamie started.

‘Is that meant to be your question?’ Mollie rolled her eyes, ‘It’s pretty bloody obvious, I mean, you saw her. She looks like you.’

‘She looks a lot like you too,’ he smiled. ‘All that blonde hair.’

‘Well, biology,’ Mollie shrugged, trying to keep her guard up, ‘So you’re saying you didn’t know she existed?’

‘Is that meant to be your question?’ Jamie copied her tone, ‘Do I look like someone who knew he had an eleven-year-old daughter?’

‘No,’ Mollie conceded. ‘Do I get another question now?’

Jamie shrugged, clearly not pleased about how this was going.