A Winter’s Wish Come True

‘Who’s that?’ I ask.

‘Oh, she’s just a new client, that’s all,’ Scott replies. ‘She’s just texting to book her next session with me.’

‘Your clients don’t usually text you, do they?’ I say, trying not to sound like I’m being nosy even though I am. ‘They usually book their next session with you after they’ve finished their latest one.’

He nods and shrugs. ‘Yeah, usually but Kayleigh and I swapped numbers because her workload can be a bit unpredictable sometimes. She finds it easier to book by text when she knows what day she can do.’

Seconds later, his phone goes off again and he bursts out laughing when he reads his new text. My hackles rise, although I’m not sure why.

‘Something funny?’ I try to keep any trace of annoyance out of my voice.

He shakes his head. ‘Nothing, Kayleigh just sent me a funny video of a dog on a skateboard.’

Well, isn’t Kayleigh a hoot?

I grit my teeth and consider asking him to let me see it – I need all the laughs I can get right now, after all – but decide not to. Something about Scott’s new gal pal has me riled, although I’m not sure what it is. Maybe it’s the dopey grin currently plastered to his face as he gazes at his phone, or the pregnancy hormones coursing through my veins but, whatever it is, I’m angry.

‘Isn’t that nice?’ I reply, my voice laced with barely concealed venom. ‘Anyway, I’d better get going. Lots to do and all that.’

I start to walk away and hear Scott jogging to catch up with me. ‘Is everything OK?’ he asks. ‘I mean, you’re not … jealous of Kayleigh, are you? She’s just a client.’

I splutter out an incoherent reply and fold my arms across my chest. ‘Of course I’m not jealous! We’re not together Scott, and we haven’t been for a while. You can see who you like whenever you like. It doesn’t affect me.’

‘Look, I can see you’re clearly upset about it. Plus you’re having my baby, so who I see does affect you, whether you want to admit it or not.’

‘OK, you’re right about that,’ I admit. ‘But I’m not jealous. I meant what I said, we’ve been broken up for over a year now and it’s not looking likely that we’ll get back together. It’s just …weird for me to think of you with someone else, that’s all.’

‘Well it won’t be happening any time soon,’ he assures me. His eyes fall away from me and I can see hurt cross his face. ‘Do you really think there’s no chance of us getting back together?’

The words are so quiet I can barely hear them. ‘Scott, you left me. I didn’t want us to break up; you were the one who said you were going, with or without me. You knew I didn’t want to leave everything we had here, and that we’d have to break up if you went by yourself. I’m sorry, but I don’t see a way back for us.’

He sighs and throws his hands up in the air. ‘Cleo, I know I made a mistake. There wasn’t a day I was in Australia that I didn’t think of you and how much I wished I’d stayed. I want to make it up to you, but you won’t let me! You know, sometimes I think you were waiting for something bad to happen with us. You still see yourself as that shy, anxious girl who was afraid to be a part of the world, don’t you? You still don’t believe that anyone could really love you enough to want to stick around.’

Those words stop me in my tracks. I feel as though someone’s slapped me in the face as I turn around to face him, praying the tears don’t decide to come right now.

‘Well you didn’t, did you?’ I whisper. ‘You just keep on leaving me; first to go to Australia, then you did it again after we spent the night together. I let you love me, I trusted you, and you fucked it up twice. Not me, you. So spare me the armchair psychology, Scott. I’ve got bigger things to worry about right now, like having our baby.’

Before we can snipe at each other anymore, I spin on my heel and stalk across the car park. Scott calls after me to come back so he can explain, but I ignore him. There’s nothing he can say that I’ll want to hear. I curse myself for nearly getting lost in the moment when he took my hand. That certainly won’t be happening again.

*

When I get back to my cottage, I flop onto the couch and burst into tears. Bloody pregnancy hormones. I can’t get the idea of Scott cosying up to his new client out of my mind, no matter how hard I try, and I can’t help feeling like I’m going to be the one holding the baby. He’ll be way too busy gallivanting around with his stunning new girlfriend to bother with me and the baby.

And what happens if he decides he wants to leave again? Maybe he’ll want to seek out a new adventure in America or go back to Australia? What will happen with the baby then? I hate the thought of him or her growing up without a dad because he’s too busy chasing dreams round the world.

I look down at my stomach and pat it. ‘I’m afraid it’s just you and me, kid. We’ll have to be our own little team since Daddy might not be around much.’

How has it come to this, I wonder. How have I ended up alone in my cottage, talking to my unborn baby who, according to Doctor Maxwell, is barely the size of a kumquat? I let my head flop back against the couch as I try to remember the time where my life made sense. In just a few days, my tidy little world has been turned completely upside down and will never be the same again.

I head to the kitchen to see if there’s any chicken paella left in the fridge, but my hand falls away from the handle when I see what’s pinned to the door.

My bucket list.

My wildest dreams, all in one place.

I slip it out of its magnetic holder and can’t resist a smile. Quite a few of the items are ticked off: conquer my body issues, learn a new language, figure out what I really want to do with my life. My eyes drift to the last item – let myself fall in love – and my heart sinks. I ticked it off with unreserved glee when Scott and I finally got together, all the while thinking ‘aren’t I a lucky so-and-so?’ If only I could’ve seen what was around the corner …

I neglected my bucket list for a while before my break-up. As I slipped into comfortable domesticity with Scott, my wildest dreams sort of fell by the wayside. Not forgotten exactly, just put on hold in favour of ‘living in the moment’ with my apparently perfect boyfriend. The remaining items – ridiculously exotic holiday, zorbing, getting a tattoo – can’t exactly be tackled right now, since I’ve got the baby to think of. Slipping into a giant plastic sphere and rolling down a hill doesn’t go well with being nearly three months pregnant. Nevertheless, since I became a single lady again, I’ve made a real effort to tick off the remaining items. It might be almost time to make a whole new list, filled with a whole host of other challenges to complete. If I do, will I be able to fit them in around my new and very unexpected adventure? Can I be Cleo the dreamer and Cleo the mum too?

‘Only me!’ A very familiar voice rings through from the hall.

Oh great, just what I need: an impromptu visit from my mother.

‘I’m in the kitchen!’ I say, heaving a weary sigh. After the day I’ve had, I really can’t face my mum picking over every decision I’ve ever made. She’s not as bad as she used to be, luckily, but still has her moments.

‘Oh Cleo, you look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards! Please tell me you didn’t go out in public like that,’ she says, throwing her bag on the counter and coming over to fix my hair.

‘It’s a messy bun, Mum! Please, just leave it eh?’ I jerk my head away from her grasp and put my bun back to normal.

She fixes me with a suspicious stare, folding her arms and narrowing her eyes. ‘Where were you off to so early this morning anyway? And you’ve got your black blazer on; you usually only wear that when you’ve got an interview.’

My brain makes frantic scrambles as it tries to find a valid excuse. I can’t tell her where I’ve really been; I’m just not ready yet.

Think Cleo, think!

‘I was … erm … I was …’

I’m quite literally saved by the bell. As I make a mad dash down the hall to see who’s at the door, I breathe a huge sigh of relief. I’ve never been so grateful for a well-timed distraction.

I throw open the door and Scott barges in without so much as a casual hello.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ I ask, not entirely sure I want to know the answer.

‘Well, we didn’t exactly leave things on good terms this morning, did we? Not after you stormed off again!’ he shouts.

My eyes dart to the kitchen and I cross my fingers that Mum hasn’t heard the commotion just yet. That’s the last thing I need today.

‘Please Scott, keep your voice down,’ I whisper pleadingly.

‘No, I won’t keep my bloody voice down! For the last eight weeks, you’ve pushed me away and I’ve had enough, Cleo! I’m going to tell you exactly why I left you the morning after we spent the night together and we’re finally going to clear the air about Australia too. Maybe then we can find a way to move forward. If you don’t like what I have to say then I’ll leave, but at least listen to me.’

I can hear some footsteps coming from the kitchen. It’s my very own Jaws theme tune; my mum’s getting closer.

‘Scott, look—’

‘No Cleo, we have to find some way of clearing the air between us. It’s not just about us anymore, is it? In six months, we’re going to be parents and if we can’t be around each other, it’s the baby who’ll lose out. I don’t want to miss out on being part of my child’s life.’

‘And what baby would that be, Cleopatra?’