Page 103 of The Last Train Home
‘What kind of baby?’ Teddy asks in awe.
‘A really big one, I think,’ Abbie replies, and that makes me laugh. She looks at me and I remember those eyes, which used to smile so much before they used to look at me like I was a piece of a shit, which I suppose I was.
‘We can get a taxi,’ I say, pre-empting any question that we might be getting the Tube.
She nods, visibly relieved. ‘OK.’ And then, ‘How will I get home? Oh God, I’ve just realised I’ll be miles away from home.’
‘Where’s home these days?’ I ask.
‘Enfield at the moment. I’m back with my parents to have the baby.’
‘I’ll drive you home later,’ I say.
‘You’ll drive me all the way from Putney to Enfield?’
‘It’s not that far, in the grand scheme of things,’ I tell her. ‘Andy can look after the kids and I’ll take you home. You won’t have to get a train at night, or a Tube or wait for a taxi, or any of that.’
She crinkles her nose as she thinks. ‘Really? You’ll drive me home? I can’t ask you to do that.’
‘I’m offering. You’re coming, right?’
She looks shy all of a sudden, uncertain. And then she smiles, a fraction. ‘OK.’
Chapter 64
Abbie
‘Oliver is my best friend,’ Teddy tells me as the taxi pulls up outside Tom’s house in Putney. I’d forgotten how huge his house is. The only other time I was here it was 1 a.m. and dark. I cringe at the memory of what happened and try to put it from my mind.
‘And Andy is his dad, and he’s nice but he swears a lot.’
‘Ha,’ I laugh as Tom splutters, ‘What?’ in response to Teddy’s comment.
A man and a boy are waiting on the front step. ‘About time,’ the man calls. ‘Where you lot been?’
When the taxi pulls away, Tom says, ‘Andy this is Abbie. Abbie, this is Andy. Abbie and I are old friends. She’s joining us for dinner.’
‘Brilliant.’ This stranger, Andy, accepts it without question. ‘Are you hungry, Abbie, because I’ve already put the order in for a lot of pizza.’
‘Sounds great. Thanks.’
Tom grins at me as he unlocks the door and Andy introduces me to his son.
The two boys immediately hurtle up the stairs at a pace that surprises me. ‘I haven’t moved that fast in what feels like for ever,’ I say, resting my hand on my stomach.
‘When’s it due?’ Andy asks as we enter the kitchen.
‘When’s what due?’ I say, eyes wide and innocent.
‘The baby?’ Andy asks uncertainly.
‘What baby?’
Andy turns white and mouths, ‘Oh, shit’ in Tom’s direction.
‘Baby’s due in a couple of weeks,’ I admit, saving him.
Andy stares at me and then at Tom. ‘I quite like her,’ he says. The doorbell rings and he goes to answer it, calling to the boys.
