Page 98 of The Last Train Home
He or she shoves what must be a hand, or it could be a foot, right into the space where my bladder wants to be, but is now squashed to the size of a marble. I have to clench tightly not to pee.
‘I’ll be right back,’ I say and disappear to the loos.
When I return, a waitress has delivered our burgers and drinks.
‘So your marriage has broken down, you’ve left a hot climate to return to living in freezing-cold England, with your mum and dad, and you’re about to become a single parent?’
‘Thanks, Gary.’
He grins. ‘You know you just got really attractive.’
I raise an eyebrow.
He laughs. ‘I’m joking. I’m joking,’ he continues.
‘And you thought Sean was a cock,’ I say.
‘Takes one to know one,’ Gary replies. ‘I mean it, Abbie,’ he says in between chewing. ‘Sean wasn’t the be-all and end-all. You know that, right?’
‘Yes, I think so. I’m sure in a few years I might notice that I’m a bit … single. But I’m going to have my hands full in the interim, so,’ I shrug, ‘I’ll enjoy being a mum. I won’t be joining all those internet dating sites you’re signed up to.’
‘Don’t. It’s a wasteland,’ he says. ‘Know any fit women you can send my way?’
‘None that are single, I’m afraid.’
‘How’s your mate, Natalie?’
‘Natasha,’ I say.
‘That’s the one.’
‘She’s getting married in August.’
He swears and then takes a huge bite of his burger.
When we’ve finished our meals and finished bitching about all our old bosses, reminiscing about life as we knew it only a few short years ago, we settle up the bill and say goodbye. I can only ever seem to settle on lunch dates with friends at the moment, because I’m too tired to stay out late for dinner dates, and Gary has to get back to work. I should also be working from home, but I’ve filed all my copy and if I take an afternoon off, it’s at my own discretion.
He hugs me goodbye as I walk him back to his new office at his new job on the east side of the City. We wave as he goes through the rotating doors and disappears inside the sleek steel-and-glass structure. There are so many new office buildings here since I left. I breathe in the smoggy London air, the heat of which is thick in my lungs. The pavement radiates warmth into the soles of my ballet pumps. It feels like such a long time since I’ve really appreciated my city. The last time I took in the atmosphere, truly, was when I was preparing to leave for Singapore. Even the final time when I was back here with Sean that Christmas I didn’t stop to appreciate the city I’d always called home. I just careered my way around it by taxi, focused on seeing friends. I never took the time to appreciate it. Today feels like a good day.
The baby is getting heavier by the minute. But I wonder if I can get down to the river to take a walk down memory lane and then back home without too much hassle. It won’ttake long. I love the idea of these new pay-as-you-go Boris Bikes that are pinging up everywhere. Only the bump and I might not survive a fall off one of those.
I need to flag a cab to get me up to Liverpool Street to catch the overground back to Enfield. But maybe I could get a taxi down to the river first?
I walk along the street, waiting for a cab with an orange light, but one doesn’t come for ages. I’m hot and bothered. I wish I could hold this baby bump up, just for a few minutes, to relieve the pressure on my hips, my waist.
‘You are such a heavy little lump,’ I say down to my stomach as I walk slowly. I’m sure I’m waddling. I dread to think what I look like from behind as I move along the pavement. I adjust my hands over my maternity dress. ‘Only a few weeks to go, little one, and then we get to meet.’
I look behind me, waiting for a taxi to drive along, but the stream of traffic has died down. A taxi pulls around the corner and I raise my hand for it, then lower it when I notice the light is off and there’s a passenger seated in the back already.
‘Bugger,’ I say and then pat my stomach. ‘Don’t repeat any of the sweary things Mummy says when you’re older, will you?’
Mummy. It’s the first time I’ve actually called myself that. A bit premature because he or she doesn’t arrive for a while, but I cradle the bump again and smile. Iamgoing to be a mummy; in a few short weeks my world is going to be whizzed upside down as this little person arrives and I become its mummy.
I walk on a bit longer, ambling slowly – because it’s the only pace I can manage – with the freedom of having nowhereto be, turning back every now and again to check for a black cab sporting an orange vacant light. And then I smile because I realise where I am. Ahead of me is the McDonald’s that Tom and I ended up in that night we went out together. I haven’t had a Happy Meal since that day. I wonder if he’s still got his Beanie Baby.
I haven’t been back to this part of town in … for ever. If I keep walking, up ahead is St Paul’s Cathedral, where Tom held onto me after pulling me from the wreckage of the derailed train. I’m cold, chilled to the bone – an arctic wave has risen towards me. I didn’t feel this on the actual night, but being here, again, on this normal summer’s day, I feel it now. Why? And then as fast as it came, the cold has gone.
I take a deep breath as I enter the garden around the churchyard. Because Tom and I had sat in there together the night we went clubbing, almost five years ago, dipping salty chips in sweet milkshakes and discussing our future selves, it holds good memories for me, not bad ones. Even though our friendship ended so emotionally, thinking of Tom now, I can only summon good memories.
