‘Yeah… to be honest I’ve been trying. Him moping about, whingeing on about how tough things are, is killing my vibe, know what I mean? I’ve been trying to talk him into going back for the past couple of days. No joy. I don’t suppose you could have a go? I mean, you’ve sold it to me.’
I took a couple of deep, calming breaths and realised that action, not breathing, was the only solution. ‘Let me speak to him.’
‘Oh, no. He’ll just hang up. I’ll drop you a pin.’
Clint ended the call, and a few seconds later a notification buzzed showing me his address. My maps app reckoned it would take forty minutes. I rang Nicky.
‘I’ve found him, but he’s not going to come out of hiding without some incentive. I’m toying between threatening to key his car and setting his award on fire.’
‘At the risk of going over old ground, Libby, what were you thinking when you said yes to that man?’
Ignoring her, I asked how things were going with Silva.
‘So far, so sweaty. The midwives are finishing up another birth, aiming to be here before the head crowns. Which by my calculations should be a good couple of hours away.’
‘That soon? Shouldn’t they be sending someone else out, then?’
‘Yes, they should. But it’s a full moon, babies are showing up all over the place, and this one has a qualified GP with her. The only other option is hospital, and Silva says the lighting there will ruin her complexion in the photos.’
‘For goodness’ sake. Shall we go home and leave them to it?’
‘Like we’d walk away from a baby in need.’
‘Okay.’ I braced myself. ‘He’s in a village on the other side of Newark. I’m going to fetch him.’
‘Rather you than me.’
‘I’d ratheryouthan me, and that’s saying something considering the alternative is mopping the brow of my ex-husband’s baby-mamma.’
‘I’m loving this kick-ass Libby. I have every faith I’ll be seeing you and the dropout before I see this little girl’s head.’
I spent the forty-minute drive composing kick-ass, no-nonsense speeches in my head that would have Brayden charging back to the four-bedroom riverside town house in Newark that he shared with Silva. Most of these rapidly descended into verbalwhip-lashings, furiously detailing failings spanning the past ten years, which I knew would only further convince him he was a failure as a father, and his baby was better off without him.
It took everything I’d got, after parking in front of Clint’s artificial lawn, hustling past his row of garden gnomes and knocking on the doorbell that played ‘I’m Coming Out’, to keep things encouraging.
I channelled Clint’s ‘wimp into warrior’ vibe as he led me through a chintzy living room containing more soft furnishings than a Dunelm superstore and into a back office, where Brayden sat on a sofa-bed playingCall of Duty.
‘What the hell?’ I barked, forgetting all my good intentions of staying positive as I twisted around to hiss at Clint. ‘You might be an expert at bringing out inner beasts, but this is way too far.’
Brayden was wearing grimy jogging bottoms and a vest top. His hair was frightening. There were piles of empty crisp packets, takeaway cartons and beer cans scattered around, and it smelled like the boys’ changing room back at Bigley Academy.
I held my breath, leant into the room and turned the Xbox off at the wall.
‘What?’ he asked, as if coming out of a trance. ‘Is there a power cut?’
‘If you’re referring to the power supply to your brain, then quite possibly, yes.’ I marched in front of the monitor, arms folded, ready for war.
‘Libby.’ He shrank back, a mix of shame and defiance. It wasn’t only the stench that resembled a teenage boy.
‘Get your stuff. Time’s up for regressing to a man-child. Your girlfriend needs you.’
‘I can’t,’ he stammered. ‘I’m not cut out for all this.’
‘What, life? The child you created? Being a grown adult?’
His eyes darted to one side. ‘Maybe.’
‘Silva’s about an hour away from giving birth. If you stop farting about then you might just make it in time for her to agree to take you back.’
