The Dilemma(16)

In one of life’s unexpected twists, Jess is now married to Rob, Nelson’s younger brother. Their daughter, Cleo, is Marnie’s best friend, I’m Cleo’s godmother and Jess is Marnie’s, so we’re a kind of extended happy family. Then, two years ago, Jess was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis.

‘Everyone in?’ Kirin asks, starting up the engine.

‘Everyone in,’ I confirm, fastening my seatbelt. ‘This is such a lovely surprise. I can’t think of a better way to spend my birthday than with my two best friends.’

I might not have known Kirin as long as I’ve known Jess, but ever since Nelson introduced her to me and Adam, she’s become a really close friend. There were times when Adam and I wondered if Nelson would ever get married. He finally did, at thirty-four, which isn’t old, it just seemed that way because we’d been married for fifteen years by then. It happened quickly too. His and Kirin’s was definitely a whirlwind romance, but I’m not surprised. Not only is Kirin incredibly lovely, she’s also incredibly beautiful, with long dark, sleek hair and gorgeous olive skin, a legacy of her Indian heritage.

I think Adam was relieved that Nelson was no longer single. It had been hard for him during those early years, seeing Nelson going off on his Harley Davidson with his friends from the motorcycle club, while he took Josh and Marnie swimming, or to the park, or on nature walks. Even when Nelson met Kirin, our day-to-day lives remained poles apart because they had the freedom to do whatever they wanted, go wherever they wanted, without having to think about anyone else. Then the twins came along, then Lily, and now Nelson doesn’t go anywhere without them in tow, except on Sunday mornings when he gets to ride his bike down to the coast.

‘Rob was asking if Adam intends taking his bike out tomorrow,’ Jess says, catching uncannily onto my train of thought. ‘You know, as you won’t get to bed until the early hours of the morning.’

‘I doubt that only getting a couple of hours’ sleep will stop Adam from doing what he loves best,’ I say shortly. And then I want to kick myself because I’ve made it sound as if I don’t want Adam to go out on his bike, which isn’t the case at all.

It’s true that motorbikes used to be a sore point between us, but only because of what happened a couple of years into our marriage. When Josh was a few months old, we moved from his parents’ house, where we’d been living since our wedding, into our own flat. Money was tight, as everything Adam earned seemed to go on Josh, so I began to take in ironing. People would drop off baskets of crumpled clothes on their way to work and pick them up, on their way home, neatly ironed. I only took two baskets a day, but ten a week meant we could just about make ends meet because, in an attempt to get Adam to turn up for work on a regular basis, Mr Wentworth only paid him for the hours he actually worked. It meant that his salary varied from month to month and sometimes, we couldn’t pay the rent.

After a couple of months, without telling Adam, I began to put ten pounds out of the hundred I earned each week into a shoebox, which I kept at the bottom of the wardrobe. I missed the holidays my parents had taken me on and I wanted to rent a cottage in Cornwall as a surprise for him and Josh.

One Saturday, about the time I was thinking of booking the holiday – because after two years, I’d finally saved enough – I came back from the supermarket, heavily pregnant with Marnie, and saw a motorbike parked in the road outside our flat. Guessing that Rob was there, because I knew from Jess that he’d recently bought a bike, I touched it and found the engine hot. I was glad he’d only just arrived; any earlier and he’d have woken Josh from his afternoon sleep. But when I went up to the flat, there was only Adam, sitting on the sofa, and I knew straightaway that something was wrong from the look on his face.

‘Where’s Rob?’ I asked, putting the shopping bags down on the floor.

‘He’s left.’

I put both hands on my back, easing the ache from it. ‘Isn’t that his motorbike outside?’

‘No.’ He paused. ‘It’s mine.’

‘Yours?’

‘That’s right.’

Stunned, I sat down opposite him.

‘I don’t understand. How can you afford a motorbike?’ He didn’t say anything and my heart sank. ‘Please don’t tell me you took out a loan. I thought we agreed no loans, that we only buy what we can afford.’

He lay his head back against the sofa. ‘Oh, don’t worry, we can afford it.’

I looked at him, puzzled by his attitude. Had my parents relented and sent a cheque or something? When I’d found out I was pregnant again, I’d written to ask if they could restore the allowance they’d paid me since my sixteenth birthday from money my grandmother had left me. My father had refused, telling me my grandmother would be as ashamed of me as they were. I didn’t think they’d have changed their minds and even if they had, the allowance was in my name so Adam wouldn’t have been able to touch it. Maybe his parents?

‘Did your parents lend you the money?’

‘No,’ he said, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

‘A bonus from Mr Wentworth?’

He gave a snort of laughter. ‘I wish.’

‘Well, maybe if you turned up for work a bit more often, he’d give you one!’ I retorted. ‘Stop playing games, Adam. Where did you get the money from?’