The Secret Mother(72)
Carly sold her story to the newspapers with my consent, and I received a nice chunk of cash, which went towards the purchase of my new two-bedroom garden flat – a lovely light, airy place in a converted Edwardian building around the corner from Moretti’s, a handy minute’s stroll to work. I sold the house that was once a home for me and Scott. It was a relief to leave the hurt of that place behind. Like shedding a skin that had grown too tight.
I didn’t end up taking the manager’s job Ben offered me, as I want to spend as much time as I can with Harry. But I have been consulting over his plans for the new and improved garden centre, and it’s been fun getting my landscape-architect head back on.
Scott also has his hands full with his and Ellie’s new son, Harry’s half-brother, Aiden. It’s funny, but whenever I go there to drop Harry round, Ellie can’t even look me in the eye. Maybe she feels guilty for accusing me, or awkward or something. She should just apologise and get over herself. I think she’s finding motherhood harder than she thought she would, and Scott looks stressed every time I see him. The smug air they previously wore around me has evaporated, to be replaced by, if not respect, then maybe a little humility, although they would be the last to admit it.
It’s been a wonderful yet hard few months. The adjustment for Harry has been pretty traumatic at times. He and I both still have weekly counselling. And he still misses Liz, his ‘other mummy’. When he first came to live with me, we had a social worker visit us regularly, but she was finally satisfied that we were okay to be left alone together. That I’m a fit parent.
I’m discovering that even in the midst of grief, life can offer new joy and hope. I still grieve for the daughter who was never mine, and no one can replace my beautiful boy, Sam, but I’ve been given a second chance with Harry. Even though they’re non-identical twins, it’s like having a part of Sam back. Harry is my salvation. My reason to get up in the morning.
‘Ben!’ Harry cries, launching himself off the bench and flying across the playground towards the approaching figure. Ben scoops him up into his arms and swings him around before depositing him back down on the tarmac with a grin.
Those two get on like a house on fire. Ben and I are taking things slowly, but I couldn’t have got through the past few months without him. I raise my hand in greeting.
‘So how are my two favourite people in the world?’ Ben asks as he comes closer, dipping to kiss me, his eyes shining.
‘Good,’ Harry and I say in unison, as children’s laughter from the playground drifts across on the late summer breeze.
‘Fancy coming over for pizza this evening?’ Ben asks. ‘I thought you might like to help me make it, Harry. Nothing quite like home-made pizza.’
‘Can we, Mummy?’
‘Mm, pizza. Yes, we’ll be there.’
Ben takes my hand and kisses my knuckles. Then he stands and holds both his hands behind his back. ‘Pick a hand, Harry.’
Harry stands and looks at Ben, considering his choice carefully.
‘Come on, left or right, which is it to be?’
‘Right!’
‘Well, that’s amazing,’ Ben says, feigning astonishment. ‘How did you know? You must be a magician.’ He brings his right hand around to reveal a Thomas the Tank Engine bouncy ball. ‘Want a game of catch?’
Harry nods vigorously, his curls bouncing around his face. The two of them jog over to a grassy area just beyond the playground, and I watch them tossing the ball to one another. Ben goofs around, pretending to drop it every time, making Harry roar with laughter.
I don’t believe there’s such a thing as a perfect life. Shit happens, as they say. And I’ve had more than my fair share of that. I don’t believe in happy-ever-afters either. But right here, right now, watching my little fledgling family, I realise I’ve got something back that I thought was lost forever. A door I thought permanently shut is now wide open. Is that a happy ending? Maybe. Maybe not. But it’s a good place to start.
THE END