What Lies Between Us(24)

I am tempted to follow her inside but the risk is too high of her spotting me, and I don’t want to cause a scene in public. From my position across the street, I watch as she walks through the pub and into the beer garden at the rear, then out of view.

I can’t leave her like this. I take a few steps back and survey the area. To the right of the pub is a fast-food cafe on two floors. A sign on the door informs me it’s open until midnight. I order a cup of tea and a lukewarm sausage roll, then make my way upstairs and sit at a table by the window that overlooks the pub garden where I can see Nina. It feels intrusive watching people from up here, but I can’t take my eyes off my daughter and her friends. She’s draped herself across a long-haired man who, even from this distance, I can tell is significantly older than her. Around their table are more men and women, none of whom are in her age bracket. I wonder if they know she is only fifteen.

She keeps her hand entwined in his but when she thinks no one is looking, she slips it under the table and strokes his groin. Part of me feels ashamed of her; the rest blames myself and her dad for driving her to such brazen behaviour.

The only silver lining to this dark cloud of an evening is that Nina is the only one drinking from one of those distinctive circular Orangina bottles. The rest drink from pint and wine glasses. And while they smoke cigarettes, Nina refrains.

I remain focused on her for a good couple of hours until she and her male friend are the first to rise and prepare to leave. I hurry back down the stairs and into the street when I spot them walking towards me, arm in arm. I freeze as they stop, my heart skipping a beat when I think Nina has seen me. She hasn’t. Instead, she pushes him into a doorway and kisses him. I hide behind a van, panicked and weighing up my options. I want to drag her back home with me, but my rational side warns me against it. Our relationship is so fragile that pulling at any of the remaining threads that bind us might tear us apart for good. I could try reasoning with her, but I know from experience that she won’t listen to me. Or I can do what I’m doing now – nothing. Until I have time to weigh up the pros and cons of my next move, I choose the latter. So I remain where I am until they pass me and disappear into the night.

I feel awful and utterly useless. But before I leave, I return to the pub and find the same doorman is still on duty. ‘Hello,’ I begin. ‘The couple who just left, do you know who they are?’

He looks at me quizzically.

‘Oh, I’m not an oddball,’ I point out, ‘but I think I used to be his teacher. He looks familiar.’

‘You’ve probably seen him in the papers,’ he replies. ‘Jon Hunter. Sings with The Hunters. Pretty good by all accounts.’

‘Ah, my mistake, thank you,’ I say before making my way home, alone.





CHAPTER 18





NINA


I open the side gate to the back garden to allow the two Argos delivery men entry.

One of them is mixed race with the most beautiful glowing light-brown skin I’ve ever seen. His biceps are fit to burst from his tight blue T-shirt. The other is short and squat and reminds me of a Super Mario brother. They place the boxes containing the furniture I ordered next to the patio under the kitchen window. I’m not sure if I’m imagining it when the hunkier of the two appears to wink at me as he hands me the delivery note. It’s only when they leave that I see he’s written his phone number on it. I’m flattered but wonder how often he does this. I won’t be calling him.

I’ve dated sporadically over the years, but I’ve yet to find anyone who has excited me in the way Jon did. Besides, most men only want two things from a woman – no-strings-attached sex or to start a family. And when they discover I can’t fulfil one of their criteria, they rapidly lose interest.

I was nineteen years old and a few months away from taking my A-level exams when I learned that not only was I cursed by faulty chromosomes, but my entire reproductive system was giving up the ghost. With little warning, my periods became sporadic until eventually, they all but vanished. At the same time, I was finding it harder and harder to sleep. My skin felt as if it was burning up at the strangest of times and when my anxiety levels shot through the roof, I actually feared I was having another breakdown. I vowed I would rather die than go through that again.

After a series of tests at Northampton General Hospital, a specialist advised me that I was going through a highly premature menopause. ‘This is the earliest I’ve ever seen it happen,’ she explained. ‘It’s called premature ovarian failure. It’s such a rare condition. I’m very, very sorry.’

I was going to ask her if it had anything to do with my estroprosencephaly, but whether it did or it didn’t would not make any difference. It was happening, it was shitty and there was absolutely sod all I could do about it. So I didn’t bring it up.

I didn’t mourn for my lost periods and dried-up eggs. Relationships were the last thing on my mind anyway. It wasn’t until the end of my twenties that I felt ready to find someone. The advent of dating apps made meeting the opposite sex much easier for someone like me who was ripe and not ready to wither and rot on the vine.

There were only two men I ever went further with than swiping right on Tinder. But despite putting my all into those affairs, they turned out to be huge disappointments. Then, soon after swearing off all relationships and even new friendships, someone came along who changed everything. For the last two years, he has been the only person who matters. Even just thinking about him brings me out in a broad smile. He is the reason why I want to lose weight and get fit. I don’t need anybody’s approval but his. And he is the biggest secret I keep from the world, an even larger one than Maggie.