I Am Watching You(21)

Luke was this really placid, smiley baby, you see. An easy baby. My mum came to stay and I had to bring in help to keep the shop ticking over, but by week ten Luke was sleeping through the night.

He was the kind of child who, once fed and clean, was happy to amuse himself. I could pop him on a mat with a mobile overhead and he would just smile and coo.

You were never like this, my mother said. He must get it from his father.

Luke’s placid nature meant I started back at the shop much sooner than planned. We put up a hook from the ceiling and bought him one of those bouncy contraptions. He would sit in his little bouncy sling for hours, just jiggling up and down, watching me putting orders together and gurgling at all the customers. Bounce. Gurgle. Bounce. Smile . . .

I have been sitting on the bed here for goodness knows how long, replaying all these pictures of Luke in my head. I smooth the fabric of my trousers. I have been worrying what to wear but I’m not changing. It doesn’t matter what you’re wearing, Ella. What you’re wearing won’t change this or fix it.

What matters is that my son – my beautiful Luke – has been going through hell and I had no idea. None at all. I have been so distracted, thinking about Anna and her family in Cornwall and the blessed postcards, that I have not seen what is right here under my nose. That my poor son’s life is in meltdown.

I was so shocked when he finally blurted it out. Again – so naive. I didn’t even realise they were having sex . . .

‘You ready, love?’ Tony is standing in the doorway. ‘Luke’s downstairs.’

‘Yeah. Sure.’

In the sitting room, I repeat to Luke what I have said so many times in the last twenty-four hours. That the time for regret and ‘if only’ is over, and we have to look this in the face now. All of us together. Reminding him that he is not on his own with this anymore. If she wants to go ahead and have this baby, we should support her. As a family. Luke should not feel that this has to involve them living as a couple. Or settling down. They are far too young for that. But he does have to offer to play a part in this child’s life. To be a support. To face up to what has happened here. And we will support him. Them. The baby.

Luke’s face is white. Tony’s face is white. I wonder if I am the only one thinking how much more terrible it is for Emily’s parents. She is sixteen . . .

We drive in silence. Twenty minutes. Luke offers directions for the final mile. The fact that we do not even know where his girlfriend lives says everything about this situation. I gave him lifts to the cinema. They met in town. Took the bus.

I wonder where exactly they have been having sex.

This thought leads me back to the train. To Sarah and that man. Wondering how they could do that. In a train toilet. And no – the irony isn’t lost on me, remembering my shock. Me and my high horse.

I put on the radio but Luke asks me if I will turn it off, please.

Left at the postbox. Second right. There. It’s the detached house at the end of this cul-de-sac. That one.

A nice house. Red brick with a climber around the porch. The windows look freshly painted and the front garden is immaculate. Neatly clipped lawn and beds of roses and lots of hardy geraniums. I don’t know why I take all of this in. Maybe it is because I don’t really want to get out of the car.

‘So. You ready, son?’ It is Tony who moves us forward. Opens his door first.

Luke shrugs. I look at him and see that he is still in shock. He keeps saying that they used protection.

We used a condom. I don’t understand.

‘Like I say, love. It is what it is. We’re here for you,’ I say. ‘Now – come on. Let’s go in.’

Emily’s parents introduce themselves but we don’t shake hands. None of us are going to pretend.

Emily is sitting all hunched up in a wide armchair, cushion to her stomach, as white as Luke.

‘Emily didn’t want us to meet like this but we felt – given how young they are – that a joint meeting was important.’ Rebecca sounds as if she has rehearsed this.

I notice that her husband has his eyes fixed on Luke. I can only imagine what may be going through his head, but I want to erase what he is thinking.

He is a good lad, Luke. He has stuffed up, yes, but so has she. And I wish I had the courage to tell the father to stop looking at my son like that.

‘Emily and Luke have been talking a lot about the options, but we feel we should know where the two families stand. Going forward.’ Rebecca is looking at me.

‘Well, I think you’re right. It’s important for us to talk. And the first thing I want to say is how sorry we are, as you must be – devastated, actually – that they find themselves in this situation so very young.’ I can feel Tony’s eyes on me and he tilts his head, a tiny sign of encouragement before speaking up to help me.

‘My understanding is that they did try to be sensible. To be safe.’ Tony turns to Emily’s father but the response is a cold stare.

‘She’s sixteen.’

‘Dad, please.’ Emily glances across at Luke who is still white, staring at the ground.

‘What we want to make clear’ – I glance at Tony again and then back at Emily’s parents – ‘is that as a family we will do whatever we can to support Emily.’

‘Emily has decided against a termination. We want to be open about that. But she may want to consider adoption.’