The Ice Marathon (6 page)

Two teenagers walked past enjoying Cornettos. I felt certain
that ice cream would not hurt a baby. However, even if I marched over to that
van and demanded a choc-ice, sooner or later I would be required to make a
sacrifice that I could not avoid.

Still, sacrifices for the good of my baby were one thing,
taking orders from the likes of Simon was something else entirely. I may be
sharing my body with his son, but that did not give him the right to boss me
around. I took a lick of the lolly – it was actually damn delicious, but that
was beside the point.

 “Don’t you have to get back to work?” I said, pointedly.

“No, I’ve taken the whole afternoon off.”

I looked at Nicky and frowned. I had enjoyed sharing the
ultrasound with Simon – really, I had – but now I needed some space. I was
going to have to make many adjustments over the coming weeks, and I wanted time
to make my way at my own speed.

 “I’ve worked out what I’m going to do to help,” he said,
abruptly, as if sensing my need for space and stomping on it.

“With what?”

“Our son, obviously.”

Already I didn’t like the sound of this, or his look of smug
satisfaction.

“I’m going to find you a house.”

“
What?
”

“Well, you’ll be wanting somewhere to live when the baby’s
born, and finding houses is what I do best.”

“I’ve already got a home!” I told him. “Haven’t I?” I asked,
turning to Nicky.

“Of course, for as long as you need it,” she replied,
putting an arm around me.

“You can’t bring up a baby in a flat!” he scoffed.

“Um, actually, I grew up in a flat.”

“There aren’t enough bedrooms at Dave and Nicky’s,” he
added.

“He won’t need a bedroom right away.”

“But he will eventually.”

“I’ll deal with that when the time comes.” Why was he
rushing me? Only this morning we hadn’t known whether we would have a baby or
not, and now he was trying to interfere with my living arrangements.

“Dave and Nicky work full time. They’re not going to want to
listen to a baby screaming all night.”

“Hey!” interrupted Nicky, “Don’t speak for me please.”

“Listen to me!” I shouted, getting frustrated. “There is
nothing I want less right now than help finding a new home!”

He looked taken aback, as if somebody not needing his help
was the most inexplicable thing in the world. “Why are you shouting?”

Nicky glared at him. “Simon, your timing is appalling.”

“But I’m right though, aren’t I?”

* * *

It was a grey day in a lazy August. The idle month had
neither bothered to bring us the joy of sunshine nor the interest of rain. It
just churned out cloud upon cloud.

Coming off lithium scared the crap out of me. I could
remember life before medication and it was not a happy time. Still, I’d exposed
my little boy to far too much of that poison already. The sooner I could get
the drug out of my system, the better. I wanted to come off it right away but
my doctor said that the withdrawal had to be gradual.

I sat on the sofa looking at my fluffy mauve slippers, the
same fluffy mauve slippers that I’d been wearing the night that it all began.
How weird to think that I’d wandered into the kitchen in those very slippers,
completely unaware how much my life was about to change.

Why was I lying here waiting for something to happen? It had
been two weeks since the doctor started lowering my lithium dose. I wasn’t
going to suddenly combust.

I needed to do something to take my mind off it. If only it
weren’t Saturday. I could really benefit from getting stuck into a case or two
at the office. Perhaps a DVD was in order …

Two and a half episodes of
Black Books
later, the
doorbell rang. Nicky and Dave were at Dave’s parents for a family dinner, so I
ambled over to the intercom.

“Hello?” I sang.

“Hey Emma, it’s Simon.”

Oh shit.
“Dave’s away this weekend.”

“I know; it’s you I came to see.”

Dammit.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want Simon to be involved in my
son’s life; it was just that spending time with him made me want to claw his
eyes out. Granted, he had shown a sweeter side, but most of the time, I found
him smug, stubborn and opinionated. Then there was the five year age gap, and
not in the favourable direction.

“Come on up!” I said.
Why did I say that
? Well, I
could hardly send him away, could I? “I’m doing this for you,” I whispered to
my bump. Even now, I was barely showing.

I checked my hair in the mirror. Fortunately, my red waves
were having a glossy day. I couldn’t have the father of my child thinking that
I was sloppily groomed. What would that say about my maternal competence?

To my surprise, Simon arrived wearing running shorts and a
t-shirt. I didn’t have him down as a runner – not that I really knew anything
about him. I suppose I assumed he was one of those men who went to the gym a
lot – not because he was fit (although he undeniably was) but because he seemed
very sure of himself, which was a quality I associated with working out a lot.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” I offered.

No, don’t follow me into the kitchen!
Oh, this was
embarrassing. I looked at the floor where I’d knelt over his head and
practically forced him to lick my pussy, and cringed. I turned around – there
was the toaster he’d shoved me against as he pounded me with his … I
turned again.
Shit.
I accidentally looked straight at Simon. Eye contact
was the last thing I could bear. He was smiling. And I knew exactly
why
he was smiling. I was surprised to find the faintest of smiles forming on my
own lips. Nervously, I chuckled. Then he chuckled. Suddenly I realised I was
beaming, and we were both giggling, stupidly.

“Okay, that’s it!” I laughed. “Go and wait in the living
room. I’ll bring the tea through.”

He smiled and did as he was told.

As I poured water into the teapot, I smiled to myself. Then,
I heard conversation. That was odd. As I entered the living room I realised he
was watching telly.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I skipped back to the beginning
of the episode.”

Oh, so he was planning to watch DVDs together, was he? That
was unexpected and presumptuous but not entirely unwelcome.

“Not at all,” I replied, and handed him his cup of tea. Then
I added, “Is there a particular reason why you’re here?” I hoped he wasn’t
planning on offering any more insufferable advice.

“Dave told me that you’re coming off lithium, so I wanted to
see if you were all right.”

Oh
.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

“Shall we watch some telly then?”

“Sure.”

His ease of manner took me by surprise. His only agenda
appeared to be checking that I was all right. I couldn’t fault him for that. In
fact, although I hated to admit it, I was actually a little touched.

As the episode played, I was surprised by how comfortable we
were together. Perhaps we were putting the dinner party, the sex, the pregnancy
shock, and the row in the park behind us.

As uncomfortable as it felt, he did have a point about
accommodation. I couldn’t stay here once the baby was born. There wasn’t space,
but more importantly, it wasn’t fair on Nicky and Dave. Nevertheless, I could
find my own place. I didn’t need Simon to do it for me.

An episode ended and we went straight through to the next
one without a single fight. And I wasn’t particularly
trying
to be on
good behaviour, I just didn’t find anything to pick a fight about.

“I didn’t know you were into running.”

“I’m not,” he said, to my surprise.

“Roller-skating?” I asked, giving his shorts a confused
glance.

“No, I
was
running.”

“I’m not following.”

“I’m going to do the Antarctic Ice Marathon.”

“Wow. Seriously?” He didn’t look built for long distances.
He wasn’t fat but he was broad, and he certainly wasn’t tall. I didn’t have him
pegged as an outdoorsy kind of chap. And why in the world would you run a
marathon, least of all at the South Pole, if you weren’t into running?

“Yeah,” he said, nodding slowly and clicking his teeth. He
looked reluctant, to say the least.

“Why are you doing it then?”

“It’s for my friend.”

“Must be a good friend.”

“He was.”

I remembered the conversation at the scan, about how he’d
lost somebody. I also remembered, with horror, the dinner party. I’d made a senseless
remark that had silenced the room. I decided that, in the absence of any
natural diplomacy, I would be silent and see what happened.

I said nothing.

The pause extended.

Should I ask?

“He died,” explained Simon.

I’d feared as much. Having no idea how to respond, I made a
pointless, useless ‘Aw’ sound. I thought about how much it would pain me to
lose Nicky, and recognised that ‘Aw’ didn’t really cut it, but what else could
I say?

“He died running the Antarctic Ice Marathon.”

“Ah. Now I’m starting to understand. How did he die?”

“Undiagnosed heart condition.”

“Shit.” Subconsciously I placed my hand on my tummy.

“So I’m going to finish his marathon for him.”

“Wow,” I said. I hadn’t expected that. I found myself
enormously impressed – I certainly hadn’t expected
that
! Then, for some
reason, I just couldn’t help myself adding, “A bit rude, though, wasn’t it?
Couldn’t he have died during a warmer race?”

Why did I do that? Why did I have to say something stupid?
Why didn’t I just do the sensitive thing and then shut my mouth? Damn my
inappropriate sense of humour.

I was surprised to see that he was laughing. “I know! That’s
what I thought. Or perhaps an egg and spoon race.”

We both chuckled. Apparently, we had a similar sense of
humour. I was enjoying this, getting on with my son’s father. It was going to
make the rest of my life so much easier. It was a shame it had started so
badly.

“Simon …” “Emma …” we spoke simultaneously.

“You go.”

“No, you go.”

“I was just going to say …” I paused. “I just wanted to
say that I’m sorry, for being so rude to you at that dinner party.”

“I didn’t think you were rude. Feisty, maybe. Argumentative,
definitely.”

I buried my head in my hands.

“Don’t sweat. It was obvious that you’d had a bad day.”

I looked up. “Thank you,” I mouthed.

“If you do change your mind about me finding you a
house …”

“Don’t push it!” I snapped, then laughed.

“Let me get you another cup of tea,” he said, giving me a
friendly pat on the shoulder. I was going to go after him and protest against a
guest having to make tea, but then I remembered the memories that the kitchen
held, and decided it was safer to stay put.

Chapter 6

September brought thunderstorms and gale force winds. No
rooftop was left unscathed, no dustbin left upright. The trees became more torn
and tattered with every hour. Rubbish blended with leaves, littering the
streets. It wasn’t the ideal time to be house hunting.

By now, my bump was getting rather sizeable. I felt like an
elephant and the extra weight was definitely taking its toll on my energy
levels. Nevertheless, elephantine proportions or not, I was determined to find
a place to live.

Nicky and Dave had been absolutely lovely about the baby and
assured me that I could stay as long as I liked. However, knowing how much they
longed for a child of their own, raising my son under their noses would be too
cruel.

My dislike of letting agents grew with every day. ‘A
charming starter home in the suburbs’ would turn out to be a squat on the
moors. ‘A spacious, central apartment’ would be a studio flat on the outskirts.

However, today was different. Today I’d found somewhere that
sounded perfect even after I’d translated agent speak. It was a small terraced
house on a road only half a mile from where I lived now. It boasted central
heating, double-glazing and a newly fitted kitchen – specific things that
couldn’t possibly be subjective. What’s more, the website said ‘Perfect for a
small child’.

I decided to walk, forgetting about my hippo tummy and in
denial about the rain. It was only half a mile, right?

By the time that I arrived at Farmview Drive, I resembled a
load dragged out of a washing machine, through a hedge and then flung into a
swamp. My clothes were drenched, my hair hung in sodden rats’ tails and the
housing details that I printed off the web were now in tatters. Fortunately,
the house looked lovely.

“Good afternoon!” said a particularly chipper young man, who
appeared to be bone dry. “Is it just for yourself?” he asked.

I looked down at my bulging tummy.

“And the little one,” he added. “What I meant was: you
are
single, right?”

I nodded, taken aback by his manner.

“Right, now, it’s round the back.”

“Oh, can’t we use the front door?”

“Well that’s 14 Farmview Drive. You’ve booked to look at 14
b
.”

What? How could a two-up-two-down be divided? These were
small enough houses to begin with. I followed him around to the back of the
house, more concerned about finding shelter now than seeing the property. How
could half of a starter home house a mother and child?

I noticed a grating next to one of the exterior walls and
looked down to see a window buried in dirt. Wait! This house had a basement? He
guided me towards some slimy, wonky steps and turned a key in a mouldy lock.

The door opened into a room that was actually surprisingly
spacious. It was dark, and smelt of damp, but it was a good three metres
square. Perhaps with some daylight bulbs …

“Can I see the other rooms?” I asked, opening a door. “Oops,
no, that’s a cupboard.”