Did The Earth Move? Page 4

'Nah,' he said and carried on stroking the shoulders.

  'I wouldn't joke about this kind of shit.' She turned to face him now. 'I'm going to do a test today.'

  'I'm sure it'll be fine. We've been very careful.'

  'Hmmm.'

  He slipped out of bed, naked, and she watched the slim white buttock and thigh move past her face. Even from the depths of this horrible nausea, bubbles of desire still managed to burst up and she touched him as he passed.

  He went to the tumble of clothes heaped at the end of the bed and fished out black moleskin jeans, which he pulled on without anything underneath. Then came a long-sleeved T-shirt emblazoned 100% HEADSHRUNK TO FIT IN.

  'Chop chop, today is a work day, Deepy-beebs,' he said, as if pregnancies were announced at his bedside every day of the week. 'Do you want tea? Toast? Cereal? Other proof that I know how to keep house?' He was hopping about pulling on a sock, which she suspected was unwashed and maybe just a little bit crusty.

  'I love you,' she blurted out, which was very spooky because she'd never said it before, to anyone. She really must be pregnant: this was exactly the kind of thing pregnant women did, wasn't it?

  1 love you too,' Tom replied and carried on with the other sock. Totally unconcerned, because he said 'I love you' all the time – to every girlfriend, to his mum, to his brothers, to his sister, to his step-dad, to his boss, to the sandwich lady, the Australian barmaid at his local. He loved everyone. Thought there was quite enough crap flying about the world without people worrying so much about who they really loved and how much and should they tell them. Love everyone. That was his motto. And, in his way, he meant it.

  Deepa yanked her nightie off and stood up to try and locate her clothes. Tom quickly moved in behind her, cupping her breasts up in his hands and kissing the back of her neck.

  'This looks like a Benetton ad,' she said, looking at his white hands holding her brown breasts. We'd make a beautiful baby, she thought, just as he said it aloud.

  'What!?' she asked, turning round to face him.

  'We'd make a beautiful baby, you and me,' he repeated.

  'Tom, I'm halfway through a degree I've wanted to do for my entire life. I don't want a baby right now,' she snapped, 'I can't have a baby.' And then, for the first time since she'd begun to suspect that this was what was wrong with her, she began to cry. Great, embarrassingly helpless sobs.

  'Shhh,' Tom cuddled her against him and tried to soothe her. 'It'll be fine. You won't be pregnant, I know it... And you know, if... we'll do whatever you want Deeps. It'll be fine. People go through this stuff all the time.'

  She was crying really hard now.

  'Anyway, I love babies,' he added, hoping this would help.

  She punched his back for that.

  Now what? He couldn't exactly say: 'And I love abortions too.'

  'We have choices,' he said and suddenly felt a wave of panic. Was she really pregnant? Was this really going to happen to them? Jesus. What the hell would his mother say?

  'We need tea,' he said and gently set her down on the edge of the bed.

  He opened the door on the flat's tiny kitchen and set about trying to find the kettle.

  Chapter Four

  Anna had woken as soon as the light filtered through the filmy curtains of her second bedroom, the one she had to herself and didn't have to share with her little brother.

  She checked the clunky diving watch, which she wore even in bed, and saw that it was a quarter to seven. Good. Her father and Michelle wouldn't be up for about two hours, so she would have the flat to herself. She would be able to do the secret guilty thing that she could only do here, when everyone was asleep.

  Wrapped in her blue dressing gown, she slipped out of the bedroom and into the sitting room where she quietly turned on the TV, then searched through the cabinet for the video which she knew was tucked down the back of the bottom shelf where she had left it last.

  She slotted in into the recorder and before she pressed play, she went into the kitchen to pour herself a bowl of cereal – one of the sticky sweet kinds her dad allowed her, Coco Pops, Crunchy Nut Cornflakes – and a glass of milk. Then she came back into the room and switched the tape on.

  She was planning to watch the full ninety minutes of action. Here was her mother breastfeeding while her dad videoed her, telling her how beautiful she was and how their baby, Anna, was perfect. Here, he reached out a hand and stroked them both as if he couldn't quite believe that the scene in front of him was real.

  But the bit that always made Anna cry was later on in the tape. Her mother was sitting in a deckchair in the garden. A crawling Anna was now at her feet, rummaging through a selection of baby blocks on the grass and the footage bumped along, Joseph obviously walking quickly as he filmed:

  'Hello there.' Eve was caught unawares, putting up her hand to shield her eyes from the sun.

  'Hello.' The camera swooped as Joseph bent to kiss her face.

  'What is it?' Eve asked with a laugh. 'You look incredibly secretive.'

  'OK, performance time.'

  'Oh... great.' Eve was trying to sound sincere. Then the camera was set down on the garden table and adjusted so that it focused on Eve in her deckchair.

  'I want to film your reaction,' Joseph explained.

  'I see. What, the full audience horror?'

  'Maybe.'

  Then he slung his guitar down from his shoulder, put his foot up on her chair and strummed a chord.

  "This is a home-made number.'

  'Oh, how . . . nice,' she settled on, but then couldn't resist, 'Should I cover the baby's ears?'

  'Ha, ha ... a one, two, three, four ...' Then the most Godawful tuneless strum broke out and Joseph began to sing, equally tunelessly.

  'Eeeeve ... I can't belieeeeve,

  How fab you are.

  So much better than my playing

  Of this guitah ... ah ... ar.'

  At this, Eve almost doubled over with hysteria in her deckchair, but still the singing continued.

  'I may not be able to sing . . .' Here, Joseph reached into his pocket for a small box and held it out to her.

  'But I want you to wear my ring.'

  This was always the point where Anna felt the throb well up in her throat, because her dad suddenly sounded so serious and sincere. And her mum looked astonished, taking the box and opening it up without a word. Looking up at him, quite bewildered, for further explanation.

  'Eeeeve, I can't belieeeeve...'

  'Oh God, don't sing this. What do you want to say?' Eve asked him.

  'But this is the best bit...'

  He took his hands off the guitar and added, in a low, half-sing now: 'Eve, do you want to wed? Or shall I just make you happy in ...'

  She burst into laughter again and put her hands over Anna's ears: 'Joe!'

  'Instead... I was going to say "instead". But I'll do the other stuff too.'

  He leaned over to kiss her and that was when Anna would see the smile – the secret, conspiratorial, sexy smile, which she'd never seen on her mother's face at any other time.

  'This is just perfect,' she told him, looking at the ring now, taking it out of the box to admire. 'Can we afford it?'

  'I might have to do some busking.'

  They collapsed into giggles at the idea.

  He took it from her and put it onto her fourth finger. 'When are you going to agree to marry me?' he asked.

  'I love you,' she said and they began to kiss, him adding melodramatic groaning sounds.

  'Then marry me,' he added.

  'I don't know, Joseph... I don't know if I want all that again.'

  'Me, Eve ... Not "all that", just me. Don't you want me?'

  'Are you going to turn that thing off?' she asked, looking directly at the video now, as if she'd just remembered it.

  Clunk, darkness. That was where the clip ended.

  That was when Anna would sob hard into the toilet paper she'd stuffed into her dressing-gown pockets, knowing that this mome
nt would come. How could two people love each other so much, be so happy together and yet let it turn out like this? How could her dad be in Manchester with stupid, awful Michelle, while her mother was left alone?

  Why had her parents let this happen?

  She'd asked them both hundreds of times and she thought their answers were just rubbish.

  'Well Anna, your daddy loves you very much, but we don't love each other any more.'

  'Why not? Why do you stop loving someone?' Did that mean one day they would stop loving her?

  'We don't get on any more... it's complicated, Anna.'

  'Well you made Robbie together, didn't you?' Anna would storm. 'How did that happen, then?' How indeed, Eve would wonder.

  'Anna, I'm sorry. I'm very, very sorry that your daddy and I aren't together any more. I'm so sorry for you, baby.' Her mother would hold her.

  'But what about Robbie?' Anna would sob. 'He hasn't really got a daddy. How's he going to turn out?'

  'Probably like Denny and Tom – really nice,' Eve would soothe, stroking her hair. 'And anyway, when Robbie's older he can go up on visits with you. He's just a bit small to spend the weekends away from home, right now. He does have a daddy, just like you do.'

  But sometimes Anna still felt inconsolable about it. It wasn't something that got better. She missed her dad. She wanted him back living with them all the time. She didn't want to get used to living without him, seeing him every second weekend. Deep down, although she loved her parents very much, she thought they were both selfish to have done this to her and Robbie. Selfish, selfish, selfish. That's why she was determined to be a head doctor. She wanted to make everyone feel better. She wanted to stop these things happening. And she'd decided she was going to have one really good try at getting her parents back together again.

  She heard a door opening and quickly hit the stop button on the video remote.

  Michelle was standing in the doorway, all freshly showered, in a long white robe with her hair up in a towel. She smelled way too flowery for Anna's liking.

  'Hi,' Michelle said.

  'Hello.' Anna wasn't exactly filled with enthusiasm at the prospect of a conversation with Michelle.

  'Are you watching TV?'

  'I was. But I'm fed up with it now.'

  'So, what would you like to do today, Anna?' Bright smile.

  'Don't know. What are you doing?' Scowl.

  'I was going to go into town. Maybe you and Joseph would like to come along?' Michelle was trying really hard here. 'Maybe you'd like something new? A dress or new shoes or something?'

  'Ummm ... No thanks. Why don't you go off shopping so Daddy and I can do something a bit more interesting instead.' With that Anna picked up the remote control, flicked the television on again and pretended to be incredibly interested in the Japanese action fighters cartoon bursting over the screen in front of her.

  Michelle left the room without another word for one of her fierce whispers with Joseph.

  'It doesn't matter what I do, she just doesn't like me,' Michelle complained. 'She doesn't want to like me.'

  'Calm down,' he tried to reassure her. 'It's a big thing, your dad being with someone else. Just give her a chance.'

  'But she's so snooty with me. You really should tell her not to be so rude.'

  'Michelle, calm down.' Joseph put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her lightly on the lips, 'She's nine, you're . . .' Unfortunately, he couldn't remember.

  'Twenty-seven,' she hissed at him.

  'Sorry.' He gave what he hoped was a reassuring pat on the shoulder again and went to see his daughter.

  'Morning honeybun,' he said as he came into the room.

  'Morning.' He was treated to a rare full-beam Anna smile.

  He sat down on the sofa beside her, cuddling her up against him. Then, noticing the video recorder lights on, he took the remote from her hand and pressed play. Footage of Eve laughing, holding a squirming almost-toddler Anna filled the screen.

  'I'm just reminiscing.' Anna tried to sound casual.

  Joseph laughed at his funny little nine-year-old, watching her toddler shots and coming out with a word like that.

  'You were a lovely baby,' he said. 'You're a lovely girl.'

  'Daddy?'

  'Yes.'

  'Why can't you and Mummy be nicer to each other?'

  'Why can't you be nicer to Michelle?' he countered, but it was true, he and Eve were going through an embarrassingly snide phase at the moment.

  Anna decided to ignore the Michelle remark and carry on: 'It's just so . . . childish,' she told him off. 'You're so nice to me and Mummy's so nice to me. Why do you have to be so stupid when you're together? It makes me feel really sad.'

  'Sorry,' Joseph said and cuddled her in a little closer. I'll be much nicer to your mummy.'

  'Promise?'

  'Promise.'

  Oh good, there was the very first step in her reconciliation programme already achieved and how easy had that been! Now, for step two.

  'Anyway, I don't really like Michelle,' she confided, 'I think she's boring.'

  There was just a trace of irritation in his voice as he replied: 'Well, just try a bit harder for me, honey, because I really like her.'

  'Hmmm.' She was going to have to work fast, before her dad decided he loved Michelle or something awful like that.

  'How did you and Mum meet?' Anna asked, because apparently focusing on happier times was a very important part of relationship counselling. She now had a book on it: Make Your Marriage a Happier Place, which she'd bought at a secondhand bookstall at the market for 50p.

  'Bit young for that, ain't you?' the dealer had asked.

  'It's for a friend,' she'd said coolly, handing over her 50p and hiding the book in her bag so her mother, over at the vegetable stall with Robbie, wouldn't see it. Plus, she'd discussed the subject at length, although not to her great satisfaction, with her mother's friend, confidante and hairdresser, Harry.

  'How do you think I can get my parents back together again?' she'd asked him as he'd combed through her long wet locks.

  'Pah!' he'd laughed, shrugged his shoulders and said 'Amore!? You ask-a me about amore?' Because although he'd been born and brought up about two centimetres from the Mile End Road, he liked to ramp up 'the Italian in him', believed to be a long since deceased grandparent.

  'I think she still loves him,' Anna had observed, watching the neat comb and snip, comb and snip going on at the very bottom of her hair.

  'For her, the door is still open. She hasn't found anyone else, maybe she doesn't want to find anyone else.' Big shrug. 'But for heeeeem? I don't-a know.'

  'He has a girlfriend,' Anna told Harry, 'but she's awful. Young and dumb,' she added, sounding so like one of his Wednesday afternoon OAPs that it was hard not to laugh.

  'But what can I do? You know, to get them back together?' Anna had asked again.