He wandered through the night streets, swaying badly after a good bout of drinking. Where had his feet taken him this time? It hardly mattered. This was his home city, and his legs would carry him back to his house eventually. His mind, meanwhile, was absorbed in a greater taskphilosophising aloud.
Why, why is my life so cursed? Twenty-seven years oldmy friends, their children are off to primary school, yet the girls leave me after a month at best. Is it because Im brash? Well, yes and no perhaps a bit rough around the edges. But thats how a bloke ought to be, Thomas said to himself, allowing a crooked smile. The only thing Ive ever nailed in life is business. Im no millionaire, of course, but I can afford to live handsomely.
He suddenly paused, gripped his head, and tears welled in his eyes.
So much money Ive handed over to that doctor, and at the end: Theres nothing I can do for you. Heres the address of a top man in London. But frankly, I doubt hell be able to help, either. Well, Ill go, Ill go tomorrow and see this top man myself.
He approached the bridge, gazing down at the inky river.
Should I just throw myself in? The rivers deep; it would be done in a second. He looked again at the water. No, I wont do it. Too cold. Besides, Socrates hasnt been fed. With a sigh, he turned to head home.
As he started across the bridge, he saw a woman standing in the middleyoung, delicate, with a rucksack strapped to her chest, a small child inside. She stood, gazing down at the dark water. Suddenly, she clambered onto the railing, arms spread wide. Thomas dashed to her, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her to him. They both tumbled onto the dusty pavement as the baby let out a wail.
Are you mad? Thomas shouted, the fog of drink clearing instantly.
Whats it to you? Why cant you just leave me be? she sobbed.
Something told me its not your time. Especially not for him, he said, nodding at the crying child. Come on, up you get. Go hometo your husband, your mumwhoevers waiting.
Ive neither home nor husband. No mum. No one, she whispered.
Youre quite the problem Ive inherited, he muttered, hoisting her to her feet with the child. Come on.
Im not going anywhere with you. For all I know youre a lunatic!
Drownings always an option, but a lunatic frightens you? Move on, then! He tugged her by the hand. Lets go!
***
They made their way through the sleeping city, baby crying all the while, until Thomas could bear it no longer.
Whys he howling all the time?
Hes hungry, perhaps? the woman said, hugging her child.
So, feed him.
Ive no milk left. Nor any money.
And precious little sense, Thomas replied, glancing about. Theres an all-night shop ahead. Well get some milk.
***
The cashier and security guard eyed them suspiciously as they entered, but Thomas grabbed a basket, nodding at his companion.
Lets go. Scuse mewheres the milk? he asked the cashier.
Just over there, she said, pointing.
They walked to the fridge.
Get what you need, Thomas commanded.
This one, she said, taking a small carton.
Take more. However much you need. He waited as she filled the basket. What else?
Nappies.
Nappies which ones?
There, on the shelf, she managed a slight smile.
Take them.
And perhaps some baby wipes?
Yes, go on.
At the till, Thomas slapped a card down.
Sorry, cash only, the cashier announced.
He pulled a folded wad of twenty-pound notes from his pocket and handed one over.
No change, said the cashier.
Fine, just give us chocolate for the change, Thomas said, jabbing a finger at a bar.
***
They entered his flat. The woman looked around, surprised, shaking her head. The host pulled off his shoes, darted to the fridge, took out a fish and tossed it to the cat that came running, then poured himself juice and gulped it down. Approaching his guest, he pointed to a room.
Youll sleep here. Kitchen, loo, bathroomhelp yourself. Im off to bed.
He turned for his own room, paused, and glanced back.
Whats your name?
Emily.
Im Thomas.
***
Maybe hes not a madman after all! thought Emily, entering the kitchen and lighting the gas stove. What a fool I wasalmost threw my life away! If not for that odd man And what would have happened to Harry, out in the cold? Hell kick us out in the morning, no doubt. Still, at least one night in warmth.
As the kettle began to boil, she hurried to the assigned room, put her wailing child on the bed, pulled a small bottle from her bag, and dashed back to the kitchen. She washed it, poured in milk, mixed it with boiling water.
The baby drank hungrily and soon drifted off. She wiped him with a wet wipe and changed his nappy. When he was asleep, she used the bathroom, washed herself, and returned to the kitchen. Hunger gnawed at hershe opened the fridge, grabbed a chunk of smoked sausage, and crammed it into her mouth. She chased it with some bread, more sausage, and a bit of cheese.
After her hunger had eased, she realised it was hardly polite. She shrugged, lay down beside her son, and fell instantly asleep.
***
Morning. Twice in the night shed risen to feed her boyeight months old, always hungry. Shed heard the host up in the night as well, and was up again now.
Time to go, she thought quietly so as not to wake Harry. All good things come to an end.
He pottered about by the stove. She quickly washed, then entered the kitchen.
Sit down! he nodded at the chair. Ill make you some eggs.
You sit, she said, steering him aside. She chopped fresh dill, sprinkled it over the eggs, and studied the glasses before scrubbing them clean and brewing coffee.
He spent the whole time on the phone, barking orders and arguing. Emily felt invisible. He ate, drank coffee, then stood up.
Emily tensed, bracing herself: Here it comeshes going to throw us out.
Emily, listen closely. Im leaving for a week. Most importantfeed Socrates, thats the cat. Dont you dare give him that Whiskas rubbish! Only fresh fish, fresh meat. Keep out of my study! Use the rest of the flat as you please.
A wail sounded from the bedroom. Emily shot to her feet, seeking permission.
Go! he said with a nod.
She returned minutes later, child in arms. On the table lay several crisp twenty-pound notes.
That should last you the week, he said, nodding at the money. Im off.
As he stepped to the door, the little boy reached out his arms and burbled something that sounded awfully close to da-da. It was probably Thomass imagination, but it pierced him right to the core. For he would never be a father.
Emilymay I hold him, just for a moment? he asked, surprising himself.
Of course, she said, handing over the child. A smile flickered across her face. Never held a baby before?
No.
Like this.
The child gurgled, waving his arms, and Thomas stared, transfixed.
Ill never have a son, he thought bitterly, handing the boy back to his mother.
Then he left.
***
He returned home later, spirits dark after visiting the London specialist, who had confirmed: there would be no children for Thomas. What use was all his money, the four-bedroom flat, the Land Cruiser? A man ought to earn for his family, yet his flat was empty and perpetually dishevelled. And the Land Cruiser had seven seatsfor whom?
With a sour face he entered his flat, only to find it immaculate. Emily greeted him with a sheepish smile.
Da-da!little hands reached for him.
His bag tumbled to the floor, and unable to resist, his arms reached out for the child.
