He wandered through the quiet streets of London at night, swaying unsteadily after more than a few too many pints at the local. Where was he now? He wasnt botheredhe knew the city like the back of his hand, and his feet would take him home soon enough. Anyway, his mind was elsewhere, busy with more pressing matters: he was pondering life, musing aloud.
Why, why is life like this for me? he muttered to the shadows. Twenty-seven, and my mates kids are already off to primary school. Meanwhile, every lass leaves me within a monthif Im lucky. Am I harsh? Nowell, maybe I am. But isn’t a man meant to be a bit rough around the edges? A crooked grin crossed Oliver’s face. The only thing I’ve managed to get right is my business. Im hardly rolling in millions, but its enough for a good life.
He suddenly stopped, clutched his head, and let the tears flow.
So much money wasted on that doctor, and what for? Sorry, mate, nothing more I can do. Heres the address of a top bloke in London, though honestly, I doubt hell help either. Well, Ill tell you what, Ill go see him tomorrow, just you wait.
He found himself at the bridge over the Thames. He gazed down at the dark water, the city lights reflecting off its surface.
Should I end it? This rivers deepone jump and thats that, he thought, peering again at the water. Nah, Im not doing that. Its cold, and anyway, Socrates still needs to be fed. He turned and headed for home.
As he crossed the bridge, he spotted someone halfway acrossa young woman with a rucksack strapped to her chest, a tiny baby curled up inside it. She was staring down at the water. And suddenly, she climbed onto the railing, arms wide
Oliver dashed over, grabbed her round the waist and pulled her back. They tumbled onto the dusty pavement, the baby starting to wail in fright.
Are you mad?! Oliver shouted, sobering up instantly.
What do you want?! she fired back, bursting into tears. Why cant you just leave me alone?
I just thought it was a bit early for you to go, he nodded at the baby. And for him too, especially. Right, come on, off you go hometo your husband or your mum. Whove you got?
Ive got no one. No home, no husband, no mum. No one.
Oh, brilliant, now youre my problem, he grumbled, lifting her to her feet. Lets go.
Im not going anywhere with you. For all I know, youre a nutter!
Jumping in the river is it, then? Anytime you want! But walking with a possible lunatic is what scares you? He grabbed her arm gently. Come on!
***
They walked through the sleeping city, the babys crying echoing off the old brickwork. At last, Oliver couldnt take it any more.
Whys he still crying?
Hes hungry, the woman replied, clutching her baby closer.
So, give him some milk.
I havent got any, she whispered, or any money for that matter.
Or any sense, apparently. Oliver sighed and glanced around. Look, theres an all-night shop. Lets get some milk.
***
The cashier and security guard eyed the late-night shoppers with suspicion. But Oliver picked up a basket and nodded for the woman to follow.
Lets go, he said, turning to the cashier. Wheres the milk?
Up the back, she said.
They made their way to the fridge.
Take what you need, he told her.
She picked up a small carton.
Take more. However much you need, he ordered, waiting as she filled the basket. Anything else?
Nappies, she said.
Whats that?
She nodded towards a shelf. A faint smile flickered across her face.
Get some then.
And maybe some wet wipes?
Go ahead.
At the till, the cashier said, We only take cash.
Oliver pulled out a bundle of fifty-pound notes. He handed one over.
No change, Im afraid, the cashier said.
Then just throw in some chocolate, Oliver pointed gruffly. That one.
***
They arrived at his flat. The woman looked around, wide-eyed. Oliver kicked off his shoes, dived for the fridge, chucked a bit of smoked mackerel to his cat Socrates, then grabbed some juice and took a long drink. He turned to his guest.
Youll sleep in that room, he said, pointing. Weve got the kitchen, loo, bath. Im off to bed.
He headed towards his own room, then paused.
Whats your name?
Emily, she replied quietly.
Im Oliver.”
***
Doesnt seem the nutter type, Emily thought as she tiptoed into the kitchen and put the kettle on. What a fool I wasalmost ended it all. If it werent for that madman… And poor Jack, wed have frozen out there tonight. Hell throw us out tomorrow, no doubt. Best enjoy the warmth while I can.
When the kettle boiled, she hurried to the spare room, lay her crying baby on the bed, and fished a bottle out of her rucksack. She rinsed it, filled it with milk and hot water from the kettle, and fed little Jack, who drank greedily and soon dozed off. She wiped him down with a wet wipe, changed his nappy, and settled him in to sleep.
She snuck to the loo, freshened up, then raided the fridge, grabbing a chunk of sausage, bread, and cheese. When hunger subsided, she realised shed been terribly impolite. Still, she shrugged and curled up next to Jack, falling asleep at once.
***
Morning came. Twice that night shed been up to feed Jackat eight months, he was always hungry. She heard Oliver moving around too, and now he was up again.
Time to go, she thought, gently rising so as not to wake her son. Nothing good ever lasts.
She found Oliver in the kitchen, busy at the stove.
Sit down! he nodded at a chair. Ill do us some eggs.
You sit! she countered, nudging him aside. She found fresh parsley, chopped it, and sprinkled it over the eggs, then scrubbed the glasses and made coffee.
Oliver spent the whole time on the phone, barking orders and arguing, barely acknowledging her. He wolfed down breakfast, drained his coffee, and stood.
Emily tensed, waiting for the inevitable.
Emily, listen carefully! Im away for a week. Top priorityfeed the cat, Socrates. Dont give him that tinned rubbishhell only eat fresh fish or meat. Dont go near my study! Do as you like elsewhere.
A babys cry rang out from the spare room. Emily leapt up, looking at Oliver uncertainly.
Go on, he nodded.
She returned a few minutes later, Jack in her arms. On the table, Oliver had left several fifty-pound notes.
That should cover you for the week, he said quietly. Im off.
He was halfway out the door when Jack reached out chubby hands and babbled something like Da-da. Maybe it was Olivers imagination, but it squeezed at his heart. Hed never be a dad.
Emily may I hold him? he asked, surprising himself.
Of course! she smiled, handing Jack over. Have you never carried a child?
No.
Like this! she showed him, laughing.
Jack giggled and waved his arms, sparkling with joy. Oliver gazed at him, entranced.
Ill never have a son, he thought bitterly, handing the child back and leaving the flat.
***
He trudged back home later, spirits low. The London specialist had told him hed never have children. What was all this formoney, a four-bedroom flat, a big car? A man should earn for his family. But his flat was always in a state, even his seven-seater sat empty.
He opened his doorand blinked. The place was spotless. Emily smiled, somewhat apologetically.
Da-da! Jacks tiny hands waved in front of him.
The bag he carried fell to the floor and, without thinking, Olivers arms reached out for the baby.
Sometimes, family finds you when you least expect itand when you open your heart, you may find youve had enough all along.
