I used to work at a health resort in the Cotswolds, the sort of place you could only get to by catching the local train. The commute was exhausting, but the pay was decent and the schedule let me combine it with my sons nursery. In the summer it wasnt so bad, but in winter the walk to the station was downright scary it was dark, there were hardly any people around, and the old brick carports were still there. Instead of parking by the carports, they shoved my car right up to the platform. A large black Land Rover pulled up, the window rolled down, and a bearded man in a thick coat asked:
Fancy a ride, love?
Ive never been a beauty, and in any other circumstance such a line might have made me smile. My old boots were already numb from the cold, my nose was running, and I still had seven minutes to catch my train. All I wanted was to be back in a warm, cosy house. I imagined the halfhour heating up the train, sprinting to the nursery, then popping into the corner shop before finally getting home to stoke the fire and whip up dinner. I had enough on my plate; I wasnt in the mood for chatter. So I said:
Make up your mind, youre not seeing a vision here!
and trudged along the frostbitten footpath. The Rover sped past, then halted. A different blokecleanshaven, tall and solidclimbed out, grabbed me, and shoved me into the back seat.
The bearded one, still smiling, called out:
Youve caught my eye. Come have dinner with me.
Thats when I realised the driver was welloff his booze and wasnt used to hearing no. I started to sob.
Please, let me go! My little girls waiting! Im thirtytwo, not exactly a looker, and I cant hold a conversation. You dont even see the coat Im wearing a neighbour gave me the jacket out of kindness. Under it Ive only got an old sweater and trousers. What dinner could you possibly expect?
The big fellow whod pushed me inside leaned over and whispered something to the bearded man. The latter shook his head and said:
Alright, dont cry. Im taking you back from the resort. You think I havent seen that sweater? You look just like my mother used to, and she always dreamed of being invited to a restaurant. Come on, dont moan. Want me to buy you a dress?
I just want to get home, I hiccuped. I need to fetch my daughter.
How old is she?
Four.
And wheres her father?
He left.
Same here. Another woman, eh?
No. His mother keeps saying the child isnt real. We did IVF. He seemed okay at first, then she claimed such babies have no souls. Hes a good lad but very impressionable. Ive taken to defending my exhusband.
The unreal one, then? the bearded one mused. Fine, lets go see. Tell me where the nursery is, or whatever you call it. Tom, drive.
I sank into the seat, my mind racing for a way out. It was obvious the bearded man wasnt going to let me go so easily. The only hope I saw was in the hulking driver, who seemed to regard me with a hint of pity.
When the whole bunch the caretaker, the parents shoving kids into bright onesies fell silent and stared at me, I realised theyd never seen me before. My daughter, Mabel, wasnt frightened by strangers at all; she was bold as brass and immediately asked if the bearded man was Santa Claus and whether anyone had seen her dad. She kept asking about her father, and Id grown used to it, never feeling embarrassed. When we got back to the car, Mabel, fascinated by the steering wheel, declared she could drive too.
The bearded man chuckled:
A cheeky little thing. You say shes unreal. Want some icecream?
I do! Mabel squealed.
We headed to a little icecream parlour, then on to a supermarket where the bearded fellow piled a basket full of useless fare: salted fish, exotic fruits, mouldy cheeses. I would have preferred chicken and pasta, but a gift is a gift, I thought.
They dropped me off at my cottage, and the bearded man, now a touch sober, asked for a cuppa. While I tended the fire, he stared at me and said:
I always thought my childhood was hard Do you really have an outdoor toilet?
Indeed, I replied with a grin.
By then I wasnt scared of him any more; he was merely a foolish sort. His sidekick, however, turned out to be a decent bloke he slipped in some milk, bread, proper cheese, and childrens curd into the basket. He must have kids of his own.
Once the unwanted visitors were gone, a wave of tears hit me. I broke down, worrying Mabel, but couldnt stop the flow. It was the first time Id truly wept since the day my husband packed his bags and went back to his mother, leaving me heavily pregnant in the newly bought cottage. Hed said that even if the child was unreal, the house would stay ours.
The next morning, the same Land Rover waited outside the resort. The bearded man was gone, only his driver, Tom, remained.
Hop in, he said. Ill take you into town.
Why? I asked. Do I look like your mother?
Dont be daft, Tom snapped. Im heading that way anyway, thought Id give you a lift.
Fine, I sighed. Wheres your boss?
Hes off drinking. Dont be angry; hes alright. His mums birthday was yesterday if she were still alive, you know. He doesnt drink.
I nodded. What did it matter? I got in.
We rode in silence at first; Tom wasnt much for conversation. Eventually he asked:
So the child really came from a testtube?
Yep.
Crazy what people think up, huh?
Do you have any kids yourself?
Nope. Ive got three younger siblings; theyve driven me mad. One is enough.
Right, I agreed.
Mabel, amused by the car, asked if wed go back to the icecream shop.
No, I said, she cant afford it.
Come on, Ill treat, Tom offered.
Its not my purse, I replied.
Ill foot the bill, he waved his hand.
On the way back Mabel fell asleep. While I fretted about getting her out of the seat, Tom scooped her up and carried her home.
What a light little thing, he muttered, and not worth much.
I didnt see Tom for a few days, then ran into his Land Rover again, this time with a bearded driver.
Edward Langley, he introduced himself. Sorry about last time, I wasnt myself. Id really like to invite you to dinner at a restaurant, whenever works for you.
At first I wanted to refuse, then thought, why not? I could even find a dress. The only problem was where to put Mabel.
Can I watch her? Tom offered.
Leaving my daughter with a stranger felt odd, but Toms demeanor was reassuring. I suggested she stay in the playroom; that way he wouldnt be alone with her.
The dinner was entertaining. Edward was chatty and a bit vain, but he had charm. I hadnt felt like a woman in ages. When he suggested we go to an art exhibition the following week, I said yes.
Mabel loved both the playroom and Tom. When he brought over a bag of groceries, Edwards name was on it.
The deliveries kept coming every few days, and I wasnt sure whether to thank Edward or politely decline. I earned enough to buy bread and butter, as they say, but I didnt know the right words. Edward seemed to be courting me, ferrying me to restaurants and cultural events when his schedule allowed. Tom, by default, became the de facto babysitter, and everyone seemed content.
One day Tom blurted out:
Edward seems to be falling for you. Hes even talking about marriage. The child scares him, though its not his.
That struck a chord. Falling in love? He hadnt even taken my hand. And a child that wasnt his
Im not keen on marriage, I said.
Why not? Tom perked up. Hes rich, youd be as safe as houses.
I dont need money
What do you need then?
I shrugged, thinking of my exhusband surely I didnt need a nannytype husband.
I dont know, I admitted honestly.
Tom suddenly stepped forward, pulled me close, and kissed me. I flinched, pulling away, and he turned red with embarrassment.
Sorry, I dont know what Im doing Sorry he muttered and fled. I wasnt sure whether Id liked it or not; it was sudden and confusing. How would I deal with him after that?
The next day Mabel fell ill with a high fever. I had to take a sick day, something the resort frowned upon. Edward was disappointed; wed been planning to go to the theatre.
Maybe Tom can stay with her? Edward suggested.
What if she catches something? I hesitated.
Come on, shell be fine. You wanted to see the play, after all!
Its hard to say why I agreed. I didnt want the pricey tickets to go to waste, and Mabel was feeling a bit better by evening. Tom arrived, looking uneasy. Id bought a new dress for the night, which made me blush. In the theatre I couldnt find a seat for myself; all I could think about was Mabel. When Edward brought up a skiresort holiday, I stopped him:
Listen, you bring me food and theatre tickets, thats generous. But I wont go on a holiday at your expense.
What food? Edward asked.
The stuff Tom brings.
I get it. Toms a good soul. But about the resort my mother loved skiing. Maybe someone else could invite her.
A thought struck me. I took Edwards hand and said:
Your mother would be proud of you, Im sure. But you dont have to prove yourself like this. Find someone you truly love. As for me, Ill always be myself, just as your mother would want. And I think I love someone else now
Edward looked hurt, even shed a tear, complaining he didnt understand women. He still drove me home, and on the way back said hed go his own way, letting Tom do as he pleased.
Mabel slept cuddled with a teddy bear Tom had given her. Tom dozed in his seat. I tiptoed over, bent down, and gave him a light kiss on the lips. He woke, bewildered, and Mabel said:
You left too quickly yesterday. I didnt expect it. It scared me, you know?
She kissed him again, and this time nobody was frightened.
