Beth glanced at the newsagents.
‘And that’s the Happy to Help Hub,’ she added, thumbing a few doors down. ‘The volunteers help with all sorts. Have a nosey at the noticeboard. Might show some local groups you could join.’
‘Groups?’
Luna gestured at the grey pram. ‘Parent and baby groups.’
That was the last thing Beth wanted to be part of. All those mums with their heads screwed on right, then her . . . a mess. What if they noticed? Told social services she was falling apart? Best to avoid any interactions for now.
‘Thanks. Good to know,’ was the only response she was willing to give.
Luna’s head bobbed slightly, then she stood and walked away.
Beth narrowed her eyes, focusing on the old woman’s white bun. ‘Goodbye to you too,’ she mumbled.
A grizzle came from Archie. He’d want a bottle soon. Part of Beth didn’t want to go home though. Harbour Light Café looked like a good place to settle her son for a feed, but she didn’t wantto be around people. That was so unlike her. Nothing was the same anymore.
Beth rocked the pram, sending her baby back to sleep for a bit longer.
I can’t sit here all day.
As usual, there wasn’t much else she felt strong enough for, so she made a start on the long walk home, pausing briefly at the Hub. There was a small woman inside, dressed as though she were a land girl from the Second World War.
Beth lowered her eyebrows and walked away. There wasn’t any point dawdling, getting ideas about baby clubs.
A man’s loud voice calling out to someone made her turn her head. It was just someone loading a van belonging to the flower shop. He was obviously talking to whoever was inside.
She mentally shook her head at herself for jumping so easily at noises. She was becoming super-sensitive lately. Just as she went to carry on her way, something sprang to mind, making her take another look at the man with the van.
No. It can’t be.
Pretending to faff about with the bag hanging on the pram, she stole another look at the medium-built man with the ginger hair. He had an armful of red roses close to his chin, but his face was revealed enough for her to see quite clearly.
It’s him.
Just for a moment, she froze. There was no way she was standing on the same street as the man she had slept with a year ago. He’d been at the bar. All smiles and something resembling heartache. It was no big deal. Two adults keeping each other company just for one night. So what if she wanted more than the brandy to warm her. Why couldn’t she do something wild and out of character for a change?
Beth’s brain was slowly starting to wake from the trance she was in with the florist.
No, no, no, no, no.
She hurried away, picking up speed until she turned a corner. At last, she could take a breath, not that it went anywhere. Her chest was doing its boa constrictor thing again, refusing to allow air to fill her lungs. She tapped below her neck. How could it just stop there? Was there a wall or something that she didn’t know about? What the hell was her breath doing?
Archie was still happily in the land of nod, and Beth so wished she was too. With everything going wrong with her mind lately, perhaps she’d imagined her one-night stand holding red roses in the street. After all, it was plausible.
Should she go back and check? It seemed the logical thing to do, but somewhere back during her pregnancy logic had left her, and she still hadn’t tracked it down.
Beth shook her head, checked Archie once more, then headed home, not knowing what to do.
He’s Archie’s dad. I have to tell him.
But she couldn’t. She didn’t know how. Would he believe her anyway? It had been a year since the conference. Who was he? Another teacher or health care worker, or was he the man who had delivered the flower arrangements for the foyer, then stuck around for some free food?
There was she thinking herself wild and carefree. No names, no numbers. The last night in the hotel. Home first thing. She’d stopped grinning to herself about her escapade the moment the pregnancy stick saidpositive. If only she’d had the guts to ring around some of her colleagues to ask if they knew of a ginger man at the conference. As far as she could remember, there were a few men there sporting the copper colour.
The walk home seemed to take longer than usual, but that was because she had slowed, deep in thought. She had found him. Archie’s dad, and he wasn’t some child psychologist, as imagined. He sold flowers. In Port Berry.
Just as she questioned what she had witnessed down by the harbour, a small white van came into eyeshot.Berry Blooms, it said along the side, and, just as quickly as the vehicle appeared, it was gone.
