Yeah, sure.
A thumbs-up appears above my words.
Chapter 24
We Make a Good Team
Matt is wearing a darkAran wool sweater and cobalt-blue shorts when I arrive ten minutes later than we discussed, due to the weather turning and me spending a good five minutes searching for an umbrella and hoping Blue would return before the downpour escalated. If he returns before I do, he’ll shelter under the patio furniture until I get back, like he used to at the old house.
I select a wine at the bar and join Matt.
He stands as I approach, and I’m taken aback to see the pram is parked up behind him, silence coming from within it. He gives me a smile that seems to travel straight into me, making my chest tight and warm.
“Sorry,” he says. “Turns out you can’t leave them at home alone until they’re over thirteen.”
I blush. “No,I’msorryI’mlate,” I counter.
“Thought you were going to ghost-ship me,” he says, pulling out a chair for me by stretching right over the table, in an unnecessarily complex but considerate maneuver. I note he is not wearing a ring, just like in the Instagram photo. I shrug off my hastily grabbed jacket and sit.
“Ghost-ship?” I ask.
“When the person who arranged the event doesn’t turn up themselves,” he explains as if this were a term everyone used. It could be; it’s been a while.
“God, I think I actually do that a lot,” I admit. “I always have great ambitions, then I get tired around seven.”
“Yep, we’re that age.” He gives a weary laugh, and I am reminded of how tired he must actually be, with an infant. But where does it live?
“How’s it going with…?” I start and stutter to a halt.
“Isla?” he asks, pointing back at the pram. “Good. Well,I say good. She’s only been asleep for twenty minutes, so let’s see….”
“And your wife?” I ask, as nonchalantly as is humanly possible.
Matt looks confused by the question. “My…what?”
“Your…partner?”
“I don’t have a partner.” He looks confused.
“Sorry—I meant Isla’s mother,” I correct carefully, though at this point maybe he is being a little obtuse.
He looks completely horrified. “Oh my God. You think I’m her—? Isla isn’tmybaby. I’m not a…dad. Wow, it hadn’t occurred to me that people would actually think I was the parent.”
Isla stirs in her bassinet and groans. Matt winces and whips a finger up to his mouth, adjusting his volume accordingly.
“Sorry, no, I’m not anyone’s dad. Isla is mysister’sbaby. I don’t even have a girlfriend—that sounds weird. I mean I’m between girlfriends right now. Bad breakup. I am definitely not in a ‘relationship space,’ let alone a ‘dad space,’ right now.” He shakes his head, seemingly baffled at how his life could have ended up this way.
My relief is tectonic. He is actively helping a new mother.
“Oh. I see,” I manage, as normally as I can.
“Yeah. My sister, Grace, is not having a great time,” he says, almost to himself. “Her husband’s already gone back to work; she’s drowning in new parenthood. Her whole life has changed, you know, like that.” He snaps his fingers. “Before and after.”
“Postnatal depression?” I offer.
He considers a moment before answering. “I would have said that before, but having witnessed her actual life now, I’d say she’s reacting pretty appropriately to the raw facts of her situation, to be honest. I mean, anyone would feel shit, given what she’s doing 24/7. It looks awful. I mean, Isla’s great, of course, what a cutie, but Grace used to have a life and now it’s nothing but…childcare. Plus, Grace was a hundred percent certain, we all were, that her partner was going to be in it fifty-fifty. But he does nothing. He’s carrying on as before, no strike that, he’s pulled right back and does less. She does everything.I go round and she’salwaysdoing laundry, in spite of heralwayswearing the same thing. I’ve never seen her do this much laundry in our entire lives, and it’s not just baby clothes she’s washing. She’s falling apart. She’s like a rundown servant, without pay, or shift changes.” Matt pulls up short. “Sorry, I have no idea why I’m telling you all this. Sorry.”
“You say ‘sorry’ a lot,” I state.
