Page 40 of Postscript

‘No. I have a baby mat in my bag but she’s OK for the time being.’

Gabriel noticed during our first dates that I kept my jacket on when I was nervous. He said he knew he could stop worrying about me leaving as soon as my jacket came off. I never noticed that, I always thought I was just cold, that my body needed a moment to adjust to the restaurant’s temperature, but he was right, it was my need to adjust to the entire situation. We had to work towards that first reveal, which I suppose is how relationships go; at some point you both feel safe enough to remove a layer, reveal a little more. For Ginika, I can see that Jewel is her jacket, her security blanket. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her without her in her arms and never with a buggy.

She expertly removes her baby bag from across her body while holding Jewel and walks slowly towards the dining table, eyeing it distrustfully as if it’s a ticking time bomb. I can tell she’s nervous, trying to put the moment off.

‘Are you left-handed or right-handed?’ I haven’t been able to judge, Ginika has been so adept at managing everything with both hands as she switches a busy Jewel from one hip to the other.

‘Right. Maybe I should try my left. Maybe that was the problem.’ She laughs, nervously.

I examine her for differences since I last saw her. I expected her to have lost weight but she is bloated, probably from the drugs.

‘First off, the best advice I can give you is that I could help you find a tutor.’ I’d looked into it. I’m far from having extras in my wallet but I could subsidise a lesson a week if I cut back on unnecessary online shopping spends. ‘They’d know exactly what they’re doing and could speed the process up.’

‘No. I prefer you. I’ll work really hard. I promise.’

‘I don’t doubt you at all, it’s me I’m worried about.’

‘Holly,’ she says, wide-eyed, ‘I only want to write a fucking letter. We can do this.’ She claps her hands encouragingly.

I smile, buoyed by her enthusiasm.

Jewel imitates by clapping her hands.

‘Good girl!’ Ginika laughs. ‘Clap handies!’

‘Do you want to put her down?’

I can tell the answer is no by the look on her face.

‘I bought her a little light reading too, to keep her occupied.’ I hand her My First Book, a soft padded-page book for babies. Jewel takes it in her chubby hands, her eyes wide and immediately stimulated by the apple on the front.

‘A-a-apple,’ I say to Jewel.

‘A-a-a,’ she repeats.

Ginika’s eyes widen. ‘See? You can do it. I’ve always wanted to read her a book. I can only look at the pictures and make the stories up.’

‘I think you’ll find that’s what most kids want. They like improvisation.’

‘Did you want to have children?’

I pause. ‘Yes. We did.’

‘Why didn’t you?’

‘We were going to start trying just before they found the tumour.’

‘Fuck.’

‘What about you?’

‘Did I want children?’ she says, amused.

‘I mean, was she planned or …?’

‘Did I plan to get pregnant at fifteen and have a baby at sixteen? No, Holly, I didn’t. It was a one-night stupid mistake. When my ma and da found out, they wanted nothing to do with me. I brought shame on our family.’ She rolls her eyes.

‘I’m sorry.’