21
Chloe made her way hurriedly to Bar 38, thanking god that she was meeting her cousin for lunch. In her opinion Mikaela was capable of lightening the foulest mood, though not many of her relatives would have said the same. It was well known that, in the family, Mikaela could be found under any of the more downbeat euphemisms – she was everything from the problem middle child to the black sheep of the family to the skeleton in the closet – although they all had great trouble actually keeping her in the proverbial closet as Mikaela tended to spring out over and over again like a demented jack-in-the-box.
At the doorway to the pub, her mobile rang. It was her mother, who barked, ‘Have you told him yet?’ and was outraged when Chloe said no. Chloe was sure this meant that Margaret had either phoned the entire gardening club already and was now waiting for her daughter to get her act together so Margaret wouldn’t look bad, or that she was suffering great pains in keeping the confidence. She was fervently wishing she hadn’t let her mother in on such a precious secret.
When she had finished the call, she walked through the door and spotted Mikaela as her cousin rose with an excited wave and gestured to two goblet-sized wines already waiting on the table. They made small talk for a while. Chloe was enjoying the ease of female company: seeing her friends seemed to have become a frustratingly rare thing since her mother had begun competing with her job for her spare time.
‘Okay, spill the beans,’ Mikaela said suddenly, startling Chloe from her reverie.
‘What? There are no beans.’
‘Of course there are. You look like you’ve got something you’re dying to tell me.’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘The way you’re acting, like, all quiet and brooding. I know you of old, Chlo. Spit it out.’
‘Well,’ she hesitated for just a second, then to her chagrin found herself blurting, ‘I’m pregnant.’
‘What?’ Mikaela looked gobsmacked. ‘Really?’
‘Yes, really.’ Chloe attempted a feeble smile. It didn’t quite work.
‘So, you’ve got a great job, you’re happily married, and you’re having a baby. Is that why you’re looking so miserable?’ Mikaela put a hand on Chloe’s arm and stroked it softly. ‘C’mon, Chloe, aren’t you pleased?’
Chloe was taken aback by the way her life had just been described to her, as though it were some textbook example of how to move steadily through adulthood. ‘Of course I am,’ she said, somewhat defensively, ‘it’s just… oh, god, it’s just I can’t believe I’m telling you before I’ve even told the father.’
Mikaela’s grip tightened on her arm and she leaned forward. ‘Why? Who’s the father?’
‘What? Mikaela! It’s Alex, of course.’
‘Oh.’ Mikaela looked a bit disappointed. ‘Okay, why haven’t you told Alex?’
‘It’s… complicated.’ Chloe began to fill Mikaela in on the scene in the restaurant the week before, Julia there looking gorgeous, and Alex’s strange behaviour since.
When she paused, Mikaela sat back looking thoughtful. ‘Hmmm. Well, it’s always the quiet ones.’
Chloe was rapidly wishing she’d never started this. Mikaela was anything but reassuring. ‘What’s always the quiet ones?’ She sighed. ‘He isn’t having an affair, Mik. It’s just made me feel a bit weird, that’s all, and I wanted it to be… happy, when I told him about the baby, not strained. Besides, Alex isn’t quiet.’
‘What? Of course he is, Chloe. He’s not silent-quiet, but you couldn’t get much more reserved and brooding – in that mysterious, sexy way he’s got. Like, like… Mr Darcy!’
Chloe was stunned. She’d never seen Alex as approaching anything Mr-Darcyish by nature. He wasn’t a chatterbox, but…
How many people thought like this? She felt giddy, and put down her wineglass. How many people had an entirely different perspective of her own husband? And – most importantly – who the hell was right?
‘What do you think I should do?’ she asked.
‘You’re asking me…!’ Mikaela began. ‘Haven’t you noticed I never get past the third date?’
‘Well, perhaps you should wait longer before putting out,’ Chloe retorted, before biting her lip, but Mikaela just laughed. Then, seeing her cousin sitting there looking crestfallen, Mikaela rubbed her finger against her chin while she thought.
Finally, she leaned in and said, ‘Don’t take it from him, hon. Demand to know what’s going on. And, for god’s sake, tell him you’re pregnant. Then he’ll have to treat you right – nothing like a bun in the oven to be able to add in some emotional blackmail.’
‘I don’t want to have to “blackmail” him to get him to do the right thing, Mik,’ Chloe snapped, then added, ‘but you’re right, we need to have it out.’ She sighed. ‘I just want things to get back to normal.’
‘I know you do, babe.’
Chloe had had enough of this discussion; it was making everything seem worse. Her mind searched for a new topic to cause a diversion, and came up trumps. ‘Have you spoken to your mum yet?’ Mikaela and her family had been on difficult terms since Mikaela had discussed some of the wilder aspects of her sex life on a late-night television show.
‘Nope.’ Mikaela knocked back the last of her wine. ‘Waiting for her now.’
‘Mik, she doesn’t even know where you are.’
‘I know, I know. But I’ll leave it a while longer, I think.’
‘Mik -’
Mikaela held up her hand. The devilish glint in her eyes was extinguished for a moment, and Chloe realised that her cousin looked tired.
‘Things can’t always go back, Chlo. However much you want them to. You have to work with where you are right now, and go forward. Wishing things could be what they once were just sends you dotty, believe you me.’
‘Do you wish you hadn’t done it?’ They both knew Chloe was referring to Mikaela’s five minutes of television fame.
‘Of course not!’ Mikaela lifted the carafe and poured herself some more wine. Then she looked up and raised her glass, and the mischievous glint was back in her eyes. ‘I just wish that it hadn’t been broadcast to the nation on a rare night that my family stayed up past ten!’
Chloe couldn’t help but smile.
Chloe made her way back to the office feeling much brighter after an hour with Mikaela. The freezing wind swirled around her, nipping her legs and biting her cheeks as she pulled her coat close. It was time to get out hats and gloves, something she put off as long as possible, knowing that it always seemed such a long time before she could put them away again. She hated the frozen winter months of slippery pavements and dirty splashes down her tights.
As she walked through the office corridors, David Marchant approached her. One half of the two senior partners in the practice, David was usually the bad cop to Neil Lewis’s good cop as far as their employees were concerned, and Chloe immediately stiffened.
‘Neil and I would like a status meeting with you, please, Chloe,’ David said to her as he neared, looking at her from under bushy grey eyebrows. ‘We’re feeling out of touch with your caseloads, particularly your progress with the Abbott case. Get Jana to set something up with Marie.’
‘No problem, David,’ Chloe replied, hoping that was it. But David followed her towards her office.
‘Do you know where Mark Jameson is, Chloe?’ There was only one Mark in the office, yet David nearly always referred to him by his full name.
‘No.’ Chloe looked startled. ‘Why?’
David grimaced and she swallowed a frustrated sigh at the ill-conceived insinuation that her relationship with Mark still went beyond office hours. Their involvement had been treated as an infidelity towards the firm. It had never been quite forgiven. Even though they had ended it long ago, and Chloe had since married, David Marchant regularly treated them both to looks of suspicion and distaste.