Page 107 of The Spark

‘I really want you to remember that.’

‘I’m going to stop kissing deadbeats in clubs,’ she said, eventually, putting her head in her hands.

I set my palm on her back, started rubbing it in slow, soothing circles. ‘Only if you like. Only if you want.’

‘I do, I think.’

‘Okay.’

She blinked up at me. ‘What would I do without you?’

‘That’s not something you ever have to worry about.’

The following weekend, I went to visit Jamie in London. He was interning again. Heather, apparently, had gone off to work at another firm. Jamie didn’t know where, or seem particularly fussed. I was relieved to hear she’d gone.

Three months had passed since I’d lost our baby. And even though my pregnancy had been so horribly short-lived, a constant hunger had taken hold inside me. It commanded my thoughts, had burrowed into my brain, skewed my view of the world.

I saw pregnant women everywhere. On the street, buses, TV programmes. My whole body throbbed with longing whenever I encountered them. And every time I saw Jamie, too, it was all I could think about. Making another baby. My belly ballooning. Picking out newborn clothes. Debating names.

I’d come so close to having the family I’d always longed for. And I simply couldn’t bring myself to let that go.

‘I want to try again,’ I whispered to Jamie in bed that Saturday night.

He rolled towards me. I felt the delicious comfort of his unclothed body, warm as turned earth.

He moistened his lips with his tongue. ‘Try what?’

‘To have another baby.’

For two weeks now, the papers had been declaring a heatwave. The whole country was brittle and brown, scorched by unrelenting sun. We had the air-con on full in the flat, but I knew that outside, the darkness smouldered.

Jamie’s eyes opened fully then. He took me in, his gaze tracking mine like he was waiting for the punchline. We were lying face to face, our noses almost touching. His breath felt hot in the false cold of the room.

It must have been the very middle of the night. The world was quiet as a church.

We’d discussed it a few times. The soul-searing sadness. Whether our baby would have been a boy, or a girl. If they might have arrived early, and been born on Christmas Day.

‘What do you think?’ I whispered, working a finger across the dips and peaks of his chest. His physique had softened over the course of that summer. Lots of barbecues and work drinks and client dinners. I didn’t mind. If anything, I liked that there was more of him. It made him seem sturdier, somehow.

He lowered his head to kiss me.

‘Should we try again?’ I asked, unable to wait for his reply.

I watched him taste-test the right words for a couple of moments. ‘I think we should hold off till we’ve graduated.’

This, of course, was logical. Which made it so much harder to argue with. But to me, a ten-month wait already seemed unbearable. My body wanted back what it had had.

‘It would just be less complicated,’ he said. ‘There’ll be fewer distractions. And my parents...’

I could see he believed his mum and dad might be more on board if we waited until next summer. But I knew different, of course.

I’d encountered Debra the previous month, when she made a flying visit to Norwich to see Jamie’s grandmother. It was the first time we’d come face to face since that night at the restaurant. She simply looked me up and down, then offered me a tight nod. I’d asked Jamie not to mention the miscarriage to his parents, so did she think I’d done as she’d asked?

I assumed she was satisfied, though it was hard to tell, since Debra was generally about as expressive as someone invigilating an exam.

Several times, I’d considered telling Jamie what Debra had done. But she’d been right about one thing: I loved him way too much to break his heart like that.

I fingered his crisp white bedlinen now, which smelt heavily of fabric conditioner. He must have washed the sheets, ready for my visit. The flat had been immaculate when I’d walked into it earlier. Every surface gleaming, the wooden floors so clean they were practically reflective. He’d even lit scented candles.

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