Page 125 of The Last Train Home
‘OK,’ Tom says slowly. He shuffles forward on the bed, sits opposite me. ‘It’s probably for the best. It gives us time to get to know each other properly again,’ he continues, brushing my probably wild-looking bed-hair back from my face. ‘Are we actually going to do this?’ he asks. He looks shocked, amazed, joyful.
‘Yes, please,’ I say, because I never say the right thing at the right time. And then, more appropriately, ‘Howdo we do this?’ I ask, scanning his face.
He looks awed, baffled, confused, happy. He looks all the things I feel.
‘Like this.’ He leans forward, strokes my face, my jaw, and I close my eyes as he touches my lower lip with his finger, before kissing me the way I remembered him kissing me, five years ago – and now today. I hold his face in my hands as I kiss him back. I don’t want to be without this man ever again.
He looks at me far too longingly for a man who can’t sleep with me for another few weeks.
I look back into the eyes of the man I love. I feel as if we’re magnetised. Only, for so long the magnets were dysfunctional, pushing apart, repelling us, instead of drawing together, the way we were supposed to be.
‘I think we should start again,’ he says. ‘From the very beginning.’
‘So do I.’
And then I smile as he repeats words he said to me years ago, in a pub that we used to drink in, back in another life we used to live.
‘Hi,’ he says, holding his hand out for me to shake. ‘I’m Tom.’
I laugh, hold my hand out to shake his.
He’s looking into my eyes so intensely that I think he must be looking into my soul, my very being, the way I’m looking into his. And I love him all the more for it. Because it’s Tom.
‘Hi, Tom,’ I say and I can’t help laughing again as I shake his hand. ‘I’m Abbie.’
And maybe it wasn’t our time before. But it is now.
Epilogue
Tom
Two years later, August 2012
It’s late afternoon and Abbie’s been reading one of our books at Teddy’s school summer-holiday club – or, rather, she’s reading one of her books, as Teddy’s teacher invited her to. It turns out Abbie’s calling wasn’t in journalism at all, and when our idea for the new children’s TV series took off, she started writing books to accompany the show. I told her it might be easy: fifty words on a page rather than 500 for the articles she used to write. Apparently it’s not. It’s hard. But she loves it, especially on a day like today, when Teddy and Oliver are obviously proud to show off their connection to the cartoon. None of us expected it to take off quite the way it did.
Last week we secured a deal with a TV channel in Japan. I’ve lost count of how many countries are broadcasting it now. Being sort of back in the world of finance, co-owning an animation studio, isn’t quite where I predicted my life would head, especially after I lost my last financial job the way I did. But I love this. It’s better. In every way possible.
After Abbie’s finished reading, she takes Oliver and Teddy to collect Tilly from nursery and they come to see us in the studio, before she goes out for dinner with Natasha.
Teddy takes Tilly’s little hand and they go and play in the kids’ area, where all our new merchandise sits. Working in an office where every now and again a small child comes to hang out for the day has its benefits – Andy always makes a beeline for the kids to find out what they’re into, so that he can storyboard ideas.
He’s dating Tilly’s nursery teacher, Lizzy, now, which is a bit awkward, but Abbie and I didn’t want him to be alone for ever. He met her while picking Tilly up for me one evening. When I reminded Andy of his thoughts about dating at the nursery, he happily replied, ‘Oliver doesn’t go to nursery any more, so if it all goes wrong I’m not making it hard for me any longer, I’m making it hard for you.’ Which is fair enough, I suppose.
They make a great couple actually. Lizzy has secretly told Abbie she loves Andy, and I think Andy might be in love with her too, even if he hasn’t worked that bit out yet. He will, though. He’s just slow to catch up.
Later on Sean is coming to collect Tilly to take her for a picnic in the park and a push on the swings. He’s been back and forth from Singapore a few times since she was born. Whenever I see him we’re civil, but it’s still awkward. At least he shows a genuine interest in the child he helped to create. I wanted that for Tilly. I wanted that for Abbie too.
I’ve stalked Sean briefly on Facebook. Each time he posts a photo update, he’s with a different woman. They’re all Abbie lookalikes. He’s chasing something he knows he can’t have. He let her go – and I thank my lucky stars every day that he did.
Samantha and Ronald take Teddy every other weekend and some nights after school. Ronald’s quite decent. It annoys Samantha something chronic that he and I get on so well.
The last time they came round to collect Teddy she stood looking mildly disconcerted as Ronald, Teddy and I stood over the engine of his latest supercar, muttering about horsepower and drooling over the engine. We shook hands and that was the start of a beautiful friendship. They’ve got him this weekend, which has worked out well for us, because Abbie and I have got our second baby scan tomorrow.
Abbie finishes reading through the latest episode scripts and walks over to me. ‘This is so funny,’ she says. ‘I just snorted. Andy said it’s the most awful thing he’s ever seen me do.’
‘He’s wrong,’ I say, nuzzling into her and placing my hand on her stomach, where our tiny little baby grows inside day by day, getting ready to join our slightly chaotic family. ‘The most awful thing you do is leaving one spoonful of ice cream in the tub and then putting it back in the freezer.’
‘I’ll try to eat all of it next time.’
‘You trooper,’ I say, kissing her again because I can’t help myself.
Tilly toddles over and hands me one of the toys. I say thank you and she heads off to bring me another. On the TV in the background Andy and the scriptwriting team are watching the London Olympics. They shout loudly all of a sudden and jump up and down – Andy swearing as usual, as Great Britain takes gold in yet another event.
Abbie and Teddy cheer and Tilly claps, although I’m not certain she understands what’s going on.
I look at Abbie as she walks over to the toys and glances at our latest, a soft toy train, which is something one of our little dog cartoon characters is heavily into. A fleeting memory of how we were first thrown together enters my mind; and then of the forces that pulled us apart. Now, seven years after we were first brought together, we have each other.
And a family.
And they’re our everything.
