You were dazzled by my beauty, you mean? she asked.
Something like that, he said.
*
They’d met by chance, outside a café where Charlotte was having breakfast with a mutual friend. She was a little hungover, and not completely listening when her friend saw him across the road and called him over. His handshake was damp, and his face started to flush as her friend introduced them. It was a hot morning, and he must have been in a rush. There were no chairs free, so her friend insisted Joe take hers. She had to get on anyway, she said, and left the two of them on their own. There was an awkward silence for a moment, and then Joe asked what she recommended for breakfast. It depended how hungry he was, Charlotte said. Oh, I’m always hungry, he’d told her.
*
That was a bit much, she told him now. I nearly wrote you off at that point.
I don’t blame you, he said. I was so embarrassed, I nearly walked away myself.
What stopped you?
I was actually genuinely hungry, he said, pretending to pull away as she pretended to punch him in the shoulder.
*
The whole thing had been a set-up, of course. He’d never told her this, as such. He assumed it was implicitly understood. Not acknowledging it was part of the charm, he thought. He was only a couple of years out of university, and stuck in a bit of a rut. There’d been an untidy split with a previous girlfriend. His friend Jess had taken him under her wing, and made him into a project of sorts, and this introduction was the culmination of all her work. Just come and say hello, she said; be nice, see what happens. No pressure.
This was after weeks of her coming round to make sure he was out of bed, bringing him job applications, cooking him dinner and listening to his long explanations of why his particular heartbreak was unique before saying yes, okay, but now you must live. She even started making adjustments to his wardrobe, his hairstyle, to the way he did or didn’t hold eye contact while he spoke to her. For a brief, exhilarating period he’d even thought she might be making these improvements for her own sake.
The second time they met, Charlotte had known she was being set up, and she didn’t mind at all. Jess had told her plenty about Joe by then, and she’d liked what she heard. He sounded like he had his act together. He sounded sensible. She was ready for that, after a series of men who’d been anything but. She went back to his flat at the end of the evening, and stayed all weekend, and on the Monday morning she told him that she already knew she wanted to make something of it. You make me feel safe, she said. You hardly know me, he objected. I’m a good judge of character, she told him.
*
You realise that ‘safe’ always sounded like a euphemism for boring? he said, now.
It’s not the same thing at all, she said, moving closer towards him. She pressed her face into his neck and almost without thinking began to kiss his collarbone. She stopped, and pulled back, and they both looked at each other.
This was confusing.
*
Moving to London had been her idea. He was never keen, but he kept that to himself. The arrangements were in hand before they’d had a chance to discuss it. Charlotte’s department were keen for her to take a transfer, and the job he’d been offered was surprisingly well-paid. He would have liked to talk to Jess about it, but they’d drifted apart once he’d started seeing Charlotte, and since getting engaged. So he went ahead and tagged along to London, thinking they might come back north after a few years, or even that the relationship might anyway run its natural course. Instead, right around the time she’d started talking about marriage, Charlotte got pregnant and everything changed. They’d barely found their feet in London, and were still too young, he thought. But how did this happen? he asked her. Oh, I don’t know, she said. Probably the usual way, I should think.
*
Do you think this was all a mistake? he asked her. The rain was beating hard against the window now, and the light in the room was grey and low.
No, she said, with her hand against his cheek. We were young. It wasn’t a mistake. But we’re older now.
She looked at him, and leant closer, and they kissed. It was the first time they had kissed like this for months. Their mouths opened, and their bodies shuffled closer together. It was so easy.
She leant her face away from him for a moment, trying to ask him a question with her eyes.
You’re squinting at me, he said. You should really learn to stop doing that.
She laughed.
*
When the midwife passed Charlotte the baby, its eyes squinted up at her in the same way that Joe’s always did. It’s a girl, she heard the midwife say. Hello, Rebecca, she said softly. What a pleasure to meet you. The baby said nothing, but just carried on squinting at her, looking somehow perplexed, or annoyed.
She’d been annoyed with them about a lot of things, lately. She was thirteen now, so it seemed almost natural. She was annoyed when they asked her questions about her friends, or about how she was feeling. She was annoyed when they asked why she was late getting home. She was annoyed when they asked why she’d been getting in trouble at school, or not going to school at all, and she was even annoyed when they asked her to stop slamming the door because the paint was coming away from the frame.
She’d been a lovely child for most of her life. This was just the way teenagers would become, they’d assumed; but not Becky, not this soon.