Not My Daughter

‘I thought you lived in the Cotswolds?’

Jack reaches for the folder of paperwork I’ve been given. ‘Let me take that for you.’ We walk outside; the day is grey and dismal even though it’s now late March. The trees are still leafless, and the crocuses poking up through the earth look chilled and miserable. ‘I live in Stroud for the moment,’ he says, answering my question, ‘but I was in Bristol picking up some aged lumber from a salvage yard.’ He smiles. ‘So that was good timing.’

I nod and look away. I want to be in my flat, alone with my cat and a cup of tea.

Jack leads me to a beat-up, mud-splattered Land Rover, the kind of vehicle I’d expect him to have. It’s high up, and he puts his hand under my elbow as he helps me into the passenger seat.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asks as we drive away from the clinic.

‘Okayish. A bit… I don’t know. Off.’ I look out the window, inexplicably feeling that threat of tears again, as if I could sob, which is absolutely the last thing I want to do right now. ‘This is all a bit weird.’

‘Yes, I know what you mean,’ Jack murmurs.

‘What about your… part? I suppose it’s already done?’

‘Yeah, a few weeks ago. Not a big deal for me.’ He shoots me a quick, slightly rakish smile. ‘Hardly a painful procedure, you know?’

‘Right.’ I look away, blushing. I shouldn’t have brought it up.

‘Milly gave me your address… Totterdown, right?’

‘Yes, Knowle Road, near the park.’

We drive in silence for a few minutes while Jack follows the satnav on his phone and then pulls up in front of my home.

‘Thanks for the lift—’

‘You’re on the top floor, right? Let me make sure you get up all right.’

I feel the need to protest, but I don’t, because the company does feel rather nice. I’m not sure I want to be alone yet, after all.

‘Do you want a cup of tea or something?’ I half-mumble once I’ve unlocked my front door and stepped inside.

‘I should make you one. Why don’t you put your feet up?’ He nods towards the sofa in the sitting room. ‘I think I can find my way to the kettle.’

‘Okay. Thanks.’ Even though Jack is a stranger, it feels nice to have someone taking care of me. I sit gingerly on the edge of the sofa, but then the plump cushions give way beneath me, enveloping me in their plush warmth, and Winnie jumps onto my lap. By the time Jack returns with a mug of tea, I am lying down, my head propped against the armrest, Winnie stretched out on top of me like a living electric blanket.

‘You look comfy.’ He puts the tea down on the coffee table and then, to my surprise, sits in the armchair opposite. I was expecting him to make his excuses and leave.

‘This is all a bit odd, isn’t it?’ he says after a moment, his smile sheepish.

I reach for my tea, mainly to stall for time. Yes, it is odd, but I’m not sure I want to discuss it.

‘I mean, you, me… it’s our genes, together. Our—’

‘Yes.’ I cut him off before he can say it.

‘Sorry, am I sounding creepy?’ He rubs a hand over his face. ‘I don’t mean to. It’s just that I didn’t think too much about it, when Matt asked. I thought about it like donating blood, or giving a kidney.’ I recall Milly’s comparison to just that and smile faintly. ‘But now that I’m thinking about it properly, it feels a bit different, you know? A bit more…’

‘Yes, I know what you mean.’

‘Did you ever want kids yourself?’ He gives me another one of those smiles. ‘Sorry, is that too personal? I just wondered.’

‘No, it’s all right. I don’t think I’ll ever have my own children.’ I pause, choosing my words with care. ‘I’m happy as I am, really.’

‘No one special in your life?’

The weird, unexpected intimacy of the situation makes the question feel natural rather than nosy. ‘No, I’m not… I haven’t been much interested in all that. Marriage, children.’ He looks sceptical, so I explain. ‘My parents fought all the time and then ended up divorcing acrimoniously when I was fifteen. It put me off matrimony for life, I think.’