Persuading Annie Page 2

  ‘Sorry,’ he muttered, half a smile starting at the corners of his mouth. ‘I … I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m not going to be sick.’

  Then, in one swift, sudden movement, he knelt down on one knee in front of her, steadying himself with one hand, all the time keeping his eyes fixed firmly on her face. Annie held her breath. The autumn sun broke through the naked trees, suddenly warming her to the very bone.

  A fine line of sweat formed on Jake’s upper lip.

  ‘Annie,’ he murmured. ‘I think I’m going to faint.’

  And then he collapsed in the wet mud at her feet.

  * * * * *

  ‘So we’re friends again?’ repeated Annie into the phone.

  ‘Of course we’re friends again,’ repeated Cass back. ‘You can’t get rid of me that easily.’

  ‘Thank God. I’d have felt so crap leaving on a bad note.’

  Whoops! Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God …

  Bag open, cat out and frolicking gaily in the wild, Annie brainless moron.

  Jake would kill her.

  ‘Leaving?’ asked Cass.

  ‘Pardon? I think the line’s going funny.’

  ‘Annie? What’s going on?’

  OK, quick thinking, quick thinking. Should she lie?

  ‘Annie – what’s going on?’

  OK, even quicker thinking, even quicker thinking. Yes she should.

  ‘I didn’t say leaving, I said heaving.’

  Annie shook her head in disgust. Pathetic.

  ‘Oh I see. As in the well-known phrase “heaving on a bad note”?’

  Annie couldn’t answer. She was too busy wincing.

  Silence. Was Cass going to be big about this and just let it drop?

  ‘I’m waiting.’

  Nope.

  She was cornered. But wild horses would never drag the truth from her.

  ‘All right. I’m going on holiday.’

  Phew – genius!

  ‘Don’t lie to me Annie, it only humiliates you.’

  Bugger. Impossible to Lie to Cass, Even Over Phone. Mental note Two.

  Should she get self-pious?

  ‘I can’t tell you. If you love me you won’t make me.’

  ‘I don’t love you.’

  Damn. Wrong-footed again. How does Cass do that?

  ‘Annie, of course I love you. I just want to know—’

  OK, go passive – blame someone else.

  ‘Look, he’ll kill me, I just can’t tell you.’

  ‘Who’ll kill you?’

  Damn! She was so fast.

  ‘Never mind. Just forget I said anything.’

  Cass would never guess who. And wild horses couldn’t drag Jake’s name out of her mouth.

  ‘It’s Jake isn’t it?’

  Jesus Christ – she was a bloody witch.

  ‘Have you ever thought of becoming a spy, Cass?’

  ‘To summarise: you’re leaving with Jake. In secret.’

  ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘How not exactly, exactly?’

  ‘Well. Define secret.’

  ‘How long are you leaving for?’

  Aha! Wild horses couldn’t drag that one out of her. Lying hadn’t worked, so she’d just keep it vague.

  ‘As long as it lasts.’

  ‘Oh my God! You’re marrying him! Just because of the baby?’

  No! Wild horses couldn’t, etc.

  ‘Not just because of the baby – because we love each other!’

  Annie made a drowning noise. Was her mouth actually attached to her brain? It would explain so much about her life.

  Right. It was time to take control back again.

  ‘You tell your mother,’ rushed Annie, ‘and I’ll never talk to you again.’

  ‘Why the hell would I tell mother? Please, Annie. Credit me with some loyalty.’

  ‘This is our secret. It’s got nothing to do with Susannah. It’s between you and me.’

  ‘And Jake.’

  ‘Yes, of course. You, me and Jake.’

  ‘And the baby.’

  ‘Yes of course. You, me, Jake and the baby.’

  ‘Thank you for sharing.’

  ‘Oh SHUT UP.’

  Perhaps if Annie hadn’t chosen that moment to change the habit of a lifetime and shouted at Cass, at least one of them would have heard the extension click off.

  One Week Later

  Annie hummed loudly as she packed her rucksack. The sound of gravel hitting the window of her halls room stopped her mid-hum, making it as much of a blessed relief to the student next door as it was to Annie’s clothes. She rushed to the window. It was pitch black out there. She opened it wide.

  ‘Hellooooo,’ she whispered.

  There was movement on the gravel below. She could just make out Jake’s form. Even in those ridiculously baggy jeans, even from this angle, the tilt of his head, the line of his shoulders, his unconsciously boyish stance made her stomach squirm. Or was that the kilo of liquorice she’d just eaten?

  ‘Are you ready?’ he whispered hoarsely.

  ‘Yes – how was your final final?’

  ‘They’re over! I’m a free man. I’m all yours.’

  ‘I’ll be there as soon as I’m ready.’

  ‘Packed your passport?’

  ‘Of course! Give me ten minutes.’

  Jake looked at his watch.

  ‘OK. One minute later and I’ll call it off,’ he grinned up at her. ‘I’m more vulnerable than I look.’

  Impossible, thought Annie.

  ‘Well go away and let me pack then.’

  And with that, she was gone.

  A minute later, a knock at the door made Annie jump from behind the bed, where she was searching frantically for her passport.

  She stared at the door, as if by determination alone, she would be able to see right through it. Another knock. It must be Jake. No one else would be so stupid as to disturb her now. Maybe he knew where her passport was. Maybe he had it with him. Another knock, louder now. She rushed to the door.

  And there in the doorway, heralded by an aroma of expensive perfume, stood Cass’s mother, Annie’s godmother.

  Susannah Brooke was paying a friendly call.

  * * * * *

  Annie trembled as Susannah came in. She glanced covertly at the clock beside her bed. She had nine minutes to get to Jake so that they could get the train to Dover and from there to Paris.

  Susannah stepped towards Annie and started to take off her soft leather gloves. She looked round the dusty room and, after a moment’s thought, slowly started putting her gloves back on.

  ‘Aren’t you going to ask me if I’d like a coffee?’ she asked eventually.

  Annie was baffled. Surely Susannah wasn’t here merely for a social call? Unless it was just a case of chronic bad timing. Yes, that must be it. Just bad timing. Cass would never have betrayed her and told Susannah. Just act normal and Susannah would leave soon.

  ‘Would you like a coffee?’ she asked feebly.

  ‘No, I would not like a coffee!’ shouted Susannah, making Annie jump. ‘I’d like to know why my favourite, intelligent, beautiful, talented – baby god-daughter with a life full of blossoming potential is acting like a dog on heat?’

  Annie shrank on to her bed, her hand lying limply on her open rucksack. So Cass had betrayed her. Well, what had she expected? Susannah surpassed even her daughter in spy tactics. She could hardly blame Cass for this turn of events – the only person she could truly blame was herself. Meanwhile, she now had to witness her godmother’s disappointment in her. She remembered why she’d hoped to be in a secret hideaway when Susannah found out the truth. No one could induce a sense of shame more successfully than her.

  Susannah sighed and came over. She moved the rucksack gingerly on to the floor, sat beside Annie and put her arm around her.

  ‘My poor Annie,’ she whispered and kissed her forehead. The years flew away and Annie was a child once more.

  ‘It’s been confusin
g, hasn’t it?’ continued Susannah. Annie nodded, breathing in the nostalgic smell of her godmother.

  ‘Have you been scared?’

  Another nod.

  ‘My poor baby.’

  Annie glanced surreptitiously at the clock. Eight minutes.

  Susannah took off her coat and laid it beside them on the bed. Susannah tilted Annie’s chin up to look at her.

  ‘I remember when I discovered I was pregnant,’ she smiled, her eyes warm. ‘It was the most wonderful day of my life.’

  Annie smiled.

  ‘I was married to the man I loved and I knew that he hadn’t married me for my money or the baby,’ she continued. ‘He had married me because he loved me. For better or worse. In sickness and health.’

  Annie froze.

  ‘Jake is marrying me because he loves me,’ she ventured. She’d never so much as crossed Susannah before, so she kept her voice soft and light. Through sheer terror.

  ‘Of course he is,’ comforted Susannah. ‘That’s why he didn’t propose to you before bedding you. That’s why he suddenly changed his mind when he found out you had enough money to support him in Paris for a few years.’

  Annie stood up and walked to the other side of her room. She was now a full two paces away from Susannah. Her voice shook with the effort of defying Susannah.

  ‘Jake loves me.’

  Her breathing was heavy.

  ‘Of course he does, my darling. That’s why he avoided you for three whole days after you told him the news. That’s why he only proposed after you begged him to.’

  ‘I didn’t beg—’ breathed Annie.

  ‘Annie, darling. A woman can only beg in situations like these.’

  Annie closed her eyes tight. She tried to visualise Jake. How he had come to her shaken, pale and even skinnier than usual, after the longest three days of her life and said simply, ‘We’ll do whatever you want. I can’t lose you.’ She tried to visualise how scared he’d looked. And she had told him then of her savings and of her plan to elope to Paris. At first Jake had been horrified, then insulted, due to a macho pride that had been so incongruous it had made her laugh. But after persuading him with all the wiles she could, he had finally been too weak to argue. And then they’d laughed with the thrill of it, both as scared as each other, yet excited by the other’s sense of adventure and faith.

  She tried to visualise it, as she’d seen it then, but it was fading fast.

  ‘I … I …’ she started. ‘I have to sit down.’

  Susannah rushed over to her and brought her back to the bed.

  ‘I’ll get you a glass of water, my dear.’

  She poured Annie some water and handed it carefully to her.

  ‘There, there,’ said Susannah, rubbing her back.

  When Annie had finished the water, Susannah placed the glass gently next to the clock.

  Six minutes to go.

  ‘My darling,’ started Susannah, her voice as soft as silk. ‘I loved your mother as dearly as I love you. It is my biggest sorrow that I knew her so much better than you ever did. And I know what question she’d be asking you now, at this most precious time of your life.’

  Annie couldn’t help herself. She was so desperate for a hint of her mother now.

  ‘What?’

  Susannah imbued her words with the softest hint of humour.

  ‘Why rush into marriage?’

  Annie was stumped.

  ‘I mean,’ continued Susannah. ‘It’s not as if there’s a stigma nowadays to living together – even being a single mother – so why … rush into marriage?’

  Annie couldn’t answer.

  Susannah whispered gently, as if reading a storybook to a sleepy child.

  ‘Are you scared you’ll lose him?’

  Annie stared at the lino under her feet.

  ‘Does he have a bit of a reputation?’

  Annie saw in her mind’s eye that blonde bitch from Psychology whom Jake was going out with before her. And that bossy girl in last year’s play. Then there was that one who’d left college to join the local newspaper. And then …

  Susannah’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

  ‘Does eloping with you prove he doesn’t love your fame and money more than you?’

  Annie shook her head, trying to get the thought out of her mind.

  Susannah squeezed her shoulder tenderly.

  ‘Are you scared you love him more than he loves you?’

  Annie felt her insides freeze. She’d never put it into so many words, but …

  She looked sadly over at the clock. Five whole minutes to go. Ages yet …

  ‘Come on poppet, wipe your tears. Men will come and go but I’ll love you for ever.’

  Annie felt a sweet familiar weakness overcome her.

  ‘I have to go to the toilet.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Susannah. ‘I’ll wait for you downstairs in the car. Then we’ll go home.’

  Annie stumbled down the narrow corridor towards the ladies’ toilet.

  She had to think.

  * * * * *

  Quarter of an hour later, Annie stared in disbelief at the toilet wall.

  How could this be happening? She was sure she was six weeks late. She tried to mentally flick through her diary. The sudden realisation that she’d skipped a month – she’d kept doing that while rewriting her increasingly dense revision timetable – simply added nausea to the sudden cramps in her lower abdomen.

  But the pregnancy test? Wasn’t that irrefutable?

  She remembered reading the bold caution at the bottom of the instructions. Ninety-eight per cent accurate.

  Jesus Christ. She was a statistical blip. A two per cent margin. The test had been wrong. She’d failed the pregnancy test. Were all of her tests going to prove as successful, she wondered bitterly, before the sound of her own echoey sobbing told her that her body wasn’t taking this quite as well as her mind.

  Twenty-five minutes later, tear-stained and hollow, she returned to her room, as if in a daze.

  The sight of Jake on her bed woke her up fast. She stared at him in shock, conscious of a bewildering change in her feelings towards him. She’d always loved the fact that he filled her tiny room, but for the first time, his presence seemed threatening.

  He was holding her creased jeans in his hand. His grin froze at the sight of her.

  After a moment’s hesitation, he spoke.

  ‘Don’t you know you get creases in jeans if you fold them?’ he said, his tone a touch too light. ‘You’re meant to roll them.’

  Annie was unable to move or speak.

  Eventually Jake stood up, leaving his innards somewhere near his feet. He was dimly aware that his gut felt like a black hole.

  He stared at Annie, but she was unable to meet his gaze.

  ‘Changed your mind then, eh?’ he said, willing her to raise her eyes.

  Annie kept her head down.

  ‘Just like that?’

  Nothing.

  ‘And what about … the baby?’

  Annie held her stomach and felt the pain again.

  ‘There is no baby,’ she forced herself to say and started to cry silently.

  Jake looked at Annie as if seeing her for the first time.

  ‘What?’

  ‘No … baby,’ she whispered, overcome by an unaccountable sense of shame.

  They stood in silence for a while before Annie felt able to try and make it better.

  ‘It’s better this way. Susannah said …’

  ‘You told Susannah?’

  ‘No!’ she exclaimed, self-righteously. ‘Cass told Susannah.’

  ‘You told Cass?’

  ‘I didn’t mean to—’

  She broke off and they shared a horribly eloquent silence. It didn’t take much silence to fill the tiny room. In fact, silence started seeping into the empty wardrobes.

  Jake stood motionless, the world around him spinning. And then, he decided to take the bull by the horns.

&n
bsp; He exploded.

  ‘D’you think I’m some sort of toy to play around with?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Thought you could chew me up and spit me out when you got bored? Is that it? Freak the crap out of me and then say sweetly “Oh so sorry! I got my dates wrong!”’

  Annie stared at him.

  ‘It’s all turned out nice and neat, hasn’t it? So when did you find this out? Last week? Or was it all a lie? A trap?’

  ‘A trap? What century are you living in—’

  ‘Or a test? Is that it? You were testing me?’

  ‘Why would I—’

  ‘Or don’t you like the idea of supporting me while I work my arse off trying to get a career that will support us all – when the chips are down, you’d rather be with a rich old man and save your precious money for … for … shopping? Is that it?’

  Annie couldn’t bear to hear any more.

  ‘Please leave now,’ she said in a low voice.

  He went to leave, but when he got to the door, he turned and, with his eyes down, spoke in a low, shaky voice.

  ‘Did you get rid of my baby?’

  It was Annie’s turn to lose the plot.

  ‘Your baby! I like that. It took you three days to even talk to me after finding out it existed – which it doesn’t – and now it’s your bloody baby. Hah! Future Father of the Year material, I don’t think!’

  ‘Oh? So it’s someone else’s—’

  ‘No!’

  ‘So it’s mine—’

  ‘YOURS? What am I, an empty VESSEL?’

  ‘OUR baby, then?’

  ‘There IS NO BLOODY BABY!’

  They were both yelling now. Susannah was right. Susannah was always right, when would she learn? Who was this boy, sobbing and shouting at her?

  Before Annie had time to absorb any of what they’d just said, Jake had gone, and she heard him race out of the halls and into the woods that nestled the campus halls like a blanket round a sleeping child.

  2001

  2

  Café Exclusive, Haverstock Hill, Hampstead, 10am

  ‘OH SHIT! I’M late!’ exclaimed Annie.

  ‘What?’ gasped Cass.

  ‘I’m late!’

  Cass blanched.

  ‘Late late? Or just … late?’