Dear Thing by Julie Cohen Read Free Book Online Page B

squatting beside her.
    ‘I found these bulbs in the garage and thought I’d take advantage of the sunshine.’
    ‘It’s a good day for growing things.’ Ben smiled up at the sky.
    ‘You slept in the spare room last night.’
    ‘I’d had a few to drink and I didn’t want to disturb you,’ he said. ‘Besides, I had a lot to think about.’ He sat on the grass. ‘I’m sorry, Claire. I haven’t been seeing things from your point of view. I’ve been so focused on the idea of us having a baby together that I haven’t truly understood how hard it’s been for you. I thought that we were both going throughit together, but you’re right: it’s your body. It’s worse for you.’
    ‘Okay,’ said Claire quietly.
    ‘It was insensitive of me to try to persuade you to try more IVF. I can understand how you feel that it just sets you up for more failure.’
    ‘Okay.’
    ‘I’ve been too single-minded. It’s the way I always am. I decide I want something, and then I go for it with all I’ve got. But I should listen to you.’
    ‘I’m sorry too,’ she said. ‘I know how badly you want this. I want it too. If I could, I would.’
    He drew her over to sit on his lap, on the ground. ‘You’ve got dirt on your forehead,’ he said, brushing it off.
    ‘I’m not happy about it either,’ she said. ‘I’ve always assumed I’d have children, ever since I was a little girl. I always assumed I’d have them with you. Every time I’ve come out to this garden I’ve thought about how great it would be for the children to play in. I’ve seen the football pitch on the lawn and the swing in the pear tree. I’ve seen them so strongly in my imagination that I haven’t taken the time to see what’s already here.’
    ‘We have a good life. Yes.’
    ‘It’s a future that’s completely different from what I imagined. But it doesn’t have to be a bad future. If we love each other, we can be happy, can’t we?’
    He kissed her cheek and hugged her tight to him. ‘I’m already very happy,’ he said.
    She let herself relax into his arms, closing her eyes, hearing the blackbird singing in the pear tree. The real pear tree, that was there right now, that blossomed sweet every spring and gave them gifts of fruit every autumn. The pear tree that was fine by itself, without a swing on it.
    ‘What time is it?’ she asked.
    ‘Don’t know. About half eight? It’s a miracle I’m not hungover, considering the amount of tequila we got through last night.’
    ‘How much did you win the quiz by?’
    ‘We didn’t win. I’m afraid I unburdened myself on Romily.’
    ‘Hmm.’ Claire knew, of course, that Ben talked with Romily; they could only spend so long answering quiz questions and arguing about football. After a drink or two, Ben was bound to mention one or two things about his private life.
    Her mother had often expressed horror that Ben had a female friend, but Claire wasn’t the sort to interfere with her husband’s friendships. Marriage was based on trust, after all. But she wasn’t entirely happy that he would discuss all the ins and outs of their private lives in the pub. Then again, it might not be a coincidence that he’d apologized this morning.
    ‘Did Romily help you see the female point of view?’ she asked.
    ‘In a way.’
    ‘Well, then I suppose I should thank her.’ She ruffled his hair. ‘Let’s go inside. You must be getting a wet bottom.’
    ‘What’s that you say? You want a wet bottom?’ He tipped her off and dumped her on the grass.
    ‘Ben!’
    He launched himself on top of her, wrapped his arms round her, and rolled with her over and over down the lawn, her squealing, him laughing, his body heavy and warm over and under hers, both of them damp and muddy and breathless when they stopped at the trunk of the pear tree, lying side by side.
    ‘You’re crazy,’ she giggled.
    ‘I told you, I’m happy.’ He kissed her mouth once, and again.
    ‘We should go in.’
    ‘Let’s just lie