Baby Be Mine

completely scuppers those plans. As soon as I see his face, I know instantly that something is wrong. Very wrong.
    ‘What?’ he asks.
    Johnny? Is it Johnny?
    ‘Oh, no . . .’ He clutches the receiver with shaking fingers, his face creased with pain.
    ‘What’s wrong?’ I ask urgently, sick to the pit of my stomach.
    He doesn’t answer, too caught up in what the person on the other end of the line is saying.
    Christian drops the phone to the floor with a clatter and buries his face in his hands. I quickly pick it up and speak into the receiver.
    ‘Hello? Who is this?’
    ‘It’s Anton.’ Christian’s older brother. He sounds upset.
    ‘What’s wrong?’
    ‘It’s Mum.’
    His next words send a chill through me: ‘She’s dead.’
    Mandy Pettersson was killed simply crossing the road. She had nipped out between a small break in the traffic and didn’t see the motorcycle that hit her – it wasn’t even going very fast – but the impact knocked her into the path of an oncoming lorry. She died instantly.
    ‘I’m so sorry,’ I tell Anton, going to Christian and putting my arm around his broad shoulders. He’s staring ahead in a daze. ‘Do you know when the funeral will be?’
    ‘No, not yet. Joel has to get back here from Australia. Call me tomorrow; we should know more then.’
    ‘Okay, I will. How is your dad?’
    Anton’s voice breaks. ‘He’s in shock.’
    ‘I’ll let you go,’ I say gently, rubbing Christian’s arm.
    ‘Okay. Bye,’ he manages to say before hanging up.
    I turn to look at Christian. He meets my eyes and his instantly fill with tears.
    ‘I’m so sorry,’ I say, and then he breaks down. I hug him tightly while he sobs into my shoulder. ‘I’m so sorry.’
    Two days later, we drive to Barcelona. Not to enjoy a mini-break, but to fly home to the UK. There aren’t any direct flights from Perpignan and this was the next best option. We’ve left Barney with my parents in France. It’s the first time I’ve been away from him and already I hate it. I’ll stay in Newcastle with Christian’s family for only a few days before flying home to him. Christian will need to be there for at least another week to support his dad and brothers.
    It’s a bright, sunny day when we touch down at Newcastle airport, in total contrast to how we’re both feeling. The funeral is the day after tomorrow and we’ve opted to hire a car, refusing Anton’s offer of a lift because we figure he’s got enough on his plate. We’re staying at Christian’s house in Longbenton, which is about a twenty-minute drive east from the airport and ten minutes north of Newcastle upon Tyne. Christian is silent as he navigates the roads. He’s barely spoken since he found out. It’s a good thing that Barney isn’t here. He may be only young, but I’m sure he understands that something isn’t right with Daddy. It’s heartbreaking to think that my son won’t remember Mandy when he’s older, especially considering how much she loved him. A lump forms in my throat as Christian pulls up outside his childhood home.
    I still remember the first time I came here. Anton was getting married to Vanessa, and Mandy had given Christian grief about not bringing a guest to the wedding. He’d just broken up with his girlfriend and that had messed up the table plan, apparently, so he invited me to keep his mum off his back. We were only housemates at the time, but Mandy put us in his bedroom together, convinced we were more than friends. Christian was mortified, but I found the whole thing amusing.
    Oh, it’s so sad . . .
    We walk up the front path towards the semi-detached, redbrick house. Anton opens the door to us, his face weary. It always surprises me how different Christian looks to his brothers. Anton and Joel take after their dad: distinctly Swedish-looking with blond hair and blue eyes. Christian, with his dark looks, took after his mum.
    Anton gives me a hug, then turns to embrace his brother.
    ‘Dad’s in the living room,’ he says, breaking away.
    ‘How is he?’ Christian asks quietly.
    ‘The same,’ comes the reply.
    Hours pass and I don’t know what to do with myself. Christian’s dad can barely speak. He sits in the living room, staring at photos of Mandy with tears trailing down his cheeks. Anton has had to leave to get home to Vanessa, who’s eight months pregnant. I decide that my role will be tea-maker, and experience a sting when I remember that Mandy never used to let anyone else