Page 64 of Dancing Fools and All That Jazz
‘Did you tell the father?’
‘Yep. Turns out he had his own family. And neither he nor I wanted him to play daddy.’
‘And how does Will feel about that?’
‘I… What? Well, I haven’t exactly told him.’
Max pulls back and stares at me, his eyebrows raised.
‘Dev – his dad – made it clear he didn’t want Will searching for him. I told Will I’d chosen to get pregnant using clinical means… Hey, Max, don’t look at me like that.’
‘Is that fair to Will?’
I feel a prickle of anger and my heckles rise. After all, Will’s upbringing is nothing to do with Max.
Crossing my arms, I respond, ‘Look, I’ve been mother and father to Will. He’s completely fine with my choice to bring him into the world as a single parent.’
‘But you lied to him.’
‘Woah. And this is your problem because…?’
Max looks away downstream and I’m sure I caught his eye twitch.
What the hell?
I can see he’s struggling with heavens knows what, so I touch his shoulder and soften my tone. ‘Look, I didn’t tell Will the full truth, as it was kinder to say he came from a sperm donation than to say his biological father wanted no part in his life. He’ll have enough problems to face in life without adding more.’
Max doesn’t speak for a few minutes, but then turns back to me. ‘Sorry.’ He pulls me into his arms. ‘Sorry, you’re quite right. It’s none of my business. He’s your son.’
‘Correct. And apology accepted.’
The clock chimes out from the bell tower of the cathedral.
We listen and then look at each other before both saying, ‘The bells… the bells…’ And burst out laughing.
‘Oh heck, is that really the time? I need to get back. We’re dancing soon.’
‘Can I watch?’
‘Really?’
‘I’d love to see your gorgeous body gyrating on stage.’
I smile and kiss him on the lips, and he responds eagerly.
‘Yes. I’m sure I can sneak you in. Just walk with me into the theatre foyer with a balletic step and the doorman will think you are one of the dancers.’
‘Show me.’ Max’s eyes twinkle.
We walk back joking and laughing and trying out a variety of dance-walking styles, which wouldn’t have been out of place in aMonty Pythonsketch.
By the time we get back to the Opéra House, our conversation about past dates and Will’s father are completely forgotten.
Max tells me he’s booked into a hotel nearby and invites me to join him there tonight.
‘Oh damn. My nightwear’s in our awful hotel, miles away.’
‘Well, you won’t need pyjamas and I always carry a spare toothbrush.’
