Page 77 of Forever, Maybe
Maybe.
God. The two equally important but perpetually warring parts of his life.
He waited until he was home to call Nell. As he sat in the living room, Corrie jumped onto his lap, purring loudly and kneading his knees with sharp claws that made him wince. The cat’s presence felt like an odd kind of solidarity.
Nell’s phone went straight to voicemail, as it often did when she forgot to charge it—a regular habit of hers. Sighing, he tried Cate and Bobby’s landline instead.
Bobby answered on the second ring. “Hello, Daniel, how are you? I’m afraid Nell’s not here—she’s popped out to Cromer for the day. But I’ll ask her to—oh, hang on a moment. She’s just come back in.”
His voice became muffled as he turned to speak to his daughter. “You alright, love? Is your hay fever acting up? Your hubby’s on the phone. No, c’mon, love, you should speak to him.”
Daniel winced. Bobby clearly hadn’t realised the receiver was still live, leaving Daniel to overhear the exchange.
“Danny.” Nell’s voice came through flat and nasal. Bobby had chalked it up to hay fever, but Daniel wasn’t so sure. Had she been crying? He closed his eyes briefly, swallowing the unease rising in his throat. In the background, Bobby murmured something about giving her privacy, followed by the soft click of a door shutting.
“I’m no’ going to Leeds on the twenty-seventh,” Daniel said without preamble. “Stuff the Asda pitch. I want to spend the weekend wi’ my wife.”
Silence. A long, heavy pause stretched across the line.
“My mother can do one. We won’t see her again until she grovels on bended knee for having a go at you.”
Still nothing from Nell.
“I’m sorry,” Daniel said, his voice cracking slightly. “So sorry. For missing our anniversary. For not cutting back at work like I promised. And for not cancelling the bloody supermarket pitch the second I realised it fell on your birthday.”
A sigh, faint but audible, drifted through the receiver. “Hell will freeze over before Trish apologises to me.”
“That’s as mebbe,” he replied, his voice softening. “But you—you’remy priority now. From now on.”
Another pause, but this time he pressed on. “Tell you what. Think it over. I already spoke wi’ the buyer from the supermarket and told her I wouldn’t be there, so whatever happens, I’m free. I never got round to cancelling the hotel, either. We could still go to London. Hit all those art galleries you love. Find a rooftop cocktail bar. Wander through the Harrods food hall—not that you care, but it’s heaven for me. If only I could get away wi’ charging that much inStuffed!’sshops.”
Still no answer. Just the quiet crackle of the line and the weight of her silence.
“How’s your mum doing?”
Nell sighed deeply, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “We took Mum to the doctor last week. They’ve run a bunch of tests to rule out other conditions that might cause confusion, but we haven’t got the results yet. If they come back clear, the next step is the memory clinic. I want to be there—with her and Dad—for support.”
“Of course,” Daniel said softly.
In the background, Bobby’s voice floated through the hallway, mentioning a vegetarian cottage pie for dinner. He must have reappeared briefly, and Daniel heard Nell reply, “Yes, I’ll make it for us as soon as I’m off the phone.”
“Take your time, love,” Bobby added, followed by the click of a door as he left them alone again.
Nell returned her attention to Daniel. “The supermarket pitch means a lot to you.”
“Not half as much as you do,” he replied.
A pause, and then, more gently, she said, “Tell you what—if Mum doesn’t need an appointment or it’s scheduled before the twenty-seventh, I’d love to spend the weekend with you in London. Thank you.”
He let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. Relief surged through him, although self-consciousness followed close behind. Her continued absence meant he’d have more time to focus on work—eighty-hour weeks and coaching Joe and Liza for Asda. A selfish silver lining.
“Aye, of course,” he said, keeping his tone even.
“Danny…” Her voice wavered slightly. “I’ve been thinking about something a lot, but I don’t want to talk about it over the phone. If we end up in London, can we sit down for a proper chat?”
A proper chat. Those three words were enough to make the average West of Scotland man bolt for the hills. But a sudden thought struck him, one that sent a jolt through his chest.
What if… what if, at long last, she’d taken note of their conversation weeks ago and wanted to try for a baby after all? Despite their ages, despite everything? The idea of becoming a dad, however belated, flared brightly in his mind.
