Chapter seventeen: Too Late

Thursday, 15th July 2004

Belsize Park, London

It was breakfast time in Belsize Park.

‘Well, it didn’t happen this month, Dex,’ Emma said sadly. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Please don’t worry about it, Em,’ Dexter said. ‘We’ll go on trying.’

‘I’ll be thirty-nine next April,’ Emma replied. ‘Soon it will be too late.’

Dexter now wanted a baby as much as she did. But it wasn’t happening. They were both beginning to worry.

‘It really doesn’t matter,’ Emma told herself. ‘We’re a happily married couple. That’s the important thing. And Jasmine’s here a lot.’

She told herself this, but there was a hole in her life now. It made her sad and sometimes it made her cross with Dexter for no real reason.

This morning she tried to be calm, but she was quickly upset by something in the newspaper.

‘Dex, I don’t understand students these days,’ she said. ‘They don’t care about anything, do they? When I was a student, we protested about things like this.’

She put the newspaper down in front of him and pointed at a story.

‘Perhaps they’re right not to protest,’ said Dexter wearily. ‘We aren’t all socialist feminist anti-fascists, are we? Some of us have other things to worry about.’

And that started the argument. For ten minutes they were very rude to each other. Then, quite suddenly, Emma didn’t want to argue any longer.

‘I’m sorry, Dexter,’ she said. ‘This isn’t about students, is it? It’s about not having a baby. I’m really upset about it. I don’t want to fight with you.’

By the time they left the house they were almost friends again. Emma was going to her flat to write. Dexter was going to the deli, but he wasn’t in a hurry. He now had help there. A pleasant girl called Maddy worked as his manager. And a few other people helped at busy times.

‘There’s a house that I want us to look at this afternoon,’ Dexter said as they left the flat. ‘We really must buy one soon and I’ve got a good feeling about this one. I’ll phone you with the address later. It’s in Kilburn. Meet me at the house at five o’clock.’

So Emma got on her bicycle and rode off to do her day’s work. At about lunchtime, Dexter phoned with the address where they were going to meet.

‘I’ll see you there, darling,’ Emma said. ‘I’m sorry about this morning. I love you.’

At four o’clock, Emma set off from her flat to cycle to Kilburn. It started to rain and soon the roads were wet. There was lots of traffic noise. Emma didn’t hear the car that came out of a side street at high speed. So she was surprised to be flying through the air.

She landed by the side of the road. When she opened her eyes, there were people standing round her.

‘Are you all right, Miss?’ one of them asked. Another was crying.

But Emma didn’t speak. She knew that she was certainly not all right.

Two thoughts passed through her mind as she lay on the ground. One was a memory of herself playing on a Yorkshire beach. She was with her parents and she was nine years old. The other thought was about Dexter. She was going to be late for their meeting. He was going to worry and he was going to get wet. Then Emma Mayhew died and everything she had ever thought had gone.