Just for the Rush. Jane Lark

brought back a hundred memories of being in school here. I had a daughter who went to school somewhere… I was going to start asking questions about where she lived and what school Daisy went to but Victoria gripped my arm. ‘We’d better go back. I want to get ready for the ball this evening.’

      ‘Okay.’ I stood up, suddenly numb. This level of shock was like being hit by a car that had then reversed and run over me; it wasn’t just my feet that had been taken out from underneath me. ‘When can I see her?’

      She smiled. ‘Talk to her on the phone first, Jack.’

      I didn’t want to wait, I wanted to follow Victoria home. I didn’t want to stay for the ball. Patience had never been a skill I possessed.

      She held my wrist. ‘I’ll see you at the ball tonight and we can swap numbers and organise something in the next couple of weeks.’

      Weeks. Uh-uh. No. I wanted a deadline. Days. But I bit my tongue and nodded.

      I didn’t ring Sharon when I got back to my room, I rang Mum. ‘Hi, it’s Jack.’

      ‘Hello dear. This is unusual. How are you?’ She never asked how Sharon was; they ignored her existence, sweeping the embarrassment I’d made of my life under one of their nice ornamental carpets.

      ‘I’m feeling a bit weird.’ I was sitting on the edge of the bed with my elbows on my knees and my forehead balanced on my free hand. ‘I’m at my old school. There’s a reunion thing.’

      ‘That’s nice.’ Her voice made it sound as though she was surprised I’d bothered to go. But I’d earned, and created, every ill opinion they had of me. Rebellious, self-centred bastard that I’d been. I think money was bad for you when you were a kid. It had made me take everything, including them, for granted.

      But right now, Mum was the only person I wanted to talk to.

      ‘Mum, one of the girls told me I got her pregnant when she was sixteen. She had a baby when she was seventeen. A girl. A daughter. The child’s nearly eight now, and she’s mine. I have a daughter I’ve never seen, and you’re a grandma.’

      The connection went silent. I didn’t know what I expected her to say, but despite the fact I’d hardly spoken to her in three years, Mum was the only person I’d had an immediate urge to tell because I was looking for reassurance – come on.

      ‘Well…’

      The single word ran through my nerves. Was well good or bad? Mum’s perfectly rounded upper-class accent made it hard to tell what emotion was in her voice sometimes.

      ‘That is a shock.’

      I was still not sure of her tone.

      ‘How do you feel?’

      ‘Numb. Weird, like I said.’ But beneath those, ‘excited too.’ I had a reason to turn my life around now the box of my life had been shaken. If I opened it up all the pieces inside would look different. I had a reason to pick the pieces up and put them back in a different order. I sighed down the phone. ‘Like I can change.’ I needed to tell Sharon and set down some ultimatums. ‘I wish I could turn back time and start over. I want to know her.’

      Mum breathed in deeply. It sounded shaky. ‘It’s wonderful, Jack, and it will be lovely if you have a relationship with her. Children need loving parents who are involved in their lives.’

      I choked back a laugh. I’d spent my life in boarding school while she and Dad had travelled on business; they hadn’t been all that involved. I didn’t say anything. She hadn’t been thinking of herself; her pitch was challenging me.

      ‘Children need consistency. I know you hated us leaving you in school but it was better for you than being on the move every other month. But what you must remember with this girl, if she’s yours, is that children are not toys. You have a tendency to lose patience with things, Jack, you always have. If you step into this child’s life you cannot walk out a few months later when you’re bored.’

      ‘Mum, I have a business I’ve been running for years. I’ve been climbing since I was a teenager. I don’t get bored of everything.’ But she was right, I did get bored of a lot of stuff. I was bored of my life. But I would not become bored of my child. Daisy. She would be a constant. Like Em. Like the business. Like my male friends. I had constants. ‘I know, Mum.’

      ‘Then I’m glad for you. I’d like to meet her.’

      ‘She looks like me; I’ve seen her picture.’

      The sound of another deep breath slipped through my mobile phone. ‘I hope this turns into a good thing for you.’

      ‘This is a good thing. I know it.’ Hope… No. There was no hope about it.

      ‘Thank you for calling me, Jack. I’m glad you did.’

      I took a breath, words wanted to come out of me which were not natural to me. ‘I’m glad I did too. I’m sorry I don’t call you enough. I love you.’

      ‘I love you too.’ That emotion was in her voice – loud and clear. She ended the call.

      I couldn’t remember the last time I’d said those words to her. Years ago.

      Maybe this was already starting to heal over the errors I’d made. A granddaughter could build a bridge to reach my parents. Maybe even Dad would forgive me for messing up.

      When I stripped off and showered, my mind span through what I would need to do to become a man who’d make a good father. I’d never have planned this, but it had happened and I didn’t want irregular phone calls and hour-long visits, watched over by Victoria. I wanted to change my life. I wanted to be a dad. I needed to get a DNA test done and then I’d get my lawyer on to it, to get proper rights. I wanted part-custody, agreed by a judge – and if I was going to get that, then I needed to clean up my life.

      I didn’t even drink at the ball, I watched Victoria as she talked to people and danced with friends. Now I’d had time to digest the news, I was angry with her. She should have told me. I’d made a mess of my life. I could have stopped myself doing it if I’d known there was a reason to live life differently. Suddenly everything wrong with my life was her fault, which was bollocks, but I was looking for someone to blame because it was easier to blame someone other than myself.

      We swapped numbers at the end of the night, having hardly spoken to each other, so I bet people thought something weird was going on, but she hadn’t told anyone, so I didn’t. Then I said goodbye to the other people I’d caught up with and afterwards I made the decision to drive home.

      What was the point in staying here? I hadn’t drunk and I wouldn’t sleep.

      While I drove back, my mind ran through what I’d need to do to turn myself around – grow up. I had to become someone who wouldn’t make me feel guilty. Someone I’d be happy for my daughter to know. Someone who could invite a child over for the weekend. Someone I could stand to look at in a mirror

      I called John, my lawyer, as I drove, even though it was two-thirty a.m., and left a message on his work phone. ‘Hi, John, I’ve got a new job for you. Please keep this quiet. I discovered I have a child. Call me on Monday and I’ll give you the mother’s details, then you can contact her and ask her to get a lawyer. I want a DNA test done and I want to apply for access rights. I want to be able to have the child stay with me.’

      I was going to be the person who could have my daughter stay over. I’d needed a new ambition for the next five years of my life. I had it. Become a decent man who could be a father.

      When I got home it was four a.m. I lifted a hand, acknowledging the security guard as I drove into the basement car park. He nodded at me with a smile. He’d know who was in my apartment, he saw everyone who went in and out, and at what time they went in and when they came out, because there was a camera in the lift.

      He’d probably seen a lot of parts of Sharon and me in that lift too, and parts of the people we brought