The Neighbour Had My Husbands Baby
You and your blasted DIY! Claire hurled the TV remote at the wall, barely missing Jamess head. It whizzed past his ear, smashing the ancient lampshade about a centimetre above, and shards of plastic rained down onto the old bookcasethe one theyd bought for their first anniversary.
James didnt even flinch. He disappeared into the hall, yanking on his steel-capped boots, and grumbled towards the coat rack:
Get your head checked, Claire. You need a shrink.
Where are you off to this time? She rushed after him in her dressing gown, mad-haired and wild-eyed. Popping round to that peroxide Barbie at number forty-four again? I saw you flirting with her by the bins!
Will you zip it? James finally managed his laces, straightened up to his full, solid height, and gave his wife a withering look. Im off to Marks. Helping with his car, nothing to do with your tabloid soap fantasies.
He slammed the door. Claire stared after it for a moment, then shuffled into the kitchen, perched on the windowsill, and lit a cigarette, blowing smoke through the open sash. She wasnt angry anymorejust dull and sore, like a toothache that wouldnt quit. How long had it been like this? Five years married, but this last year was truly, spectacularly rotten.
She expected him home that evening. He didnt show up. After a day, she gave his mother a ring, half-expecting to hear hed died or flown off to Spain. The dragon-in-law snorted: Why are you ringing me? Hasnt been here.
Claire waited a week. Then a month.
First, she rang Jameshundreds of times. He either hung up, or grunted down the line: What? or Get lost! or Dont want to see you.
After the second month, she was utterly spent. She blocked his number, binned his old trainers and that scruffy jacket which was still hanging forlornly in the corridor. She didnt bother filing for divorce. She thought, Well, no point rushing to the solicitor, in classic English ditheringmeasure twice, cut once, and all that. Thats how seven months slipped by.
She got used to it. Learned how to sleep in the dead centre of the bed instead of teetering on the left. She cooked soup to last precisely two days, so nothing went to waste. She even finished the redecorating herselfhung up those god-awful floral wallpapers James hated. Life rolled on, monotonous and a little grey, but sort of neat.
Which is why, when someone banged frantically on the door one grim October afternoon, Claire assumed it was the other mad neighbour asking for money again. She openedand froze.
James.
Gaunt, unshaven, still clutching his woolly hat, he stared at her like a wet dog.
She instinctively stepped back.
Well, look who finally crawled out of the woodwork! Her voice was hoarse.
Claire, for Christs sake he limped past her into the hall and propped himself up against the wall Give me five minutes, need a word.
Weve got nothing to say, James. She folded her arms right across the doorway. Disappeared for half a year, now youre back assuming its a B&B. Get out.
I know, I know. I cocked it up, Claire, he stared at the floor. Walked out, crashed at Marks, drank myself sideways for a week then it just spiralled. Stupid pride, you know? Didnt want to be the first to come home begging, and you blocked my number so I went sod it.
Sod it with who? Who kept you warm for seven months? Did she finally kick you out? Claire felt the anger fizzing up again.
James looked up, and his eyes were all panic.
There wasnt anyone, I swear.
Claire snorted.
All right, he sighed. There was, Ill admit it. That redhead neighbour from forty-four, Emma. Thought I should really be living now Id left you. Lasted a couple of months, but it was nothing, Claire. Im rubbish without you.
You can go to hellwith your little Emma, Claire shoved at him, but he wouldnt budge.
No, listen! I left her. Ended up staying with Mark on a camp bed. Drank, moped Autumn hits, and suddenly Im empty inside. Claire, I know Im an idiotgive us another go, please? Ill scrub the flat top to bottom, finish the decorating, get a proper job
He droned on, and Claire just watched, noticing how shrunken he looked, how his fingers reached for her. It wasnt love. Habit, maybe. That bone-deep sense that this muppet was still her muppet, even if he was the biggest idiot in the county. And lonelinessgood grief, the loneliness, which she tried to fill with yoghurt and rubbish TV every night, was eating her alive.
Come in then, she mumbled, stepping aside. Want a cuppa?
James beamed as if shed promised him the lottery jackpot. He nearly tripped taking his shoes off. Sat in the kitchen cupping his mug like a chastised schoolboy, waffling about how hed missed her cooking, how he and Mark nearly trashed an engine, how hed just quit yet another odd job.” Claire half-listened, thinking, Theres no undoing this. Hes back. Hes my husband. Ill get through.
They drifted back into life together. James tried to be diligent: did the washing up, even vacuumed once or twice. Claire quietly defrosted. They avoided mentioning his vanishing actor Emma. They tiptoed round the jagged bits, like living inside a fog. Claire quit snooping his phoneshe thought, He cant possibly be thick enough to trip up again James landed a regular job at a tyre fitters, came home knackered, but pleased. He brought his pay straight home instead of hiding it in some secret stash. Life seemed almost mended.
The honeymoon period lasted exactly three weeks.
One Sunday in early October, as the first damp snow drizzled down outside, James came home early from work. Claire was busy cooking potatoes with mushroomsthe kitchen was toasty. James chucked his coat over the bannister and slumped at the table.
Why the long face? Claire asked, stirring the pan. Did you crack your knuckles at work?
Claire, he rasped. His voice sounded like someone elses. We need to talk.
She wiped her hands, sat opposite.
Whats up? Messed up again?
James hid his hands under the table. He looked terrified. Worse than the day hed come crawling back, even.
Emma The redhead from forty-four She showed up at the garage today.
Claire stiffened.
What does that little wotsit want?
Hear me outdont kill me off yet, please? he swallowed hard. Shes pregnant.
You could hear the wind howling through the gap in the window, the forgotten potatoes hissing on the stove.
Sorry, what? Claire whispered.
She says shes pregnant. Mine.
Claire got up. Moving as if underwater, she turned off the hob. Then, quick as a flash, she grabbed the salt shaker and threw it at the wall over Jamess head. The salt exploded everywhereacross the wallpaper, the floor, his shoulders.
You utter bastard! she roared. You came home, played the loving family man, Missed you, sorry, Im a prat,” and all this time youd knocked up that scrubber?! Crawled back to me for home comforts?!
It was a stupid mistake! James sprang up, brushing salt from his jacket. I told you, just a few months of madness! Summer fling, nothing more!
So the baby came from the tooth fairy, did it?! Claire lunged at him, hand raised, but he caught her wrist mid-air.
Stop it! For Gods sake, sit down he forced her into the chair. She said she was on the pill, probably forgot half the time. When we broke up, she kept schtumnow shes got a bump and comes after me at work, yelling in front of everyone, threatening to haul me through the courts
Well good! Claire fought to get free. Let her! You total knobhead, you deserve it!
I told her outrightI dont want a kid! James thundered back, drowning out her shrieking. Told her to do what she wantsits nothing to do with me!
And?
And James slumped, let go of her hand. She just laughed. Said, Dont care, youll be the dad whether you like it or not. Its your baby; Ill do a DNA test. Your mistake will be running around this very building, and all the neighbours will know youre a wastrel dad. Shes like a tickwont let go, not ever.
Claire sat motionless. Everything shed rebuilt these past months fell apart in that instant. James was no longer the repentant husband, but some foreign, hollow man whod brought disaster on her doorstep.
So what now? she croaked, not looking at him. Moving in with her?
Are you joking? he recoiled, as if slapped. No way! I love you. I want us. She can go ahead and have the baby, but Im not giving her anything! Let her drag me through court if she wants. If they say its mine, fine. Ill pay. But Im living herewith you.
And the child? Claires gaze drilled holes in him. Did you think about the poor kid? Growing up without a dad, with a mother whos crackers, knowing you abandoned it?
Not my problem! James barked. I told her not to! She shouldve been responsible herself. Typical, just after money, these women.
So youre the responsible one now, are you? Always took precautions? Claire laughed mirthlessly.
James said nothing.
Exactly, Claire finished. Stud of the year, thats you.
They argued for hours. Sometimes screaming, sometimes silent. James swore she was the only one he wanted, that Emma was a mistake, hardly a kiss, just drunken haze. Claire cried, then fumed again. By sunrise, they collapsed on the bed as they were, too tired even to undress, and slept like stones.
Morning brought pure misery that stretched all the way to Christmas.
EmmaEmma Watson, aged twenty-eight, part-time shop assistant at the kebab vanwas a real piece of work. She didnt just wait; she attacked. Rang James from a new number daily, sent abusive texts and threats, turned up at the tyre garage to create scenes in front of customers, grabbing his sleeve, yelling, Youre the father, you scumbag!
The garage owner, an elderly chap with nerves of glass, summoned James into his office.
My lad, either sort your bird out or youre done here. This is a garage, not the bloody circus.
James took a weeks leave to avoid embarrassment. He moped about the flat, scowling at the wall. Claire floated around him with a poker face. She pitied him a little, but pitied herselfand that future child from a woman she loathedmuch more.
Claire snapped at last. One day, as James prowled the flat like an agitated gorilla, she dressed up, did her make-up, and announced:
Right, were off.
Where to? he stared.
To number forty-four. Youre coming too. And dont even think about legging it behind a wheely bin.
Minutes later, Claire rapped on a door lined in battered vinyl. It took a while for sounds of rattling chains, then a scowling, round face appeared, framed by a tangle of red curls. Emmas bump was already pretty visible.
Oh, what a crowd, Emma bared her teeth at the sight of James sheepishly behind Claire. Youve brought wifey for a catfight?
Just want a word, Claire tried to sound calm, though inside every cell was quivering. You letting us in, or should we do this in the stairwell for all the neighbours?
Emma shrugged, let them squeeze into a corridor overloaded with bin bags and boxes. The lounge was a tip, ashtray rammed full of cigarette butts.
Still smoking? Claire eyed the ashtray.
None of your business, Emma snapped, instinctively covering her bump. My body, my rules. What do you two want?
Lets be straight, Claire plonked herself on a creaky chair, ignoring the grime. Do you really want this baby?
I do, Emma fired back. Ill raise her myself. Dont need your help. But hes paying child support. Its the law, sweetie.
Why saddle your baby with a dad who wants nothing to do with them? Claire leaned in. James said he wont play happy families, wont take her to the park, wont come to school plays. Hell hate being a father.
Emma smirked.
They all say that now. Gimme a yearjust you watch. When its his flesh and blood, hell melt and dote on her. All blokes are the same.
I wont, James muttered behind Claire. Not a chance.
Shut it, mongrel, Emma retorted, not looking at him. You had your fun, now you pay. And you,she turned to Claire you can keep quiet. Your husbands a cheat, you sort him out. Im having this child, and I dont give a toss if you dont like it. All I need is money. For life.
So its all about money, then? Claire got up.
What did you expect? Some great romance? Dont make me laugh. Go on then, both of you, before I really lose my rag and go nuclear.
It ended, predictably, with nothing resolved. Claire left, utterly defeated. James trudged behind, just as broken.
I told you, he muttered in the lift. Hopeless, that one.
Just shut up, she sighed. You made this mess.
Time rolled on, Emma popped the baby out and filed for child support. James got a court summons. Claire barely slept, James drank lager and brooded.
At court, Emma was in her element. Brought an amateur lawyer in a suit two sizes too big, and her two mates to swear under oath theyd seen James and Emma together at the critical time.” James told the judge:
Yeah, could be mine. But I want a DNA test. Im not signing up for anything.
The judgean ashen-faced womannodded and ordered the test. One more month in purgatory.
That month was the worst. Claire and James barely spokea pair of ghosts shuffling around a council flat. Claire caught herself not caring, either way, whether he went or stayed. He was just a walking calamity in washed-out jeans. He watched her like a hedgehog awaiting a boot.
The DNA results arrived one week before Christmas. Probability of paternity: 99.9%. Jamescongratulations, youre the daddy.
Claire drank herself into a stupor that night. James went to Marks for a proper binge and slunk home at dawn, seething. Claire, red-eyed, was waiting.
So, Dad of the Year, she slurred. Congratulations.
Oh, get stuffed, he grumbled, and collapsed onto the sofa.
New Years Eve was silent. As Big Ben chimed, James clinked his orange juice with Claires champagne. No Happy New Year, just the dulled hush of tired dread.
Claire, he said suddenly, as the fireworks faded. Shall we move?
To where?
Anywhere. Up north, down south, another county. Start over. Here, shell never let up. That kidll be running up these stairs soon enough. Do you really want to watch that?
Claire was quiet for a long time. Finally she looked at him, her eyes empty.
But you cant outrun yourself, James, can you? Even a thousand miles away youre still her dad. The court will get their money, the bailiffs will find you. What about your conscience?
People with kids on purpose can have a conscience, he snapped. I didnt want this.
Emma named the baby Sophie. She sent James a photo from some random numbera mottled, red-faced baby in a hospital blanket, Emmas chipped fingernails just visible. Caption: Congratulations, Daddy.
James handed the phone to Claire. She stared for ages, handed it back, and retreated to the kitchen.
Claire, what do I do now? he called, trailing after.
I dont know, she said, gazing at the February drizzle. Just keep living, I suppose.
Emma was relentless. Now she wanted not just child supportpainfully siphoned from Jamess bank each monthbut extras: pram, cot, nappies, formula, a new boiler, a pony (possibly). James told her to get lost in increasingly creative language. She retaliated with endless photos of Sophie: Your daughters smiling, Shes having a bathyou missed it. Which, honestly, was more effective than any threat.
Claire noticed James started staring at those pictures longer. Before, hed delete them instantly; now, he lookedjust for a minutethen swiped away.
Getting to you? she asked one evening.
What? No. Ridiculous. Just checking who she looks like. Shes got my nose But its nothing, Claire. You know that.
But she did know. Something shifted in Jameshe was furious at Emma, but deep down, the little peanut with his nose that lived in the same block started to matter. Hed never say it, but she could see it.
One late March afternoon, Claire, coming home, spotted something odd. Out by the main door, Emma was standing with a brand new, top-end pram. James was bent over it, making nonsense noises, shaking a rattle. His angry, scruffy face was suddenly soft, soppy. Emma stood with folded arms, smug as you like.
Claire hesitated, hidden, then walked slowly over. James sprang up like a scalded cat, dropping the rattle.
Clairelistenjust walking past
Sure, happens to us all, she said calmly, though she was boiling inside. Hi Emma.
Oh, hi Wifey, Emma grinned. Just introducing Dad to his daughter. Cant have the poor girl never meeting her old man, can we?
James, home. Now. Claire ignored Emma.
Wait, Claire, five minutesjust wanted to see
Seen enough? her voice rose. Come home. Now.
Oi, stop bossing him! Emma snapped. Hes got rights. Besides, youve never even had his baby!
That stung. Claire leaned in, peeped into the pram. There was a tiny, chubby-cheeked girl, fast asleep, bottom lip poking out. Claires heart pinched despite herself.
Shes lovely, she murmured.
Like I said! Looks like me. Wellmy hair, his nose.
Right, Claire turned to James. In. Now. We need to talk.
She walked off. James looked at the pram, hesitated, then trudged after.
Back home, Claire lost it.
Youre seeing her, arent you? Lied to mesaid you loathed her! Said you wanted nothing to do with the baby, and here you are playing happy families?
No! I meansort of. I passed by andshes just so small, Claire. My own I cant help it.
Oh, your own? She threw a mug at the floor. Well, go on then, go live with them! Have your precious family! Go on, Im done!
Claire, come on! I love you!
Do you? You just love your own peace and quiet. Well, congratulations, you havent got any. I am not being the spare wheel in this farce.
She stormed off to the bedroom and locked the door. James slept on the sofa.
Nothing was right after that. James came home late, first blaming work, then Mark.
Claire reached her limit. One April evening, as tulips were bursting from the council flowerpots, she went to Emmas herself. Emma answered, hair brushed, face scrubbed, dressing gown slightly posher than usual.
Come in, she said, uncharacteristically friendly. Fancy a cuppa?
Wheres James?
How would I know? At home, probably. He hasnt been here today. Yesterday he dropped by, saw Sophie.
Why are you dragging him around like a dog on a lead? Isnt the money enough?
Its not about the money, Emma suddenly turned quietly serious. The baby needs her dad. Not for the cash. Little Sophie needs to see him, have him in her life. Im not a monster. I see how hes taken with her. At first, he fought it. Now, he brings toys, takes her for a walk. Why exactly are you keeping him on a leash?
Me? He came crawling back to me!
And now youre holding him tight, Emma shot back. Lets face it. Hes got a child now. Hes got me, too. Maybe not in the ways hed like. He doesnt love me, but he loves his daughter. I can see it. You see it too. Hes not with you for the romance any more. Its habit. Sophie and Iwe need him now. Im not running to get married, but I need him here for her.
Claire listenedand, annoyingly, every word rang true.
When she got home, she found James grinning at his phone, a plate of sausage and beans untouched. The moment he saw her, the smile vanished.
Who are you texting? she asked, already knowing.
Er, Mark he started.
Dont botherEmma told me everything.
James paled.
About what?
You go round there, love your daughter, bring toys. You basically live there half the week.
I dont live there! I just visit. Shes so tiny, Claire. She laughs when I pick her up I cant just walk away. I thought I never wanted kids, but now I just cant ignore her.
Claire sat opposite, locked eyes with him.
Choose, James. Me, or them. No in-between. Im not sharing my husband with a woman from number forty-four and her baby, even if shes yours.
James said nothing for a long time. When he looked up, Claire saw the answer in his eyes. It hurt, but it was final.
Im sorry, Claire. I didnt mean it to happen. But I cant leave Sophie. I cant. I dont know whatll happen with Emma and meprobably nothing. But I cant abandon my kid. Id be scum if I did.
Claire nodded. She stood, walked to the wardrobe, pulled out a duffel and began packing.
Whatre you doing? James panicked.
Leaving, she said quietly. Ill stay at Mums till I find a flat. Go to them if thats what you want. Play happy families.
Claire, dont! I only want to see my daughter! Not Emma!
I get it, she batted his hand away. Youre an idiot, but the kids not to blame. Fancy being a doting dad now after all this. But Im not sitting through this farce. You made your bedlie in it.
She left. James didnt chase her. He just sat, clutching his phone with Sophies photo on, silent as a stone.
A week later, Claire filed for divorce and a split of the flat. James didnt contest it. By May they were officially strangers, and in June sold the flat, halving the money.
Emma, on discovering James was now a free man,” didnt throw a party. She let him move in, but as no more than an on-call dad. He gave her his wages, changed midnight nappies, learned how to bath a wriggling baby. Husband he was notmore like a lodger with a surname on the birth certificate. Emma soon found new boyfriendsJames tolerated it for Sophies sake.
Claire spread word through friends that she was fine, met a decent man with no drama. Maybe true, maybe not.
James stayed at forty-four, waking each morning to his babys cries. Staring at the corny ceiling tiles, hed wonder: how did one mistake bring him here? And why did the only thing worth having in his worlda little girl with his nosehave to come in the most spectacularly backwards way?
Sophie grew up. She never had to visit her dad round the cornerhe was always there. The neighbours gossiped at first, pointed and whispered, then got bored, as they always do. And James, watching his little girl reach up to him with chubby hands, finally understood: you can run from everything, but your destinys just round the next landing, waiting with your eyes and your silly nose.
