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‘Please, I’ll make another coffee.’ I can hear the whine in my voice.
She stands fiddling with her bag strap, takes a glance at her watch.
‘Well OK, but you need to get off your moral high-horse, babe.’
So, I make us another drink and sit down to tell her about Gethin.
‘He says I’ve been on at him, but maybe getting off his arse is the cure for that?’
‘Did you not lay off for his birthday?’ Grace frowns at me.
‘Of course. We had a slap-up lunch with a load of wine, maybe too much wine…I bought him a bloody iPhone.’
‘iPhone cool, no?’ She nods her approval.
‘But then, you see, there was this letter Karen gave me for him.’
‘Karen? Wow! Blast from the past?’
I remind her how Karen had sorted out my sperm donor. ‘I never even knew his name and I was more than happy with that. I wanted a child all by myself, although Karen had a lot of involvement to start with, as you know.’
‘He was always your son, darling.’
I nod as I pull myself back to the point. ‘I knew a couple of women with donors who played Daddy to their kids, but to tell you the truth, I didn’t want some random man’s involvement. I would have been happy to pay a sperm bank.’
I explain how Karen found this bloke from her work who agreed to be a non-involved donor. ‘She got him to write a few details about himself for Gethin to have when he grew up. It seemed better for the child than total anonymity, or at least, Karen thought so.’
‘She could have been right. Kids like to know where they come from, don’t they?’ Grace smiles as she passes the joint.
‘Gethin wasn’t so pleased when I gave him the sperm donor’s letter this afternoon?’
I take a deep puff and feel a lurch of panic as the dope takes hold. Not really the relief I was hoping for. I pick up my coffee and slop some over the table. Jesus, what on earth is the matter with me? Grace stares at me impassively, or critically is what it feels like.
‘The thing is the letter was never my idea. I did mention it when Gethin was little, but after we’d established how he was conceived, he didn’t seem interested in the donor.’
‘So why did you give it him?’
‘Karen sent it to me just before his birthday. Once I had possession of it – I couldn’t withhold the information, could I?’
‘Not sure I’d have picked handing it over straight after the iPhone.’
‘You think I planned it that way?’ I snap.
‘OK babe,’ Grace waves her hands in a calm-down gesture. ‘He didn’t take it well?’
‘He caused an almighty scene and stormed out of the café.’ I describe him pushing me away as his chair clattered to the floor, my every nerve sharpened, the café owner stepping forward. ‘I don’t understand this rage coming out of nowhere, Grace.’
‘Babe, it’s probably best you take a break from each other.’
‘What do you mean? Am I so hard to talk to?’
‘You’re not even looking at why he might feel so angry.’
‘And you can see that?’ I tense against the rising fury.
Grace pulls herself up. ‘I can’t talk to you like this – you know how I am?’ That sweet apologetic smile. She has told me that confrontation reminds her of her dad when she was a child. Is that really what I’m doing now?
I take a breath, still desperate to keep her here. ‘I’m sorry, we’ll change the subject.’
