Ordinarily I write something one evening and edit/proof read the next, but I found the latter half of this chapter quite hard to write and quite harrowing too. It's one of those scenes, like the one on the roof top when Cat found out about Roger's HIV status, which I've had in my head almost ever since this story began. However, please forgive it if it's awkward or clumsy; it's all my fault and not Cat and Roger's!


It was odd to be back in New York after all of this time. I felt the changes the past eleven months had brought since we last walked down this street and I'd spent only a small proportion of my life in the city. Walking around the side of our hired car and leaning against it alongside Roger, I wondered how he felt on this surprisingly sunny autumnal morning.

'It looks… smaller,' he said eventually as we stared up at the apartment block he'd lived in for over a decade. 'That's stupid, isn't it?'

I shook my head. 'I think things like that can change. My apartment definitely feels bigger these days.'

Roger turned to look at me with a smile on his face and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. 'Thank you.'

'What for?'

'For making me seem less of a dork in comparison with you.'

'Hey!' I elbowed him in the ribs, giggling. 'I was trying to be nice.'

Roger laughed and kissed the top of my head affectionately. Sighing deeply, he said, 'I suppose we better go on up?'

'Well try to sound enthusiastic.' I rolled my eyes; his world-weariness about this whole trip was wearing a little thin. He'd been vacillating between uncontrollably excited and apathetic about the trip for the past few weeks. The flight had been punctuated with borderline irritating yawns as he complained quietly about everything from the choice of films to the overpriced duty-free which he had no intention of buying anyway.

Roger pulled a face, his jawline setting into that grim determination that had got him through his thirty-one years on this planet. 'I am excited, I just…' He shrugged and left his sentence unfinished, moving towards the boot of the car to get our suitcases out. 'It doesn't matter.'

'He's still your best friend,' I said. 'Nothing's going to change that, Rog. Not babies or anything.'

Roger lifted his head from the boot and gave me a strange look, as though he was looking at me for the first time.

'What?' I asked, my hands flying to my face to check for some blemish which hadn't been there when I'd last looked in a mirror at the airport.

'Nothing.'

'Then why are you looking at me like that?'

'No reason. Just… how do you always get me?' He shook his head and the smile spread back over his face. 'Come on. Let's go see him.'

Any of Roger's fears about Mark's new role having changed him were erased as soon as the door slid open to the apartment they'd shared for years. The sight of the two them embracing each other in hugs which threw away all masculine inhibitions more than made up for any last minute doubts I may have had about this trip. The same rib-crushing hug I received only seconds later made them vanish all together.

'It's so good to see you!' Mark said, looking between the two of us, pure elation filling his features. He looked so well; tired, yes, but a million miles away from the person I'd met last December. I would always love Stacey for doing this to him, for fixing him in a way that I'd never believed possible. The guilt I'd carried for the best part of a year at stealing his best friend away from him dissipated at long last; Roger would never have been able to repair Mark like this.

'You too.' Roger nodded as we stepped into the apartment. 'And I love what you've done with the place!' he added, grinning at the sight of the familiar living area which seemed to be identical to the one we'd walked out of at the beginning of the year.

'Some of us have had more important things to deal with than interior design,' Mark pointed out.

'Plus I like it.' Stacey emerged from the bedroom, a welcoming smile on her face. 'Hey you guys. How was the flight?' She hugged us with less force than Mark, but with no less warmth.

'Fine,' Roger replied, his natural reserve around people he didn't know that well kicking in and vastly contradicting his previous moans and groans about the whole journey. I stifled a smile.

'Hang on, Roger, you hate flying!' Mark called his bluff in the way that only a best friend can.

'He moaned all the way here,' I admitted, shooting him a triumphant look.

'God, so do I.' Stacey shuddered. 'Anyone who tries to tell you jet lag isn't as bad as baby-nights is lying. Speaking of which…' She grinned suddenly, her face lighting up in excitement at sharing her most beloved treasure with somebody new. 'Would you like to meet Rose?'

'Hasn't she only just gone down?' Mark interjected immediately, his face clouding over in the concern I recognised. 'She's not due a feed yet, is she?'

Stacey rolled her eyes good-naturedly. 'Stop flapping. She's fine and she'll love meeting another aunt and uncle. Be back in a second.' She disappeared back into Mark's – and her – bedroom.

Stacey's ability to cope with Mark's habitual anxiety was something I'd increasingly admire as those few days went by. Much as I loved him, I'd forgotten how he could panic over every little aspect of life and our predictions that Rose's arrival would only multiply this were proved to be pretty accurate. Stacey's laid-back ease complimented his constant worry perfectly and prevented the baby from being entirely wrapped in cotton wool. I couldn't help suspecting that, close as they were, Mark would never have entrusted his daughter to Roger quite as cavalierly unless Stacey had been involved in the transfer from one set of arms to another. I was pleased she was, because Roger holding a baby was fast becoming my favourite image of him, something it turned out that he was more than aware of.

Rose was beautiful, and I was pretty certain I wasn't being biased by that statement. Her eyes had already turned a deliciously rich chocolate brown and were the first thing you noticed about her as soon as she opened them. They had a peculiarly knowing look about them, as though she'd seen this all before somewhere and understood more about than you could ever hope to understand. As yet she was almost completely bald: 'But I'm hoping she'll have Mark's hair when it comes,' Stacey explained, shooting him a fond look. 'One redhead is enough in any family!' I disagreed with her entirely on that issue.

The thing I loved most about Rose, though, was her sheer presence. I could never tire of simply looking at her and trying to get my head around how she'd arrived in the world. A year ago, she hadn't existed; she hadn't even been a consideration in any of lives, least of all Mark and Stacey's. Now, here she was, a living breathing sign of how much everything had changed since those days. I wondered if she would ever really realise how much she represented for us.

The second evening we were in New York, the night before Thanksgiving, Mark and Roger slipped out for a drink. Mark had needed more persuading than I'd ever seen him require before for a social occasion. It took some concerted whining from Roger and a final 'Mark, I'm fine, just go!' from Stacey before he left. I was pleased; Roger and he had a lot to catch up on.

Despite not knowing Stacey all that well, being with her was easy. Rose gave us a common point to discuss, but there was more to Stacey than just being the mother of Mark's child as I learnt very quickly. She was efficient and organised, but also had an astonishingly creative streak in her. He'd met her through his job at Buzzline, yet her talents ran far beyond a sleazy cable TV show. As Rose had one of her brief and intermittent sleeps, she showed me the collection of photographs she'd already built up in the six weeks since the birth.

'They're not anything much,' she said modestly as she half-threw them towards me. 'I've just been playing around with the camera really. I don't normally do portraits.'

'These are amazing!' I exclaimed immediately as picture after picture of the baby popped out at me. 'Stacey, these are… beautiful!'

'Well, the subject matter helps.' She shrugged.

'Seriously,' I leafed through them, 'these are incredible. You've really captured her.'

'I do like this one,' Stacey admitted, showing me one of Mark, fast asleep on the sofa, and Rose cradled in his arms. She smiled. 'I haven't shown him it yet; he'll probably panic that he fell asleep at all.'

I laughed. 'Sounds like Mark.'

'I think it's really important to capture moments like this,' Stacey explained, as I continued looking through the photos. 'She's already changed so much. I don't want to forget.'

'There's not many of you though.'

'Thank God!' She grinned. 'Anyway, believe me, Mark is as bad with that video camera. I get the joys of being captured in full Technicolor glory! It's been nice doing something other than being a mom too. I mean, I love it, I love her! But it can get a bit overwhelming. I don't quite know what I'm going to do when she moves into her own room and I have to give my dark room up!'

'What about Roger's room?'

'No.' Stacey shook her head abruptly. 'That's… staying.' She gave a small chuckle and shook her head. 'What those two have… it's more than friendship, isn't it? It's like… family. I'm not going to try to compete with that.'

I could only agree, it having been a conclusion I'd come to long ago. It was the reason I'd stayed behind this evening rather than gate-crashing their time together.

'Anyway, wait there a second.' Stacey scrambled to her feet and headed towards the bedroom she'd commandeered as a dark room. 'I've got a photo I've just developed today. You'll love it.' She was back almost before she'd gone. 'It's weird. I wasn't even trying very hard and the lighting is pretty awful but it's got something.' She gave a mischievous smile. 'Turns out Roger is quite photogenic.'

That was something I'd always known and it was on the tip of my tongue to say so when I looked down at the photo. Any words I might been about to utter died on my lips.

It was a photo of nothing special, a very ordinary moment where Mark and Roger were sat side by side on the sofa. Stacey had managed to capture the last seconds of a shared smile between them, just as Roger was glancing back down at the bundle in his arms. Rose herself was almost completely obscured, yet Roger's face said everything it needed to. As Stacey had said, he was photogenic. It was more than that though, and as I continued staring at the photo it felt as though I was moving closer to something that had been just on the horizon for as long as I could remember.

'Babies really suit him, don't they?'

There it was. The horizon. It was like that moment in a film when they ran forwards only to realise that the cliff ran out and there was nothing but a canyon ahead of them. No way out. My stomach lurched downwards as the blindingly obvious hit me in the ribs. How could I have been so stupid? This had been staring me in the face for months and I'd cheerfully turned away every time Roger had asked if I was alright, believing I was. Now, suddenly, I realised I wasn't. And Roger wasn't here.

'Cat, are you okay?' I stared up to find Stacey looking down at me, smiling but with a frown between her eyes. She looked genuinely concerned for me, a relative stranger, and I wondered what I looked like to her, struck mute by a simple photograph. She must think I'd gone insane. Maybe I had.

'I'm… fine,' I lied, just as Rose woke up in the other room and began the by now familiar demands for her latest drink. Suddenly every scream was a stab to my stomach and I knew I couldn't stay there, not right now. I got to my feet.

'I better see to her.' Stacey dithered, caught between her natural instincts to cater for her daughter's every need and me. 'Are you sure you're okay, Cat?' This was unfair on her.

'Of course.' I heard the words but didn't connect them with myself, as if it was someone else speaking as my feet carried me towards the door. 'I'm… I'm going to go out for a bit, actually. Leave you and Rose in peace. I'll probably try and find Roger and… Mark…' I drifted out the door without any further explanation, no doubt leaving Stacey certain that Roger's girlfriend was not all there.

Outside it was a typical New York November evening with a brisk wind which cut right through me. It was only when I left the building that I realised my coat was still hanging up in the apartment and I was cold without it. Going back was never an option though. So I started walking, no idea where I was headed for. There was nowhere I could imagine that would make me feel any better; this cut too deeply.

Well, there was one place.


Arms encircled me from behind and I jumped until I heard that voice which I'd both longed and dreaded to hear ever since leaving the apartment over an hour earlier. 'You forgot your coat.' Its familiar bulkiness was draped around my shoulders and Roger pressed himself up against my back to try to warm me up. I wasn't sure what to say or do, and so I focused instead upon the people skating on the other side of the barrier, looping and circling each other like birds. Turning to look at Roger seemed beyond me right then so I simply settled back against him, wondering how I'd ever get out the words that had lodged in my throat.

'I always said this was a good place for thinking,' he said eventually, his voice low and casual in my ear, as though his girlfriend heading halfway across Manhattan by herself late at night was entirely usual behaviour. Probably for his previous girlfriends it was, I mused, a jealousy that I'd never experienced before directed towards both of them, but especially April. The anger I felt towards her spilled out of me as Roger added in a much more tender tone, 'What are you thinking?'

Ducking out of his embrace, I stepped away, suddenly finding being so close to him more than I could handle. I shot him a look in lieu of the words I couldn't yet find. The look he gave me back unleashed the tears which had, I realised now, been pooling in my eyes for months. He apologised without ever opening his mouth.

'You already know,' I said finally, choking and angry that he was even asking. He'd known for weeks, probably months; it had been in his every look and touch, and I'd been so stupid, so blind, so arrogant that I'd completely overlooked it all, putting it down to Roger's typical pessimistic nature. Embarrassment at having been so foolish flooded over me and angered me even further. 'You've always known.'

'Known what?' I stared at him incredulously and he winced at his words. 'Okay. But… say it, Cat. You need to say it.'

'This isn't some therapy session, Roger,' I spat out, my voice high-pitched. Only the shouts and giggles of children drowned it out and drove a knife even further into me. 'This isn't Life Support!'

'I know. Cat, I know.' He took a step further towards me, raising his hand as if to touch me and then thinking better of it and folding his arms. 'But you still need to do it.'

I met his eyes, so full of concern and sympathy and something else – the same raw pain I could feel eating away at me. It was that which finally forced the words past my lips. 'We're not going to have children, are we?'

It was as though he shrugged off one burden, the great secret, at the same time as accepting another. He closed his eyes slowly before replying. 'No, Cat. We're not.'

I choked out a sob and the pain in my stomach took over as I slumped down onto a park bench. Roger looked down at me without speaking for what felt like forever. I covered my mouth, ashamed of my reaction and replaying the last few months in my head. It was all so obvious now; not just Roger's concern but everything. This had been creeping up on me silently.

'You knew,' I said finally, my voice much quieter. 'You knew.'

'Yeah.'

'Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you…?' I tailed off, unable to put words together in order to explain myself properly.

'I tried to.' He had, I knew he had. Those tender touches, those constant questions as to whether I was alright. God, even the way he'd looked at me watching him with Rose. He'd constantly tried to say something and I'd just been too stupid to see. 'I didn't want to see you hurt.'

I snorted bitterly. 'Brilliant job, Roger.' I winced as my words hit him hard and hated myself. 'I'm sorry, I didn't…' I tailed off and Roger continued as if I'd never spoken.

'I wasn't sure if you knew, not really. Sometimes it was like you'd already realised and… got over it. Sorry, that's not what I meant,' he added as I gasped at what he said. 'I meant… oh fuck.' He sat down heavily beside me, his head in his hands. Taking a deep breath, he added, 'I didn't know you wanted kids. Not really. Not that that's the point, it's just…'

'I didn't know.' I shook my head. 'I honestly didn't, not until now. Children have always been… I don't know, the future, miles away. I've never thought… But now…' I choked on my words again.

Roger's hand landed on the back of my neck, finding the spot where tension always tied me into knots. He gently massaged it as tears rolled down my cheeks. For a time we sat in silence. I gazed out across the ice skating rink, taking in the couples laughing together, the families enjoying the holiday season. I wondered if any of it would ever again seem normal to me.

'I'm sorry.'

'It's not your fault.'

He pulled a face. 'It sort of is.'

He was right of course. His diagnosis was something we rarely talked about and I had almost never thought about in the days since leaving this city behind last winter. There was no need to: he was healthy and well and it was easier to think about Collins before all of that stuff got in the way. If I ever wondered what the future would bring for us, Roger's HIV was something I tended to skirt around. But here it was, laid bare in front of us: here was the reason why Roger and I would never have children.

Yet still…

'There's a chance though.' I sat up, turning to look at him, clearly taking him by surprise. 'Just… listen a moment. It doesn't mean we can't have children. Think about it, we could still try, it wouldn't necessarily mean they'd get it. We could still-'

'Cat, no.'

'But it could work, it-'

'No!' I jumped as Roger snapped, his eyes flashing angrily. 'I've lost too many people already, you really think I want to lose you and our child?'

'It's not definite-' I tried again, the last hope dying within me as he shot me down time after time.

'I don't care. We're not doing it.'

Despair took over. 'So what? We're just… not going to have children? Ever?'

For a long moment, Roger looked into my eyes, a strange and piercing stare. Then he dropped his gaze to the ground. 'We're not going to have children. But you still could,' he added. 'You only have to say the word.'

'What?' I frowned, my brain unable to keep up with him. 'I don't understand.'

'I'm the problem. It's always me, isn't it?' He gave a rueful smile, but it was the sadness which had settled over him which I noticed the most. 'You're fine, Cat. You could… have a dozen babies if you wanted to. With someone else.'

My stomach roiled, unable to cope with how this evening was progressing. Only hours ago I'd cheerfully waved Roger and Mark off to their night out. I'd curled up on the sofa and marvelled at Stacey's photographs. It had all been so normal for the first time in my life; everything had seemed so settled and safe. There had been nothing to worry about anymore, not Mark, not Roger, not money. Now here we were and I couldn't believe what he was saying.

'You… you want to break up?'

'No!' He grabbed my hands with a violence which frightened me and he released his grip almost instantly. 'I'm not saying that. I… I just want you to be happy. That's all I've ever wanted. And if that means you having children then…' He shook his head and I saw the tears shining in his eyes. 'If you want children, Cat, I can't have you. That's all.' Abruptly, he stood up. 'Come on, you're freezing, let's go for a walk.'

We walked and talked for hours and it was long after midnight by the time we returned to the apartment that evening. Mark was awake, giving Rose her first bottle of the night. We exchanged watery smiles with him but he didn't probe any further; I wondered how long he'd known what had taken me so many months to figure out. At some stage during the night I must have slept, wrapped up so tightly in Roger's arms that I could hardly breathe, but I woke up the next morning feeling more exhausted than ever. Roger had gone, leaving a simple note, only differing from previous notes because of its specificity: 'Life Support. Xxx.' I knew he was trying to keep himself together for me, that in the long run his attending that meeting was probably better for everybody. Still, I loathed being left alone this morning, having to face up his final words last night by myself.

'It's up to you, Cat. Your choice. I'll love you either way.'