I would like to lie down on the floor and cry. Or die.
‘You hit the accelerator, you daft cow,’ Flick says as the three of us stand and stare at it, stunned. ‘What were you thinking?’
‘I don’t know,’ I mumble in the face of her exasperation.
But I do know what I was thinking. I was thinking about Flick’s announcement that she was going to propose to Noah, of course. How can I tell her that? My face turns bright red.
‘It’s not that bad,’ Ella says.
Flick whirls on her, open-mouthed. ‘You’re not going to hide that with a dab of nail varnish. That’ll cost thousands to put right.’
‘I’m not sure that Grace needs to hear that just now,’ Ella points out.
I manage to shake myself out of my daze. ‘Are you all right?’ I ask Ella.
‘I’m fine,’ she assures me. ‘It’s you I’m worried about.’
I’m worried about me too. Flick’s right. This is going to be one expensive bump to fix.
‘I’m fine too,’ I reply.
‘So we’re all fucking fine,’ Flick says. ‘Harry, unfortunately, isn’t going to be fine. You know how much he adores this car.’
Indeed I do. More than me, that’s for sure.
‘She couldn’t help it,’ Ella says. ‘Who would think to put a bollard at the back of a parking space?’
‘A man. Who else?’ Flick snaps. ‘If women designed car parks, the spaces would be twice as big and there’d be no posts.’
‘I don’t know what happened,’ I offer pathetically.
Flick’s right. Harry will not be fine at all. He probably would have preferred it if I’d been badly damaged and the car – his shiny, shiny, expensive, status symbol of a car – was all right. I can hardly bring myself to look at it.
Even after our discussion last night, I’d say that it looks as if the chance of my husband falling in love with me all over again on this holiday has become extremely remote. We are starting to attract a crowd. Men who have parked their Ford Fiestas in the more time-honoured fashion come to gloat at our misfortune.
‘Let’s get out of here. There’s nothing we can do about the car,’ Flick concludes. ‘Just pull it forward, Grace. We’ll have to face the music with Harry when we get back.’
‘I’m sorry, Ella,’ I apologise. ‘I didn’t mean for our mission to turn out like this.’
‘Don’t worry, Grace. It’s not your fault.’
But I’m very much afraid that it is.
‘It’s still drivable,’ Flick says. ‘It’ll get us home all right. As long as Grace can keep it on the road.’ She throws me an exasperated glance, which I let bounce off me. ‘Let’s go into the city centre and get your pregnancy test. Hopefully, we’ll have something to celebrate in a minute.’
‘I feel sick just thinking about it,’ Ella confesses.
Thankfully, Flick doesn’t mention her intention to ask Noah to marry her again, because I feel more than a bit sick myself.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I park the Bentley properly, miraculously not hitting anything at my second attempt. The crowd, disappointed that there isn’t a better show, wanders off. I put the roof up again before we walk into the centre of St Davids.
It’s a pretty city with a more cosmopolitan feel than I’d expected. The beautiful cathedral stands proud on top of the hill as we make the steep climb up from the car park. I take Ella’s arm and help her up the steps. Now that I know that she’s more than likely with child, I want to wrap her in cotton wool.
Amid the traditional tourist trappings, there are chi-chi little shops and coffee bars. Frankly, I could do with a double espresso right now; at least then I could blame my jittery feelings on an excess of caffeine.
Ella leads the way, while I fall into step behind her and Flick. I feel sick to my stomach. It’s possibly a good thing that I haven’t yet had time to eat breakfast. Is Flick serious? I wonder. Does she really think that Noah will marry her? She must be pretty sure as you wouldn’t do that on just a whim, would you?
This is the first time I’ve heard her talk like this and I’m shocked to my core. Trust Flick not to do it the usual way and wait for the man to ask. Or even to wait until they’ve known each other for more than a couple of weeks. Did she learn nothing from her last failed marriage? Clearly not.
We find a chemist’s and stop outside.
‘Wish me luck,’ Ella says and she pops inside while we stand on the pavement in the sunshine. Despite the warmth of the day, I feel cold inside.
‘You sure you’re all right?’ Flick asks.
I realise that I’m shivering. ‘I’m fine. Just a bit shaken.’
‘You’re a bloody idiot,’ she says, not unkindly. She assumes I’m referring to the car crash, whereas I’m not. ‘It’ll be OK.’
‘You don’t really think that, do you?’
‘No,’ she concedes and we both risk a weak smile.
An age later, Ella finally comes out. ‘Queue,’ she says, but in her hand she’s holding up a pregnancy test.
‘Coffee shop,’ Flick pronounces. ‘We need a loo and fast.’
With that we dash along the high street and into the nearest café we can find. We choose badly. This is, quite probably, the only place in St Davids that has failed to move with the times. It’s cramped but doesn’t seem to have embraced minimalism as a concept. Surrounding the chipped tables and scuffed chairs are racks and racks of beach equipment for sale, including inflatable toys, flip-flops, body boards, wetsuits and swimsuits that were possibly last fashionable in the 1950s. In fact, there’s so much stuff that we can hardly get to the tables. We are, currently, the only customers. There’s not even any staff in sight.
‘Euww,’ Flick says, wrinkling her nose. ‘I’m not staying here.’
‘It’ll do,’ I insist. ‘It has a loo.’
‘We can find somewhere else.’
‘I need to know now.’ Ella is surprisingly firm. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’
‘Good luck,’ I offer, even though I think it’s a foregone conclusion. I hug Ella to me tightly.
‘Thanks.’
Flick hugs her too.
Ella hesitates. ‘Come with me,’ she says. ‘I don’t want to do this by myself.’
So we all follow the sign – a woman in a crinoline on a little brass plaque – and squash into the tiny ladies’ room.
There’s barely room to move and Ella struggles to open the cubicle door with us huddled in here. Flick and I are jammed together by the sink. The owners might not have lavished much care on the café, but this is sparklingly clean. Thank goodness.
Ella, still clutching the pregnancy test, disappears into the loo.
‘We’ll sing,’ Flick jokes, ‘so that we don’t listen to you pee and put you off.’ Flick starts up with Katy Perry’s ‘I Kissed a Girl’.
‘I don’t think it was kissing a girl that got Ella in this situation,’ I point out.
I join in anyway, even though my heart isn’t in a singing mood. A few minutes later Ella emerges triumphantly, stick in hand.
‘Want to sing something else while we wait?’ Flick asks.
‘We’re nearly done,’ Ella says and, with a deep breath, checks the test. The colour drains from her face and she looks up at us teary-eyed. ‘I am, indeed, about to become a mummy.’
We both hug her and jump round in the crowded space. Soon we’re all crying.
‘That’s fantastic,’ I say to Ella.
‘I’m going to be an auntie,’ Flick crows.
‘I’m going to be sick,’ Ella says and we both step away from her slightly.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ Flick says. ‘We should go somewhere nicer to celebrate.’
‘Are you well enough?’ I ask Ella.
She nods. ‘I could do with some fresh air. Why don’t we pick up something from the deli across the road and go to the beach for half an hour? I could do with a bit of breathing space, some time to get my head together before
we go back and tell Art.’
‘Good idea.’
Then the door bursts open and a woman stomps in wearing a waitress outfit that could have come from a fancy-dress shop. Even her lacy apron is bristling with indignation.
‘Would you mind telling me what’s going on in here?’
‘Pregnant lady coming through,’ Flick says, matching her imperious tones. ‘Pregnant lady!’ She ushers Ella past her.
‘These toilets are for customers only!’ she shouts after us. But we’re already out on the street and giggling again.
Chapter Thirty
In the tragically crumpled Bentley, I drive us to the beach at Caerfai Bay. Perhaps I shouldn’t voice this to Harry, but I like it a bit more with its dent in it. It adds more character to it. No, better not say that at all.
‘Shall we stop here?’ I say as I slow down. I am going to have a lifelong phobia of parking now.
‘This is fine,’ Ella says.
As it’s still early in the day, the car park is quite empty and I slip, uneventfully, into a vacant space overlooking the sea. Thankfully. I do make sure that the handbrake is firmly applied, though, as I don’t want to go shooting straight over the cliff if Flick decides to make any more momentous announcements.
We’ve bought bagels and Danish pastries. I have a tray with hot coffee in it for me and Flick, peppermint tea for Ella to try to settle her tummy.
The journey here has been subdued. We climb out of the car and walk down to the empty beach in silence. This is another idyllic spot and it will be hard to settle back into London life again after this break. I know in my heart that Harry and I should go home together now but, to be honest, I’m grateful for the excuse to stay here. Despite all that’s going on, I feel a real connection to this place. Ella’s a lucky lady to have Cwtch Cottage and I hope that Art doesn’t persuade her to sell it.
The sun is climbing, gathering warmth, and it looks as if it’s going to be a beautiful day. Flick sets the tray on the golden sand to mark our place. Ella and I flop down next to her so that we’re all in a line, backs to the rocks, looking out at the glittering sea. Opening the bag of goodies, I hand a pastry to each of my friends, along with a serviette. I do the same with the drinks. Flick takes the polystyrene cup that I offer her.
‘Thanks.’
We eat our belated breakfast without speaking. I think the shock of Ella’s pregnancy is really starting to sink in for us all. In my own quiet way, I’m still reeling from Flick’s announcement too.
We all nurse our drinks, sipping thoughtfully in unison, and stare out to sea in comfortable companionship, watching the ebb and flow of the waves. Eventually, the mesmerising swell of the ocean starts to soothe me. If Flick wants to ask Noah to marry her, then who am I to argue against that? She must really love him. More than I thought. I’d imagined she was just being her usual self and that she’d tire of him in the blink of an eye. Seems I was wrong. She’s clearly more serious than I’ve seen her before.
Plus I have my own issues to worry about. So much has gone on already this morning that I’d almost forgotten about my own troubles. All that racing around has let me push to one side the drama of the night. Now it floods back. Everything should look better on a sunny day, shouldn’t it? But it doesn’t. Harry has said that he wants to work things out between us, so why are my spirits not lighter? Ella is pregnant and we should all be rejoicing.
‘All girls together,’ Flick says, eventually, as she wipes a flake of pastry from her lip. Her voice sounds melancholy. She leans her head on Ella’s shoulder. ‘How long have we been doing this?’
‘Longer than I care to remember,’ Ella says.
‘We’ve been through a lot together.’
Ella and I nod in agreement.
‘It seems only yesterday,’ Flick continues, ‘that we were young, free and single.’
‘You still are,’ I point out.
‘Young, free, single and not complicated,’ she tries.
‘You’ve never had a life that hasn’t been complicated, Flick.’ Mostly of her own making.
‘You’re right.’ She sighs at that. ‘Sometimes I feel as if I’ve lived three lifetimes already. What I need is a new start.’
‘And you think that’s what you’ll get with Noah?’ Ella asks and I’m glad that she did as I wouldn’t have been able to voice it.
‘I hope so,’ she says. ‘I’ve got to try. I feel like I’m stuck in my twenties. There’s a time when we’ve all got to knuckle down and grow up. Look at you…’ She nods at Ella. ‘You’re going to be a mummy!’
Ella leans back on her elbows and sticks her tummy out. She looks down proudly at her burgeoning bump. ‘So I am.’
Flick hugs her. ‘You clever, clever girl. Perhaps you’re the first of us to discover the meaning of life. I thought eternal partying was the way to go, but I know now that I’m wrong. I’m so happy for you that I’m going to have to have a celebratory fag.’
Flick lights up and, as a concession, blows the smoke away from Ella. And towards me. I cough.
‘I want you both to be godmothers,’ Ella says. ‘What better start could my baby have in life than to have two fabulous aunties like you?’
‘Oh, Ella, that’s lovely,’ I say. ‘I feel very honoured.’
‘Obviously, I don’t believe in God,’ Flick says, ‘but as long as that’s not an issue then I’m in too.’ She hugs Ella. ‘I can’t wait to buy all those fabulous kids’ clothes. When she’s older I’ll take her out and teach her all my bad habits.’
‘Now what have I let myself in for?’ Ella laughs. ‘Can I change my mind?’
‘Truth is, I’m fucking green with jealousy,’ Flick says, puffing out again. ‘I’m desperate for a kid.’
Ella and I sit up straighter. This is also news. I think we’d both assumed that Flick wanted everything in life, apart from children.
‘You never said.’ Another announcement to be stunned by.
Flick smiles. ‘I don’t tell you everything, Grace.’
‘There’s plenty of time yet,’ I assure her.
‘What about the abortion?’ she says, lowering her voice. ‘What if that was my only chance of having a kid? I should never have done it. What an idiot.’
‘You were young,’ I offer as comfort.
‘And stupid. What sort of chump gets knocked up on her honeymoon?’ Flick continues. ‘By that no-hoper, Brian. How ridiculous was that? On top of everything else.’ She sucks smoke deep into her lungs. ‘What could I do? I’d come back to England in disgrace. I’d got no money. My family wouldn’t take me back. I’d just started university.’
I remember it well. Ella and I came home from our lectures to find Flick drunk, with two black tracks of mascara down her face from crying. She poured it all out to us while I cuddled her and Ella made tea and toast.
‘What would I have done without you both?’ She rubs her face.
We took Flick to the clinic. Waited while the terrible deed was done. What else could we do? We were young and, with the best will in the world, we couldn’t possibly have taken on a baby, even if Flick had managed to get maintenance from Brian Tavistock. She hadn’t even told him about the child and she certainly didn’t want to tell him about the resulting abortion. We all worked extra shifts at Honkers to get the money together. We cried with her for days afterwards and have rarely talked about it again since.
‘I gritted my teeth, got rid of the baby, moved on. Except you don’t, do you? Not ever.’ She looks at us both bleakly. ‘I didn’t tell anyone. It was the worst thing I’ve ever done. Some things you just have to keep to yourself. You can’t ever say them out loud.’
I feel myself flush. That I can identify with.
‘What if I’ve messed up my chance of having kids? I’ve been reckless with contraception over the years and have never fallen pregnant again. What if I’ve got fucked-up tubes or something?’
‘They seem to be able to fix anything these days, Flick,’ I say softly. ‘I’
m sure it won’t be a problem even if anything did go wrong. There’s no reason to think that you can’t have a baby.’
‘But you don’t know, do you? You don’t really know what’s going on inside your body. Sometimes until it’s too late.’ She takes a drag on her cigarette again. I could tell her what that’s doing to the inside of her body, but this isn’t the time. ‘I think of the baby all the time. What it would be like now. Whether it was a boy or a girl. It would be thirteen.’ Flick laughs bitterly. ‘Imagine me with a teenage kid! How different my life would have been.’
A Cottage by the Sea Page 15
