The Vintage Teacup Club

by Vanessa Greene

  She opened her diary and checked – 10–18 September, Kesha had said. Still far enough away for her to train Anna up in a few things. She’d flicked back to the calendar section at the start of the diary and counted – six, seven, just over seven weeks and it would be olives, pizza, good wine and days filled with nothing to do. Bliss. She’d have to brush up on her Italian a little bit before that, but she’d get some CDs out of the library and listen to them when she was cooking. Yes, she’d been having fun with Owen, but Kesha was a friend for life and she was keen to get their friendship back on track.

  It was then that she’d noticed the circled days on her diary calendar; neat, regular, clusters of five blue rings, appearing through the year right up till – June. Her skin prickled and she felt sick to her stomach. There were no rings in July and it was nearly over.

  Her period was late.

  Chapter 34

  Jenny

  It didn’t feel real until I was out in the garden by my dad’s workshop, telling him all about it.

  ‘Are you sure, love? It is definite?’ he asked.

  ‘It seems pretty certain, yes.’ A wide grin was spreading across my face.

  ‘My little girl,’ he said, enveloping me in a huge hug. He looked like he might actually jump up and down. ‘I always knew you were a star. Can I have a look, have you got a copy?’

  ‘I’ve got the original here actually,’ I said. ‘Do you want to have a look?’

  ‘Of course I do, Jen. This kind of thing doesn’t happen every day.’

  I went into the kitchen and took the pages of my children’s book out of my bag and brought them out into the yard.

  Dad smiled at the first page and carefully turned it over. I still couldn’t really believe everything that had happened. Since reading the email from Alison’s publisher friend, JoJo, it felt as if my life had been running in fast-forward. JoJo’s note had been brief but very positive, she’d said she really liked the book, and asked me to call her up to discuss it.

  Dad let out a little chuckle at one of the images I’d painted and carried on reading.

  I’d snuck out of the office to call JoJo the moment I finished reading her message. I resisted the temptation to tell anyone before speaking to her, as I didn’t want to jinx things. JoJo was bubbly and enthusiastic and said that at Parakeet Press they’d been looking for new titles for the 4–6 age group and they thought Charlie, Carlitos and Me was going to be a great fit. ‘There are a few changes I’d like to suggest,’ JoJo had said, slipping into a more businesslike tone. ‘And some of the illustrations need a bit of tidying up.’ That was definitely true, I thought, feeling a little sheepish and hoping Alison had explained that it wasn’t a polished version. ‘But if you’re prepared to do some further work, we’d like to make you an offer. We’d be very proud to have you and the chinchilla boys on board.’

  I’d been so dizzy with excitement when I put down the phone I didn’t know what to do with myself. It was really happening! I had to share the good news with someone, and it was Dad who first came to mind.

  Dad was pointing at the picture of Jake, holding Carlitos and singing a little song in Spanish with him.

  ‘That’s just like Chris and the guinea pigs, isn’t it? Do you remember how he used to sing to them all the time? Horribly off-key it was, but they seemed to like it.’

  I laughed. ‘Of course, Dad. How could I forget Chris and those furry Queen fans? Who do you think gave me the idea?’

  ‘Gallileo, Gallileo,’ Dad said, as he held up two imaginary guinea pigs and swivelled his head between them.

  ‘Figaro, Magnifico!’ I joined him, laughing. He put the invisible pets down.

  ‘I hope I’m not the inspiration for Jake’s parents.’ Dad said, his tone a little more serious. ‘I mean his dad never believes a word he says, does he? Poor chap’s carrying this secret with him and feels like he’s talking to a brick wall. And as for his mum …’ Dad’s sentence drifted off, and he looked a little awkward.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, putting my hand on Dad’s leg. ‘Safe to say she was definitely from my imagination.’ The muscles in Dad’s face seemed to relax.

  ‘Have you heard any more from your mum since the hen night?’ he asked tentatively.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, thinking back to what she’d written to me. ‘She wrote me a letter.’

  Dad looked at me, trying to gauge my expression I think.

  ‘I haven’t replied.’ I shrugged, a lump forming in my throat. ‘I don’t really know how I feel about it, Dad.’

  ‘She did sound pretty sorry when she called, love,’ Dad said. ‘It’s your decision, but I wonder if she might finally be starting to understand what she’s done.’

  I raised my eyebrows, so Dad could see just how sceptical I was about that. But then, maybe, just maybe, she had meant some of what she said …

  ‘I’m not saying you should give her another chance,’ Dad said. ‘What I mean is, I don’t want you, or Chris for that matter, to think that having a relationship with her would be betraying me.’ From the creases in his brow, it was clear that Dad had been carrying a huge burden, and it pained me to see that.

  ‘I know that, Dad,’ I said. ‘But thank you.’ I gave him a cuddle. ‘Anyway, you’re my number one parent. Rest assured that it’s you I’ll be buying a mansion for when Charlie sells a million.’

  ‘You never know, Jenny,’ Dad said, deadly serious. ‘It might do. I always knew you were good at drawing.’ I thought back to the amateurish caricatures in the kitchen, the fingerprint paintings Chris and I had done that Dad still had Blu-tacked up in the living room. He really wasn’t the most objective of judges. ‘And you know that woman, she did quite well out of children’s books, didn’t she, whatsername, you know, the ones about the boy magician …’

  ‘Oh Dad,’ I said. ‘I love you. You poor deluded man.’ He gave me a confused look as I kissed him on the cheek. ‘So are we ready for the grand unveiling, or what?’ I asked, nudging him.

  Dad had been hard at work for weeks designing a bar for us to serve drinks from during the evening wedding do, but he’d been really secretive about it. He’d wanted it to be a surprise but had finally given in to the demands of my inner control-freak and agreed to let me have a sneak peek ahead of the party.

  He led me through into the glorified shed where he did all his carpentry, and we stepped over the bits of timber left over from the kennel he was making for our new puppy. There, against the wall, stood a stunning wide curved bar, with poles at the side and a banner made out of thin wood overhead, with A TOAST TO THE NEWLYWEDS! written on it. He’d painted the bar in sunshine yellow to match one of the colours in our theme.

  I clapped my hands and then brought them up to my face. ‘It’s beautiful, Dad.’

  He moved forward and bent down, pointing to one of the wooden joints. ‘The really ingenious bit is this,’ he said animatedly. ‘It all comes apart, you see. So it’ll be easy to transport to the venue – then we can just put it all back together once we get inside.’ He then pulled up the pole that held on the banner section, showing me, his eyes lighting up.

  I held out my arms for a hug. ‘Thank you, Dad,’ I said. He hugged me back, then pulled away. ‘I wanted … I wanted to get it right for you, Jen,’ he said.

  I realised when he looked away that there must be tears in his eyes, and seeing the bar he’d gone to so much trouble making had brought some to mine too.

  ‘You’ve always got it right for me, Dad,’ I said.

  Chapter 35

  Maggie

  Maggie must have been lying there for about half an hour before the doorbell rang, startling her. Getting up and glancing in the mirror, she tidied her hair and went downstairs to answer it.

  Alison was on her front step, with a big smile on her face, in the denim dungarees and red headscarf she’d been wearing earlier.

  ‘Hi again,’ Alison said. ‘Sorry to drop by unannounced, but you’re on my way home. You know I told you about the Bli
tz Spirit launch party tomorrow, Jamie’s new café on the high street?’ Maggie nodded. ‘He asked me to give you and Jenny these ages ago and I’m afraid I completely forgot.’ Alison passed her a stylish square card invite with lettering that looked like it had been made with old printing blocks.

  Maggie nodded and took it. ‘Nice,’ she said, admiring it.

  ‘Free cocktails,’ Alison said, smiling and tilting her head to try and gauge the expression on her friend’s face. ‘Are you OK, Maggie? You look really pale.’

  ‘I’m not feeling that great actually, no,’ Maggie said. ‘Have you got a minute to come in?’

  ‘Sure, sure – of course,’ Alison said, following Maggie through to the living room.

  Mork miaowed from his spot on the white sofa, then leapt down onto the carpet, arching his back. The two women sat down and Alison waited for Maggie to break the silence. She didn’t.

  ‘What’s up, Maggie?’ she prompted. ‘You seemed fine earlier … do you think it was something we ate at the car boot sale?’

  ‘No,’ Maggie shook her head. ‘It definitely wasn’t anything I ate.’

  ‘What then? You look grey,’ Alison asked, putting her hand up to Maggie’s forehead.

  ‘I don’t have a temperature, Ali,’ Maggie said. ‘I think I might be pregnant.’

  ‘What?’ Alison’s eyes were wide.

  ‘I know,’ Maggie said, furrowing her brow. ‘My period’s late. I’m never late.’

  ‘And what, are you just planning on sitting here?’ Alison said. ‘Or are we going to find out for sure?’

  Maggie and Alison had got to the chemist just before it closed and bought a pack of three pregnancy tests.

  ‘Will you wait with me?’ Maggie asked, back home, her voice unsteady. ‘I feel like I might faint any moment.’

  ‘Of course,’ Alison replied, passing her the box.

  Maggie took a test out, unwrapped it, and they went together to the bathroom. Alison perched on the side of the bath.

  When Maggie had peed on the end, she put the cap on and put it by the sink. ‘Can you look?’ she asked. ‘I don’t think I can face it.’

  They waited a moment and then Alison said, ‘It’s a yes, Maggie.’

  Maggie picked up the stick, saw the positive blue icon had appeared in the window and nausea flooded back.

  She was meant to be a grown up. How had she let this happen?

  Ten minutes later Maggie and Alison were on the sofa, with sugary cups of tea in their hands.

  ‘Oh God,’ Maggie said, slumping back and letting the sofa cushions take her weight. ‘I’m old enough to know better, aren’t I?’

  ‘Well, you’re certainly in good company,’ Alison said. ‘Sophie may have been planned, but Holly is our favourite mistake, a mini-break on the Isle of Wight when I’d left my pills at home.’ She smiled.

  ‘But at least you’re in a relationship,’ Maggie said. ‘I really should have been more careful.’

  ‘What’s happened has happened,’ Alison said. ‘There’s not much point dwelling on it now. And anyway, last time I checked it took two to make a baby – the responsibility doesn’t all rest with you, you know.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Maggie said. ‘You’re right.’

  ‘Is it Dylan’s?’ Alison asked, gently.

  ‘No,’ Maggie replied. ‘It can’t be, we were always really careful. I think he was probably terrified at the idea of an accident happening, in retrospect. But with Owen the moment swept us up, more than once. Plus I think it’s really early, just a couple of weeks, so that ties in too.’

  Maggie lifted her feet up and hugged her knees to her. ‘Oh God, Ali. I hardly know Owen … and he’s all, you know, all free.’

  ‘OK,’ Alison said. ‘Forget about Owen for a second. How do you feel about it?’

  Maggie hesitated. ‘Sick.’

  Alison raised an eyebrow.

  ‘OK,’ Maggie continued, ‘I suppose after Dylan and I got divorced I just resigned myself to the fact I wasn’t going to be a mother. And I really am fine with that. I mean I was fine with that. I don’t know, Ali,’ she gestured to her immaculate living room, taking in the white carpets, the orchids, fragile glass ornaments on every surface. ‘I don’t have my life right for a baby.’

  ‘Does anybody?’ Alison said, with a shrug.

  ‘I suppose not,’ Maggie said, her feelings searching for space among the practicalities. ‘But the business, I have all these plans for it. To set up in London … I can’t just give up on everything I’ve achieved to have a baby.’

  ‘It doesn’t have to be either/or, Maggie,’ Alison said. ‘Lots of mothers work.’

  ‘But I’ll be … I’m going to be a single mum, aren’t I?’ She started to chew on a manicured nail.

  ‘You don’t know anything for sure,’ Alison said, her voice calming.

  ‘I will be,’ Maggie said. ‘I’ll be on my own trying to work out how to do up a nappy and remember the words to lullabies, and deciding what to do when it gets ill … God, Ali, I don’t know if I can do it.’ Adrenalin rushed through her veins as she pictured it. Alone. With a baby.

  ‘I’ve only known Owen five minutes, Ali. He’s not going to sign up for this, and to be honest I can’t blame him.’

  ‘But let’s get back to what I said,’ Alison said, taking Maggie’s hand. ‘Do you want to sign up for this?’

  The answer came to Maggie more quickly than she’d expected. She stopped chewing on her nail and looked up at Alison. ‘It’s completely and utterly terrifying.’ She took a deep breath. ‘But yes, I think I do.’

  ‘There you go,’ Alison said, with a smile. ‘So there’s a start,’ she put her arm around Maggie’s shoulders. ‘But before you make any decisions you need to speak to Owen. Call him. He needs to know.’

  Maggie felt sick to her stomach. Here she was, meeting Owen for lunch at the Queen’s Head, a cosy, quiet pub hidden round the back of Charlesworth train station. This would normally have made for a dreamy escape from the shop – but not today. How was she supposed to handle a conversation like this? Would Owen be reasonable, or bolt for the door?

  When they’d kissed hello, Maggie had felt a rush of happiness; being in Owen’s arms felt right and for a fleeting moment she almost forgot the reason she’d asked to meet him. But as he let her go, reality hit. If she kept the baby, she was going to lose this good man she’d found.

  The pub was empty apart from one other couple in the far corner, a pretty red-haired woman about Maggie’s age and a man in a dark suit with his back to them. Maggie and Owen ordered their food and then settled in a booth by the window.

  ‘How’s the Japanese garden going?’ Maggie asked Owen, feigning calm.

  ‘Oh, fine,’ he replied, ‘but I’ve been looking forward to seeing you so much that it’s been hard to focus on the bonsais.’ He reached over and gave her a kiss.

  ‘By the way,’ Owen said. ‘I called Lucy and reassured her that everything is going fine with the wedding plans. She was a bit concerned she hadn’t heard from either of us for a while.’

  ‘Ah, yes, thanks for that.’ The wedding was getting closer but keeping the bride-to-be updated seemed to have slipped down both of their priority lists.

  ‘It’s great to see you,’ Owen said. The top buttons of his shirt were open and Maggie couldn’t stop her eyes drifting down to his chest. ‘And I’m absolutely not complaining,’ he continued, ‘but I thought you were normally too busy for a proper lunch?’

  ‘I made time today,’ Maggie said, then paused for a moment. ‘It’s important.’

  ‘OK,’ Owen said, a curious smile playing on his lips.

  ‘Owen, look,’ Maggie said, sitting up straight. ‘I’ll get to the point. I didn’t see this coming, and you won’t have either.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’m pregnant.’

  ‘Woah,’ Owen said, sitting back in his seat, his face registering the shock.

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Maggie said, breathing out. ‘That’s how I felt too.’ />
  ‘I suppose I just assumed you were on the pill,’ he said, after a long silence.

  ‘I wasn’t, and I should have discussed it with you,’ Maggie said, her voice a little tighter than normal.

  ‘It’s only been a few weeks—’

  ‘I know, I know. We hardly know each other.’ Maggie felt alone all of a sudden. ‘And I’m not sure yet how I feel about all this. But, I’m thirty-six, and while I didn’t expect this to happen I just don’t think I could face – I mean, I wouldn’t expect …’

  Maggie’s sentence trailed off as at that moment the food arrived. ‘One jacket with chilli and cheese, one chicken caesar salad,’ the stocky, middle-aged barman said as he arrived at their table.

  ‘The salad’s for me please,’ Maggie said, taking it swiftly and putting it down in front of her. As she looked up, she saw the couple at the back of the pub get up to leave, and realised that the man was Alison’s husband, Pete. He caught Maggie’s eye, but looked startled, a rabbit caught in headlights. Maggie smiled hello, distracted, as he led his attractive female companion to the door.

  Owen waited for the barman to walk away and then put his plate to the side, taking Maggie’s hands in his again.

  ‘Impeccable timing,’ he said, nodding towards the barman’s back and smiling. ‘Anyway Maggie, what I was about to say is I know it’s only been a few weeks, but strange as it sounds, I’m already pretty sure how I feel about you.’

  A lump formed in Maggie’s throat as Owen continued.

  ‘And I don’t imagine that’s going to change. I know I’m younger, but I’ve lived a bit, and I know what I want. I want to be with you, Maggie. And while I didn’t expect it – the idea of having a baby together makes me happy. I think we should do it.’

  Looking into his face, so open and earnest, Maggie felt tears start and rushed to brush them away. ‘Good,’ she said quietly, her voice cracking, ‘because I didn’t realise until now how very much I want this too.’