by Lucy Diamond
I know! she pictured herself saying, beaming. I was surprised, too. Mother Nature, eh, what a teaser!
The other three were already there when she arrived, on one of the corner tables, with menus and coffee cups. Eve looked stunning as usual, in a fitted, flattering navy dress with a chunky silver necklace and ballet pumps, while India was wearing a wide-necked sage-coloured jersey top and black trousers, her hair spilling out of a messy bun. Jo, leaning forward, mid-discussion, her coppery hair falling around her face, was the first to notice Laura’s arrival. ‘Ah – here she is!’ she cried as Laura approached.
‘Hi, everyone, sorry I’m a bit late,’ cried Laura, hugging them each in turn and beaming around the table. ‘This was a good idea, Eve – nice one. Although you were all looking very serious when I came in, especially you, Jo,’ she commented. ‘Everything okay?’
Jo wrinkled her nose. ‘Just asking these two for some parenting advice. Step-parenting advice, whatever. Because I am out of my depth with Maisie. I keep getting everything wrong. And I’m kind of at my wits’ end.’
‘To which I said, join the club,’ India added, rolling her eyes comically. ‘Because take it from me, every parent thinks like that. It’s part of the job description, unfortunately.’
There was a time when Laura might have felt a tiny bit irritated by India’s parenting pronouncements and her ‘Take it from me’ style, as if she was the expert on the subject and Laura knew nothing. Now it didn’t seem to matter quite so much any more. ‘Well,’ she said, aware that she was about to hijack her sister’s conversation, but unable to stop the words bubbling up inside her anyway. ‘I’m going to be joining your club myself in the new year, as it happens. Because I am fourteen weeks pregnant. Yes! I just found out last week!’
India jumped up immediately, grabbing her with a squeal – ‘Oh my GOD!’ – exactly as Laura had known she would, followed by Eve too, who gave her a massive tight hug. But then something a bit weird happened. Eve didn’t let go. In fact, she clung on to Laura and a second passed, then another, and she was still there, her face pressed into Laura’s shoulder. ‘Oh, Eve,’ Laura said, laughing as she patted her friend’s back, but also a tiny bit taken aback. Eve wasn’t usually quite so demonstrative or touchy-feely. ‘I know, right? We all thought it was never going to happen. But now . . .’ She felt wetness through her T-shirt. ‘Eve! You’re not crying, are you?’
Eve finally lifted her head and her eyes were bloodshot. ‘I’m sorry, I’m just . . .’
‘You nana,’ Laura scoffed, feeling touched by her friend’s emotional response. ‘And there was me thinking I was the hormonal one. I was crying at a Lloyds Bank advert the other day – how lame is that?’
Eve dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. Her mouth had gone a bit funny, as if she was on the verge of really crying, Laura thought, puzzled. ‘Congratulations,’ she said after a moment, lip still wobbling. ‘That’s such amazing news.’
‘So what did Matt—?’ India asked, just as the waitress appeared at the table.
‘Can I take your orders, ladies?’
The topic was put momentarily on hold as they consulted the menus and there was some enjoyable deliberation over what everyone fancied most. ‘God, I love eating for two,’ Laura said cheerfully, deciding that yes, she certainly could manage the bacon and avocado house-special as well as a side order of banana bread with vanilla mascarpone. ‘And a massive pot of tea,’ she added for good measure.
No sooner had the waitress departed again than Laura opened her mouth, ready to answer India’s question about Matt and prattle on happily about the baby and the visit to the doctor and the scan. Oh, it was so good to have great news to share, after all the doom and gloom of recent weeks! But Eve got there first, still with that same odd look on her face.
‘Listen, guys, I’ve got something to say, and now everyone’s here I just want to get it over with,’ she began, twisting her hands together as if she was anxious. Laura frowned at the sight. This was out of the ordinary for cool, collected Eve, who usually sailed through life with such enviable ease. Oh no. Was there some problem with her and Neil? Her job? Don’t say one of the girls was having a rough time at school?
‘What is it?’ Jo asked in surprise.
Eve swallowed and tried to smile, but she seemed highly agitated. ‘It’s . . . God. This isn’t easy for me to say. Give me a minute.’
Laura was starting to feel worried. She took Eve’s hand. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Pot of tea – was this for you?’ The waitress was back, dumping a huge white teapot on the table in front of Laura. ‘And an espresso?’ India raised her hand mutely, her eyes still on Eve’s pallid face. ‘There we are. Enjoy.’
‘Is this about the other night, when you wanted me to have the girls?’ India asked and Eve nodded. ‘Please, just tell us. Whatever it is, we’re here for you, love. We’re listening.’
‘Well,’ said Eve, and gave a strange, nervous sort of laugh. ‘I’m going to ruin our lovely brunch now, I’m afraid, but I have to tell you. The thing is . . . I’ve had some bad news.’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jo felt utterly winded by shock, desperately upset for her friend. Poor brave secretive Eve. To think she had carried that burden of stress around by herself for all this time, for weeks and weeks, without telling any of her family and friends – it broke Jo’s heart that she’d been too proud to do so. Not even Neil had known until the other night! But now at last super-capable, self-possessed Eve had met her match, realizing belatedly that even she might struggle to manage single-handedly from here on in. ‘I’ve never been very good at asking for help,’ she had said, eyes watery, ‘but I might need some in the next few months. Would you . . . ? Do you think you might . . . ?’
God love her, she couldn’t even get the questions out. ‘Of course we’ll help,’ Jo assured her at once. ‘You don’t need to ask. Whatever it is, we’ll help.’
‘I’ve got to have surgery first, and then six weeks of radiotherapy every day,’ Eve said, looking genuinely afraid. Her mouth buckled. ‘It’s going to be a massive upheaval. It’s going to take over my life.’
‘Well, I can look after the girls, any time,’ India offered immediately. ‘You know I will.’
‘And I can come to hospital appointments with you,’ Jo said. ‘Just say where and when – I’ve got tons of holiday left over and I can rearrange my shifts.’
‘And I’ll cook you loads of dinners to stock up your freezer, and do your washing – and I’ll steal you lots of nice goodies from work . . .’ Laura put in. ‘Please let us help. We want to. We love you. And we know you’d do the same for us.’
Eve had become quite tearful with gratitude, thanking them all profusely. Then she went on to confess how upset Neil had been on hearing the news. Upset for her, but also because of how she’d held back on him. ‘We’ve done a lot of soul-searching since then,’ she admitted. ‘Because we were both at fault. We had drifted apart, we had stopped talking properly. I found it hard to tell him something was wrong.’ She pulled a face at her own black humour. ‘In a mad sort of way, this has brought us back together, though. Cancer saved my marriage! That’s not warped at all, is it?’
Oh, Eve. Jo couldn’t remember seeing her friend cry, not since they’d been at school when Eve had fractured her elbow in a netball match. But today the tears had come rolling down her face over their huge plates of eggs and bacon and buttered sourdough toast, before she was all cried out, emotions spent. Then, when her face was blotchy and her shoulders had finally ceased heaving, she’d vanished to the loo with her hairbrush and lipstick and emerged looking a bit more like the old Eve, ready to face the world once more. ‘Okay, I’m all right now. Time to talk about something else,’ she’d insisted, and turned the conversation neatly back round to Laura’s big news, demanding to hear all about it: how was she feeling, any thoughts about names, had she tried antenatal yoga? It was where all the best people went, after all – this with a sideways win
k at India, because that was where the two of them had met.
‘As soon as we both got the giggles about that woman who kept farting every time she moved into a new position, I thought: I like you,’ India reminisced, twinkling her eyes over at Eve.
Eve smiled. ‘I remember coming out of that class with you, and some bloke wolf-whistling us, and you – do you remember this? – you were seven months pregnant and yet you still chased him down the street, shouting that he was a sexist pig and should be ashamed of himself. And I thought: this woman is nuts and fearless, and I most definitely want to be her friend.’
They all laughed and India went a bit red. ‘So much for the good old fearless days,’ she groaned, looking up at the clock. ‘I’ve got to meet Dan and the kids to go bowling in twenty minutes – yes, on the sunniest day of the year so far. This is what my life has become. And George will no doubt delight in telling me that I’m doing everything wrong, as usual.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘That boy, honestly, is going to end up one of those really annoying patronizing blokes, if I’m not careful. He’s pegged me as this total incompetent who can do nothing right, whereas Dan is the ultimate parent who knows everything. Just once I’d like to impress my son, just once.’ Another eye-roll. ‘Something tells me it won’t be at bowling, knowing my coordination, though.’
Eve nudged her. ‘If it makes you feel any better, my girls think you’re great. They had a brilliant time at yours the other night. Something about a wild game of Sardines, where everyone leapt out at Dan and scared the life out of him? They were very keen to re-enact it with Neil.’
India looked delighted. ‘Really?’ She laughed. ‘That’s funny, because my ingrates are always whinging about how useless I am, compared to you. Maybe we should swap.’
‘Give me a few years and I’ll be taking tips from both of you,’ Laura declared, stretching sleepily. ‘But in the meantime I’m going to waddle home and have a nap, for the baby’s sake.’
‘Something tells me this is going to be a new catchphrase of yours,’ Jo said, groaning at the smug look on her sister’s face. ‘Eve, how about you? Please tell me you’re not rushing off to do endless household chores, today of all days.’
Eve flushed, then gave a shy smile. ‘Believe it or not, Neil and the girls have taken it upon themselves to clean the house and get on top of the laundry in my absence,’ she said, before looking twitchy and adding, ‘They’re probably breaking things and shrinking all the woollens as we speak. I’m finding it quite hard to relax and let them get on with it, to be honest.’
‘Oh, who cares about a few breakages, as long as the hoovering’s done by someone else,’ India said as the waitress brought over their bill. ‘Lucky you! Make the most of it – have another coffee, I would.’
‘Actually . . .’ Eve looked a bit embarrassed. ‘Neil’s booked me in for a manicure at Preened and Polished. He’s determined that I’m to chill out all day and not do anything.’
‘Good,’ said Jo. ‘Quite right, too.’
‘Bloody hell,’ said India, impressed. ‘Neil is setting the bar high. Wait till I tell Dan about this!’
Once the bill was paid, they said goodbye, with Eve promising to tell them when she got her surgery date, and the others repeating their promises of help. Feeling pensive, Jo made her way down towards Piccadilly Gardens, swerving through all the shoppers. It was half-past two in the afternoon now and the city was bathed in golden sunshine; crowds of people were pouring down from the station, the free buses sailing past were packed full of passengers and there was music spilling out of shopfronts and cafés. Despite the happy summery vibe, Jo found her thoughts sliding towards Rick, wishing that she could feel quite as confident in their relationship as Eve and Neil now seemed to have become. Was it deceitful of her that she hadn’t told him about seeing Polly and Maisie arguing in the street the other week, or mentioned Bill’s comment about the police having to be called in recently? Probably, but then Maisie was already such a stumbling block between them, such a sticking point, that Jo had not been able to find the words. She’d bitten her lip so many times about Rick’s daughter that she would chew her own mouth off one of these days.
‘Standard teenage fodder,’ Eve had reassured her earlier when she’d poured out her grievances. ‘Completely textbook behaviour.’
‘Don’t take it personally,’ India had advised. ‘It’s all posturing, by the sound of it, and deep down I bet she’s just terrified her dad’s going to like you better than her.’
Good advice, sure, but it was hard not to take Maisie’s behaviour personally when Jo’s tentative attempts at bonding had been universally met with a wall of naked contempt. And sometimes, even though Jo was an adult and supposedly above teenage catcalling and bitchery, Maisie’s comments hurt. They got to her, digging into all her old insecurities, reminding her of the mean girls she’d faced at school who’d teased her about her badly fitting uniform, her charity-shop winter coat, her hair – anything, really, given half a chance. It didn’t feel like much fun, having to go through this all over again, twenty-five or so years later.
With nothing in particular planned for the rest of the afternoon, Jo found herself weaving towards Primark in order to pick up some summery tops and perhaps a floaty skirt or two. The warm weather was meant to last the whole week, according to the local forecast, and although her complexion was so pale she never really got a proper tan, she did love the feeling of sunshine on her skin: a proper tonic. But she was barely through the front doors of the shop when she noticed an altercation taking place right there in front of her: a burly security guard and a teenage girl with long tawny hair . . . Oh, crap. It was Maisie.
‘Get off me! I didn’t do anything!’ Maisie was shrieking, trying to wrestle his meaty hand off her arm, while he did his best to steer her further back into the store. She had on a black skater skirt and a pink vest top with a denim jacket and black ballet pumps, a string of beads swinging from her neck as the two of them tussled.
A complicated mix of feelings surged inside Jo – surprise, concern and, although she was ashamed to admit it, definitely a tinge of Schadenfreude too. Not so perfect now, are we?
She hurried over to investigate. ‘What’s going on?’
Maisie looked positively mortified at Jo’s arrival, her face flaring bright red, as if this was the worst of all possible outcomes. The security guard clung on to her, his expression stern, his voice loud enough to carry to all the shoppers in the vicinity. ‘This here young lady and a couple of her mates have been caught trying to shoplift some sunglasses—’
‘We didn’t! I never!’
‘And so I’m asking this young lady to prove it, by taking off her jacket and emptying her pockets.’
‘I didn’t take anything,’ cried the young lady herself, this time to Jo, eyes hooded and sullen. ‘I swear. It was the others.’
The security guard looked at Jo. ‘You two know each other, do you?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ replied Jo, as Maisie’s expression changed to the inevitable scowl. ‘We do.’ She hesitated, not sure what to say next, wishing she had India or Eve there for guidance. ‘So where are the others then?’ she asked, looking around. ‘Your friends?’
‘Legged it out the door, didn’t they?’ the man said crossly. He had damp patches under his arms and there was a sheen of sweat on his top lip; perhaps he wasn’t in peak condition when it came to chasing after athletic teenage shoplifters. ‘Unfortunately for this one, she wasn’t so fast. Now then, jacket. Take it off. I don’t have all day.’
Jo sighed, wishing she hadn’t walked in on this. Having heard Eve’s terrible news, she was absolutely not in the mood for dealing with Maisie’s latest drama. ‘Look, she’s told you she didn’t take anything, I’m sure she’s telling the truth,’ she said to the guard, trying to reason with him, adult to adult.
‘In which case, she won’t mind removing her jacket and emptying her pockets, will she?’ he replied, not budging an inch, one hand still circling Mais
ie’s arm. He had a round, baby sort of face, slightly pocked skin; he couldn’t have been older than twenty, Jo reckoned. Just trying to do his job. Fair enough. Wasn’t everybody?
‘Take your jacket off,’ she ordered the girl wearily. ‘Just do it, then you can go off and find these delightful friends of yours. Go on.’
Despite all the make-up, Maisie suddenly looked a lot younger than her thirteen years. Her lip gloss was coming off where she kept licking it nervously and this close up, you could see that her eye make-up had been amateurishly applied; her mascara clumpy, her eyebrows over-pencilled, her flicky eyeliner uneven. Not quite the ice princess after all. Just a scared kid whose bluff had been called.
‘We were only mucking about,’ said Maisie in a meek, not-at-all Maisie-ish voice, at which point Jo knew, immediately, that there definitely was something inside her jacket. Oh, great. ‘I wasn’t going to really nick anything . . .’
‘Look, could we maybe go to an office somewhere?’ Jo asked the guard, conscious of the shoppers nearby, some of whom were stopping, quite blatantly, to watch, as if the three of them were an in-store theatre performance. ‘Do this privately, without an audience gawping at us?’
He hesitated and she could see him weighing it up, whether to make a public spectacle of the girl or not.
‘Please,’ said Jo quietly. ‘Look, she’s only got a vest top on, she doesn’t want the whole shop seeing her,’ she improvised. ‘I’ll come too, obviously. I’ll take responsibility for her.’
That seemed to swing it at least, and he led them through a door at the back of the shop, still holding Maisie’s arm as if he fully expected her to dodge away from him at any moment. Down they went along a corridor to a quiet office, where he shut the door, let go of Maisie and folded his arms across his chest. ‘Right, let’s have it then,’ he said.
Without looking at Jo, Maisie slid her thin arms from the jacket and handed it over to the beefy guard, her head down in guilty anticipation. In the next second, the man had dug a paw into one of the inner pockets and retrieved a pair of aviator sunglasses with the tag still attached. ‘I thought as much,’ he said, light glinting from the lenses as he held the glasses aloft, in the manner of an archaeologist having unearthed a priceless treasure from one of the great pyramids. ‘What have you got to say for yourself now then, eh?’
