by A J McDine
Rosie claps her hands in delight. ‘Fan-bloody-tastic!’
I spy Martin’s mum Maureen sitting on the end of a row and head over to her. She must have come straight from work as she’s still wearing her navy polyester cleaning overalls. Years of worry are etched on her face. It can’t be easy caring for someone with such complex mental health problems as Martin, yet I’ve never once heard her complain.
She pats the chair beside her and I sit down.
‘I hope Martin wasn’t too anxious about speaking today.’
‘He did get himself a bit worked up about it,’ she admits. ‘But he’ll be pleased he did it.’
‘How is he in himself?’
Maureen shakes her head. ‘Not great. He promises me he’s taking his medication, but he’s having problems sleeping again.’
I know from experience this is not good.
‘Any hallucinations or delusions?’
‘He says not. I’ve managed to get an appointment with his care co-ordinator next week. Just to have a chat with him and check his med levels.’
‘Let me know if there’s anything I can do.’
She brushes my offer aside. ‘Nonsense! You’ve enough on your plate getting ready for the baby. Don’t you worry about Martin. He’ll be right as rain. Look, there’s someone to see you. You take care, and I’ll see you soon.’ And she scurries off to see her son.
Roz takes her place.
‘This is a nice surprise,’ I say. ‘You didn’t tell me you were coming.’
She shrugs. ‘It was a spur of the moment thing. I remembered you telling me about it ages ago and I thought I’d come along and sign up. Do my bit, you know? And besides,’ she pats her concave stomach and pulls a face, ‘I could do with the exercise.’
‘Hardly. You’ve got an amazing figure! You make me feel like a big fat frump.’
‘Ah, but you’re pregnant. You have the perfect excuse. Was it the baby brain that made you lose it up there?’
I grimace. ‘Was it that obvious?’
She gives me an amused look. ‘I was waiting for the tumbleweed to blow past. What happened?’
‘I get really nervous about public speaking, but I thought I’d be OK because I had my PowerPoint presentation to use as a crutch. When I tried to open it, the bloody thing had corrupted.’
‘Files don’t corrupt for no reason. You can’t have closed it down properly the last time you used it. Unless there’s a virus in the application.’
‘I didn’t know you knew so much about computers.’
‘What, for a mobile hairdresser? There’s a lot you don’t know about me.’ She fixes her green eyes on mine. ‘And I you. You didn’t tell me you’re having a girl.’
‘We’re not. Well, we might be - there’s a fifty-fifty chance obviously - but we don’t know. We don’t want to find out until the birth. I told you that.’
She nods to herself. ‘That’s what I thought. So why did that girl say you were?’
‘Rosie? It’s wishful thinking. She wants us to name the baby after her.’
‘She knows you’re not going to, right?’
I’m not sure why it matters so much to Roz. ‘Probably not, no. You know me, I don’t like to think too far ahead.’ I have a sudden compulsion to change the subject. ‘So, I haven’t put you off?’
For a second she looks confused and then her face clears. ‘No. It sounds like fun. And we’ll get to spend more time together, won’t we?’
She smiles and rests her hand on my bump. Her touch is reassuring and my shoulders relax for the first time all evening. She’s such a good friend to me. I have more in common with Roz than I ever did with Lou.
Her hand slips away as I pull myself to my feet. ‘We will indeed. I’d better go and find you a form before you change your mind.’
Chapter Eleven
Then
Sunlight from a crack in the curtains dances on my eyelids, dragging me from a deep sleep. I stretch and yawn. Beneath me the blow-up bed sighs like a disappointed parent.
I glance up at Lou. She’s lying on her back with her mouth open, snoring gently. She’s out for the count. Rubbing my face, I reach for the glass of water on the floor beside me. My mouth is paper dry and my lips feel bruised…but in a good way. Hardly surprising. After Ed asked me out and I said yes he cupped my face in his hands and kissed me like it was our last day on earth.
We stayed on the bench, our bodies entwined, lips nibbling, tongues probing, for what seemed like hours. Ed traced my face with his fingers while I drowned in his eyes. We kissed and kissed and kissed. The effects of the vodka had long worn off, but it didn’t matter. I was drunk on happiness.
Lou broke the spell when she burst out of the school hall, spied us and stumbled over. Her pupils were tiny pinpricks and her voice was slurred.
‘There you are! I’ve been looking for you all over!’
The accusation in her voice was unmistakable and my heart sank. Ed tipped me off his lap and ran his fingers through his hair.
‘Everything alright?’ I asked her.
‘Couldn’t be better. I’ve been abandoned by my best friend, I’ve drunk all my booze, and they’re playing slow songs and nobody’s asked me to dance. Not a single anybody.’
‘Don’t be melodramatic. I haven’t abandoned you. I just needed a bit of fresh air.’
She squinted at me and jabbed a finger in Ed’s direction. ‘Fresh air my arse. You got off with him, didn’t you? Sexy Ed. Said you would, didn’t I? I’m very pleased for you both. But now it’s time to come and dance with me. I’m loneleeee.’ She attempted a twirl, only to lose her balance halfway round. If Ed hadn’t grabbed her elbow to steady her she’d have ended up kissing the concrete.
‘My knight in shining armour,’ she slurred, as he guided her onto the bench next to me.
Pop! My bubble of happiness was pierced by a dart of jealousy, just like that.
‘My knight,’ I said, eyes narrowed. She was too pissed to notice the barb in my voice, but Ed did, and a pained expression flickered across his face. Muttering something about needing a drink, he mooched off towards the school hall, his hands in his pockets.
Once he was out of earshot Lou turned to me, her eyes wide. ‘So, what’s he like, then? Is he a good kisser?’
‘How would I know? I don’t have anything to compare him to, do I?’
‘The back of your hand?’ Lou roared with laughter. I bit my bottom lip. She has a cruel streak when she’s had a drink. Verging on vindictive.
‘You know, he’s actually quite hot. You’ve snared yourself a babe. You should be chuffed to bits. So, why are you looking so bloody miserable?’
‘I’m not.’
‘When are you seeing him next?’
I held up my hands. ‘Stop with the cross-examination. I don’t know, alright? We didn’t get a chance to arrange anything before we were interrupted.’
Lou pulled a face. ‘Oops. My fault. Anyway, forget about him. Can we go and dance now? Pretty please?’
I stood up and tugged at the hem of my dress as I tried to gather my thoughts. They were dominated by Ed. Where did we stand? Were we a couple? Could I call him my boyfriend if we hadn’t arranged a date? I had no idea.
Lou grabbed my hand and pulled me back into the disco. My eyes raked the hall, but I couldn’t see Ed anywhere. I followed Lou back onto the dance floor. This time my limbs felt wooden and my feet as heavy as bricks. I danced half-heartedly until the beat slowed for the last song, Seal’s Kiss from a Rose, and we drifted to the edge of the hall. One of the boys from the Upper Sixth who’d cheered Lou earlier appeared by her side and within seconds they were necking, her arms around his neck, his meaty hands clasping her backside.
My mood was growing darker as I watched them sway to the music. It was fine for her to leave me on the sidelines. God forbid I should do the same to her. I scanned the hall for the hundredth time. Ed wasn’t on the dance floor, smooching with another girl. That was something, at least. Had he g
one home? If so, why didn’t he say goodbye? Where did that leave us?
Hands snaking around my waist from behind made me yelp in surprise. I turned to see a pair of already familiar hazel eyes smiling down at me.
‘Where were you?’ I demanded, but he put a finger to my lips and led me onto the dance floor. My bad mood melted away as he bent his head to kiss me…
‘You awake?’ whispers a croaky voice and I’m back in Lou’s bedroom, curled up on a sagging blow-up bed.
‘Uh huh. How’s your head?’
She winces. ‘Not great. Gimme your water.’
I sit up and hand her the glass. Her long blonde hair is tangled and there’s the unmistakeable crimson bloom of a lovebite on her neck.
She empties the glass and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘What a night!’
‘You and that guy from the Upper Sixth seemed to hit it off.’
She fans herself and laughs. ‘Dan? He’s lush. I’m meeting him at the park later for more of the same. Wanna come?’
‘Thanks for the generous offer, but I can think of things I’d rather do than sit there while you two fumble in the grass. Like eat my own intestines.’
‘You’re so funny.’ She pauses, eyes narrowed. ‘Hey wait, you and Ed finally got it together, didn’t you? I nearly forgot you’re an item! ’Spect you’re seeing him this afternoon.’
I’m about to tell her that yes, we’ve arranged to meet outside McDonald’s at two, but something stops me. I don’t want her to know. I don’t want her quizzing me on everything Ed’s said or done. I don’t want her unpicking our fledgling romance, over-analysing our every action with rapt fascination. At the moment Ed and I are held together by a gossamer-like thread. We need to learn to be a couple without the scrutiny of Lou Stapleton, even if she is my best friend.
I let my fringe fall over my eyes. ‘No,’ I lie. ‘He never asked me out. We’re not anything.’
Chapter Twelve
Now
The health centre’s waiting room is about as far removed from healthy as it’s possible to be. Two seats down from me a snotty toddler in a grubby white teeshirt and faded red shorts is systematically ripping up an ancient copy of Take a Break while his mum scrolls through her phone, oblivious to the pile of torn paper growing at her feet. Opposite me an elderly man with bloodshot grey eyes and bushy eyebrows is scratching a large area of psoriasis on his forearm. Behind me two women are comparing notes on their bed sores.
I shudder. I bet if I licked my finger and held it in the air a gazillion microscopic pathogens would be glued to it within seconds. I check my watch. The midwife is running twenty minutes late. I hunker down in my seat and breathe as shallowly as I can, as if that’s going to make a difference.
Finally, when I’ve just about given up hope of ever seeing her, a door opens. A heavily pregnant woman waddles out and Jackie, my midwife, calls me in.
‘How’s it going?’ she asks as I hand her my plastic pot of urine.
‘OK, I think. I’m finding work a bit tiring now.’
She unscrews the top of the pot and dips a plastic stick into it. ‘Remind me when you’re planning to go on maternity leave?’
‘Thirty-six weeks.’
‘You can’t go any earlier?’
‘My boss wanted me to stay until thirty-eight.’
‘And let me guess, she doesn’t have children?’
I give a wry smile. ‘Spot on.’
Jackie reaches for her blood pressure monitor and I roll up my left sleeve. She fixes the cuff around my arm and pumps it up, her eyes on the monitor as she releases the air and scribbles something in my notes.
‘One hundred and fifty over one hundred. That’s high for you.’
‘It’s been a stressful week. We had a recruitment evening last night and after this I’m meeting a friend I haven’t seen for over twenty years. I’m a bit nervous, to tell you the truth.’
‘As long as that’s all it is. But come back and see me in two weeks rather than three.’
I grip the side of the chair. ‘Do you think I might have pre-eclampsia?’
‘No. Your blood pressure’s what we’d describe as moderate, not severe. And there’s no protein in your urine. We’ll put it down to your stressful week. But if you start getting severe headaches or blurred vision, or if your hands, feet or face start to swell, call me, OK? Better safe than sorry.’
She must have noticed I’ve gone quiet because she pats my hand and says, ‘Worrying will only make it worse, and there’s nothing to worry about, I promise. Shall we listen to the baby’s heartbeat?’
‘Yes please.’
Jackie rolls a length of blue paper onto the couch and I slip off my shoes and lay down. At first she can’t find the baby’s heartbeat, which probably sends my blood pressure into the severe bracket, but eventually the static-filled sound of a rapid-fire beating heart fills the small room.
‘See, nothing to worry about.’ She wipes off the gel with another length of blue paper and has a prod and a poke. ‘And the baby’s the right size for your dates. You’re both doing a great job.’
‘Thanks. It’s hard not to be paranoid when you’ve been through as much as we have to get here.’
Jackie smiles. ‘I know. But try not to worry. When that baby comes kicking and screaming into the world you’ll look back at your pregnancy with longing. In fact, you’ll be harking back to the days when your bladder was the only thing keeping you up in the middle of the night.’
The baby kicks me in the ribs as if agreeing and I say goodbye, promising to ring her if I notice any signs of pre-eclampsia.
I walk along Old Dover Road, following a gaggle of university students across the pedestrian crossing and into the underpass. It’s a couple of degrees colder down here and I wrap my cardigan around me.
I wasn’t lying when I told Jackie I was nervous. The thought of seeing Lou again has stirred a welter of injurious emotions that I’m finding hard to pick apart. Resentment, jealousy, grief, shame, guilt, anger - they’re all there, coalescing in my psyche like a particularly unpalatable one dish supper.
I turn into Whitefriars and stop at HSBC to take out some cash. As I’m waiting for the ATM to spit out my money I look up at Waterstones. The café is on the first floor of the bookshop and I can see a blonde woman sitting in an armchair by the wall-to-ceiling windows. Even though her head is dipped as she studies her phone I know it’s her. Lou. I can tell by the narrow taper of her shoulders and the way she’s sitting, knees together and feet crossed at the ankles, like she always did.
I thrust the money into my purse. I don’t think she’s seen me. It’s not too late to leave. I could dart into the bank and send her a message, tell her sorry, so sorry, but the car’s broken down/I’ve been called into work/we have a gas leak/the cat has been rushed to the vet’s. Of course there’s no leak and we don’t even own a cat, but she doesn’t know that. I’m good at excuses.
Running away is so bloody tempting. I did it before, didn’t I? But I know deep down I can’t run away forever. I hitch my bag onto my shoulder and start walking.
‘Sophie darling!’
Eyes swivel in our direction as Lou leaps from her chair and embraces me extravagantly. She holds me at arms’ length, looks me up and down and declares, ‘Look at you! Absolutely blooming! It’s wonderful to see you, darling. Wonderful!’
Christ alive. It’s like I’ve stumbled onto the set of Absolutely Fabulous. When did she get so flamboyant, so OTT? I can feel the eyes of half a dozen people in the café boring into my neck.
‘Another coffee?’ I ask quickly.
‘Flat white for me. Two shots. Heavy night.’
I retreat to the queue at the counter, glad to have a moment to collect myself. From this distance Lou looks impossibly elegant. Skinny jeans, strappy sandals, a white fitted shirt and a navy jacket. Chunky bracelets on her wrists and sunglasses perched on her head. Her lips and nails are painted scarlet and her teeth are as pearly-white as her shi
rt. I took time over my make-up and dressed with care this morning, choosing my favourite soft grey Vertbaudet cross-over teeshirt and matching cardigan, white maternity leggings and grey ballet pumps, but I still feel dowdy in comparison.
‘What would you like?’ says the girl at the counter, interrupting my thoughts.
I give her my order and carry Lou’s coffee and my pot of Earl Grey over to the table.
Lou is staring out of the window at the shoppers on the street below and when she turns to me her eyes are bright with unshed tears. ‘It’s so good to see you.’
‘You too,’ I say.
‘You know why I’m back?’
I don’t want her to know I’ve been digging around on Facebook, so I pick my way around the truth. ‘Someone told me a while ago that Ed had cancer, and then you mentioned the funeral in your message. I’m so sorry.’
She reaches for her coffee with trembling fingers. ‘It’s been an absolutely shit year. He started complaining about feeling tired and rundown last autumn but refused to go to the doctors. You know how stubborn men can be. When he began losing weight I made him an appointment and drove him there myself. But by the time he’d been diagnosed with bowel cancer it had already spread to his liver and lungs. He had surgery and a couple of rounds of chemo at the beginning of the year, but it was too little, too late. We lost him in April.’
Lou places her cup in its saucer without having taken a sip.
I reach for her hand. ‘It must have been awful.’
‘You have no idea.’
I do, actually. I went through it with Dad, stage by painful stage. But now isn’t the time to point it out.
‘And your son? How’s he coping?’
Her voice thickens. ‘Josh? Outwardly he seems fine, but I don’t know. He won’t talk to me about it. And he was so close to his dad. He’s at Kent Uni reading law. Wants to be a solicitor, same as Ed. That’s why I moved back to Canterbury. He’s in halls but I wanted to be close by in case he needed me.’
