by Ali Harris
‘Oh, Milly,’ I sob and then I add, ‘I’m so HAPPY for you! You’re going to be a mum!’
‘I think you’ll find it’s mom over here,’ she says wryly, executing a perfect New York accent. I notice that she looks exhausted. Hang on, what time is it over there? I quickly work it out. 6 a.m. here is . . . God, it’s 1 a.m.
‘Hey, shouldn’t you be in bed? It’s the middle of the night over there, isn’t it?’
‘No rest for the wicked,’ she says wearily. ‘I’ve just got in from work.’
‘But you shouldn’t be working so hard in your condition, Mills!’
‘You sound like Jay! I’m pregnant, not an invalid,’ she snaps and then rubs her forehead. ‘Sorry, sorry, I’m just tired. And hormonal. Turns out I’m definitely not one of those women who has loads of energy and glows throughout pregnancy. I feel like shit, in fact.’
‘You’ll start feeling better soon. Everyone says the first few weeks are the hardest. You’ll soon get that Milly Singh spring back in your step again when you hit the second trimester . . .’
‘Maybe.’ She looks down, away from the camera. ‘Look, I know I should have told you this sooner and I’m sorry I didn’t, but there never seemed to be a good time . . . what with . . . you know, everything that’s happened.’
She doesn’t need to say ‘With you and Adam’. I know that’s what she means.
‘But I’m in my second trimester, Bea.’ She looks at me with a mixture of nerves and defiance. ‘I’m nearly sixteen weeks . . .’
I quickly do the maths in my head and then gasp again. ‘That’s nearly four months! So h-how? WHEN?’ I’m struggling to let this all sink in. Not only is Milly pregnant, but she’s been pregnant for months and not told me? I know she said she didn’t feel there was a good time . . . but what did she think I’d do? Have I been such a bad friend, so selfish and obsessed with my troubles that I was living with her and still managed not to notice one of the biggest changes of her life? I let my mind rewind and I suddenly recall her uncharacteristically shovelling leftovers into her mouth, turning down top-ups of wine, then there was the comment at her party about how Jay might one day be the main breadwinner. What else have I missed, what else has been happening around me while I’ve been so wrapped up in myself?
I think of how Loni and Cal have been begging me to come home. I think of how tired Cal looks and how worried he’s been about Loni. And I resolve to start being more present in their lives. I’ve been so focused on my world that I’ve missed the changing seasons of theirs.
Milly smiles sadly, she seems embarrassed somehow. ‘Well, I’m pretty sure I don’t have to explain to you how, but as for when . . . well, um, it was your wedding night, I think. I didn’t tell you earlier because I thought it would upset you . . .’
‘Upset me?’ I pause for a moment. Perhaps a beat too long but only because I need time to process this news. I’m happy for her and Jay, I really am. ‘Milly, of course I’m not upset,’ I reply at last. I try and think of something to say to make it sound more convincing. Not for the first time, I wish she was here so I could talk to her face to face. I’m worried my happiness is being lost through the computer screen.
‘I’m so happy for y—’
‘Are you sure?’ she interrupts uncertainly.
‘Yes!’
‘Sorry,’ we say in unison. ‘You go,’ she says, waving her hand.
‘No, you.’
We laugh uncomfortably and I break the awkward moment.
‘I mean, at least this means something good has come out of this whole sorry mess!’ I catch sight of my face again and I can see how unnatural and strained it looks. ‘Just think, maybe if I had married Adam you wouldn’t be pregnant!’ I force out a little laugh.
‘I’m pretty sure it would have happened on your wedding night anyway. We’d have been so full of happiness – and champagne – it would have been a given!’ Milly smiles. ‘But in this case, I think we were so shocked by what had happened we needed to reassure ourselves that everything was OK with us. We’d spent all afternoon and evening comforting Adam in your bridal suite; it was stressful and emotional, and when we finally got back to our room we just . . . well. I don’t need to say what we did.’ She looks down at her tummy.
I nod. Milly had often complained that she and Jay got back so late from work and were so knackered that sex had fallen low on their agenda. She’d never doubted the strength of their marriage, but I’m sure what I did would have made her feel insecure. Adam and I met at the same time as they did – the four of us have always been each other’s relationship barometer. Milly always said she loved how little pressure Adam and I put on our relationship, how easy and slow it was. Whereas I admired how certain she and Jay were about each other. How they wanted to settle down immediately. Get married and now, have a family . . .
I feel a wave of sadness at the thought of the baby Adam and I will never have. And then I have a word with myself. This isn’t about me. It’s Milly’s moment.
‘Do you have a picture? You know, a scan, of your baby?’ I ask. She nods and smiles and pulls one out. And there it is. I lean forward to get closer to the screen. I can’t believe I’m looking at Milly’s baby. It is wonderful – and I’m crying with joy for her, and yet it also feels like yet another line she has crossed, like we’re in two different worlds.
‘It doesn’t really look like a baby. More like a freaky little gremlin,’ she says. But her voice is bursting with a pride that belies her words. ‘I’ve actually got something else to tell you, Bea.’
‘Is it twins?’ I joke. ‘You can’t possibly have two in there. I get a bigger bump after eating my dinner than you have right now.’
Milly doesn’t laugh. ‘It’s got nothing to do with the baby. It’s – well, it’s Adam. He’s here at the moment. He’s actually been staying with us for a while. He’s taken a New York stopover during his travels.’
‘Oh,’ I reply quietly. For a moment I imagine it is Adam and I out there together, married and on a transatlantic mini break. We’d probably go out every few months to see them . . . maybe book a holiday together in the Hamptons next year or take a US road trip together. In this version of my life, I wouldn’t have lost the two – three including Jay – best friends I’ve ever had. A different choice, but the question is would it have been a better life?
And then another thought occurs to me. ‘Is he there, in the flat right now? While I’m talking to you?’
‘What?’ she exclaims. ‘GOD, no! I wouldn’t do that! What do you take me for? Look,’ she sighs. ‘I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you’d feel left out. And I didn’t NOT want to tell you because I don’t want us having secrets, but with the baby and everything . . .’
Then it hits me that Adam will have known about Milly’s pregnancy before me. And this thought fills me with unprecedented sorrow. I mean, in what freakish universe does Adam know that my best friend is pregnant before I do?
I pick at some invisible fluff on my pyjamas as I try to think of something to say to Milly. It never occurred to me when I split up with Adam that I might lose my best friend too. But now I can see it all unfolding in front of my eyes. The three of them together, in New York, maybe they all go out to a bar and a cool restaurant, Milly brings a female colleague as ‘company’ for Adam. Or Jay does.
Oh God, Eliza Grey. Suddenly I am hit with a wave of jealousy that takes me by surprise.
I have no right to feel jealous, I tell myself sternly. But it doesn’t help.
‘So, is er Adam, has he been . . .’ I trail off, too embarrassed to voice my concerns to Milly. What I want to say is Has he been seeing anyone else while he’s been out there? Instead, I go with the more acceptable, ‘Has he finished his sabbatical?’
‘You could say that,’ Milly says carefully. ‘He’s left, you know. He told George he doesn’t want to work for him any more.’
‘Oh,’ I say, utterly dumbstruck. I can’t believe it. How could Adam have left? Ad
am’s life IS Hudson & Grey. I don’t think he knows what to do or who he is without it.
‘He told us he doesn’t know who he is without you. So he’s taking some time out to find himself again, without any other distractions.’
I stare at the the screen in front of me, unable to process this information. I have never considered that Adam might be struggling without me. I always thought I needed him far more than the other way round. I am trying to imagine Adam, my strong, incisive, stoical Adam, in a world where he isn’t working and I realise that, even though I’m happy for him, I feel . . . sad. I wish I could see him relaxed and carefree, travelling across America. I hope he’s enjoying being unshackled from the pressures of working for his dad, living the kind of life that he’d never had the opportunity to consider before. I hope he does work out what he wants. I realise that the fact he’s in New York means that what he wants definitely isn’t me. I think of the Facebook messages we exchanged just a few months ago. We’ve both moved on, just like we knew we would.
So why don’t I feel happier about it?
Milly and I talk for a bit longer, about sonograms and antenatal classes, buggies and other baby stuff. Then we say goodbye quickly, both desperate to get off the phone and back to our new lives. In different time zones. And what appears to be increasingly different worlds.
Chapter 37
‘Morning!’ calls Sal, smiling broadly at me as I push open the door on Monday. I’m immediately engulfed by the fragrance of flowers and earthy wet flower-shop scent. I loved being back in Norfolk, seeing Kieran and catching up with Loni and then having dinner with Cal. So much so that I’ve promised I’ll visit more often. I won’t be full-time here until Sal goes on maternity leave. In fact I’ve already decided to go back home this week. It’s not because of Kieran – I want to spend more time with my family. Well, that’s what I’m telling myself.
‘How was your weekend?’ Sal asks as she puts out the buckets of flowers.
‘Great!’ I reply. ‘Brilliant, in fact. Just what I needed . . .’
This is true. I feel so much better for spending some time at home. Hearing Milly’s news made me realise just how much I’ve been neglecting my family. I can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve seen them in the past year and I feel horribly ashamed. Not least because Cal and Lucy could do with some help. They’re both clearly exhausted. They don’t have the benefit of on-hand babysitters. There isn’t a limitless fund for nights out. Loni babysits when she can but she has so many evening events lined up they have to book her well in advance. I’d been putting off going to Norfolk because I didn’t think it would help me to be there, but I’d been so obsessed with my own needs that I hadn’t considered that I might be able to help them.
Maybe that’s why Loni was so ridiculously thrilled when I told her I’d be back in a few days when she drove me to Norwich and dropped me off at the train station.
‘You’re coming back in DAYS, not months, darling? What a JOY!’ she exulted, pulling me into her bosom and kissing my head fervently. The tight hug Cal gave me on the platform told me he was happy too.
I’d glanced up at Loni as we’d said goodbye and was surprised to see the glimmer of tears in her eyes and I’d felt more ashamed of myself than ever. We’re not the closest mother and daughter in the world but she’s all I have and I know I’ve neglected her.
‘I’m so glad. I’ll have to change some plans though,’ Loni said, more to herself than to us.
‘Oh yeah, G-LO?’ Cal answered teasingly. This is the nickname Loni gave herself because she didn’t feel old enough to be called ‘Grandma’. Cal has taken to using it, too. ‘Got a proper boyfriend, at last? Someone you make plans with? Have you finally decided it’s time to settle down?’ He’d rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘It makes sense – I mean, I’ve hardly seen you recently . . .’ He was teasing her and we all knew it. Usually Loni laughs along, but not on this occasion.
‘No, darling!’ Loni snapped, flicking her chin up defensively. ‘You know I don’t plan on settling down! Why shouldn’t a single woman of my age have some fun? Just because I don’t want a life-partner doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be able to have SEX.’
She said this word so loudly that a gaggle of passing passengers turned to look at us. I blushed and begged her to lower her voice. But she refused. ‘Don’t be such a prude! Sex is the best way of being in the moment, of being in the flow of life without thinking of the past or worrying about the future.’
‘Aside from just, you know, being happy on your own . . .’ I offered.
‘Well yes, but that’s just dull!’ Loni exclaimed. ‘Honestly, you two, if you’d listen to me more often . . .’
‘Hear that, sis? Listen to your wise old mother,’ Cal said affectionately, giving Loni a squeeze. ‘You go slag it up reet proper!’ he added in a broad Norfolk accent and Loni whacked him.
‘That’s not what I’m saying,’ she chastised him, and grinning he threw his arm around her.
In that moment I felt so happy to be with them that I knew I’d made the right decision to come back more often. I got on the train not feeling my usual sensation of guilt and relief and like the odd one out, but soothed, healed.
Maybe Loni was right, I thought as she jumped up and down on the platform, waving a tie-dyed scarf at me as the train pulled away. Maybe it was time for me to get back in the proverbial saddle. I thought of Kieran and then quickly pushed him from my mind.
This wasn’t about him . . . was it?
It’s a question I’ve been asking myself after the text conversation we had that left me unable to sleep last night. I felt like a teenager again as I lay on top of the covers in Milly’s flat, the hot, humid night only adding to the excitement I felt every time my phone beeped and a new message from him appeared.
What are you doing? K xx
I replied instantly, my fingers moving deftly across the phone keyboard, hovering over the x before pressing it.
Nothing. x
What about now? x
Still nothing . . .
Not taken any risks recently then, huh . . .? ;-)
Depends what you mean by ‘recent’ . . .
Fancy taking one with me? x
I’m texting you, so it looks like I already am . . . x
I mean taking a leap. An actual one.
So do I.
Together. This week? x
I paused for a moment and my phone buzzed again.
I’ll pick you up from your mum’s on Thursday. All will be revealed then. x
I’m not that sort of girl. x
Ha ha. Shame . . . xx
That was followed by another text.
Question. What are you most scared of?
I looked at the ceiling, struggling to know how to reply without revealing too much. I’d finally settled on just one word:
Falling.
He responded within a second.
You should never be afraid of that. xxx
I suddenly realise I’ve been daydreaming in the back room for nearly ten minutes. I unhook my bag from around my neck, with shaking hands take off my denim jacket and go into the shop. I’m horrified when I see that Sal is crouched down, trying to drag an olive tree in a heavy earthenware pot out onto the street.
‘Let me do that!’ I exclaim. ‘How many times do I have to tell you to stop lifting heavy things,’ I scold. We have quickly settled into roles that involve me nagging her like a concerned mum and running around after her whilst she protests at my help.
‘I’m not ill, you know, Bea,’ she says, heaving and exhaling so that wisps of yellowy blonde hair fly up around her face, like rays of sunshine. Her comment instantly makes me think of Milly and of how similar my old friend and my new friend are. Headstrong, decisive, straight to the point. I think of Milly, my best friend, four months pregnant and Sal, now nearly seven months gone. I feel a now familiar sense of being in some sort of new, parallel universe. One where everything has changed.
‘S
o, any gossip?’ Sal asks meaningfully.
I smile. I can’t tell anyone else, so why not her?
Chapter 38
‘SURPRISE!’
‘Oh my GOSH!’ Glenda cries, dropping her handbag as I hand her the bouquet of flowers Nick ordered for her fiftieth birthday and asked me to deliver personally. I convinced Sal to close the shop early and come with me too so I could introduce her to my friends. The shop has been quiet this month; London is on holiday.
‘Oh Bea, it’s gorgeous!’ Glenda exclaims and she kisses me on the cheek.
I smile as I look at the bouquet. There’s a single yellow zinnia there because she chose it for her husband’s funeral and it symbolises daily remembrance. Then I’ve added some golden yellow alstroemeria (friendship and devotion), some bright, late-blooming azaleas (maternal love) and sunflowers – because other than daffs, I can’t think of a bloom that better represents her.
‘Oh Bea, they’re beautiful, pet!’ Glenda says, her eyes filling with tears. ‘And a yellow zinnia . . . I—’ She gets all choked and envelops me in a warm, perfumed hug and then turns to Sal and beams at her. ‘It’s so lovely to meet a new friend of Bea’s. Thank you both so much for coming.’
‘I wouldn’t have missed this for the world, G,’ I say, giving her a tight squeeze as Nick brings out the cake he’s had made in the shape of her name, iced in colours of the Welsh flag and with five sugared daffodils with candles in stuck on top – ‘I couldn’t fit fifty,’ he’d said – and we all sing ‘Happy Birthday’. The entire room bursts into applause.
She pulls away and wipes her eyes.
‘Here, G, let me put those in a vase for you,’ Tim says, slipping his arm around her. ‘I’ll make some more tea while I’m there.’
