Page 2

Natalie

Natalie splashes her face with cold water, pausing for a moment when she thinks she hears the sound of the doorbell, the faint chime breaking into her thoughts.

Reaching for a towel, she presses it to her cheeks, swiping away the water and avoiding her pale reflection in the bathroom mirror.

She still feels nauseous, and there is no mistaking the dark circles under her eyes.

The ring of the doorbell comes again, followed by a frantic rapping at the door, and Natalie hangs the towel back up and hurries to the top of the stairs.

The knocking repeats, sharp and fast, and Natalie can feel the crash of her own pulse in her ears, her heart thundering in her chest. There is something urgent about it, and she wonders if it’s Pete, if he forgot his keys.

She’s sure Pete is out on a site visit today, looking over the contract details of the new housing development going up on the other side of the woods, on the newer side of West Marsham village.

He never usually comes home in the day when he’s out on site.

Running down the stairs, trying to ignore the churning in her stomach, Natalie reaches the front door and yanks it open, breathless.

‘Eve!’

‘Hi, love.’ Eve leans over to kiss her on the cheek as she squeezes past, heading towards the kitchen.

Natalie’s eyes go to the clock on the wall.

It’s only 12.30 p.m. She wasn’t expecting her best friend until one o’clock.

‘I did ring the door but there was no answer, so I thought I’d better knock.

I thought you must not have heard the bell.’

‘Sorry, I was in the bathroom.’ Natalie eyes the Camembert Eve is pulling out of a plastic bag and placing on the kitchen worktop, inhaling its faint musty scent.

She’s not sure if she can eat that.

‘I know, I’m early.’ Eve grins.

‘My eleven o’clock client cancelled on me.

We haven’t had a proper catch-up for ages.’

‘You’re not worried they cancelled?’

Natalie doesn’t know how Eve does it.

She couldn’t be a bereavement counsellor, listening to other people’s heartbreak all day long.

‘People cancel all the time.’ Eve pulls out a baguette, some fancy charcuterie meats, grapes and a bottle of red wine.

Natalie thinks about the quiche in the fridge that she’d been planning on serving up with a salad for their lunch.

Maybe Pete can take it to work tomorrow.

‘You OK? You look a bit peaky.’

‘Just tired. Hectic week.’

‘You sit down, let me sort lunch.’ Eve bustles around the kitchen as if it is her own, sliding the cheese into the oven with the bread, and arranging the meat on a wooden board Pete bought on a whim in a fancy kitchen shop at Bluewater, as Natalie sinks onto a stool at the island.

‘I got us a bottle of that nice Chianti,’ Eve says, placing two wine glasses beside the place settings.

‘The one we drank two bottles of last time.’

Natalie pauses, her hands fluttering below the table.

‘Not for me.’

‘Emily’s picking Zadie up from school for you, though, isn’t she?

We can just have one bottle, I promise it won’t turn into a late one.’

The women meet regularly for lunches that go on until dark, if Pete, Natalie’s husband, is around to watch the kids.

Natalie doesn’t go out much – much less than some of the other mums from school – so lunch with Eve is her only chance to get some time to herself.

Sometimes they meet in Maidstone, in one of the little cafés; other times they take it in turns to host at home, on the days when Natalie only works half a day at the HR department for a national charity.

On rare occasions they head up to Stratford for lunch at Westfield, giggling on the train home with the taste of too much wine on their tongues.

Usually she wouldn’t be bothered about whether it turned into a late one.

Usually Natalie would have opened the wine while she waited for Eve to arrive.

‘No, honestly. Just sparkling water for me.’ Natalie slides from the stool and heads for the huge American-style fridge, pulling out a cold bottle of water.

‘Are you OK?’ Eve frowns, as she moves to the oven to check on the food.

‘I’m fine. I don’t fancy it today, that’s all.’

Eve waits until they are both sat at the island, the Camembert steaming in front of them, before she speaks.

‘What is it?’ Eve leans across the worktop, reaching for Natalie’s hand.

‘What’s going on? Is it Pete?’

‘No, it’s not Pete.

Pete’s great. He’s won the contract for that big housing development on the other side of the village.

You won’t believe who owns the development company.’

‘Who?’

‘Vanessa Taylor.’

Eve’s eyes widen.

Like Natalie, she’s never met Vanessa but she knows exactly who she is.

‘ That Vanessa Taylor? As in Pete’s ex-girlfriend, Vanessa Taylor?’

‘The one and the same.’ Natalie had had the same reaction when Pete told her, shaking his head in disbelief.

‘What a small world,’ he’d said.

‘I couldn’t believe it when her name popped up in my inbox, but I suppose it was always going to happen.

I’m surprised we haven’t run into her before.

After all, I don’t think she ever left West Marsham.’

Natalie had nodded and murmured her surprise, but Pete had picked up on her anxiety.

‘You’re not worried, are you?

God, that was years ago, we were kids when we went out.’

He’d pulled her into a hug, resting his chin on her hair.

‘She’s probably all fat and wrinkly now, and anyway I only have eyes for you.’

Natalie had laughed, knowing she was being silly.

This was Pete, after all.

Faithful as a Labrador, was Pete.

‘Well, if it’s not Pete, then what is it?’

Eve asks. ‘You seem out of sorts, and it’s not just tiredness.

And sparkling water?

You always have a glass of red, no matter what kind of day you’rehaving.’

Natalie says nothing for a moment, tugging her hand away from Eve’s and sipping at her water.

It has a flat, mineral taste despite the bubbles, and her stomach rolls again.

‘Natalie? Come on. I’ve known you for sixteen years, I know when something’s up.

I’ve lived through baby vaccination worries and mortgage trouble with you.’

Eve pauses, a smile tugging at her lips.

‘I was even there when that woman in the threading place over-plucked your eyebrows so badly we thought it was 1997 again.’

At this, Natalie would usually have roared with laughter (despite the fact that the eyebrow thing was a very painful memory) but when she raises her eyes to Eve’s, Natalie has to struggle not to blink, afraid that if she does, a fat tear will slide its way down her cheek.

‘I’m pregnant.’

‘Pregnant?’ Eve presses her hands to her mouth, her eyes wide.

‘Oh, Nat, this is wonderful news. How far along are you?’

‘Nine weeks.’ The memory of cold porcelain against her cheek this morning as she threw up her morning cup of tea rises in Natalie’s mind and she has to swallow hard.

‘Will you be OK to eat the cheese? I think it’s all right if it’s piping hot.’

Eve frowns. ‘What did Pete say when you told him? Did you do the whole Instagram-worthy baby sleepsuit layout thing? Or did you dress Zadie in an “I’m the big sister” T-shirt? Do people actually do that?’ Eve takes a mouthful of wine as Natalie doesn’t reply.

‘Wait. What did Pete say? This is good news, isn’t it?’

Natalie lifts her shoulders in a tiny shrug, reaching for the napkin Eve has set out.

She wishes it was paper, so she could shred it and make use of the nervous energy that ricochets around her body, but it’s cloth, so she settles for folding and refolding it.

‘I haven’t told him yet.’

‘What? Why not?’ Eve gently removes the napkin and takes hold of Natalie’s hands again.

‘You guys are rock-solid – sickeningly so, in my opinion. And you already have two beautiful kids … a third one would be the icing on the cake.’

‘It’s not that simple,’ Natalie says.

‘Zadie is eight years old – she’s going to secondary school in a couple of years.

Emily is about to leave for university.

I don’t know if this is the right time.’

‘The right time? I remember you saying that when you got pregnant with Zadie. And I’m pretty sure you probably said it about Emily as well.’

Natalie winces a little.

She vividly remembers the day she locked herself in the bathroom of the tiny flat she shared with two others, her heart thumping as two pink lines showed themselves in startling clarity, signalling the arrival of Emily.

She’d been in her final year at university, as had Pete, both of them just a few months out from final exams. Pete had been thrilled, Natalie’s parents not so.

In fact, they were so not thrilled that Natalie has barely spoken to them since, and Emily has only met them once.

Zadie, not at all. Not that Natalie is devastated by this.

Growing up with an overbearing father and a mother who could only get through life by self-medicating, lurching from one imagined crisis to another, means that Natalie had almost felt relieved when they cut her off.

Relieved that she wouldn’t have to protect Emily from the same shit she experienced growing up.

It had been slightly easier with Zadie.

Natalie and Eve had been good friends – best friends – for almost eight years by then.

Eve’s parents had died when she was in her twenties, so she understood that untethered feeling Natalie had whenever she thought about her mother, and neither of them had any siblings.

When Natalie had told Eve she was pregnant with Zadie, Eve had filled the gap left by Natalie’s mother, offering moral support, the connection between them moving from friendship to sisterly, if not quite maternal.

‘Eve, I’m forty next month.

The girls are growing up.

It’s been eight years since I’ve had to go through antenatal appointments, dirty nappies and sleepless nights.

I’m not sure I’d be able to cope.’

‘That part doesn’t last forever, though, does it?’

Eve gives Natalie a gentle smile, as she dunks a piece of bread into the cheese.

‘Look at Zadie now – proper little comic, isn’t she?

She has us in stitches.

And Emily. You must be so proud of her, going off to the next stage in her life.

The world is her oyster.’

‘Exactly. How are they going to react to having a new baby in the house? Having to share my and Pete’s attention?

What if Emily thinks I’m replacing her?’

Natalie sighs, pushing her plate away.

There is something too big in her gut that crushes her appetite, and it’s nothing to do with the tiny bundle of cells in her belly.

‘I’m just not sure, Eve.

I don’t know if I can go through it all again.’

Eve tops up her wine glass, even though Natalie had barely noticed her empty it the first time.

‘You can’t be thinking of …’

Natalie blinks, her eyes stinging.

‘I don’t know, Eve. I don’t know what to do.

Part of me loves the idea of a little baby.

But the other part of me …

I like where I am now.

I like our life. To go back to the beginning would be …

I don’t know. Part of me thinks it would be …’

Natalie swallows, the words sharp and angular in her throat.

‘It would be easier to just … terminate.’

‘Natalie, there’s nothing easy about a termination.’

‘I’m not saying that literally,’ Natalie replies quickly.

‘I’m just saying … having a baby is a massive adjustment.

I have to make sure it’s the right decision.

And millions of women have terminations every day—’

‘That doesn’t mean it’s the easy way out.’

Eve’s tone is sharp.

Her eyes glitter, and Natalie realises she looks as though she might cry.

‘There’s a huge knock-on effect emotionally for women who have had a termination.

It’s not as simple as getting rid of it and never thinking about it again.’

‘Eve? I didn’t mean it like that.’

The atmosphere has changed between them in a way Natalie can’t put her finger on.

‘And I never meant to upset you, I’m just …

I don’t know, I’m all over the place.’

Eve sniffs, as a tear slides down one cheek.

‘Oh, Eve, please don’t cry.’

‘I’m sorry. I know this is a difficult time for you, and I …’

Eve hiccups as a sob escapes her throat.

‘What is it?’ Natalie asks gently, pulling Eve’s hands into her.

‘You can tell me.’

‘OK.’ Eve draws in a shaky breath, and nods.

‘OK. Sorry, this is so difficult.’ She pauses, almost visibly pulling herself together.

‘You know I can’t have children.’

She says it bluntly but Natalie knows the words cut her.

‘I never told you why.’ There is a pause where Natalie feels her breath stick in her throat, and then Eve continues, her voice hoarse, as if she has to force the words out.

‘Oh God, I haven’t spoken about this for years.

I had an abortion.’

‘Oh, Eve.’

‘It was ages ago, back in the nineties. I was seventeen. I wasn’t with the father – he was just a drunken fling, and even if I was, it wasn’t the right time for me.

I was at college, working part-time in Zara, out partying every night.

I would have made a crap mother.

But it didn’t go to plan, and I got an infection and it left me sterile.’

Eve gulps a huge mouthful of wine, blinking.

‘It wasn’t a decision I made lightly, but at the same time I always thought there’d be another baby.’

‘You were in a different situation,’ Natalie says.

‘You didn’t really have any other option.’

‘Well, I did,’ Eve says bitterly.

‘I could have had the baby. I probably would have been married by now, had more babies. But once you tell a man you can’t give him children it kind of knocks you off the marriage pedestal.

It was the worst mistake I’ve ever made, and now it’s too late – I don’t think I’ll ever get married.

I’m forty-five, for God’s sake.’

Natalie never knew any of this.

She has known Eve since she went back to work when Emily was almost two.

She was assigned the desk beside Eve’s – before Eve realised that HR for a charity wasn’t her dream job, and she retrained as a counsellor.

Although Eve has had boyfriends who have come and gone over the years, Natalie always thought it was her choice.

That Eve was the one who made the decision to let them go.

She always thought Eve loved her boozy, travel-filled, single lifestyle.

‘I’m sorry.’ Eve swipes at her eyes with her napkin.

‘I’m not saying I’ve had a terrible life or anything, because I haven’t.

But what I am saying …’

She leans in, holding Natalie’s gaze.

‘What I am saying is that I have regretted what I did every day. Every day I think about that baby and wonder what it would have been like. What would they be doing? What relationship would we have? I look at you and Emily and I always wonder.’

‘I’m so sorry, Eve.

I had no idea.’ Natalie feels as if a weight has been placed on her shoulders.

Not a burden as such, but the weight of guilt for all the times she asked Eve to have the kids, not knowing Eve was pining for her own lost child all this time.

Eve sniffs, pats her cheeks briskly and smiles, albeit shakily.

‘Enough. Enough about that. I am thrilled for you, and I just want you to make sure you are absolutely sure about any decision you do make. You know I’ll support you whatever you decide.’

‘I know.’ Natalie reaches out and squeezes Eve’s hand.

‘Sorry to lay this on you at lunch.’

‘Don’t be daft, it’s what friends are for.

Listen, have you seen a doctor yet?’

Natalie nods. ‘Two weeks ago, after I did the test.’ The doctor – in his late sixties and at the surgery since the dawn of time, it seemed – had congratulated her in a hurried way, without offering any other options.

‘Wow. You’ve known for two weeks?’

The smell of the bread hits Natalie’s senses and she wants to groan aloud.

Her nausea has died down, and now she’s starving.

She piles salted butter onto a chunk of warm bread and takes a huge bite, chewing frantically before she speaks.

‘I wanted to get my head round it all before I told Pete. I’m going to have to tell him soon, I have a dating scan in two weeks.’

‘You don’t have to tell Pete yet, not if you’re not ready.’

‘Eve—’

‘I’ll go with you.’

Eve raises her eyebrows.

‘If you don’t want to tell Pete yet, I’ll go to the dating scan with you.

Then you’ve got a bit more time to decide what you think you want to do, and the best way to break the news to him.’

‘You would do that?’

‘Of course.’ Eve raises her glass in a toast, waiting for Natalie to clink her water glass against it.

‘What are friends for?’

Later, Zadie is in bed after a bath and a story, and Emily is out with Jake, her boyfriend.

Pete texts Natalie to say he’ll be home late, and she resists the urge to collapse on the sofa.

Eve’s reaction to the news of her pregnancy has shocked Natalie, and she can’t shake the look on Eve’s face as she told her how much she regretted getting rid of her baby.

Despite the exhaustion tugging at her bones, Natalie heads upstairs to the landing and stands beneath the loft hatch.

Listening to make sure Zadie is asleep, once she is satisfied all is silent, Natalie slowly unhooks the latch, climbing the steps into the wide, draughty space.

Turning on the light, she shuffles her way over the dusty boards to the boxes pressed against the wall.

Pulling one towards her, she flicks the lid open, running a finger over the contents inside.

An old scan photo, dated 2005.

Emily’s scan. The first time she and Pete saw this miracle baby they’d accidentally created.

With a smile, Natalie tucks it back into the box before dipping in and pulling out something else.

Tiny, pink knitted bootees.

Pete’s mum had sent them over from Australia when she heard Emily was going to be a girl.

Natalie had wept over the parcel, after her own mother had stopped taking her calls.

A hospital band . So tiny it only just loops around Natalie’s thumb.

Zadie Esther Maxwell.

DOB 3/10/2014 . Zadie’s hospital bracelet.

She had been tiny, barely six pounds.

They’d named her Esther for Pete’s mum.

Natalie presses a hand to her stomach, breathing in the musty attic air.

She’s not sure how she feels about anything any more.

Tucking the tiny baby bootees into the pocket of her jogging bottoms, she descends back to the landing.

Tomorrow , she thinks.

I’ll tell Pete tomorrow.