‘I couldn’t have subjected Bindy to that. She was such a lovable pooch.’ She exhales a small, sad laugh. ‘I am happy for them, really I am. But seeing you with Cory, and then Annette rubbing her stomach…’
‘It’s okay, you don’t have to explain, I get it. But it will happen for you, Magda, one day.’
‘When did you become so clichéd, eh, Louisa?’ Her voice hardens, which surprises me. ‘We bloody hate those people, remember. Stop trying and it will happen, what’s meant to be will be, what’s for you won’t go by you.’
‘Well, what do I know?’ I say, trying to defuse the situation before it properly ignites. ‘I’m a bloody nutter! I think my son’s sperm donor is coming to take him, I’m taking medication that could sedate an ape and I’m turning as bald as Harry Hill!’
She laughs, a small, tired laugh which isn’t really a laugh at all. ‘I don’t deserve you as a friend. You’re too good for me. I’m not a good person, not really.’
I wrap my arm around her, pull her into my side. ‘Of course you are, Mags, you’re the best.’
She shakes her head. ‘I try and be the person everybody expects me to be, but sometimes it’s too hard. Sometimes…’ She pauses, as if wanting to say more but suddenly conscious of what I might think. I stay silent, knowing from experience that she’ll talk when she’s ready. ‘When Helen cries night after night about losing Luke,’ she continues finally, ‘do you know what I think?’ She looks up at me, her eyes glassy with tears. ‘I think she shouldn’t complain so much because at least she was a mother for eight years. How horrible is that?’
I bite my lip, somewhat shocked by her revelation even if I can understand it on some level. ‘Actually, there was something I wanted to ask you,’ I say, the thought popping into my head unannounced. ‘I want to ask you a favour.’
She nods for me to continue. ‘What is it?’
‘Will you be Cory’s godmother?’
She tenses up, her words seemingly frozen in her mouth. When she finally speaks, her voice is barely a whisper. ‘Thank you. I do love him, you know that, don’t you?’
I kiss her cheek, happy that the brief animosity of earlier seems to have been dissipated. ‘I know you do. And if anything should ever happen to James or me you’re the only person I want caring for Cory. So you’re saying yes? You will be his godmother?’
She looks down at my sleeping son, her love for him so strong I can almost feel it. ‘I would be honoured.’
We fall silent as I follow Magda into the dining room a few moments later, my previous headache now a whopping migraine. James stares up at me and raises his eyebrows, as if uncomfortable with the whole situation. I offer him a tight smile before turning my attention to Annette whose eyes are glassy and puffy as if she’s been crying. She holds a crumpled serviette up to her nose and blows into it noisily. Ron is kneeling down by her side, his balding head practically wedged into her bosom. The whole scene looks a little rehearsed, as if the two of them are performing a two-man show.
‘Are you all right, Magda?’ Helen is the first to speak. She rubs the gold crucifix between her fingers while she waits for a reply, one Magda seems reluctant to give. I wonder for a moment if Magda is annoyed with Helen. After all, Helen is her sister; surely she should have been the one upstairs comforting her?
‘I’m fine.’ Magda seems to have difficulty swallowing before taking several steps forward, stopping just short of where Annette is stooped over the table. ‘Annette, Ron, I’m so sorry. Of course I’m over the moon for you both.’ She reaches out and lightly places the tips of her fingers on Annette’s shoulder, as if terrified her touch will be rebuffed.
‘S’okay’ slurs Ron, who remains kneeling down. He’s so hammered I wonder how he’ll ever manage to stand back up. I suddenly have visions of us all standing in a line, yanking him up like he’s a giant turnip. Exhaustion washes over me at the thought, the bottom of my back now stiff with pain. I trail my eyes over the leftovers which still litter the table, the festive tablecloth hidden under multiple Pyrex dishes and gravy-smeared plates. I sigh, knowing I have neither the strength nor desire to tackle it all.
‘Annette, are we still friends?’ Magda asks, having received no response the first time. ‘It was just hard to hear, that’s all. You must understand that?’
‘You’ll have your baby soon, Mags,’ murmurs James, so quietly I wonder if I’ve imagined it.
‘Yes, we’re friends.’ Annette looks up at Magda, a beaming smile now on her face which is completely at odds with the nose blowing of a moment ago. ‘I don’t suppose I can be angry with you. I know all too well what barrenness does to a person.’
A knot of anger tightens in my chest. How can she be so callous?
‘Thanks, honey,’ says Magda, either not registering Annette’s bitchiness or choosing to ignore it. ‘So, a baby…’ she continues, her voice much brighter than it needs to be. ‘When did you find out?’
‘I really thought it was the menopause,’ I hear Annette say, her voice sounding as if it’s coming from underwater. I lean against the door frame for support, another wave of dizziness taking hold, stronger this time, accompanied by a film of cold sweat. ‘After the miscarriage last year we decided to give the treatment a break. I’m getting on a bit now and we thought we might have had to revert to donor eggs. We were taking time out to decide what to do.’ I look over at her in an attempt to focus, see a smile creep into the crevices of her lips. I blink; one, two, three times, trying and failing to bring everything back into focus.
‘Are you okay?’ asks James, presumably to me.
I nod my head.
‘Then, last week…’ Annette’s voice gathers speed. ‘Just after we met at Caffè Nero, I felt terribly faint. I thought with Louisa fainting we both might have had a bug. Obviously now I know hers was down to postnatal depression.’
‘I haven’t got postnatal depression,’ I say, or think; not sure which one.
‘So, anyway, I was walking past Boots and I thought, why not? Not like I haven’t seen a negative pregnancy test before. I couldn’t believe it when it came up pregnant plus five. It was like the greatest of all miracles.’
‘So how far gone are you then?’ asks Magda, or Helen, their faces turned away from me and their voices too similar to decipher.
‘We phoned SureLife immediately. Doctor Hughes managed to squeeze us in for a scan the following morning. We expected a little bean, you know, five or six weeks, something like that. Louisa, are you all right?’ she asks, her voice hardening. ‘Come and sit down or you’ll miss the best bit.’
I make my way over to an empty chair, Ron’s I think, the one beside James. Annette is now sat opposite me, Magda still stood to the side of her. Thankfully, Ron has managed to stand back up and is slumped against the wall in front of me, the back of his head dangerously close to the mirror which hangs behind him. ‘Go on,’ I say, my words clogging in my throat. ‘’Tell us.’
‘Well, you’re not going to believe it.’ She looks me directly in the eye, as if only speaking to me. ‘I nearly jumped off the examination table when the little rascal started waving at me. I’m only thirty-four weeks gone!’
A collective intake of breath shrinks the room.
‘Sorry,’ says Magda, her voice cracking. ‘Will you excuse me? I need the loo.’
‘I mean I knew I’d put on weight,’ continues Annette, oblivious to Magda’s obvious distress. I consider chasing after her again but I’m no longer sure my legs can take the weight. ‘And there was that spell in summer when I thought I had a stomach bug. But I had absolutely no idea I was pregnant. Can you believe we’re going to be parents in a matter of weeks?’
‘No,’ I reply, sickness congealing in the back of my throat. ‘No, I can’t.’
‘Well, I think this is cause for celebration,’ says James, his tone falling just short of sincere. ‘Little Cory is going to be thrilled to have a playmate.’