Despite her denial, Wendy was being cagey and no, she certainly didn’t tell Nell all sorts of things about her life because reading between the meagre lines in her letters, Wendy didn’t sodding well have one.
Nell was watching the blizzard from her bedroom window. Huge fluffy flakes had been falling throughout the day, getting heavier by the hour, sending even the most experienced skiers indoors. Now, a sheet of white obscured Nell’s normally unbroken view of the skiing village so that the golden glow from the restaurants and chalets was barely visible.
Shivering, Nell pulled the curtains shut and grabbed a blanket from the back of the chair before wrapping it around her shoulders. Her room was heated but the system was old and inadequate, although the rustic furnishings made it feel warmer than it was, homely even. In fact, it was one of the nicest places she’d ever stayed and the owner, Alba, a jolly woman, was the kindest boss she’d worked for. Surprisingly, Nell did feel rather settled there, which was a first. The work was repetitive, cleaning rooms and waiting on in the restaurant, but she preferred it to being a chalet maid, at the beck and call of demanding toffs who more often than not needed to learn some manners and humility. Here, Alba was the boss and Nell only answered to her.
Nell flopped onto the bed and rested against her pillows before returning to thoughts of Wendy. As she touched the tiny silver charms on her bracelet one by one, the 21st key, the wishing well, the bell, the house, and finally the heart, crazy as it seemed, Nell was sure they were trying to tell her something. To prove her point, she jumped off the bed and unhooked her rucksack from the door and rummaged to the bottom, pulling out the carrier bag that rested there. It contained every letter she had received from Wendy, along with postcards and correspondence from her growing army of long-distance seasonaires.
Going back to the bed, Nell went through them one by one, looking for clues.
She remembered suggesting to Wendy that she should make friends at antenatal classes but she hadn’t even mentioned going there or what they did, let alone the names of other women at the clinic.
And Nell was sure she’d asked what Wendy did all day, apart from bloody crocheting baby clothes; again, nothing. No talk of days out, weekend trips, visiting the in-laws, going to the cinema, romantic meals in fancy restaurants. It wasn’t like they were skint so why weren’t they having fun before their lives were turned upside down by a baby?
Nell’s eyes skimmed over the pages, flicking each sheet onto the bed when she drew a blank. Baby names – that was another thing that puzzled her. One minute Wendy said Mike talked about the baby all the time and it was all he’d ever wanted but in the latest letter, she said they hadn’t picked names or godparents, or even discussed if he was going to be at the birth. That really was weird. What on earth did they talk about over dinner, when they were cuddled up in bed at night or while they watched telly, sitting in their lounge on their posh sofas? Surely these things were important.
Then there was that woman, what was she called… Paula, Mike’s secretary who was killed. Not a peep about her, or if they’d gone to the funeral, or caught the driver. That was odd because if Wendy’s life was truly as boring as Nell suspected, surely a bit of grave gossip would liven things up. Wendy didn’t gossip anymore, about anything.
What had really set Nell’s mind ticking were Wendy’s final comments about Mike being out a lot in the evenings. Why? Where did he go? Wendy didn’t say he was doing anything specific, like a hobby, and Nell didn’t think trainspotters went out at night. But what sent shivers down Nell’s spine were the final remarks, that Wendy would rather be on her own, and why would she be swearing? She said Mike gave her black looks, that wasn’t good, not good at all. Nell reread the sentence again, focusing on the part about being on her own – did Wendy mean in the evenings or generally, permanently even?
Nell pulled the blanket around her shoulders and stood. She was restless and wished she’d asked Martí for another joint but instead of oblivion, Nell paced the room trying to piece everything together.
Had she sensed defensiveness in Wendy’s denial about being cagey? Yes, she had. But the facts spoke for themselves. They were right there in black and white, or the lack of it. Wendy was unhappy, Nell knew.
What confused her most was why Wendy hadn’t confided in her if something was wrong. They had shared so many secrets, albeit silly childhood ones, and when it came to talking through their fears or worries, their hopes and crazy dreams, there had been no holds barred… until Mike. That’s when everything changed. It had seemed like overnight; Wendy grew up and moved a step away from Nell. Mike was like a huge wedge, widening the gap, causing problems at every turn.
Nell knew he was wrong for Wendy, for a zillion reasons, and she had been honest enough to tell her best friend how she felt. The messenger had almost been shot but they weathered the storm and in the end, Wendy’s stubborn nature actually saved their friendship.
Nell smiled, remembering her quietly determined friend who always got her way, eventually. Wendy was the complete opposite to flighty, eager Nell who barged into situations head on, getting into scrapes then looking to Wendy for help. And she was always there to make it right. Wendy wasn’t one to make a fuss or draw attention to herself. She didn’t overreact in arguments and instead thought things through; she bided her time, never shouted or stormed off, never made mistakes... until Mike.
That was it! Nell realised why Wendy was keeping things to herself. Pride, pure and simple. It was so obvious now.
Wendy had told Nell she was getting the pill but left it too late and fell pregnant. Whatever her feelings for Mike at the time, where the baby was concerned she had no option but to get on with it.
If Nell knew one thing about her friend it was that she wasn’t a quitter and would hold her head up, facing the world and the consequences in her own steely way. How awful must it be to admit you’d made a mistake, especially with something huge like marriage? Nell immediately saw the irony in her own question because she too was guilty of exactly the same.
How many times had she wanted to tell Wendy she was fed up, desperately homesick? Nell had spent hours crying into her pillow, wishing she’d done things differently, bloody listened to her best friend and stayed in Sheffield. But instead of telling the truth, pride had got in the way and Nell had painted a fake but fabulous picture of a life on the road. So was Wendy also painting a fake and fabulous picture of married life? Were they both liars?
But what could Nell do? Glancing at her rucksack, she was tempted to pack up there and then and race back to Sheffield. The baby was due any time so at least Nell would be around, in case her fears were unfounded.
Sitting down on the bed, Nell gathered the sheets of daisy paper and her thoughts. She had to be sensible and think this through. Wendy would wire the money or the ticket straight away if Nell asked but once she got to Sheffield, she had nowhere to stay apart from the guest house. Delving into her rucksack again, Nell pulled out a battered map of Europe and from between the folds, extracted an envelope that contained her savings. Would this be enough to tide her over until she could get a job? Nell could look for pub work as soon as she arrived, anything would do. It was worth taking the chance, for Wendy, and if push came to shove, Nell would swallow her pride and go to her Aunty Sue’s.