‘No, of course I’m not.’ Not this one anyway. However, the last one…
‘You made it?’
‘I did. With cream.’
‘Good.’ He picked up the spoon. ‘So what is this thing you have to tell me? She’s coming back, isn’t she?’
‘No, she isn’t.’ Wendy knew he meant Nell.
‘So what then?’
‘I’m pregnant.’ Not the violins and flowers sort of declaration she had envisaged, but it was out there. She waited for the fallout.
There was a prolonged silence. Eventually he smiled. ‘Pregnant? We’re having a baby?’
‘We are. I don’t have a due date yet, but it’s early days, and will be due sometime in February.’
Mike stood and walked around the table to kiss the top of her head. ‘That is wonderful. You found out today?’
She nodded. ‘I went to the doctor last week because I felt queasy all the time, so he did a pregnancy test. I got the result today.’
‘And you didn’t bother to tell me for a week?’
‘I didn’t want you to be disappointed if it was negative. It’s been lovely telling you the good news. It would have been awful if I’d had to say there’s no baby.’
He thought it through. ‘Okay. But anything else from here on, I want to know before you do. Is that understood?’
Again her head almost dipped. ‘Of course. You’ll come with me to the hospital?’
‘Certainly. This is my son.’
‘It may be a daughter.’
He didn’t bother her with a response.
6
It was almost sunset and after a long day serving cold beer to rowdy tourists, Nell was winding down with her friends, listening to the swish of the Mediterranean as it lapped against the shores of the seaside town of Torrevieja. She had read Wendy’s letter twice, a huge smile spreading across Nell’s face with each word. Wendy sounded so happy about having a baby. The thought alone terrified Nell and not for the first time did she thank God for the little packet of pills she kept by her bedside table.
After the third read through, Nell felt a tinge of regret that she wouldn’t be there for such an exciting time in Wendy’s life and had the grace to feel guilty, as if she’d abandoned her best friend. Not that Nell would be of any use because she knew zilch about babies and had no desire to either. Still, Wendy had her mum to help out and… come to think of it, apart from creepy Mike, she never actually mentioned anyone else, other friends.
Nell tried to remember the content of previous letters and apart from Beryl, it seemed as though Wendy’s factory mates had dropped off. The dinner party guests she talked about were simply that; nameless people who ate the lovely meals Wendy prepared. Perhaps the guests were a bit snooty and dreary. What about the Conservative Club? Wendy and Mike went there for social events so surely some of the women had kids. They would be able to pass on bits of useful poo and nappy-related information, or invite Wendy and her nipper to their house where they could coo and swap mumsy stories. Nell decided to mention it in her letter and give Wendy a nudge because she could be a bit too shy sometimes. It would make her feel better if she knew Wendy had some support.
There was something else. Why was Wendy wearing the same old clothes? She was always so smart and had amazing fashion sense. Nell couldn’t remember her ever looking unkempt, even Wendy’s hair was always styled and her make-up perfectly applied. Everyone said you got complacent when you got wed. Men went podgy from the home cooking and women let themselves go once they bagged a bloke. That’s what happened when you married an old fart like Mike.
Nell would never fall into that trap or turn into a frump – not that she wore the latest trends or anything but she did her best with second-hand clothes, and the stuff she swapped with Molly and the other girls.
Nell’s heart immediately sank when she thought of Molly, who only the day before had broken the news that she’d be heading home at the end of August. Her parents had called time on her gap year and insisted she went back to university and buckled down. That meant that Nell would have to carry on with her adventures alone or maybe hook up with some of the other travellers and seasonaires.
She thought back to Wendy’s letter and her twenty-first present. It would be Nell’s birthday soon but there’d be no big bash, or wedge of cash, she’d be lucky if she got a card from Aunty Sue. The only letter of congratulations Nell was assured of was from Wendy. Nell hadn’t even told the gang that her milestone birthday was coming up; it was simply another year. The words of the traditional song that she’d heard everyone chorus at the community centre when she was little – some friend of Aunty Sue had come of age – ‘she’s got the key to the door, never been twenty-one before.’ A huge lump formed in Nell’s throat as the prick of tears forced her to suck in air and suppress the unexpected wave of homesickness.
What on earth could she possibly miss about Sheffield? She had one useless family member and one real friend whose husband despised her. Even if she went home when Molly did, where would Nell stay? What would she do for a living? She had meagre qualifications and no idea what she wanted to be, even if she could get into college. The thought of being stuck indoors all day, studying at a desk or trapped in a typing pool didn’t appeal one bit. Okay, it wasn’t as though working in a beachfront bar or cleaning chalets was the best career move in the world but it damn well beat pulling pints in some smoky inner-city dive. At least she’d breathed the Swiss air and here, she had the sun on her face and sand under her feet, not a sticky pub carpet, and best of all she had lots of friends. They weren’t Wendy, nobody could ever replace her, but they were fun and wild and up for an adventure.
It looked like Nell and Molly were going to have to go their separate ways although she had invited Nell to stay in Hampshire at the family home, or at her uni digs should she ever turn up in the UK. That was another thing about her travelling friends, they were like a nomadic community who offered the hand of friendship, sharing what they had, making room for one more. Their doors were always open, like families should be.
Nell took a few moments to watch the sunset and admire the orange glow that set the clouds on fire, turning the horizon pinky-red. Wendy would have loved this, and Nell wished they had seen the Alps and the apple fields and the nodding sunflowers together. That they had drank too much red wine and schnapps, danced on bar-tops and skied down slopes, screeching with fear. Even a damp caravan would have been more fun with Wendy to share it with. Nell missed her so much.
Taking out her journal that was full of names, telephone numbers and addresses, and her depleted pack of daisy paper, Nell pulled out a fresh sheet then rummaged in her bag for a pen. She’d had an idea that might solve two problems in one go. Maybe a trip home was what she needed, to get things into perspective and take a look at Sheffield with fresh and more mature eyes, even for a twenty-one-year-old. It might not be as bad as she remembered, and she did miss the Pennines and the sight of the craggy peaks, but not the rain and the litter. The thing was, until she went back she’d never know if she could make a go of it, or give up her life of freedom. It would make Wendy happy too because Nell sensed she needed her, something wasn’t right, call it intuition.