mascara intact.
‘Don’t be silly.’
‘But we tell each other everything. It was only one night,’ I sniff, unable to stem the tears any longer. I wipe the back of my hand across my cheek. ‘I’m such a rubbish friend,’ I add, feeling really sorry for myself. Sam places her hands on my arms.
‘Now, listen. You are an amazing friend, and an amazing person, and if Tom doesn’t realise when he’s well off, then he’s … well, he’s a mug, quite frankly.’ Sam shakes her curls defiantly. ‘I would call him an arse, a wanker even, but if you end up sorting it all out and marrying him or something, then you’ll never forgive me. So for now, he’s just a mug.’ She grabs a napkin and hands it to me. ‘A really crappy one. One that you get in Poundland or, worse still, one of those mugs that comes free with an Easter egg and practically melts your fingerprints right off because the china is so thin.’ I attempt a watery smile.
‘God, I’m sorry. I feel like such an idiot. I knew deep down that I was probably punching above my weight with Tom.’ I pull a face.
‘Will you stop it! You’re my best friend and I love you, but I hate hearing you rubbish yourself like this. You’re gorgeous, funny, kind – a bit bonkers sometimes, admittedly,’ she shakes her head, ‘but Tom is crazy about you. And I should know.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Italy. Ring any bells? He couldn’t wait to come and surprise you. He’s besotted with you. I could hear it in his voice, every time we spoke on the phone to go over the plans.’
‘Well, he has a funny way of showing it,’ I say, taking a massive slurp of hot chocolate and scalding the roof of my mouth in the process. I grab a slice of Battenberg and take a big bite to sooth the pain.
‘He even said as much to Nathan … how you’re not like any other girl he’s known.’
‘I bet. Especially if they are all stunning like … Zaaara. Even her name is flirty and glamorous-sounding.’ I take another bite of the cake.
‘Now that’s enough,’ Sam says. ‘Will you please have a bit of faith? You’re a grown, confident woman, so put a smile on your face, swallow your pride, find out what time it is in Paris and bloody call him. I’m not going to sit back while you throw a pity party for one.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I say in a feeble voice.
‘And quit saying sorry.’ She creases her forehead. ‘Sorry,’ she quickly adds, and we both crack up.
‘Ha!’ I’m the first to recover. ‘I’m being silly, aren’t I?’ I pull a cartoon sad face to lighten the mood.
‘A bit.’ Sam holds up a thumb and index finger in front of my face as a measure. ‘Look, life is too short. We both know that.’ She squeezes my hand gently as the unspoken thought passes between us. I nod, remembering Mum, gone too soon, and now Alfie.
‘Do you want Tom back?’ she asks, looking serious now.
‘Yes,’ I say, relishing the feeling I get whenever I think about him. I’ve never felt it so intensely and that has to mean something. Maybe he still is my one. And if there’s a glimmer of a chance that he is, then I can’t just give up. Some people search a lifetime looking for their one, so I should count myself lucky that he’s here, right under my nose … well, in Paris to be exact, if I really want to get picky about it.
‘So go for what you want. Grab him with both hands—’
‘One on each bum cheek.’ I snort.
‘Exactly. Don’t let her steal him away from you. Call him.’
‘OK. I will.’ I swallow hard.
‘Promise?’
‘I promise. Now, can we please change the subject?’
‘Yes,’ Sam says, decisively. ‘I’m going to have one of those 4D scans.’
‘Fab.’ I smile.
‘It is.’ Sam tries not to laugh again as we attempt a sensible conversation.
‘Err, what is a 4D scan?’
‘I have no idea. But Jenny – works in Greggs up by the station, you know, the one whose husband is in Afghanistan?’ I nod. ‘Well, she’s pregnant as well and due a few months before me.’
‘Ahh, that’s nice,’ I say, wondering how she managed it. Last time I bumped into Jenny on the bus, she said Tony was away on another tour.
‘They got lucky during his last R&R,’ Sam explains, as if reading my mind. ‘Anyway, she gave me the number of a clinic over by the golf course that does a whole range of different scans, and they give you a DVD to take away. And if you sign up for the pay-per-view scheme, you can even go in and watch the baby whenever you like on their fifty-inch plasma screen. It’s just like being at the cinema, she said. I’m so excited and I can’t wait to see little Honey Moon Taylor making her debut. Wonder if she’ll give me a wave,’ Sam squeals, and I give her a big hug.
‘Oh me too. When can you tell if it is actually a girl?’ I ask.
‘I’m not sure. But I just know there’s a girl in here.’ Sam rubs her tummy. ‘At least there’d better be. I’m seeing gorgeous little dresses and Hello Kitty everywhere, not Bob the Builder and mountains of mud.’ Sam rolls her eyes.
‘And what about Nathan?’
‘Ahh, he says any child is a gift and he just wants them to be happy and healthy. Me too, of course … but a girl would be really nice,’ she quickly adds.
‘Hmm, well I hope little Honey has more luck than me with men,’ I smile wryly.
‘Oh, you’ll be fine. Just call him.’ Sam stands up and starts clearing the table. I help her carry the cake stand and mugs over to the counter. ‘Let me know how it goes,’ she says, pushing open the swing door to the kitchen with her hip. I follow and place the mugs in the dishwasher, and the cake stand on the side, knowing how Sam likes them hand-washed instead.
‘Will do.’ I give her a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘Oh, one last thing – do you know what a shaman is?’
‘A whaat?’ Sam shrugs and pulls a face. ‘Can you eat it?’
‘I don’t think so,’ I smile.
‘Then I’m not interested. Why do you want to know?’
‘Just something I heard earlier.’
‘Is it important?’
‘No!’
Waving, I push though the swing door and take a deep breath before leaving the café and heading towards the staff lift. I’m going to call into Masood’s shop, and then ring Tom later because, it’s like Sam said, I’m a grown, confident woman. I say it over and over as a mantra inside my head while doing my absolute best to ignore a raft of sabotaging thoughts about mince pies and custard with ten Benson thrown in, while Zara boards an aeroplane bound for Paris wearing the teeniest-tiniest string bikini she can find.
Seven shopping weeks until Christmas
It’s Sunday morning and I’m admiring my gorgeous new big hair in the light-bulb-framed mirror and wondering if it might be just a bit over the top for a sales assistant. But Kelly insisted and who am I to argue? Besides, I secretly love my new hair extensions. I’ve gone from having a wispy brunette bob to mid-length luscious hair with caramel and honey highlights that swings back into place whenever I shake my head. I’m like something out of a L’Oréal advert. And I’ve had my teeth whitened, which was excruciating by the way, but sooo worth it as I now have a proper gleaming Hollywood smile.
Annie