sometimes.’
I felt something familiar struggling to break free and I squashed it down, hard. It wasn’t just Dee’s languid charm I envied. Her life seemed so perfect, so complete. The house, the garden, the fact that she and Dan were entirely suited – no, that wasn’t it, because so were Luke and I. But the children. I closed my eyes briefly. If only I could be blessed with half … a third, of Dee’s luck. Easy conceptions, smooth pregnancies, no major heartaches along the way.
I need to be clear about this: I loathed myself for the acrid ripples of jealousy that often poleaxed me without warning. Dee was my best friend and she had been supportive, sympathetic and downright heroic during the endless miscarriages and the ensuing heartache.
But somehow, Dee’s ripe fertility left the stench of failure all over me. Two major events had rocked our friendship. The first had been the time Dee had admitted that she and Dan were pregnant again, by accident. Frankie’s unexpected arrival had caused a new kind of grief. The choking kind that left a ball of spiky thistle in the back of my throat. An accidental baby? One that hadn’t required temperature-taking, vitamins, injections or side effects? Dee’s apologetic hug when she’d told me had almost tipped me over the edge and we had clung to one another wordlessly. What was there to say?
The second event had been more recent, the time Dee had cautiously suggested that I consider ‘letting go’ of my baby dreams. My fingers involuntarily curled around my glass of sangria at the memory, those feelings clawing at me again. Ferocious rage, screaming frustration and an urge to strike Dee had been so violently strong that I had been forced to stalk away at high speed. We hadn’t spoken for a month and I had grieved for our friendship, certain we would never speak again. Dee had left countless pleading messages on my mobile, followed by some drunken ones accompanied by tuneless singing to the soundtrack of that old TV show The Golden Girls – we used to watch it constantly after nights out back in the day – and after the fifteenth rendition of ‘Thank you for being a frrriiieeend,’ I had finally relented. I knew deep down that Dee had suggested giving up on our baby dreams because she cared. To underline the hideousness of the whole sorry episode, we had lost our second IVF baby shortly afterwards, and Dee had been almost as devastated as we had been.
Dee interrupted my reverie. ‘Let’s go and join Dan at the barbecue; he’s looking forlorn.’ We strolled towards the patio together.
‘Good lord, who’s that?’ Dee said, waving to someone.
‘Haven’t a clue. Did Dan invite him? Nell looks gorgeous, doesn’t she?’
She did. Luke’s sister was naturally stylish with bobbed hair, the same chestnut-brown shade as Luke’s. She was wearing what looked like one of her own creations, a stylish tea dress with an unusual hemline. The print was bold, but it suited her.
‘That’s Nell’s friend Lisa,’ I informed Dee, ‘from school, I think. She owns about five clothes shops already. She’s the archetypal business woman.’
‘Wow. Five shops. That’s so cool.’
Dee always admired other women who ran businesses. I had a suspicion she might harbour secret dreams of becoming the next female Richard Branson, if only she could find a slot in her children’s busy social schedules.
‘That guy she’s being chatted up by is cute,’ Dee said. ‘Her type? … Oh, no, maybe not.’
Watching Nell politely brush the guy off, we waited for her to join us. ‘Hey,’ Nell said warmly. ‘What a perfect day for a barbecue.’
‘It’s too bloody hot,’ Dee grumbled, wiping her brow. ‘This is what the menopause will be—’
‘Ignore her; she gets crabby in the heat.’ I turned to Nell. We really needed to get our friendship back on track – somehow we’d drifted lately. ‘Listen, do you fancy coming over for coffee tomorrow morning?’ I intended to hide behind the kitchen counter and distract Nell with some bad cooking. Sweltering in the heat, I pulled my cardigan round my tummy to disguise the swell.
Nell seemed pleased. ‘That sounds great. Oh dear, look at mum. She’s being chatted up by a man with a beard. She has a thing about beards. And not in a good way.’
‘Who does?’ Dee shuddered and waved Nell away. ‘Go, rescue her.’
I put a hand on my stomach. There it was again. A tiny flutter inside. Like butterfly wings beating. It was the baby, it was moving. It was too early, surely? I gasped, turning away from Dee. The baby was stretching its limbs, wriggling, kicking. Relief coursed through me. There was nothing wrong. Everything was fine. My baby was growing and moving and it felt magical.
‘Are you all right, Dan?’ Dee frowned as Dan started frantically poking the sausages. They looked cremated.
He groaned. ‘It’s all gone a bit …’
‘Pete Tong?’ Luke appeared, putting his hands on Dan’s shoulders. Wearing navy shorts and a crumpled white shirt, he looked as though he’d recently stepped out of the shower. ‘Desperado, you are truly awful at cooking. Do you need some help, sweetie?’
‘Finally, the cavalry arrives!’ Dan clapped his hand on Luke’s back in a display of manly camaraderie.
Luke noisily kissed Dan’s cheek then did the same to Dee. ‘Look at the size of that barbecue.’ He turned back to Dan and rubbed his chin gravely. ‘You know what they say about men and their barbecues don’t you, Dee?’
Dee giggled as Dan handed Luke a beer.
‘Shut up, you arse. And don’t you dare mention my man tools.’
‘Tongs.’ Luke shook his head. ‘You are such a girl, Danny boy.’ He caught sight of me and immediately came over. ‘Hey you,’ he said in my ear. ‘Everything okay?’
I nodded. I wanted to tell him about the baby moving but now wasn’t the time. I leaned in and gave him a kiss. He hugged me, his hands on my back. There was something about the way Luke touched me that made me feel completely cherished. Or turned on. Depending on the type of touch on the given day.
‘I missed you,’ he said, pulling back to look into my eyes. ‘That’s totally naff, isn’t it? I’ve only been at work.’
‘Yes, it’s totally naff. You’re adorable though. Never stop saying stuff like that.’
I felt Dee watching us, but when I looked at her properly I wasn’t quite sure what to read from her eyes.
I pushed Luke away jokingly. ‘Go. Go and help your boyfriend.’
Luke grinned and strolled back to the barbecue. ‘Hand your tongs over, boy,’ he told Dan. He started to fork sausages on to a plate or into the bin, depending on their blackness.
The food was disappearing as fast as they were cooking it. I picked at an avocado salad and helped Frankie dissect a rather charred sausage she kept describing as ‘dirty.’ Dan was drunk and taking all the credit for the cooking. ‘Well, my sausages might have been a bit burnt, but it’s probably going to be better than Lucy’s dinner tomorrow.’
I flicked his bare thigh hard, gratified when he yelped.
‘Ouch!’
Luke handed the tongs back over. ‘For that, my friend, you are on your own. No one disses my wife’s cooking, not even me.’
‘But it’s really, really bad …’ Dan protested.
‘Enough! Bring me one of those burgers if it’s a shade lighter than noir, would you, serving wench?’ Skipping out the way of Dan’s slap, Luke put his arm around my shoulder. ‘Are you sure everything is all right? You look lovely, by the way. That purple thing is nice.’
‘Really? My stomach shows under this cardigan and my boobs look massive.’
‘Every cloud.’ Luke tightened his grip. ‘Not long now until the next scan. Counting the days.’
‘I