the Publisher
Three months earlier
‘Happy pre-versary!’ Anna called from the kitchen.
‘What?’ asked Liam, screwing up one side of his face as he removed his coat. He walked through to where Anna was bouncing on her toes with excitement.
‘One year today will be our wedding day. So, I made you this. Ta-dah!’ Anna stepped away from the table and kissed Liam lightly.
Liam pulled away. ‘Right,’ he said, rubbing his neck. His eyes alighted on the amorphous brown mass behind Anna. ‘What the hell is that?’ He took a hasty step back and stared. ‘It looks like some sort of … demon? Have you been binge watching Game of Thrones again?’
Anna was hurt. She’d spent hours carefully crafting something special for him. ‘It’s a hedgehog.’
‘Made from what? Poo?’
‘It’s chocolate cake.’ Anna put her hands on her hips but, remembering they were covered in chocolate icing, she wished she hadn’t.
‘It’s got teeth?’ he said, peering closer.
‘Hedgehogs have teeth,’ said Anna, feeling defensive.
‘O-kay.’ He didn’t sound convinced. ‘Anyway, I wanted to talk to you.’
‘What about?’ asked Anna, turning her attention to aligning the hedgehog’s wonky eyes.
‘Those teeth are like my granny’s dentures.’
‘You wanted to talk to me about dentures?’ She smiled at him.
‘No. I think we need to take a break.’
There was a pause as Anna frowned. All she could focus on was that maybe she shouldn’t have used glacé cherries for the eyes. They were demon-like. Chocolate buttons would have been better.
‘Anna?’ prompted Liam.
‘Yes, fine.’
‘Really? You agree?’
‘Yes. I think it’s a good idea,’ she said, over her shoulder. ‘You’ve been working crazy hours recently and I could do with a break too. I’ve always wanted to go to New York but I don’t think I could cope with the flight.’ She turned around to see Liam was staring hard at the floor. ‘Did you have somewhere in mind? It’ll be cold and wet wherever we go in this country at this time of year.’
Liam’s eyebrows inched higher with her every word. ‘I don’t mean a holiday, Anna.’ Beads of sweat were forming on his top lip. His voice was gentle, his expression pained. ‘I mean a break from each other.’
And that was it. Her engagement, her future, her neat little life unravelled by one sentence. She hurled the hedgehog cake at Liam’s face and truly wished it had been made of poo.
‘Are you sure about Majestic Mayonnaise?’ asked Sophie, brandishing the tester pot.
‘Well, obviously.’ Anna playfully waved her loaded paint roller at Sophie.
‘Hey, I’m pregnant!’
‘Barely.’
‘Ten weeks actually, which means it’s the size of a large green olive.’
‘Which apparently means you can only supervise the decorating, rather than provide any actual help,’ said Anna, smudging paint across her cheek as she attended to an itch.
‘I’m sorting this out.’ She pointed at the box in front of her, the words ‘Random Crap’ emblazoned on the side in Anna’s handwriting. ‘I’d love to help with decorating but this is about you starting a new chapter without Liam and I don’t want to intrude.’
‘Two years I wasted on him. What is it with me always picking the same sort of commitment-phobe? Liam makes it four in a row. Four!’ said Anna, emphasising her point by holding up four fingers. She was beginning to think she was either a serial monogamist or she was destined never to find the one. She unceremoniously dropped the roller into the paint tray.
‘You’re not entirely over the anger phase yet then?’ said Sophie, blowing out her cheeks.
Anna’s flash of fury waned. ‘That’s two years of my life I’m not getting back. What sort of person dumps someone four months after proposing?’
‘A prize plughole?’ offered Sophie, who only ever used what she felt were child-friendly swear words and frequently resorted to making up her own versions. ‘You need to think about you now. Not him.’
Anna took a deep breath. Sophie was right. This was her new start. She needed to leave Liam in the past and concentrate on her future. She was more cross than she was upset. In fact, she probably should be more upset than she actually was. She spotted one of his books in the random crap box, snatched it out and slammed it into the box labelled ‘Arsehole’s Stuff’. Perhaps it would take a little while longer for the anger to abate.
‘You’re right. A new start in my new flat.’ She wasn’t sworn off men forever; she needed to prove to herself that she didn’t need one, prove she could manage perfectly well on her own. Then maybe if the right person came along she would consider a relationship on her terms, but given how many times she’d been bitten, it would be a long time before she’d feel ready to do that.
‘Have you got any biscuits? I’m Hank Marvin,’ said Sophie.
‘Top cupboard, Hank,’ said Anna, pointing behind her. It felt like a good time to have a break. She’d been decorating the kitchen all morning and the thought of a cuppa and a Hobnob was now dominating her thoughts. She was pleased with how the little flat was shaping up but it would be a while before it’d really feel like home. Anna had been moved in a week but with her dad’s help she was already putting her own stamp on things.
A few minutes later Sophie was thoughtfully dunking her third biscuit in a large mug of coffee.
‘You okay?’ asked Anna.
Sophie pursed her lips as she appeared to carefully consider her answer. ‘I don’t like to complain about this, considering what you’re going through, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m hurtling towards thirty and I’ve not done any of the things I thought I would have by now. I’m fed up with being a general skivvy. I’m bored of having virtually no life outside the kids. I’m sick of washing, ironing and clearing up – it’s relentless. And I’m feeling a bit useless at work too …’ As if highlighting her gloomy state her biscuit dissolved into her tea. ‘Bumfuzzle!’
Anna handed her friend a teaspoon. ‘I meant the pregnancy.’
Sophie briefly screwed her eyes up and then opened them particularly wide. ‘Right. Sorry about the rant. Of course, I’m thrilled. We want lots of kids. The first two took ages to conceive so we thought we had plenty of time but this one must have been the Usain Bolt of sperm.’
Sophie’s husband, Dave, was the polar opposite of Usain Bolt. Dave was to speed what crayons were to fine art – simply not cut out for the job. He was the sort of person most labelled as ‘a nice guy’ but he was a constant source of irritation to Sophie.
‘Still, a new baby will be lovely and now I live seven doors away I’ll be able to help.’
‘Thanks. I’m going to need it.’ Sophie fished out another Hobnob.
‘It’ll be fine. You’re glowing.’