She stopped buttering her toast. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing, it’s for my twenty-week scan… I’m really sorry to ask, but it’s too late to reschedule. And I don’t want to go alone. They might find something wrong, right?’
‘I’m sure they won’t!’ Scarlett could feel her heart thumping in her neck. Please don’t ask me to do this, she willed her sister. Not on top of everything else.
‘They’re checking for abnormalities, Scarlett. That’s what the scan is. What if they find something? You don’t have to be in the room or see the baby, but maybe you could just be in the waiting area? Or outside even, if that’s more comfortable? I might need you when I come out.’
So there she was now, in front of the hospital. She never thought she’d be grateful to look at someone else’s baby scan rather than talk to her best friend.
The A&E department, she knew, was just round the corner. She’d once spent a night in its care. She didn’t remember being driven there by one of her clients, and even her overnight stay was fuzzy. She did remember asking if anyone else had ever been concussed from being tripped by a dog. It happened all the time, said the doctor, though she’d suspected he was joking. They did a CT scan when she failed at touching her nose, but they let Rufus take her home when the scan came back clear. Her brains were the same as always – no less and no more. Rufus had stayed home from work to look after her. He got in all her favourite food and they ate in bed.
She pushed the memory away when she saw Gemma jogging from her car.
‘Are you supposed to run?’ she asked as they kissed.
‘You do know the baby can’t fall out, right? Thanks for meeting me.’ She glanced away. ‘I know it’s not easy, Scarlett. Do you want to come in or…?’
That was the question Scarlett had asked herself all the way to the hospital. She very much did want to be there. If only she could guarantee not to hate her sister again when she saw the baby inside her. The last few months had helped dull those feelings, but if they came back while she was in the room, she’d spoil Gemma’s scan and probably look like the world’s worst sister in front of the sonographer.
‘I’ll come in and see how it goes, okay?’
Gemma grabbed her hand. ‘Thank you. I’m shitting myself.’
They held hands all the way in to reception.
Her heart began to race when the nurse called Gemma’s name. If only she knew how she’d feel when she saw the baby. Then she’d know whether she should be there or not. Intellectually she could tell herself she was about to glimpse her niece or nephew for the first time. Up to now that was something only Gemma and Jacob got to do. What a magical gift to be invited into the circle with them.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure if her emotions would listen to reason.
The sonographer had Gemma lie on the bed and pull her stretchy jeans away from her tummy. ‘Pull your top up too, please,’ he said. ‘We don’t want to get the gel on your clothes.’
‘You look like you’ve had too much pasta,’ Scarlett joked when she saw Gemma’s tummy.
‘Pasta and pudding, right?’ she said as the sonographer put the wand to her tummy. She wasn’t looking at Scarlett, though. She was staring over her shoulder at the monitor.
‘There’s your baby,’ the sonographer said as psychedelic blobs started emerging and melting on screen. ‘Hang on, it’s hard to make out.’ He dug around on Gemma’s side. ‘I’ll see if I can get a better angle for you. Then we can see what’s going on.’
Images kaleidoscoped in and out until something baby-shaped appeared. ‘There,’ he said gently.
Scarlett’s eyes were glued to the screen. It was the moment she’d feared and the one she’d coveted for herself. She waited for the ugly response. But where was the anger? When would the resentment hit her?
She examined her reaction. She peered into its corners and crevices. She shined the light in, looking for shadows. Sadness was there. And something that felt a lot like self-pity. She wanted to whisper ‘Why not me?’ to the sonographer.
‘It looks so much like a baby,’ Gemma mused. ‘With a big head. Is that normal?’
Scarlett couldn’t miss the worry in her voice.
The sonographer nodded as he looked intently at the screen. ‘I’ll do the measurements in a minute, but it looks fine.’
‘Look, that’s our nose!’ Scarlett said. ‘God, Gemma, it’s your profile, isn’t it? How amazing! And is that the spine?’
‘All the bones show up white. There’s the hands and fingers.’ He pointed. ‘And the thigh bone, see?’
Scarlett waited to be resentful or angry, but even the sadness receded as she stared at Gemma’s child. ‘I’m sorry Jacob’s not here,’ she said.
Gemma turned from the screen. ‘I’m glad you are, honeypots.’
There were tears in her eyes as they looked back at Scarlett’s niece. Or nephew. ‘Do you know the sex, Gemma? Do you want to know?’
‘Could we see?’ she asked the sonographer. ‘My husband wants to know, too.’
‘We can try.’ He moved the wand around. ‘Sometimes it’s not very clear.’ He tried another spot. ‘And if we don’t see a willy it doesn’t necessarily guarantee it’s a girl. They can be notoriously shy… oh. Well. That’s pretty definitively a boy,’ he said as they all stared at the baby’s willy and bollocks.
‘A boy!’ Gemma said.
‘Did you have a preference?’
Gemma nodded. ‘Healthy.’
They both looked at the sonographer as he turned the monitor away from them and set about his analysis. ‘He’s looking for things that could be wrong,’ Gemma quietly explained. ‘Spina bifida and things like that.’
‘Down’s syndrome?’ Scarlett asked.
‘No, I did a blood test for that and it’s fine.’
‘You didn’t tell me that.’
Gemma shrugged. ‘Right, well, it was early on. There was no reason to worry you.’
‘That’s not why you didn’t tell me.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
It was amazing, really, that Gemma didn’t hate her for ruining her pregnancy. It was supposed to be the happiest time of her life, to share with the people she loved most, and there she was, afraid to talk to her own sister. ‘I love you,’ she said.
‘Don’t get sentimental. I’m very hormonal. I’ll just cry.’
A tense ten minutes later the sonographer pronounced Gemma’s baby healthy. ‘There’s nothing of concern on the scan,’ he said, clearly pleased to deliver the good news. ‘Everything looks good.’
Gemma laughed the way she always did when she was nervous and trying to cover it up. As the sonographer talked through everything he’d checked, Gemma’s hand found Scarlett’s. They stayed like that till it was time to go.
Chapter 28
Sampson’s droopy eyes were unimpressed and his jowls even more downturned than usual as he watched Mr Darcy’s greyhounds cavort round him. Speed and cunning might have been handy for tracking down dinner in the olden days, but were, frankly, a total waste of energy in this era of tin openers and owners with opposable thumbs. Snoozing in the sun was much better. Sampson’s chin fell between his front paws with a wheezy sigh.
Shannon had to look hard to spot the joy in the dog, but it was there despite having a fizzog like a smacked arse. When his compact rear end wriggled or he panted Pedigree Meaty Meals into her face, he was ecstatic. Warm breezes made him turn his face skyward with contentment and rubbing his velvety brush-cut fur sent him into a blissful stupor. He could do without the walking to the park, but he did enjoy lying with his nose in the grass once they got there.
She snuck another glance at Josh as he chased the greyhounds (must stop thinking of him as Mr Darcy). It was a given now that they’d stop and chat when they saw each other. Awkward pauses still peppered their conversations, but it was a start. Well, what did she expect when the two shyest people in Berkshire county tried talking to each other?
‘F
ifi, Clive, come here,’ Josh called to the dogs. They pretended he was speaking Swahili. ‘Do they ever play?’
‘Only with each other. They’re the most insular dogs I’ve ever met.’
As long as they stuck to dog-talk, the wheels of their conversations stayed greased. It was only when topics veered into real life that they got stuck.
‘Fifi, Clive, come on, boy, come here, come on! Clive, come here, boy. There’s a good girl, Fifi, come on!’ Flapping his arms seemed to pump up his excitement, like a bellows on a fire.
The poodles watched him descend into manic cheerleader territory.
‘They won’t listen,’ she muttered. ‘They may as well be cats.’
Eventually he gave up and jogged back to her bench, though he stared straight ahead when he sat down.
She did, too. They could have been strangers waiting for the number nine bus.
A wood dove cooed in the tree behind them. The sound always made her think of summer.
‘So, um, I was thinking,’ he said, still staring into middle distance. ‘Maybe we could, if you want, I don’t know, get a coffee or something after this? If you drink coffee? Or tea? Or… water? Do you drink water?’
‘I drink water.’
‘Okay, then.’
‘Okay.’
‘After this?’
‘Okay.’ Great. They could avoid each other’s eyes in a café. ‘Let me get Sampson moving.’
The bulldog’s ears twitched at his name. He stared up at her.
‘Come along.’ She gave his lead a gentle tug.
Josh joined in with his encouragement. ‘Sampson, come on, boy!’ He sprang from the bench. ‘Time to go…. we’re going now, there’s a good boy. Come on. Getup. Geetup.’
Sampson’s gaze shifted from Josh to Shannon and back again.
Sighing, Shannon looped her bag over her head so it went across her body. With a weightlifter’s squat she deadlifted the dog. ‘You don’t get any lighter,’ she told him as he lolled on his back in her arms.
Pedigree Meaty Meal hit her in the face.
She might look skinny, but she was strong. Carrying a stubborn dog will do that for a person. ‘He usually gets uncomfortable like this after a while. Then he’ll walk,’ she explained.
Sure enough, Sampson decided to put his feet on the ground on the way home. They dropped him off first, then the poodles and finally the greyhounds.
After the last of their four-legged conversation starters left them, Shannon had to wrack her brain for something to say. ‘Do you drink coffee a lot?’
Or tea? Or water? Crikey, she was as bad as him.
‘Not a lot,’ he told the zebra crossing in front of them. ‘I like hot chocolate.’
‘Me, too.’
‘That’s good. Hot chocolate is good. Chocolatey.’
‘Maybe the café does it,’ she said to the lamp post.
‘Maybe.’
‘With whipped cream. Maybe.’
They dove into the first open café they found. Any port in an awkward storm.
Why couldn’t they just talk like normal people? She knew how. She did it all the time with her friends.
Come on, Shannon, she urged herself as they ordered their hot drinks. You can do this.
‘Do you like art?’ she asked as they sat at the little round table in the wide bay window. She’d thought of the question on the way over, but they’d been too busy torturing the hot chocolate conversation to death. ‘I do art.’
‘You do? What kind?’ He scanned the room like some of her work might be on the walls. It was one of those twee places with bunting and mismatched teacups on shelves.
‘The usual kind,’ she said. ‘Paintings.’
‘I like paintings.’
‘Me, too.’ Another conversation was heading straight for the bin. For the first time since they sat, she looked at him and forced herself not to see Mr Darcy. He was just a guy, like Julian or Rufus or any of her art school classmates who she’d managed to hold conversations with over the years. Pretend he’s Rufus. ‘I just finished my Fine Arts degree course in London.’
Rufus didn’t have deep green eyes like Josh, though.
‘Couldn’t you have done it locally?’ He spooned some of the cream from his hot chocolate into his mouth.
Rufus didn’t have lips like him either. Josh’s were shaped like a cupid’s bow and naturally turned up at the corners.
‘I could have, but Reading didn’t accept me,’ she said, pushing his lips to the back of her mind. ‘That’s okay, though. I’ve been here all my life, so going to London made a nice change. We had our degree show there and everything. I was cacking myself, to be honest. All those people looking at my work.’
‘I don’t blame you! It’s my worst nightmare… I play piano, but I don’t do gigs. That’s cacking territory for me, too.’
Kindred cackers. Finally, they had some common ground that didn’t involve dogs. Poo-covered ground, but still. Plus, he was creative! ‘What’s the opposite of musical? Oh yeah, tone-deaf, that’s me,’ she admitted. ‘Would you be good enough to do a gig?’ She reddened. ‘I mean, how long have you been playing?’
‘Started when I was eight.’ He fiddled with the handle of his mug while she tried not to stare at his piano-playing fingers. ‘My mum made me take lessons from our neighbour who used to play professionally. But I just fool around on it now. I can’t imagine performing anywhere live.’
She laughed. ‘We are alike.’
‘I do have some songs on YouTube,’ he murmured. ‘Maybe you could listen if you want. Please, though, not when I’m with you!’
‘Yeah, I’d like to hear them.’ It probably wasn’t the time to tell a classically trained pianist how much she loved cheesy pop songs. ‘Do you see live music a lot? I don’t really, though every time I do I tell myself I should go more often.’
He nodded, saying, ‘I do the same thing with the theatre.’
‘Or flossing your teeth.’
He frowned.
‘I mean, I do floss my teeth. Just– not as… often…’
Her ringing phone interrupted any more oral hygiene confessions. ‘Sorry, excuse me.’
‘Hey, Shannon, what are you doing?’ Rufus asked.
‘Nothing, just having a hot chocolate with my friend.’ Her friend. If he was surprised to hear that he’d been promoted from fellow dog-walker, he didn’t show it.
‘Good, good.’ He sounded distracted.
‘What’s up?’
‘Could you meet me? I’m not in the office today.’
‘Finally! I was starting to think we’d never see each other again. Were you upstairs when I got the dogs earlier?’
‘Could you meet now? I need your advice.’
‘Uh.’ She flashed a smile at Josh. ‘Sure, of course I can. I can be at yours in about half an hour. Is that okay?’
‘I’m not at the house. I’m at the Travelodge on Oxford Road.’
‘Crikey, Rufus, what did you do? I can be there in twenty minutes.’
Shoving her phone back into her bag, she said ‘I’m really sorry, Josh, but I’ve got to go. I think my best friends just broke up.’
By the time she reached the nondescript hotel on Oxford Road she’d pieced everything together. Scarlett hadn’t rung since Monday. Sometimes that happened when one or the other got busy, but now her silence was ominous. More worrying still, she hadn’t returned Shannon’s messages. ‘Scarlett, it’s me,’ she said after the beep. ‘Rufus just rang me from the Travelodge. What the hell?! We have to talk so call me, okay?’
She found him slouched in one of the cheap bucket chairs in reception. ‘Rufus, what’s going on?!’ Half a dozen huge black suitcases were piled next to him. ‘How long are you planning to stay here?’
‘Those aren’t mine.’ He gestured to the excited Japanese family checking in. ‘But to answer your question, I have no idea. Shannon, this is all so fucked up.’
They headed straight for their uni bar. It felt li
ke the right place to put together the pieces of the jigsaw. Or to pick up the pieces of a broken friend, depending on what Rufus told her. ‘Why are you at the hotel?’ she asked as she set his beer down. A few other students were already there, though happy hour wasn’t for a little while.
‘Scarlett threw me out on Tuesday.’
Shannon waited for more information as Rufus sipped his ale. So he hadn’t left by choice. That was better, she supposed. She’d rather see Scarlett angry than sad. She did angry well. Rufus was better at sad. She checked her phone again for missed calls.
‘Why did she throw you out?’ He wouldn’t meet her eyes. ‘You didn’t cheat on her!’
‘No. Jesus, Shannon, is that what you think of me after all the years we’ve been mates? Thanks a lot.’ Elbows on the table, he leaned his forehead into his hands.
Of course she didn’t think that. Rufus was never one to cheat, even back in college and uni, when everyone was at it. He was a one-woman man.
Yet that one woman had chucked him out for some reason. ‘I know you wouldn’t cheat. Really. I’m sorry I said it. I’m confused. What did happen? Can you start at the beginning?’
There were tears in his eyes when he took his head out of his hands. ‘I’m not even sure where the beginning is. It’s all so messed up with trying to have a baby and the fertility tests. Things haven’t been good for a while, Shann. I guess you kind of knew that.’
Shannon remembered the quarter-life crisis conversation they’d had. Yeah, she kind of knew that.
‘We haven’t exactly been on the same page lately,’ he went on. ‘I don’t really have the right to blame her now that she doesn’t want to be with me. I’ve been stupid. I’ve said stupid things. And she wants a family and I’ll never be able to give her one. I may as well be neutered like one of the dogs. No wonder she’s moving on.’
‘What are you talking about? She can’t be moving on. You love each other. You just have to talk this out.’
‘Yeah, well, tell Scarlett that. She won’t talk to me. She won’t see me. Believe me, Shannon, I’ve been trying.’
Love is a Four-Legged Word: The romantic comedy about canines, conception and fresh starts Page 23