B01ESFW7JE

by Cathy Bramley

  ‘No,’ said Carrie firmly, recognizing a delay tactic when she saw one. ‘We’re starting now. You can earn the coffee.’

  Jo was looking uncharacteristically nervous and kept flicking her eyes to the perimeter of the car park. The office blocks on the opposite side of the street were visible through the drizzle on all sides.

  ‘Are you OK?’ said Carrie more gently. ‘We’ll take it at your pace. I’ll be led by you.’

  Jo nodded and linked her arm through Carrie’s.

  This was surreal to Carrie, to have the super-confident, smart-talking Jo Gold leaning on her for support. Carrie directed her to the outside edge of the car park. She had read countless articles on the internet about overcoming a fear of heights – or acrophobia, to give it its proper title. No one could accuse Carrie Radley of not taking the wish list seriously.

  Although … A pang of doubt stopped her in her tracks. What if she made Jo worse? She wasn’t a trained psychologist; she was a well-meaning amateur. Could she cope if Jo had a panic attack and tried to do something crazy?

  ‘What is it?’ Jo’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘Just choosing a spot,’ she said brightly. ‘The theory is that you can desensitize yourself to your fear of heights by being exposed to mild situations and gradually increasing the height.’

  Jo’s arm tensed in hers as they approached the chest-high railings.

  ‘We’re at ground level. Hold on to the railings and look out at the pavement.’

  ‘That’s all?’ Jo blinked nervously.

  ‘Yep.’

  She swallowed and gripped the railings tightly. The building in front of them stretched up beyond their view, row upon row of smoked-glass windows.

  ‘I couldn’t work there.’ Jo shuddered.

  Carrie examined her friend’s face. She looked fidgety and mildly nervous, but there was no sign of sweating or anxiety. So far so good.

  ‘Feel OK?’

  Jo nodded warily.

  Carrie’s stomach flip-flopped with relief. ‘Good, let’s try the first floor.’

  They made their way up the concrete steps. Either Jo was extremely unfit, which Carrie doubted seeing as she had the physique of a whippet, or else she was getting very nervous. Carrie could hear her breathing as they approached the first-floor railings.

  She stopped and forced Jo to face her, taking hold of both her hands. She couldn’t help it. It was glorious to feel more confident than someone else for a change.

  ‘Deep breathing.’ Carrie inhaled slowly through her nose and exhaled sharply, nodding at Jo to copy her.

  ‘Are you sure you read the right book?’ said Jo between breaths. ‘This is what I had to do with Abi when she was pregnant.’

  ‘It’s calming.’

  ‘Is it hell.’

  ‘Let’s do it,’ said Carrie.

  The two of them stopped a couple of paces from the edge.

  ‘You can’t fall and you won’t fall.’ Carrie glanced at Jo; her face was all screwed up. ‘You can easily take hold of these railings and look down. It’s not far. You could even jump it from here.’

  Jo looked at her in alarm.

  Carrie laughed. ‘You only have to look.’

  Jo chewed on her bottom lip. ‘How high up are we?’

  She leaned over to check. Jo gasped and clutched at her arm.

  ‘It’s all right! I don’t know, about five metres?’ She mustn’t freak Jo out. The book advised caution for the first session. ‘You don’t have to do it, Jo. It’s up to you.’

  Sliding one high heel in front of the other, Jo edged forward until she was within reach of the railings. She grabbed them with both hands.

  ‘Keep breathing,’ murmured Carrie.

  ‘It reminds me of yoga when you say that,’ said Jo in a shaky voice. ‘You’ll be breaking wind next.’

  Carrie tutted. She would never live that down. But at least Jo was making jokes; humour was a good sign.

  ‘Look at that huge umbrella with the poppy on. That’s gorgeous!’ said Carrie, pointing down to the pedestrians on the street below.

  Jo poked her head over the railings and frowned. ‘Where? I can’t see it.’

  ‘Made you look!’ Carrie grinned. ‘See, it wasn’t so bad, was it? Do you think you can manage the second floor?’

  ‘No,’ said Jo defiantly.

  ‘How about we just go up the stairs and see how you feel?’

  ‘I’m seeing a new side to you, Carrie Radley,’ Jo grumbled, but she allowed Carrie to lead her through the rows of cars towards the staircase.

  Me too, Carrie mused proudly.

  The cars had thinned out slightly on the second floor and, as they emerged from the stairwell, the line of sight to the car-park perimeter was clear.

  ‘This is very high,’ said Jo, tugging at the collar of her coat.

  ‘High-er,’ said Carrie, ‘but no taller than, say … the roof of a house.’

  She took Jo’s arm again, but this time as they got closer to the edge Jo began shaking her head, using both hands to try to undo her top button.

  ‘I’ll fall.’

  Carried looked at her sharply. She wasn’t joking. She was pale and a faint sheen of perspiration had appeared above her top lip.

  ‘I’ll slip and fall over the railings. I’m hot and I feel sick.’

  Carrie started to feel panicky herself. She tried to remember what you were supposed to do when somebody fainted.

  ‘No problem, you’ve done really well. Have you had enough?’

  Jo nodded.

  ‘Then let’s call it a day,’ Carrie replied gently, passing her a bottle of water from her handbag.

  ‘I feel like such a wimp,’ Jo mumbled when they reached the ground floor, her breathing still a bit ragged.

  ‘Rubbish! You actually looked over the railings on the first floor. That’s progress.’

  Carrie felt a bit of a failure too, she hadn’t expected Jo to have such physical reactions. She’d had a fantasy of talking Jo through her fears, getting her up to the ninth floor and Jo being eternally grateful. Never mind. ‘Coffee?’

  Carrie swallowed a mouthful of coffee and tried not to grimace. Jo had ordered a skinny cappuccino and she’d felt obliged to have the same. And the hot chocolate with whipped cream had looked so delicious.

  Jo slipped her coat over the back of the chair and cast a cursory eye over the coffee shop.

  ‘That barista was cute,’ she whispered, nodding her head at the counter.

  Jo had fully recovered. Carrie grinned. She still felt a bit star-struck in Jo’s company. Her white-blonde hair and full red lips drew the attention of all the other customers; it was like being with a celebrity. She caught sight of their reflection in the window and baulked at her own drab outfit. The two of them looked like the town mouse and the country mouse. Her smile faded a bit.

  ‘It’ll be great if we both get our wishes to come true, won’t it? I mean, I had no idea how bad your phobia was. As for me, I don’t know, I think I’ll be a different person once I’m thinner,’ said Carrie.

  Jo shrugged. ‘Sorry, Carrie, but Gold’s shoes will still be teetering on the precipice of doom, whether I dangle myself off the Empire State Building or not.’

  ‘Is that the most important thing in your life, then – work?’

  Jo’s expression clouded for a second before she gathered herself and smiled. ‘Of course.’

  Carrie took another sip of her disgusting drink. Jo was all things bright and beautiful, but there was something else. There was a flippancy and defiance to her answers that spoke volumes.

  ‘Have you ever been in love, Jo?’ she asked quietly.

  ‘More times than you’ve had hot dinners,’ Jo replied with a wink.

  At this point Carrie would normally make a joke about that being quite a lot then. But she held her tongue and she didn’t believe Jo for one minute.

  She leaned forward, changing the subject. ‘I feel a bit disloyal about saying this but Sarah’s wish seems st
range for a new mum.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Jo instantly. ‘I wonder why it’s so important to her to be a partner?’

  ‘I know I’m old-fashioned,’ Carrie admitted, ‘but Zac is still little and if you ask me she’s already struggling to cope.’

  Jo nodded. ‘If he was my baby, I’d put my career plans on hold and spend as much time with him as I could.’

  Carrie could hardly believe her ears. ‘But you said work was—’

  ‘For me, yes. Sarah’s different,’ snapped Jo. ‘She’s living the dream, she’s got the husband, the baby, she’s probably even got roses round the door, I couldn’t tell in the dark.’

  A pink climbing rose, if Carrie remembered rightly. It would smell heavenly in summer. She shook her head and tried to make sense of what Jo was saying. Sarah’s living the dream.

  ‘Anyway,’ said Jo briskly. She replaced her empty cup on its saucer and checked her watch.

  Carrie’s happy mood deflated. Of course, she’d have to rush off. She probably had some important meeting to get to. For Carrie it was back to the house. Maybe an hour doing some weeding if the rain cleared up. Whoopy-doo. She scrabbled around to think of something to say, to keep her a bit longer.

  ‘The experts recommend gradual exposure to your fears, so shall we do this again?’

  Jo was staring out of the window and didn’t reply. Carrie tried a different tack.

  ‘I was quite concerned for you at one point up there. Your pupils were so dilated—’

  Jo looked back at Carrie and grinned. ‘Are they dilated now?’

  They were. Carrie was confused. Jo knocked on the window and then waved madly to a tall unshaven man in his thirties outside.

  ‘Yes, why?’

  ‘Sexual attraction,’ said Jo, pulling her coat on. ‘Carrie, you’re a star. I love you. We must do this again.’

  ‘But—’

  Jo kissed her cheek and dashed out of the coffee shop.

  ‘Ed? Ed? Wait up!’

  Carrie sighed and watched Jo run away to her interesting life. She pushed her skinny cappuccino to one side. Still, looking on the bright side, at least she could order a hot chocolate now.

  Chapter 8

  Sarah did up Zac’s straps and tucked a blanket over his legs. He looked like a little lamb in his white fleecy onesie. She pulled on a denim jacket over her dress; it was printed with cherry blossom, had a net underskirt and made her feel happy and spring-like.

  ‘Come on, little man, let’s go to the park.’ She looped her bag across her body and opened the door. ‘We might make some new friends.’

  Zac kicked his legs eagerly. Sarah tucked a ringlet of hair behind her ear, manoeuvred the pushchair over the front step and set off towards the children’s play area.

  It was early April and the nicest Saturday that Sarah could remember so far this year. The sky was a triumphant shade of blue with wisps of white cloud too high to pose any threat to the warm spring sunshine. Sarah took the footpath through the village. The birds were tweeting and the grass verges were full of pretty little pale yellow wild-flowers.

  Zac babbled away happily and Sarah talked back as if it was the most normal conversation in the world.

  It was wonderful to have him to herself for two whole days while Dave was out working. Although time with all three of them was precious, she always got a sneaky feeling Dave was hovering over her and checking she was doing things properly.

  ‘I think you forgot to put on nappy cream,’ he would say. Which was doubly annoying, because he was usually right.

  She’d been back at work for over three months now and Dave was so much better at deciphering Zac’s attempts at communication. It was the way it had to be, it had been her choice, after all, but that didn’t make it any less heartbreaking to see the tight bond between them that she sometimes struggled to infiltrate.

  A tabby cat tiptoed towards them, meowing insistently, and Sarah crouched down to stroke it. Zac pointed at the cat and squealed, ‘Da, da!’

  Sarah gasped. ‘Clever boy! Did you just point? Point to the cat. Good boy.’

  His first point. And Sarah was the one to see it. She beamed at him, took her phone out of her pocket and turned the camera on.

  ‘Where’s the cat? Point to the cat!’

  Zac obliged and Sarah took a picture.

  ‘Come on then. Bye bye. Wave, Zac.’

  He didn’t wave, which was fine. Pointing was perfectly adequate progress for one day.

  Sarah resumed her walk, steering the pushchair uphill towards the park. This was lovely. Out in the fresh air, with her beautiful boy, enjoying the scenery. The gardens were full of daffodils and tulips and the trees were covered in blossom; the village looked picturesque and Sarah felt her spirits lift. This was what it was all about, this was why they had moved out of the city. She could almost feel the stresses of work draining from her body.

  She gave an involuntary shiver.

  She didn’t want to think about work. This week had been hideous. She had spent most of it doing battle with HMRC on behalf of one of her clients, an organic bakery. Sarah had only been allocated twelve hours to do the bakery’s account and it had already taken twenty-five. But what was she supposed to do? She couldn’t just abandon the client and say, ‘Sorry you have reached your allotted hours, sort it out yourselves.’ The case had been problematic at every turn; she couldn’t possibly have finished in less time. Even so, Eleanor was going to go ballistic when she found out.

  So much for not thinking about work.

  Wouldn’t it be lovely to reduce her hours; maybe go down to working four days a week? Then she could enjoy more time with Zac. Dave might like that idea too; he could take on more regular painting jobs.

  The gate to the park was a heavy metal affair and Sarah struggled to hold it open and wheel the pushchair through it at the same time. Her bag got caught in the gate latch and for a second she was stuck.

  She yanked it free and groaned as a thought occurred to her. What was she thinking? She had set herself a career goal to achieve by September. Going part time did not fit in with that at all. The fresh air must be going to her head. Oh well, nice idea. Maybe one day.

  Zac’s legs began to kick excitedly as he realized where he was and Sarah’s heart squeezed with love for him.

  Life was so confusing; she loved her career, she had made a pact with herself long ago to aim for the top. But every so often, the temptation to give it all up for a lifestyle lived at less than one hundred miles an hour held huge appeal. She sighed and plodded onward.

  The play area was directly ahead of her and through the bright spring sunshine, she could just about make out someone on the swing. That nurse had been right. Now spring was here she was sure to meet other mothers. Right now, with any luck.

  ‘Shall we go and play on the swings, Zac?’ She parked the pushchair by the fence surrounding the children’s play area and lifted him out, catching a proper glimpse of the other person as she did so.

  Her heart sank; it was Rebecca and her baby. Of all people. Dressed in a woollen miniskirt and tan leather boots, she looked like a supermodel doing a spring shoot for Vogue. Sarah hefted Zac on to her hip.

  ‘Hi,’ she called, opening the gate and kicking her way through the bark chippings.

  ‘Oh, hello,’ said Rebecca, not looking particularly pleased to have their solitude broken.

  She stopped the swing and bent to lift out her daughter, a pretty little thing dressed in a furry lion outfit with ears on the hood.

  ‘It’s OK,’ said Sarah hurriedly, ‘we’ll wait. No need to take Eva out.’

  ‘Ava.’ Rebecca’s lips twitched.

  ‘Oops. Sorry. Ava’s such a lovely name,’ Sarah stammered.

  ‘I thought so. And it’s fine. Anyway, Zac loves the swing, don’t you, Zacky?’ Rebecca tickled his chin.

  Sarah bristled. Zacky? Loves the swing? How did she know?

  ‘Well, if you’re sure,’ she said, plastering on a smile.


  Rebecca took Ava over to the slide and without letting go of her, slid her down the bottom third.

  Getting Zac’s legs to bend so she could settle him safely into the baby swing wasn’t as easy as it looked and Sarah was feeling the heat inside her denim jacket by the time he was swinging gently back and forward.

  For the next couple of minutes Sarah watched Rebecca playing with her daughter and racked her brains for something to say. She had to make more of an effort to be friendly with her; Rebecca was her sort of age, with a baby of a similar age, and in a village this size, beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  ‘You’re right; he does like the swing,’ she called.

  Rebecca smiled. ‘I see Dave and Zac here a lot. It must be so hard for you, developing a close bond with him, when you spend so little time with him.’

  ‘Not at all.’ Sarah felt her face flush. This didn’t feel much like the friendly yummy-mummy chat she’d been hoping for.

  ‘I don’t know how you do it.’ Rebecca swooped Ava up from the swing and kissed her, making her squeal with delight. ‘Going off to work every day. Leaving him with Dave. I admire you.’

  It didn’t sound like admiration to Sarah, it sounded a bit judgemental.

  ‘Not all of us have a choice,’ she replied, keeping her voice deliberately light.

  ‘Oh, I think we all have a choice,’ said Rebecca airily. ‘I think the most important thing I could be doing right now is bringing up my daughter. That’s my choice.’

  ‘I am bringing up my son, Dave and I share it.’ How dare she? Sarah busied herself taking Zac out of the swing so that Rebecca wouldn’t see how rattled she was.

  ‘Even so.’ Rebecca pressed her lips together and inserted Ava back into the swing efficiently. ‘Dave says he’ll be going to nursery soon. That is going to be heartbreaking for you.’

  Sarah’s insides trembled; Dave hadn’t mentioned anything about it. They’d viewed a nursery before Christmas as an alternative to him giving up work and decided against it.

  ‘He’ll love it,’ said Sarah defiantly, marching to the roundabout. ‘The chance to socialize with their peers is priceless.’

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t take him on there.’ Rebecca winced as Sarah sat him on her knee and pushed off.