‘So, how did it go?’ Aoife asked.
‘Great.’ Sive pulled the plate of plum tart towards herself and cut a slice. ‘He asked me to marry him.’ She bent her head to her pie, hiding her smile as her sisters’ jaws dropped.
‘And I said yes,’ she said, lifting her head and enjoying their stunned reaction.
‘You didn’t!’ Mimi gasped wide-eyed.
Sive nodded. ‘Sure did.’ She paused. ‘But just for a second, to wind him up. You should have seen his face!’
They both visibly relaxed.
‘Serves him right.’ Mimi sniffed.
‘But it’s all good. He wants to be involved as much as he can. And Bridget and Cal are great. It’s nice that Bean will have grandparents just across the road.’
‘And now you can go out with Sam,’ Aoife said.
‘Yeah …’
‘What?’ Mimi asked. ‘There’s no way he won’t want to go out with you just because you’re pregnant.’
‘It’s not exactly a little thing. I wouldn’t blame him. But it’s not just that.’
‘What then?’
‘I still think maybe we should leave things as they are – just be friends. I love Sam – as a friend – and it could ruin everything if we try to make it something more.’ She was aware that Ben was only going to be back in her life because she was pregnant. It wasn’t a sustainable way of holding onto your friends.
‘You love Sam, full stop,’ Mimi said firmly. ‘Stop trying to talk yourself out of it and just go for it.’
Sive gasped at the bald declaration on her behalf, but the truth of it landed with a thud. Mimi was right – she did love Sam. It was complicated and messy, but that was life. Maybe it would work out and maybe it wouldn’t, but win or lose, she had to at least give it a shot.
18
Romance wasthe last thing on Sive’s mind the following week as Bean started making her presence felt and the morning sickness she’d hoped she was getting away with kicked in with a vengeance. She woke up on Monday morning feeling awful and only got worse as the week wore on. On top of the nausea and vomiting, she was exhausted all the time. She barely managed to drag herself through rehearsals and went straight home as soon as she was no longer needed. She didn’t think her performance suffered, but it took an enormous effort and drained every scrap of energy she could muster. She stopped joining the company at the pub post-rehearsal, too shattered for anything more than an early dinner with Aoife before climbing back into bed.
She decided telling Sam she was pregnant could wait – she didn’t have the headspace for dealing with that right now. Just getting through the day required all her focus.
Aoife had swung into mother hen mode, bringing her ginger tea in the morning and cooking light, nourishing meals that she thought would tempt Sive’s diminishing appetite without triggering her nausea.
On Friday, Sive wasn’t needed for rehearsal until the afternoon, so she had a glorious lie-in before her appointment at the Abbey costume store. It was a vast Aladdin’s cave of beautifully crafted costumes, with some of the most gorgeous pieces Sive had ever seen – sumptuous gowns and exquisitely detailed military uniforms, some so beautiful she wanted to put on a production for the relevant period just so she’d have an excuse to hire them. She’d spent a blissful couple of hours among the rails and could happily have spent the rest of the day there exploring its treasures and chatting to the talented, knowledgeable people who worked there.
Fortunately, she managed to keep her nausea at bay for the morning, but as soon as she arrived at the theatre for rehearsal, she had to run to the bathroom to throw up.
She entered the auditorium quietly. A scene was in progress on the stage, and she tiptoed to the back row where Irene was sitting, busily knitting as usual. On stage, Scrooge was visiting the Cratchits’ house on Christmas Day, James playing a blinder as Tiny Tim.
Sive stood in the aisle for a moment, watching. James was a shy, quiet boy, who always had his head buried in his iPad between scenes, so watching him transform into a confident performer, his voice projecting to the furthest corner of the theatre with ease, never ceased to surprise her.
She turned and edged into the middle of the back row beside Irene.
‘Are you okay?’ Irene asked, her fingers not even slowing as she turned to Sive with a concerned frown.
‘I’m fine, thanks.’ Sive flopped gratefully into the seat beside her. She knew she didn’t look okay, thinking of her pale, sweaty face reflected in the bathroom mirror. ‘I just have a bit of a dodgy tummy.’
Irene gave her a knowing look. ‘Don’t worry. It’ll pass. Have you tried ginger biscuits? They can be very good for … an upset stomach.’
Oh god, she knew, didn’t she? Sive had been going to wait until the end of the first trimester before telling anyone apart from family, but maybe there was no point in trying to hide it. ‘That’s what I had for breakfast. And ginger tea. I’m pretty much ninety percent ginger at this stage.’
Irene just nodded, silent except for the rhythmic clicking of her needles.
