‘Fuck,’ Mum says under her breath.
She never swears. Ever.
My ability to think has deserted me entirely. I curl my fingers into a fist and dig my nails into the palm of my hand. Hard. I have no idea what comes next.
My mouth feels like sandpaper. ‘What do I do?’ I lift my gaze to find her staring straight at me. Her skin is pale, almost grey,and her jaw tenses in spasms, betraying the fact she is clenching her teeth.
‘I don’t know. I’ve never had a pregnant teenager before,’ she snaps, rubbing the bottom of her shirt between her fingers.
Shame covers me from head to toe, and an animalistic moan erupts from my lips before I can stop it. I rub at my nose with the cuff of my school jumper to catch the snot dripping down to my top lip. ‘I’m sorry. I really am.’
I don’t know if it was my words or my increasingly desperate sobs, but something seems to flick a switch in her. ‘Oh love. Come here. I’m sorry.’ She lifts me to my feet and pulls me over onto her lap.
Her gentle tone wraps around me and I sob even louder, pressing my face into her shirt. She smells of soap and washing powder and normality.
‘Shh. Shh.’ Her arms hold me and she rocks ever so gently, stroking my hair as I empty every bit of emotion inside me.
When I have no more tears left and my lungs hurt from heaving, she softly moves me back to my original chair and looks me straight in the eyes. ‘We can fix this. We have options.’
‘Really?’ Every breath feels like my chest is going to explode.
It’s her turn to nod. ‘And we won’t tell your dad. Not yet. Maybe we won’t even have to. Let’s get our heads straight first.’
Chapter Three
REENI:Have you spoken to Milo yet?
ME:No. How’s Instagram doing? Have we had any photos in?
REENI:You’re changing the subject. You need to get the camper moved. I like you living down the road from me. Talk to him.
ME:Stop bugging me. I will.
REENI:This is about survival. Do it now!
I shove my phone into my back jeans pocket and tilt my head up to the sky as if the early evening sun’s rays will fill me with confidence. Only they fail, and simply warm my skin instead. A couple pass me carrying Camper Café coffee cups and a spark of bravery or desperation slithers into my belly. What exactly do I have to lose? I’m going down the way things are now, anyway.
The cracked concrete steps are gritty underfoot as I climb them to leave the beach. The Camper Café should be finishing up now, so hopefully will be quiet while I try to have theconversation. Milo has his back to me when the VW comes into view. He’s bent over a table clearing it and a little black dog with flashes of white is at his feet, hoovering up the bits. I nip at the inside of my cheek. Confrontation has never been my strong point, but Milo’s so easy-going, surely this shouldn’t be a battle?
As I try to run through how the conversation might go, Milo straightens up and turns slightly in my direction. Shit. It’s Jackson. I’m frozen to the spot, although I can’t help studying his profile. The brothers are similar, but different. If you get close enough, they have the same almond-shaped eyes and strong jawlines, but Milo has dark hair and Jackson is taller with longer hair and a leaner outline. He moves to pick up a chair and it jolts me into action. I swivel and take the few steps to the community notice board at the side of the green and stare at it as if it has compelling information I have to read. He’s supposed to be back in Australia. He’s not supposed to be here, now. I curse under my breath. I’m an idiot. Why the hell wouldn’t Jackson be here with Milo? What the hell do I do now?
There’s a slam of a car door from behind me in the car park.
‘Hey, Mum,’ calls Jackson. ‘Glad you felt up to it.’
I shift so I can see the seating area of the café out of the corner of my eye. Sophie is walking very slowly, leaning on Milo’s arm as they make their way through the tables. Jackson pulls out a seat and Milo bends to help his mum sit. I frown. The last time I saw Sophie, she was cracking jokes with a twinkle in her eye and talking about having walked five kilometres along the beach. Although when I come to think about it, that was a few months ago.
Milo leaves to go back to the car and Jackson heads off to the camper van. I turn to study the information poster about the different birds that can be found on the beach, trying to work out the best way to make my escape. The Milo conversation can wait for another day.
‘Ellie.’ Sophie’s voice croaks a little, but it carries across to me, so it’s impossible to ignore without being rude. ‘Stop hiding. Come sit down.’
There goes my escape plan.
Sophie has always been lovely to me. Right from back when we were kids, and I got pregnant. There were even times, guiltily, that I wished she was my own mother. There was never any drama with her, simply honest, straightforward talking and listening. I avoided her for several years in the aftermath of everything, so much so that she gave up trying to contact me, but once I opened the café, she often popped in for a brownie and hot chocolate and has never been anything but friendly. I make my mouth turn up in a smile and walk over to her.
‘Hi. How are you?’ It’s a generic greeting and the minute it’s out of my mouth, I feel awkward because something doesn’t look right. She’s more fragile than I remember. Her hair is thinning and wispy and her eyebrows have been drawn on and are very stark against her greying dull complexion. I’m shocked and my cheeks ache from making them stay in a smile.
‘Ah. You know. Surviving.’ She gives me a smile which only half reaches her eyes.
