ME:Keep the stall fee. Thanks so much for helping. I couldn’t have done it without you.
REENI:Don’t be daft. That was my gift and I loved it. I’ll help out any time.
I close my eyes for a second and relief rushes over me like warm water. That extra fifty pounds is immense. I take a bite of my toast and chew, but it’s hard to swallow. I’m not really hungry and feel like I’m forcing myself to eat.
REENI:If you needed help or wanted to talk you know you can don’t you?
ME:Of course. Everything’s great. Catch you tomorrow.
I switch my phone to silent and take another bite. It balls in my mouth as I chew and I push the plate across the coffee table. I’ll try to eat it later. I pull a cushion towards me and kick my feet up, wriggling to get comfy. My head is thumping and all I can do is replay my stupid tantrum which sent Tippi running andthen the sickening squeal of brakes before her horrible heart-wrenching yelp.
‘I got a reservation for the pub,’ says Greg, putting two mugs of tea down on the coffee table. ‘Tuesday at seven. That OK?’
‘Fab.’ It’s the last thing I’m bothered about. ‘Do you think Tippi will be OK?’
‘I’m sure she’ll be fine.’ He squeezes my knee and I shuffle my legs out of his reach.
‘Should I ring Jackson and see if he’s heard anything?’ I push myself upright out of the cushions. ‘Or his mum?’
‘Ellie, we’ve only been back half an hour.’ He frowns. ‘Don’t call him.’
‘But what if he blames me?’
‘Would it bloody matter if he did?’ He shrugs. ‘Why would you care, especially how he treated you today?’
‘What?’ I say, frowning. ‘I don’t want him to fall out with me. He was worried about Tippi.’
‘Yeah? And who wasn’t?’ Greg’s voice sharpens. ‘We helped him, drove him to the vets, and he barely managed a grunt. No thank you, nothing.’
There’s an uncomfortable pause as I stare at my cup.
‘Come here. I’m sick of him.’ Greg moves up the sofa closer to me and reaches his arm around me. ‘Can we stop talking about him, please?’
He pulls me to him and leans in to kiss me. His gaze drops to my mouth and I stiffen, anticipating his lips. He’s a good kisser, but he never sets fireworks off inside me. He’s more of a comfort blanket, soft and cosy. He nips at my bottom lip and his hand brushes my jawline then cups the back of my head. I kiss him back, not an ounce of desire in sight.
I don’t have the energy to continue faking enthusiasm and I push him away gently before he gets past the point of no return. ‘Sorry. It’s been a hell of a day. I’m knackered.’
‘I’ll give you a massage to relax you if you want,’ he says, kneading my shoulder a bit too hard.
‘I think I want to go to bed.’ I subtly move out of reach.
‘If that’s what you want,’ he says, scowling.
I force a smile. ‘Looking forward to the meal on Tuesday though,’ I say, offering up a peace offering, hoping it’ll placate him.
It works. He gives me a kiss on the temple then stands. ‘Night then, love.’
When the door clicks shut behind him, I exhale and stare at the ceiling. My mind drifts back to Jackson. To the way he couldn’t even look at me when he got out of the car and the dismissive grunt I got as he walked away.
He blames me. Of course he does. And he’s not wrong. Because so do I.
Seventeen Years Ago
Eleven and a bit weeks pregnant.
It’s Wednesday morning, a school day, and Mum and I are going to my antenatal appointment. I’m grateful she’s letting me go in my own clothes, black leggings and a loose maroon sweatshirt that hides my slowly changing shape. I’ve tried hard to straighten my hair and do my make-up in an attempt to look older than I am, but I’m drowning in anxiety.
‘Why aren’t you in school uniform?’ Dad barks at me as we’re about to leave.
