‘In the living room,’ Charlie replies over his shoulder.
‘She’s quiet. What’s she doing?’
‘Go and see,’ Charlie calls back with amusement.
‘What are you up to?’ Bridget asks in a high-pitched voice as we round the corner. There’s a small, blonde-haired girl in a red-and-white spotted dress lying on her tummy on the wooden floor. She’s surrounded by about two dozen brightly coloured crayons and several sheets of paper covered with messy scribbles.
‘Oh, wow, these are beautiful!’ Bridget exclaims, crouching down beside her adopted daughter.
April grins up at her and then looks at me.
‘This is Bronte,’ Bridget introduces us.
‘I see Bonty on phone,’ April replies, pointing at me.
Oh, my goodness, she’s adorable. She’s not quite three.
‘Yes, Mummy talks to Bronte on the phone quite a lot, doesn’t she? She’s Mummy’s very good friend.’
‘Hello!’ I say to April, sitting down cross-legged and proceeding to act as if her artwork were worthy of Picasso’s protégé.
She seems to like that.
That evening, once Charlie has taken April upstairs to bed, Bridget and I retire to the living room with a bottle of rosé.
‘How are you feeling?’ Bridget asks, and I know it’s time to talk about the break-up.
‘I’m going to need tissues,’ I alert her.
She passes me a box from under the sofa, followed by a pack of baby wipes. ‘There are more where those came from,’ she says.
I tearfully bring her up to date.
‘Can I speak completely freely?’ Bridget asks after a while.
‘When do you not speak freely?’ I reply with an emotional grin. ‘I’d expect nothing less. Iwantnothing less.’
She smiles. ‘Well, I’m kind of surprised that you and Lachie lasted this long.’
I’m a little taken aback.
‘I never really thought he was your forever love,’ she says. ‘Did you?’
I shake my head. ‘I guess not, if I’m also being honest with myself. He was there at the right time and the right place and I loved him to bits. But you’re right. If you’d asked me back then if I thought we’d still be together four years later, I don’t think I would have said yes. Lachie is still all of the things that worried me about him when we first met. Young and carefree and flirty. And Ididgrow to like that about him, but I’ve been getting increasingly tired of it. I just wanted him to grow up a bit, take things up a notch. But if anything, he’s been hitting the pub more than ever lately, almost as though he’s rebelling against getting older.’
‘I don’t suppose it’s helped that Elliot’s been free and single and a willing accomplice.’
‘No.’ I shake my head ruefully.
Elliot gave me a card to give to Bridget, actually. He’s in a pretty good place now, I think.
‘I wonder if you’d still be breaking up if Elliot and I had stayed together,’ Bridget muses.
‘Who knows? Possibly not.’
That’s a slightly freaky thought. We all know that the people we meet shape us, but who knew that our friends’ experiences could alter our entire destinies? Maybe I wouldn’t be so broody if Bridget and Elliot were still a couple and resolutely child-free. And, if Lachie had never met young, fun Fliss, would he be so resistant to growing up?
‘I could’ve fought for him,’ I say. ‘He wasn’t sure about breaking up, you know. We did – do still – love each other, but I’m scared I’ll waste some of the best years of my life with him and we’ll still break up eventually. Then again, maybe he would have come around to the idea of having a baby. It terrifies me that I’m back to square one and might not meet anyone else. Who wants a single woman in her mid-thirties?’
