Pedigree Mum

The small pause is filled with the blur of children playing, and there’s a palpable sense of relief among the kids now the competition is over. Kerry glances at her oldest friend, the one who made all those summers in Shorling so special, and to whom she’d write excitable letters in multi-coloured felt tips during the long months until her next stay at Aunt Maisie’s. When Kerry turned seventeen, her parents had been filled with a new sense of adventure, perhaps relieved that they no longer felt obliged to take their only child back to Shorling every summer. Her father bought an ugly beige campervan – nothing so stylish as a VW camper – and he and her mum took to trundling around France while Kerry started holidaying with friends. The year it had happened – the motorway crash just south of Bordeaux – Kerry and Anita had been in a rowdy resort in Crete. As the red sports car had cut up the campervan, and Kerry’s dad had braked suddenly, veering into the forest below, Kerry and Anita were probably downing fierce cocktails in the Banana Moon bar. What if Anita hadn’t suggested the trip, and Kerry had gone on holiday with her parents instead? She still plays the ‘what if?’ game occasionally.

‘Kerry?’ Anita says gently.

‘Uh-huh?’

She indicates the small crowd clamouring around the ice cream kiosk. ‘Look at poor Rob. The kids are probably confusing the hell out of him. Imagine, having to remember six ice cream flavours all at once.’ They laugh as, surrounded by children, he throws up his hands in mock surrender. ‘You do believe him, don’t you?’ Anita adds.

Kerry nods. ‘Yes, I suppose I do. I’ve only been here a month, but maybe I’ve already lost touch with the real world, you know? I mean, the fact that people make friends in the office and go out after work. It’s all perfectly normal, isn’t it? You socialise with the other teachers …’

‘Yes, of course I do.’

‘Though you don’t have sleepovers.’

‘Er, no.’ Anita gives her a wry smile. ‘No one would dare. You wouldn’t believe what staffroom gossip is like.’

Kerry chuckles. ‘It’s different for Rob. He’s had an awful time since his new editor arrived, and I think he just had to let off a bit of steam.’

‘We all need to do that sometimes,’ Anita says.

Rob and the children are heading back towards them now, the two girls charging ahead of the pack.

‘I still can’t believe what I did to him, though,’ Kerry says, shaking her head.

‘God, I know,’ Anita laughs. ‘What a bloody great waste of a cake.’

Chapter Thirteen

Jack’s, three weeks later

Jack’s might be thronging on a Friday night, but on a rainy Monday evening at the start of October it’s an entirely different story. Nadine, who’s been pleasant enough since Rob spent the night at her place, had hung around in the office after everyone else had left.

‘Not like you to work late,’ Rob had remarked, which had come out sounding ruder than he’d intended.

‘Are you implying I’m a slacker?’ she’d responded with an arch of her brow.

‘Of course not,’ he’d replied quickly, before adding, ‘You okay, Nadine? You seem a bit fed-up today.’ She didn’t seem to be working, at least not on anything obvious. She was just sitting at her desk, rearranging her novelty pens with the fluorescent gonks on their ends and flicking idly through the latest issue of Mr Jones. Then she’d closed the magazine, and her eyes had met his across the office.

‘Um, actually I’m not okay, Rob,’ she’d said. ‘D’you have time for a quick drink?’

So here they are – even Nadine is a member of Jack’s, it transpires – with Rob waiting to be served in the basement bar. At a quarter to seven, they are the only customers in the place. Apart from Theresa with her clipboard on the door, there’s no sign of any staff either.

Standing at the elegant, curved bar, Rob glances back at their table and wills someone to materialise and serve him. He’s only planning to stay for a quick one, just to be nice; he’ll hear her woes (she really does look miserable now, all pale and hunched in the corner) then get home sharpish. In fact he isn’t entirely comfortable about being in a drinking establishment with Nadine at all, not after last time. He’s managed to smooth things over with Kerry by the skin of his teeth. He’s accepted the Ramsays’ offer on the house and, after making an utter arse of himself, now feels ready to embrace that new life on the coast.

Ah, there are signs of life from the nether regions of Jack’s. From a back room emerges the stunning red-head who’d presented him with his birthday cake, and he waits for her to recognise him.

‘Yeah?’ she says blankly.

‘Er, a Kronenbourg and a tomato juice please.’ Weird drink, a tomato juice. No pleasure in it as far as he can work out. It probably has negligible calories, though, which is clearly high on Nadine’s agenda. Come to think of it, he isn’t entirely sure she actually eats. Maybe she gleans her nutrition from the garnishes in drinks.

‘Here you go.’ The red-head places the drinks on the bar – Nadine’s has a sliver of celery stuck in it – and takes his money without thanks or any hint of being human. Perhaps she’s an android, Rob reflects as he carries the drinks back to the table. Or maybe there’s a secret rule that over-thirties aren’t supposed to be in here.

‘So,’ he says, taking the seat opposite Nadine.

She pulls a tight smile.

‘Everything all right?’

‘Like I said, not really.’ She twizzles the straw in her drink.

‘Er … is it something to do with Eddy?’

‘What?’ She looks aghast.

‘I mean …’ Rob scratches his chin, relieved that the red-head has disappeared into the back room again. ‘I just wondered if it was something to do with work, if you were worried about—’

‘I’m not worried, Rob,’ she says sharply.

‘Oh! Well, that’s good. You shouldn’t be. I know you’re only the editorial assistant but—’

‘Only the editorial assistant?’ she repeats.

Shit, this is hard work. He’d give anything to be down in Shorling now, snuggled up with Kerry and the kids, watching a movie together.

‘What I mean is,’ he explains, ‘you’re just starting out and I know things are a bit shaky in the company at the moment. But Eddy’s obviously really happy with you and I’m sure your job’s secure …’

Nadine purses her lips and shifts in the plush red seat. ‘Well, I am worried but it’s not about work.’

‘So what’s—’

‘I’m pregnant, Rob.’

‘Are you? God!’ He emits a strange combination of gasp and laugh and glances down briefly at her stomach, which appears to be frying pan flat, then back up at her face. Her expression has settled into one of extreme distaste, as if a terrible odour is drifting up from her glass. ‘That’s er … amazing,’ he adds. ‘That’s really incredible news. Wow!’

Nadine blinks slowly. ‘Yes, that’s what I thought too.’

Rob bites his lip, wondering why she’s selected him, alone, to share her news. ‘I didn’t even know you had a boyfriend,’ he adds, regretting it instantly: since when was Nadine’s love life any of his business?

‘I don’t,’ she says.

‘Well,’ he says with a stilted laugh, ‘I might be ancient but as far as I remember it does take two people to make a baby.’ Nadine looks down at her drink and stirs it unnecessarily. Poor girl, he muses. It was obviously a one-night stand, and maybe the heartless git has left her in the lurch. ‘Um,’ he goes on, ‘are you sure you really are pregnant and it’s not just a false alarm?’

I did the test at the end of last week,’ she replies flatly, ‘and I’ve thought of nothing else all weekend.’

‘Of course,’ he says, relaxing a little and quickly deciding that the role of sympathetic older, wiser colleague is the one to adopt. ‘It’s a huge thing, Nadine. I mean … you’re only twenty, aren’t you? It’s a big, big change. If you ever want to talk, or grab a coffee or something …’

She raises her brows in mock amusement. ‘To talk about what, Rob?’

‘Uh, the pregnancy, having a baby …’ He shrugs lamely.