Five Winters(52)

“They’ll like it for about two minutes. Then they’ll be cold or hungry or bored, and you’ll be trying to distract them instead of listening to me tell you what I got up to at the office party. You’ll be wiping their disgusting snotty noses or backtracking five hundred metres to find their lost glove. I do have other friends with children, you know. Hell, all my friends have children apart from you. And now you’re about to join the club too.”

I shook my head at her. “How did you get to be so cynical about children?”

Rosie shrugged. “You’ve got me all wrong,” she said. “I love children. I just can’t eat a whole one.”

“Very funny.”

“Sorry. Look, don’t listen to me.”

“I’m not. I won’t.”

“Good. You’ve got to do what feels right for you. And if that means taking on a wrecked little life and trying to turn it around, then so be it.”

“Maybe the hardest things are the most worthwhile,” I said, hoping it was true.

Rosie sighed. “Maybe. Anyway, like I say, don’t listen to me. Let’s go and get our mojitos. Next year we’ll just have to bring our own supplies. You can turn the bottom of the buggy into a cocktail bar.”

“Promise me something,” I said. “If my social worker follows up your reference by phone, don’t mention that plan to her.”

She laughed. “All right.”

When we arrived at the cocktail bar, the barman was receiving some instruction from his supervisor. Clearly new to the job, he looked nervous after the supervisor left and he came over to take our order. “What can I get you, ladies?”

I watched a wicked smile form on Rosie’s face and instantly pitied him. I’d seen that smile before. Many times. “I think I’ll have a No Commitment, please,” she said, settling herself down on a barstool. “And my friend here will have a Full-On Responsibility.”

Memories of Olivia and Emily inventing names for nail varnishes resurfaced, but I pushed them gently away. “No,” I contradicted my friend. “I’ll have a Brimming Over Cup, and she’ll have a Bitter Cow.”

Rosie grinned. The barman looked as if he were contemplating quitting.

“Actually,” Rosie said, “my friend’s wrong. I’m so over Bitter Cows. I’m all about Sowing Wild Oats now. It’s utterly delicious, Beth. You should definitely try it.” She smiled at the barman. “Yes, I’ll have a Sowing Wild Oats, please. With extra oats.”

I burst out laughing. The barman glanced nervously over his shoulder for his supervisor, who was nowhere in sight. “Er, I’m very sorry, madam,” he said, “but I’m afraid I’m not familiar with any of those cocktails.”

“Well,” I said, “in that case, we’ll both have mojitos, thanks.”

“Spoilsport,” said Rosie after the barman had scurried off to make them. “I can just taste that No Commitment now. Passion fruit, peaches, and vodka with a dash of champagne.”

“It sounds absolutely disgusting.”

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

“I have tried it. It gave me a hangover.”

We smiled at each other, both aware we weren’t talking about cocktails.

“You’ll be all right, kid,” she said. “We both will.”

But later, as I tried to get to sleep, I realised what Rosie had said was true. Our friendship would never be quite the same once I had a child. But that didn’t mean it wouldn’t continue, did it? We’d been friends forever. We always would be.





19


“What makes you want to adopt a child now, Beth?”

Clare Carter was seated at my dining room table, next to my shelving unit. I’d liked Clare the least out of the three social workers at the introductory session. I’d respected her—she’d seemed experienced and very good at her job. But I hadn’t wanted her to be allocated to my case, because I sensed that the other two social workers—Jenny and Sallyanne—might give me an easier ride. But of course, I’d been teamed up with Clare. Of course.

Clare struck me as a woman of strong opinions. For example, I saw her notice the colour I’d painted the shelving unit—flamingo pink—the minute I’d shown her into the living room. While she didn’t quite shudder, it was a very close-run thing. She certainly thought a shudder.

I supposed the shelves were quite bright against the jade-green walls, especially with all the tinsel and Christmas decorations adorning the items on display, but after the paint stripper didn’t work, I went to the DIY shop, and that pink just called to me. It was as if Richard were looking over my shoulder. I could almost hear him laughing. If that’s the colour you want, you go for it, girl. But make sure to do two coats. Pink can come out a bit streaky.

I invited Clare to sit on the sofa—I thought soft furnishings might be a bit less formal and more relaxing. But she opted for a wooden dining chair at the table, so I guessed she wanted it to feel formal and unrelaxed. But perhaps I’d have felt tense on the sofa.

As I sat down opposite her, I wished my chair were facing the garden instead of the door to the spare bedroom. A view of the garden and the odd friendly sparrow or blackbird might have helped me feel less like I was facing a firing squad.