One of the Girls(34)
Crushed, Lexi had left the house and walked three miles to Robyn’s house – where she arrived silent and devastated. She knew her mother’s ballet career was ended by her getting pregnant – but as Lexi grew up, she also realised that without ballet, her mother’s sense of self had vaporised, as if all along the ballet had been the support beam to her identity.
Was she scared that one day she’d turn around, just like her mother, and think, This baby was a mistake?
No. Lexi knew unequivocally that she wanted this baby – and she told Robyn as much.
Robyn took her hand, squeezed. ‘Good.’
So then, what was it? How did she explain this strange, pulsing unease lodged in her chest?
There was a knock at the door. It opened a crack and Bella poked her head around. ‘Permission to enter?’
‘Granted,’ Lexi said eventually.
Robyn got to her feet, slipping past Bella, saying, ‘I’m going to grab a drink.’
Bella took Robyn’s space on the bed. She lay flat on her back, boobs bouncing in her dress. ‘Sorry I was such a dick.’
Lexi shrugged and lay on her back, too.
They both stared up at the ceiling watching the fan whirl in slow circles.
‘I’m pleased for you – about the baby – really,’ Bella said. ‘It was just a shock.’
‘And for me.’
‘You told Robyn.’
She nodded.
‘Why?’
‘Because I was anxious about being here, on the hen do, with no one knowing. I needed to talk to someone.’
‘You could’ve talked to me. I’m your best friend.’
Bella always did that – labelled herself as Lexi’s best friend. She thought of both Robyn and Bella as her closest friends. She didn’t want to pick. ‘I didn’t tell you first as I wasn’t sure you’d be happy for me.’
‘God, I really am a bitch.’
After a moment, Bella rolled onto her side, pushing herself up on an elbow so that she faced Lexi. She smelled faintly of ouzo, the sweetness turning Lexi’s stomach. ‘I am happy for you, Lexi. Or what I mean is, I want everything for you. I want you to be happy. And if this is what you choose – a baby and a husband – then I will be happy, too. You know how I am … I take a while to adjust. That’s what was happening out on the terrace. I was doing my adjusting.’
Lexi got it. Of course she did.
‘I’m really sorry,’ Bella said, eyes glistening with tears.
‘It’s okay.’
‘It’s not okay. I’m a shit friend.’ Bella sat up fully, wiping her eyes.
Lexi sat up, too. ‘No, you’re not.’ She might have been strident and, yes, a little selfish at times, but Bella would have taken a bullet for her friends.
‘Can I?’ Bella asked, hovering her hand towards Lexi’s middle.
She nodded.
Tentatively, Bella placed her palm there. Lexi could feel the warmth of her hand through her cotton dress.
‘There’s a small swell …’
‘Trapped wind.’
‘Forever sexy.’ Bella didn’t withdraw her hand. She kept it there as she said, ‘We always said we wouldn’t be like the other people. No kids. No saloon cars. No pedestrian life.’
‘I know we did. But those other people, maybe they’re onto something.’
‘Maybe they are,’ she said, and in the low light, Lexi wondered if Bella’s eyes had filmed with tears.
25
Eleanor
Alone on the terrace, Eleanor emptied the wine bottle into her glass.
She yawned. Checked her watch. There was no point trying to sleep before one o’clock: she’d only lie awake, restless.
That was one of the problems of losing Sam: she couldn’t sleep. She missed the warmth of his body in the bed. She missed the way he liked to cast out an arm and place it on her hip, or boob, or waist. He just liked feeling her right there. He always slept in a T-shirt and boxers, and sometimes he wore that T-shirt through the day and she didn’t care. She liked it. She even missed the rolling waves of his snoring. Falling in love – it’d ruined her. Better never to know that it was possible for your heart to beat at a different rhythm.
She swallowed another mouthful of wine. A few drinks before bed served as a sort of buffer, a lubrication to oil and loosen the sadness, ease her towards sleep. But that only got her halfway through the night. Then she’d wake around three in the morning, all alone with the silence.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
Sometimes she wondered if it were possible to drown in silence. Because that’s how it felt – like it was suffocating her. So then she’d drink a little bit more. It wasn’t like she even wanted to. All she wanted was to bloody sleep.
You don’t need to be a genius to know there’s a price to pay in the morning. A tax on that sleep, because her head felt like shit, and her mind was foggy, and all the anxiety and loneliness and sadness and shame was there on amplify mode. So what did she do?
Bingo! Another drink. Congratulations, Eleanor! You are winning at grief!
She knew what Sam would say if he were still here. ‘Hey EJ!’ (He loved an acronym. Said it made him feel like he was an American high school kid sliding around a corridor with his T-shirt untucked, crashing into her at the lockers.) ‘You know you’ve got to sort this out, right? I’ll be your wingman.’ And he would’ve been. They’d have cleared the house of alcohol. He’d have probably made her really nice drinks instead, maybe bought her some herbal sleeping tablets – he had a thing for Holland & Barrett, which was odd as he liked nothing better than a stuffed-crust pizza and bowl of nachos.