he says, thawing a little. ‘Buddy used to be mine.’
‘We love Buddy,’ Freddie announces. ‘Why didn’t you like him?’
‘Er, it wasn’t quite like that,’ James says briskly. ‘Anyway, I’d better get back, make sure Luke hasn’t burnt the place down trying to make a panini …’
Brigid flashes another beaming smile. ‘Well, hopefully we’ll run into you again sometime, James. It’s been lovely meeting you.’
‘Yes, hope to see you around,’ he says unconvincingly, before virtually sprinting away.
‘God.’ Kerry grins as Freddie scampers back to join Mia and Joe. ‘That dead wife thing.’
‘I know.’ Brigid shakes her head. ‘Gorgeous, though, don’t you think? Lovely eyes.’
‘Er … yes, I did notice that.’ She grins.
‘You should call him,’ Brigid adds.
‘Oh, sure, after implying that he not only killed his wife but thought it was probably for the best, seeing as she had some toileting issues …’
They start laughing again, prompting the children to turn and look at them quizzically. ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t hold that against you,’ Brigid sniggers.
‘What about you?’ Kerry asks. ‘You were in full-on flirt mode unless I was misreading the signs …’
‘Oh, that was just to remind you how it’s done. Go on – you still have his number, don’t you? It’s almost as if it’s meant to be, you two meeting through Buddy like that. I told you dogs were good for that kind of thing …’ Then an oversized snowball hits Kerry on the side of the head, and soon she and Brigid are under siege, screaming and laughing beneath a hail of missiles, all thoughts of James forgotten.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Snow has been falling in soft flurries since Saturday, but Rob barely registers the white rooftops as he and Nadine leave her flat on Monday morning. It’s proper snow, too, the kind that Mia and Freddie love: fluffy and light, demanding to be caught in mittened hands.
‘More snow,’ Nadine remarks.
‘Uh-huh,’ Rob says, although he couldn’t care less about the weather. Today, rather boldly, they have taken the same day off work, because they are going to see a scan of their baby. The pavements are slushy and, without thinking, Rob takes Nadine’s stripy-gloved hand protectively in his. He’s startled by the realisation that he wants – no, needs to look after her. Just a week ago he was still wishing the baby wouldn’t happen: that it would fade away, sadly but also – he hates to admit this – conveniently too. Although he wasn’t naïve enough to believe that this would magically fix things between him and Kerry, it would certainly be easier than having a child with a girl with whom he’d exchanged less than a dozen words prior to his fortieth birthday. However, Rob is ashamed of this now, and determined to man up about the whole business. As they step into the packed Tube carriage, with him managing not to ask someone to give Nadine a seat as she is with child, he simply wants reassurance that the baby is okay.
By the time they reach the hospital, Nadine has become chattier, like an excited girl. She is all buttoned up in her black wool jacket with a soft blue mohair scarf at her neck, plus a little pull-on black knitted hat and her customary red lipstick. She looks lovely, Rob thinks. He must hold it together for her sake.
‘I don’t want to know the sex, do you?’ she asks as they make their way along the bland, beige corridor.
‘No, I’d rather not,’ Rob agrees.
‘But what if we see?’ she asks excitedly. ‘What if there’s, you know – a tiny little willy swinging about?’
‘I honestly don’t think we’ll see at this stage.’ Rob chooses his words carefully; he knows how sensitive she is about him having gone through this twice before (although what is he supposed to do – pretend Mia and Freddie don’t exist?).
‘Yes, but what if we do?’
‘Well,’ Rob says, ‘we’ll just pretend we haven’t. Anyway, it’s pretty blurry and hard to see anything in real detail.’
Nadine shoots him a look as they take a right turn through swinging doors towards the reception desk. ‘I wish you weren’t so blasé,’ she murmurs.
‘I’m not, I’m just saying …’
‘Well, I think it’s a pretty big deal,’ she retorts in earshot of the receptionist as she whips the appointment card from her bag.
They are directed to a waiting area where Rob pushes coins into the vending machine (coffee for him, nothing for her; these days she only tolerates mint or fennel tea). He carries it to his seat, trying to think of safe conversational topics that won’t have Nadine accusing him of being blasé, or convey that he is in any way anxious. He is, though, mainly due to Nadine’s tiny, bird-like body. While Kerry breezed through both pregnancies, looking more magnificent by the day, he fears that Nadine will struggle to carry the child once it’s beyond the size of a crumpet.
‘So,’ he says, perching on the seat beside her, ‘d’you think they’ll be speculating about why we’ve both taken the day off?’
Nadine shakes her head. ‘I wouldn’t think so.’
‘Don’t you think they must have an idea, though? I mean, Frank and Eddy have both seen us coming back from lunch together. I know we don’t talk much at work but surely they must have picked up on something?’ He takes a sip of gritty Americano from the cardboard cup, reflecting on how quickly he’s fallen into a pattern of staying over at her place every second night or so.
‘Well, I’ve told Eddy,’ she says.
‘What? You mean you’ve told him we’re seeing each other?’
‘No … I mean he knows about the baby.’ She blinks at him, a small smile fluttering across her lips.
‘Really?’ Rob blows out a big gust of air. ‘God. When did you tell him?’
‘On Friday when you were out at the dentist’s.’
‘What, three days ago and you haven’t mentioned it to me?’ Rob glances around the waiting area. Three other couples are chatting happily, clearly unencumbered by the prospect of workplace scandals.
‘You were with your parents most of the weekend,’ she says coolly.
‘I was back last night, Nadine.’ Rob shoots her a vexed sideways glance. He doesn’t know what disturbs him more: the fact that Nadine chose not to mention this, or Eddy knowing the whole of Friday afternoon, but still managing to act normally – asking him to sort out some budget issues, and praising his last Miss Jones column. His editor might be an utter buffoon but he is, clearly, a pretty fine actor too.
‘Look,’ Nadine says with a shrug, ‘I’m sorry, Rob. You know me and Eddy go back a long way. I just felt he should know, that’s all, and I had to talk to someone …’ What about your
