I call back. ‘Have a good week!’
‘Right,’ Anna says. ‘I suppose I’d better get going.’
‘Would you like to grab a coffee?’ I blurt. ‘If you’ve got time?’
She doesn’t say yes as quickly as I’d like. I hold my breath while I watch conflicting thoughts move across her face, then finally she says, ‘I really should get going,’ and my heart literally hits my boots.
‘Sure,’ I say.
Perhaps she notices that my smile’s flat, because then she dithers, looks at her watch and says, ‘Oh, maybe I could come for a quick one.’
‘That’d be great!’ The words slip out of me in a gush of relief. ‘Do you know anywhere near here?’ she asks.
I shake my head and we both laugh.
‘Okay,’ she says. ‘I’ve got my car, and I know how to get to the shopping centre. Shall we go there?’
‘Brilliant.’
*
We go to Costa. A ubiquitous chain that soon becomes a recurring part of our friendship; a constant. On that first day there are other choices, but Costa’s there, safe, reliable, consistent – and, even with the morning bustle, there are tables available. The central heating feels hot on my face after the cold of the park. We take cold bottles of freshly squeezed orange juice from the chiller.
‘I’m going to have a muffin, too,’ Anna says. ‘I’ve earned it. Oh my god, look at that one. Is that crumble on top?’
She asks for the muffin at the counter then turns to me.
‘What I’m really craving is a milkshake, only I don’t think you’re supposed to have them when you’re pregnant. I don’t know if it’s an old wives’ thing or true – I read it in a Facebook mums-to-be group. Something to do with soft-scoop ice cream, I think.’
‘Wow, I didn’t know that. There’s so much to learn, isn’t there?’
‘You can say that again. I’d be lost without those pregnancy groups. Fountains of knowledge, they are.’
‘Yeah. I’m on a couple, too. There’s always someone, somewhere, who’s just been through what you’re about to go through, isn’t there?’
‘Have you ever tried those mothers’ morning things?’ Anna asks as we move over to a table. ‘You know, ones you see in the cafés?’
‘Oh, yes. I did give one a try.’ I give her a flat smile and widen my eyes, trying to look terrified. ‘Have you been to one?’
‘No. Why are you looking like that? What happened?’
I laugh. ‘It wasn’t my thing. Let’s just say that. Twenty women all pushing their opinions on everyone else. Everyone’s better than the next person; everyone’s got to get one up on the next person. God, they’re so judgemental. You can count me out of that. I’d rather jump into a tank of piranhas!’ While I talk, Anna slices into the muffin and sets it up for a photo.
‘Yeah, same,’ she says as she holds the camera above the muffin and takes the picture. ‘Sorry. Instagram. Just a sec.’
‘It’s okay. I’m just as bad.’
I check my phone while she fiddles with her photo then she puts her phone down and leans back in her seat, her attention once more on me.
‘There, done. I can relax now. What were you saying?’
‘Umm… oh yeah, the online forums? They work better for me. You can ignore people there if they’re too annoying. Though, bar the odd one or two, they’re generally a helpful and supportive bunch. I got into it when I was trying to conceive. There are so many support groups for that.’
‘Did you have problems?’
I sigh. ‘Not as such. I got pregnant all right: keeping them in was the problem.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Anna says.
‘It’s okay. But I did become a little obsessed for a while when I thought it would never happen.’ I pat my belly. ‘But we’re here now, aren’t we? And that’s all that matters.’
‘I had the opposite. This bubba wasn’t planned, if I’m honest. My husband – Rob – he works in Qatar.’ She pauses. ‘I’m not really sure how it happened.’ She puts her fingertip into a little puddle of condensation that’s dripped off her juice bottle, and traces out the letter ‘R’ with her nail. Then she looks up at me and smiles. ‘But it is what it is, I guess.’
‘You can say that again.’
We smile, no words needed, as the gossamer veil of friendship falls over us, swathes us, binds us.
‘How often does Rob come home?’ I ask, trying out the name on my tongue; a name I hope will soon be rolling off it: Anna ‘n’ Rob’, Rob ‘n’ Anna – maybe our new best friends.
‘He tries to come for a few days every four to six weeks but it’s not always possible, and the flights aren’t cheap. You can’t EasyJet back from Qatar.’ She smiles.
‘It can’t be easy. Especially pregnant.’
She sighs. ‘It has its pros and cons. And I take bump photos for him – you know, to show him how it’s going; keep him feeling connected.’
‘That’s nice,’ I say. ‘What a lovely idea. You’re not planning to move there yourself?’
She gives me a look that says ‘over my dead body’. ‘No point,’ she says. ‘It’s only a one-year contract.’
‘Fair enough.’
There’s a silence for a minute and I take a sip of juice, wondering what to talk about next. I don’t want her to think I’m boring. I’m worrying about this when Anna speaks again.
‘So, you seem to have made a friend.’
‘What?’
‘That bloke you walked with? He seems to like you.’
‘Simon?’
‘You don’t half attract them.’
I squint at her. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Puppy-dog eyes.’ Anna takes a sip of orange juice, raising an eyebrow at me as she does.
‘What? The guy’s pushing fifty and lives with his father.’
‘Doesn’t mean he can’t have puppy-dog eyes,’ Anna says.
‘I’m pregnant!’
‘It floats some people’s boats.’ She’s laughing at me now. The pair of us are laughing like real friends and I love it.
I
