harsh. She would, eventually and tactfully, drop hints about Ewan’s private life but she wasn’t sure Molly could cope with the whole truth in one go.
Molly put a cup of ginger tea in front of Sarah and a hot chocolate topped with cream and marshmallows for her. The sight of the cream made Sarah feel woozy so she sipped her tea.
‘OK?’ Molly asked.
‘Yes, thanks.’
‘Good. Now, spill.’
‘We, um … just talked about the weather, mainly.’
‘The weather? Ewan doesn’t register if it’s arctic or tropical, he spends so long in the lab. You must have talked about other stuff.’
‘Honestly, I wasn’t feeling very well and I almost walked in front of a cyclist and he brought me in here and then, you came.’
‘Just what I suspected. He fancies you.’ Molly scooped some of the cream, and it oozed over the rim into her saucer.
Sarah tried to avert her eyes. ‘He doesn’t fancy me. He was just being kind because he’s a nice guy but I can see what you mean about him being blunt … Molly, don’t do that thing with your lips, like you’re pissed off because I swear on my life that Ewan likes you, because he pulled silly string out of your boobs and he snogged you with tongues and told you he wanted to take you to bed. He feels sorry for me and he wanted a break and a chat to someone who is nothing to do with the lab … Men don’t get much opportunity to talk about their feelings so I guess he just took a chance.’
‘Ewan looking for the chance to talk about his feelings?’ Molly snorted chocolate on the table. ‘But he must have known that whatever he “shared” would get straight back to me. So come on, share.’
Sarah tried, as tactfully as she could, to relay what Ewan had told her. Molly munched a pain au chocolat gloomily while Sarah relayed the conversation.
‘Jesus, you’ve found out more about his private life in ten minutes than I have in ten months. He hinted to me that his split with his wife had caused a lot of trouble at work but you got all the details. He must have known you’d pass it on. It’s a message to me: back off, there’s no hope.’
‘I’m not sure he did tell me so I could warn you. I think he genuinely wanted someone to talk to from outside of work.’
‘But he knows you’re my sister. He must have had an ulterior motive.’
‘Mol, have you ever thought that you might be overthinking this?’
‘Overthinking is my job.’ Molly paused. ‘He must fancy you.’
‘You’re wrong and even if he did like me in that way – which I’m absolutely sure he doesn’t – it wouldn’t matter. He is gorgeous and he’s nice but I don’t want Ewan. I don’t want anyone. I just want things back the way they were.’
‘Oh, hon, I wish I could do something to help you … Are you absolutely sure Ewan didn’t say anything else about me?’
By the time Molly had drunk the chocolate and eaten her pastry, Sarah had almost managed to convince her that Ewan hadn’t said anything momentous. Eventually, just as Sarah had despaired of ever being let off the hook, Molly gave her a sympathetic look.
‘You do look knackered. Here’s me, obsessing over bloody Ewan again and you have real problems. How did you get on at the doctor’s? Have they given you a due date?’
‘Uh-huh. Towards the end of August.’
‘Wow. That’s a long time away.’
‘It seems horrendously close to me.’
‘I suppose so, if you’re the one with the baby. Oh, ignore me, Sarah, I’m hopeless. I may know a lot about reproduction in theory, but in practice, I’m worse than clueless.’
‘Join the club.’
‘God, I hope not. Not yet anyway!’
They both laughed. ‘Even though I really wanted a baby one day, I hadn’t planned for it to happen like this. It’s like one of those bad dreams where you think you’ve got to do your exams again and you haven’t done any revision. Only worse. Much worse.’
Molly laughed. ‘I’m sorry but that does sound horrifying. I’ll do everything I can to help, in my useless way. I’ll never forget the way you helped me through A levels and uni. Even when I was an arsey little cow, you were there for me.’
‘I’m glad you remember being arsey,’ said Sarah, smiling. ‘But you don’t owe me anything. I did it because I wanted to and Mum and Dad would have wanted me to. This is totally different. You can’t wave your magic wand over me or magic up a solution this time. Neither of us can.’
Sarah shoved a clump of croissant in her mouth to distract herself then thought, almonds? Was she allowed those?
‘Have you told Niall yet?’ Molly asked. ‘Even though you hate him right now, and I don’t blame you, hon, he needs to know. After all he was responsible for fifty per cent of it. Although that’s not quite true – Niall’s will be more like forty-nine-point nine per cent because you’ll pass on the mitochondrial DNA, of course … that’s Mum’s DNA too, and Gran’s and our great-grandma’s …’
Molly’s voice tailed off. Sarah knew what she was thinking; she didn’t have to ask. How much their parents would have loved to share this moment; how proud and thrilled and angry and hurt they would have been, all at once. Molly stared into her mug, avoiding Sarah’s eyes, probably, not wanting to see her own grief reflected. Neither of them dared share what they were thinking about their parents. The news about Niall and the baby had brought the loss so near the surface for both of them all over again. It wouldn’t take much, Sarah knew, for them to start bawling the café down.
‘Is the cheating little toe rag still staying at his mum’s?’ Molly asked eventually. Her voice was tight and fierce.
Even with a mouthful of tears and croissant, Sarah managed a brief smile at Molly’s sisterly loyalty. She didn’t fancy Ni’s chances if he walked into the café at this particular moment. She could well imagine him pinned on a specimen board like some helpless insect. Sarah found that idea quite comforting.
‘He’s tried to call me. At least ten times in fact and um, he left me a message … He wants me to meet him. He says he’s “eaten up with guilt” and wants to know if I could ever forgive him.’
‘What? No way!’ Molly burst out.
Sarah cringed as diners at the nearby tables stared at them.
Molly glared back and they quickly looked away.
‘Sorry, Sarah, but how dare he ask you that. You’re not going to see him, are you? Or get back with him?’
‘Of course not. What do you think I am? I haven’t even answered his calls yet. I don’t trust myself, but I will have to speak to him sometime, even if I’d rather never see the slimeball again.’
‘I know, I know …’ said Molly glumly. ‘I suppose you’re
