She was pleased with how the little flat was shaping up but it would be a while before it’d really feel like home. Anna had been moved in a week but with her dad’s help she was already putting her own stamp on things.
A few minutes later Sophie was thoughtfully dunking her third biscuit in a large mug of coffee.
‘You okay?’ asked Anna.
Sophie pursed her lips as she appeared to carefully consider her answer. ‘I don’t like to complain about this, considering what you’re going through, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m hurtling towards thirty and I’ve not done any of the things I thought I would have by now. I’m fed up with being a general skivvy. I’m bored of having virtually no life outside the kids. I’m sick of washing, ironing and clearing up – it’s relentless. And I’m feeling a bit useless at work too …’ As if highlighting her gloomy state her biscuit dissolved into her tea. ‘Bumfuzzle!’
Anna handed her friend a teaspoon. ‘I meant the pregnancy.’
Sophie briefly screwed her eyes up and then opened them particularly wide. ‘Right. Sorry about the rant. Of course, I’m thrilled. We want lots of kids. The first two took ages to conceive so we thought we had plenty of time but this one must have been the Usain Bolt of sperm.’
Sophie’s husband, Dave, was the polar opposite of Usain Bolt. Dave was to speed what crayons were to fine art – simply not cut out for the job. He was the sort of person most labelled as ‘a nice guy’ but he was a constant source of irritation to Sophie.
‘Still, a new baby will be lovely and now I live seven doors away I’ll be able to help.’
‘Thanks. I’m going to need it.’ Sophie fished out another Hobnob.
‘It’ll be fine. You’re glowing.’ Wasn’t that what you were meant to say to pregnant women?
‘I don’t feel glowing. I feel tired and a little nauseous most of the time. And I’m spotty and fat already! All the pregnant celebrities look stunning and I look like this.’ She pointed in turn at her limply hanging hair, pimply chin and lumpy midriff.
‘I keep telling you the magazines you read are full of rubbish. The celebrities are all airbrushed and styled so much they’d make the Gruffalo look like Kim Kardashian. In fact, who knows for sure that the Gruffalo isn’t Kim Kardashian, I’ve never seen them together.’ Sophie gave a weak attempt at a smile. ‘You’re naturally beautiful.’
Sophie didn’t seem convinced. ‘I’m bloated and I’ve not lost my baby weight from the first two yet. And I really miss proper coffee.’ She peered accusingly into her mug.
Anna wasn’t sure what to say; instead she opted for squeezing Sophie’s shoulder. She didn’t like to see her like this but she knew her well enough to know jollying her out of it wasn’t the answer. They sipped their drinks in silence.
‘Come on,’ said Anna. ‘Let’s go for a walk in the park.’ The novelty of having a private park literally on her doorstep was going to take a long while to wear off. The park was in an area called Walmsley but was known as Wildflower Park because of the many varieties of wildflower that grew there. The history of the park had fascinated Anna when Sophie had first moved there a year before. The old manor house had been demolished during the Industrial Revolution leaving its grounds isolated but surrounded by other large houses, the owners of which were not keen to have their view spoiled by cheap workers’ housing or worse still a factory. They’d clubbed together to buy the gardens and turned them into a private park accessible only by those who had a property backing onto it. Even now keys were held by a select few who had an adjacent property. Anna was incredibly lucky to have been able to buy one of the flats in the small 1970s’ block, which was somehow allowed to be built, backing onto the park and therefore qualified its occupants for access.
‘Okay,’ said Sophie with a groan although Anna knew she loved a stroll around the park too.
Sophie zipped up her hoodie and Anna grabbed her coat and keys. It was early April and the signs of spring were becoming evident as the temperature was starting to feel warmer. Daffodils were everywhere and things were generally greener. As times had changed Anna no longer needed an actual key to open the gate to the park, just a special key fob. She pressed it to the gate, which buzzed in recognition and she pushed it open. Anna felt like she was being transported into the secret gardens of her favourite childhood books.
The park was a good size and must have been magnificent gardens in its day. Now a team of volunteer residents cared for it. A few years ago a community project had set about focusing on the reintroduction of wildflowers to help support bees, butterflies and other wildlife, and it had been a huge success.
Where Anna entered it was sheltered by some conifers, which hid what was once the rockery. A neat path wound its way through budding trees, past some newly sprouted crocuses and down to the pond. Everyone called it a pond, but to Anna, who had been brought up in the city, this was more than a pond. A pond was a thinly disguised plastic shape about four foot round you bought from the garden centre and filled with a few buckets of water; what they had here was more of a lake to Anna. It took up about a fifth of the park and must have been 250 metres across at its widest point. She loved the little island in the middle where the ducks seemed to take refuge at night in case any foxes came looking for an easy meal. But most of all she loved the areas that were given up to wildflowers – they were her favourite.
Sophie glanced at her phone as they walked side by side.
‘Are you going to check they’re all right?’ asked Anna.
‘Who?’
‘Dave and the kids?’
Sophie did some gurning followed by a long drawn-out sigh. ‘If I call I’ll hear chaos and get stressed out and I’ll have to go home and shout. It’s best if I don’t know.’ She gave a wistful glance in her house’s general direction.
‘Dave’s not that bad.’
‘Don’t get me wrong, I love him to bits. He’s just totally useless with the kids … And the house. And the garden.’ Sophie rubbed her middle and sighed.
‘You any nearer to agreeing names for number three?’ asked Anna, keen to cheer up the plunging mood.
Sophie put her phone in her pocket. ‘No, it’s the usual battle. Dave wants something traditional and I want something distinctive. And now we have the added pressure of getting something that works with Arlo and Petal. You know when you send cards and it says “Love from Dave, Sophie, Arlo, Petal and Moby.”’
‘Moby? As in Dick?’
Sophie rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t say that. Moby’s my favourite but I also like Enoch and Thaddeus.’
Anna failed to hide her flinch. ‘So, you’re counting on a boy this time?’
‘No, we’ve already agreed what she’ll be called if it’s a girl – Darby.’
‘As in Derby County Football Club?’
‘No, with an “a”, you muppet.’
Anna nodded her understanding. ‘Still, Dave won’t be happy when he goes to work on a Monday and someone says, “I see Derby got stuffed at the weekend.”’
Sophie
