her hands to try and make Emily be quiet.
‘Holly, this is all the more reason to come to France. You could sound Wilf out.’
When Holly didn’t reply, just looked around to see who might be within earshot, Emily added, ‘the worst thing you could do is not tell him, Hol. He doesn’t trust people very easily at the best of times.’
‘And how do I tell him?’ Holly whispered, not looking at Annie, who seemed to exhale with relief that she’d finally admitted who the father was. ‘I can’t just text him and say, by the way, I’m having your baby.’
‘Why not?’
‘Oh please.’
‘I could tell him for you.’ Emily shrugged and got her phone out of her pocket.
‘Don’t you dare!’
Emily laughed as Holly tried to snatch it from her. ‘So come to France, then! Please. It’ll make my mum love me and she’s been in a filthy mood since that whole Rolling Stones nightclub paparazzi incident. And you can tell Wilf all softly, softly in lovely warm South of France-esque surroundings. Pleeeease.’ Emily held her hands together and stared at Holly with her big blue eyes. ‘If nothing else, do it for the money.’
‘The money would be useful, Holly,’ Annie added.
Holly looked up at the van, at the blue and white striped awning and the inside patterned with tiny blue forget-me-nots. She wondered what Enid would have told her to do. Enid was always about straight-up honesty. Except Annie had found a government letter in the café clean-up addressed to Enid about a guy injured in the war. A guy who wasn’t Enid’s husband. So maybe she wasn’t so honest after all.
She thought back to when she was an angry fourteen year old. Holly remembered sitting on the fridges in the van, eating a 99 with chocolate sauce. It was just after her mum had left. Ran off with one of the men she cleaned for. They’d apparently been having an affair for two years. Two years Holly and her dad’s life with her had been a lie.
Two years.
She remembered a conversation she’d had with Enid, who had subtly stepped into the void left by her mother. She was there keeping watch, always just checking…
‘Coach Billy says you haven’t been training for two weeks,’ Enid had said while serving a little boy a lemonade lolly.
‘Why is he telling you?’
‘Well, if he tells your dad he knows he’ll probably take it a bit too seriously. And if he tells you, he knows he’ll get some smart-arse response. So, seeing as I have to put up with you every afternoon, not really working—’ She’d turned to look at her. ‘Am I paying you to sit on the fridge? Or to clean the fridge?’
‘Clean the fridge,’ Holly had said, crunching on the cone of her 99.
‘Well clean the bloody fridge. Jesus Christ, girl. Your mother has a lot to answer for.’ Enid pulled a couple of 99 cones for a group of school kids and then wiped her hands and took a swig of her Coke. ‘You make your own future, Holly. Don’t let your mother’s mistakes mess up yours. You’re a good little rower and you could go far. I want to be cheering for you at the Olympics, not watching you getting stoned round the back of the playground like the kids I’ve seen you messing about with. Go and find Annie, be nice to Emily ‒ she’s not all bad ‒ and get back in a boat. OK? You have potential. Yes?’
Holly slid off the fridge top and went and got the Mr Muscle.
‘Yes?’ she said again.
Holly stared down at Enid’s orange flip flops. ‘Maybe.’
‘For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve never been afraid of anything. Don’t start now.’
Back in the present, Holly looked from Emily to Annie and back again. Emily was watching her, all big eyes and nodding. Annie’s eyes were narrowed, clearly unsure which way it might go.
‘OK. OK.’ Holly nodded, and Emily clapped her hands together. ‘It’s not a bad idea. I know I have to tell him, and yes, this could be a good way of doing it.’
‘Awesome,’ Emily said, standing back to admire the van. ‘The ferry leaves tomorrow evening.’
From: [email protected]
We need to talk. Emily says you’re pregnant and it’s my baby.
I’m playing polo tomorrow. Come by the club on the way to your ferry.
Were you ever going to tell me?
W
‘Jesus, you told him?’ Holly was waiting by the ice cream van, hopping from one leg to the other, waiting for Emily to turn up. As soon as she could see her at the end of the road, she shouted the question at her.
‘It slipped out,’ Emily called back. She was walking slowly in high wedge mules and skin-tight black Capri pants.
‘It slipped out?’ Holly held her arms out either side of her. ‘You only had to keep it in for an evening! How did it slip out?’
Emily got to the van slightly out of breath, ‘Oh I don’t know, I was excited. I didn’t think you’d ever tell him.’
‘Oh man, Emily, now he hates me. He thinks I was never going to tell him.’
‘No, he doesn’t hate you.’ She bit down on her slick red bottom lip, ‘He just maybe isn’t quite sure, you know? Needs maybe calming down a bit.’
Holly raised her eyebrows, aghast.
Emily looked sheepish, ‘It didn’t go quite how I thought it would. But I think it’ll be OK. You've got all of France to talk about it.’
‘Shit!’ Holly hit the side of the van.
‘You look really tired.’ Emily pulled her sunglasses off and stared at her.
‘That’s because I didn’t really sleep last night! Oh god, Emily. Why do you do this to me?’
‘It’s fine.’ She waved her hand. ‘Oh look, there’s Annie. Hey, Annie, do you want to come to France with us? I’m worried that Holly might kill me. I need a chaperone.’
Annie was holding in a smile as she appeared with a big shopping bag that she handed to Holly, ‘I made you both some travelling sustenance. Thought it might help.’ She made a face at Holly, half sympathetic, half encouraging.
‘Is there pie?’ Emily asked, tottering over to peer in the Sainsbury’s bag. ‘Ooh there is, and
