into an easy friendship with him knowing there would never be anything else between them. It had been safe and comfortable and there was no pressure to be anything other than herself around a very good-looking man without worrying about her behaviour and, if she was being honest, how she looked. Now she wasn’t sure what their relationship was. They were still rubbing along okay at work but things did feel different between them. She finished her coffee and put the cup down.
‘This Connor chap then. Too good to be true?’ asked Bert.
Anna was taken by surprise by the comment and a snort of a giggle escaped. ‘I don’t know. He seems nice enough.’
‘Nice?’ Bert pulled a face. He was as judgemental as Sophie over her word choice.
‘Yes, nice is a good thing. I like him.’
‘Hmm,’ said Bert, feeling for the table to put his cup on. ‘If I ask you a few questions you have to answer honestly with which of the two men pops into your mind. Okay?’
‘Not really. It sounds like being on Jeremy Kyle.’
‘I can’t stand him, the whining West Ham supporter. Come on, humour an old man,’ said Bert, shuffling to the edge of the seat.
Anna let out a loud sigh. ‘O-kay.’ She closed her eyes and concentrated. ‘Ready.’
‘Going to the cinema.’
‘Connor. Hudson and I can’t decide on anything.’
‘Trapped in a lift together.’
Anna was tempted to ask what floor they were on: if it was high up in one of those glass ones she’d probably pass out anyway so it wouldn’t matter who she was with. Connor would be calmer than Hudson but Hudson was a better talker. ‘Hudson, if we’re going to be stuck for anything over half an hour.’
‘Have a row with.’
‘Hmm, Hudson. I don’t think I could have a row with Connor.’ Her lips lifted at the edges as she thought of how easy-going Connor was.
‘Dress shopping.’
‘Connor. Hudson doesn’t have the patience.’
‘Be silly with.’
Anna paused. She was going to say Connor again but she couldn’t recall laughing with him like she could remember laughing with Hudson. ‘Either.’
‘No. That’s not the game. Choose one.’
‘Okay. Hudson, I think.’
‘Tickle fight.’
‘Tickle fight?’ Anna’s eyes popped open.
‘Yep. Imagine having a tickle fight. Who is it you’re fighting with?’
The image was already in her mind and it confused her. ‘Hudson. Why?’
A satisfied smile crept onto Bert’s lips. ‘You know tickle fights always end in a kiss?’
‘Err, I think that’s the end of that game,’ said Anna, suddenly flustered.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.’ Bert reached out a hand and Anna took it.
‘You are cheeky.’
‘No point getting old if you don’t get crafty,’ said Bert, and they both laughed. But he had sown some seeds for Anna to dig about in. ‘Now, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. Rosie, are you there?’
A perky little lady almost sprang from a nearby armchair and Anna realised she must have been watching them all this time. ‘Yes, Bert. Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine. I’d like you meet a friend of mine. This is Anna,’ he said, pointing in her general direction and smiling proudly. Anna felt a warm glow of affection for the old man. ‘Nice to meet you, Rosie,’ she said, shaking the bony hand.
‘And you, dear. He talks about you and Maurice all the time. And all the men in your life. It seems very exciting.’
‘She exaggerates,’ said Bert, a little flushed.
‘So does he,’ said Anna, wagging a finger at Bert.
Sophie had been having the same conversation for what felt like slightly longer than forever when Anna pulled up. Hopefully she’d be able to make sense of whatever Mrs Nowakowski was going on about.
Mrs Nowakowski was now waving her arms frantically. ‘D’ese is not that sort of neighbourhood. You look like you’re advertising burdel. Shame on you!’
‘What’s the matter?’ asked Anna, butting in.
They both started to speak at once and Anna held up her hands to stop them. ‘Sophie, hang on.’ Anna gave her best ‘bear with me’ face before turning to the older woman. ‘Mrs Nowakowski, what seems to be the problem?’
‘You make this nice place look like burdel. That is problem.’ She crossed her arms and gave a sharp nod of her head.
‘I think she means brothel.’ Sophie dissolved into giggles and felt the baby kick in response.
‘Why? What have we done?’ asked Anna.
‘The bra hanging in your window.’ Mrs Nowakowski pointed round to the side of the building where Anna’s lounge window was. Anna walked round and as the laughter died Sophie followed. When they reached the window the three women stopped and stared at the large bright red bra hanging there.
Anna looked at Sophie and gave a tip of her head. ‘What?’ said Sophie. ‘It’s not mine.’
Anna unfolded her arms and pointed to her chest. ‘Well, it’s definitely not mine!’ Anna was grinning.
‘Is it the international symbol for brothel?’ asked Anna.
‘According to Mrs Nosy-kowski,’ whispered Sophie.
As the two friends descended into yet more giggles Mrs Nowakowski shook her head and went home. Eventually they realised they were alone and went inside. Anna tugged down the bra that was hooked over the handle of the window, shook her head and dropped the bra in the dirty clothes bin.
Sophie didn’t really understand why Anna had hung the bra up, but it had made her laugh and she had to admit it was like one of hers but she was wearing her big comfy maternity bras at the moment, so it couldn’t have been. She thought for a second how funny Dave would think it was, then remembered her situation. Suddenly emotion swamped her and she had to swallow hard to keep it in check. Perhaps the break from Dave was having a bigger impact on her than she cared to admit.
Anna made chicken Caesar salad for dinner and they ate it in silence, interrupted only by the pitiful begging mews of Maurice trying to snag a little chicken. He’d already wolfed down his own meal of Ocean fish in a light gravy but some days it was hard to fill him up. Anna was still smiling to herself about the bra. She had no idea why Sophie had hung it in the window unless it was purely to wind up Mrs Nowakowski. Sophie
