Seven Years Earlier
“Do you think you’ll ever have children?” Honor lay stretched out on the carpet, Peggy on the sofa. Propping herself up on one elbow, she reached for the poker, before plunging it into the bed of coal, once, twice, three times.
Peggy turned her head to watch. “Yes, and you’re going to kill that fire.”
Honor attempted to stand the poker upright but it fell with a clatter on to the tiled hearth. She cursed and picked up the bottle of red wine, filling their glasses to the brim, before handing Peggy her glass.
“I don’t want children. I’ve decided. Never. Ever.”
“Why not?”
Honor made a face. “What if I had a boy and he looked like my dad? What if it stopped me loving him?”
“You’ll change your mind.”
Honor shook her head. She wasn’t changing her mind.
“I’m probably too old already,” Peggy said. “We’re way past our biological prime. Anyway, I might not be able to. My mother had seven miscarriages before me. Christie said they’d given up trying when I came along.”
“Worry not, old lady. I’ll carry the beastly sprog for you if you can’t do it yourself.”
Peggy looked surprised. Pleased. “That would be hard, though. Giving up a baby you’ve carried for nine months.”
“No sweat, amigo. You’d do it for me.”
“Bearing in mind what you just said, I want you to know I absolutely would.”
Honor rolled on to her stomach to stare up at her friend. “What if I needed you to help me kill someone?”
Peggy laughed. “Do you have anyone in mind?”
“That’s not the point,” Honor said. “Let’s say someone does something terrible to me and I decide to kill them, would you help?”
“How terrible?”
“Really bad. Rape. Buggery. Burns down my house. Pulls out my toenails. Throws battery acid in my face.”
Peggy thought about it.
“What about the police?”
“He gets off. He has a great lawyer. A real bastard. ”
“Then yes.”
“Would you help me bury the body.”
“Definitely. I don’t want it lying around incriminating us.”
“Is there anyone you’d like me to kill on your behalf?”
Peggy laughed out loud. “No, but thank you for the offer. I’ll bear it in mind.”
“If you want a baby any time soon, you need to get less picky about men by the way,” Honor said.
“I could get a sperm donor. A Swedish rocket scientist who’s an Olympic oarsman and is good to his mother. ”
“Chances are you’d get a donor who says he’s a Swedish rocket-scientist. There’s a difference. And he probably is good to his mother, because he still lives in her back bedroom. Don’t you want a man around to help with the baby at least?”
Peggy thought about it. “No.” She sounded surprised at herself.
“What if you died?”
“That’s easy. You’ll look after her.”
“The baby’s a girl?”
“Yes”
“But I said I didn’t want a baby.”
“She’s not any baby. She’s my baby.”
Honor grinned. “All right. Providing you know that I’ll make a terrible mother.”
Peggy grinned. “I wouldn’t want you any other way.”