“There you go… one glass of Shiraz and one bottle of IPA.” Phil Coombes, a friend of Lucie and Dale’s since their first days at secondary school, placed their drinks on the table.
“Cheers, Coombsey!” Dale said as he took a quick swig.
“Thank you!” Lucie smiled at Phil.
“So are we ready to win tonight or what?” Arianwen asked.
“Of course, my darling,” Phil replied.
Lucie gazed at them over her wine glass. Phil had met the redheaded artist Arianwen during the final year of his accountancy degree at Cardiff University. They’d fallen head over heels in love, and Arianwen had moved to Tonbridge to live with him. The bubbly Welsh woman was always good company and never failed to make Lucie giggle. At times she said things Lucie would never dream of saying herself, but she liked Arianwen’s openness and down to earth approach to life. Nothing seemed to phase her, and it was refreshing.
“I’ve been reading up in preparation,” Arianwen explained to Lucie, her green eyes mischievous.
“For childbirth?” Lucie asked as she eyed her friend’s swollen stomach. She couldn’t believe that Arianwen still had a few weeks to go until her due date.
“No! I think I know enough about childbirth already.” She tapped her nose. “Like shelling a pea it was last time, so third time round I’ll probably sneeze and the baby’ll pop out.”
“I hope it is that easy,” Phil said. “We might even be able to have that home birth you want, then, Ari.”
“I’m having a home birth, Phil, come hell or high water. There’s no way I’m going into hospital for this one. I want my own things around me, my own bathroom at my disposal and my own bed to sleep in afterwards.”
“What’s sleep?” Phil yawned.
“Something we haven’t had in quite some time, I know, but at least we can lie in our own bed in between feeds.”
Phil nodded. “I’m sure that’s why I’ve lost all my hair.” He rubbed a hand over his shiny scalp. “My mother’s staying at ours tonight to give us a break. Said we can sleep through and have a lie-in tomorrow.”
“He always lets me lie-in at the weekends. He’s a sweetheart,” Arianwen said to Lucie.
Phil’s cheeks coloured at his wife’s praise and his hazel eyes sparkled. “Well, you’re growing our baby inside you, so you need your rest more than me.”
“So what have you been reading in preparation?” Lucie asked.
“Every Guinness Book of Records from the past five years. Do you know it has the most amazing facts in it?” Arianwen sipped her lemonade then shifted in her seat. “I just can’t get comfortable at the moment.” She rubbed her huge belly and Lucie nodded in understanding, though of course she had no idea what it must be like to be pregnant with her first child, let alone her third. “You know I have veins popping out in places I didn’t even know they could.”
“Really?” Lucie tried to suppress a shudder, but it was too strong.
“I know. Isn’t it terrible? And as for farting!” Arianwen shook her head.
“Romance is long dead in our house; replaced by cankles, flatulence and bizarre midnight cravings.”
“And that’s just Phil!” Arianwen giggled.
“How are you feeling – apart from the discomfort?” Lucie asked.
“Oh, you know… exhausted, but that’s what having a six year old and a three year old will do to you. If I’m not building Lego, I’m making healthy organic meals and sauces to conceal vegetables, or working through the mounds of washing that the kids create every day. I still haven’t forgiven Phil for getting me pregnant again.” She scowled at her husband but when he met her eyes, she smiled.
“You know you always wanted a large family, Ari.” Phil winked.
“So I did. Masochist that I am. But I think we’ll stop at three.”
“Four.”
“Three.”
“Four?” Phil pouted at his wife.
“You’ll have to be extra nice to me.”
“I’m always nice to you, darling.”
“Get me a bag of salt and vinegar crisps and I’ll think about it.”
“Your wish is my command!” Phil swept into an exaggerated bow and rushed off to the bar. He was back within minutes, carrying several bags of crisps and a bag of nuts.
“Did Lucie tell you that she’s been asked to be a bridesmaid?” Dale asked.
“Have you now?” Arianwen asked. “For whom?”
“Petra Barnsley,” Dale replied.
“That’s your friend from London, right?” Phil asked.
Lucie nodded.
“I love a good wedding,” Arianwen said. “I miss getting all dressed up, having my hair and nails done, fitting into nice underwear that doesn’t have to be stuffed with post-natal towels or breast pads… enjoying all that cake and champagne. But leaky boobs don’t go well with a flimsy party frock, and as for varicose veins—”
“It’s in New York,” Dale interrupted and Lucie suspected he was keen to stop Arianwen revealing any more gory pregnancy details. “Over Christmas.”
“Oooh! Even better!” Arianwen grabbed Lucie’s arm. “Nothing like Manhattan at Christmas. Just think about how beautiful it will be with the lights, the parties, the Christmas trees, the snow and…”
Lucie’s cheeks twitched awkwardly.
“What is it? Oh…” Arianwen’s face fell. “I really am so sorry, Lucie. You don’t like Christmas at all, do you?”
“I bet it’s lovely when you have little people around.” Lucie didn’t want to put a dampener on things for Arianwen – and besides, it probably was different with children. Maybe, when… if… she ever had kids, she’d look forward to Christmas again.
“Yes, we’ll have three by the time Santa comes,” Phil said as he placed a hand on his wife’s belly. “Be a fabulous one this year.”
Dale finished his drink then placed the bottle carefully onto a beer mat. “I’m probably going with Lucie to New York. To the wedding.”
“And how did mother Treharne take that news item?” Phil asked.
“I’ve yet to break it to her.” Dale grimaced then picked up the beer bottle and started picking at the label.
“Rather you than me, fella!”
Lucie watched as Dale flicked bits of sticky label onto the table. She knew that his mother would give him a hard time about being away over Christmas. If he didn’t come, Lucie would be nervous, but she would cope. She’d have to. Yet it would be so much better with Dale at her side. Petra worked for a private travel firm that specialized in luxury holidays, and she had managed to get discounts on everything from flights to hotel rooms. Her very rich and generous father had insisted on paying the remaining costs for the bridesmaids and their partners. Petra had sent out a letter with the invitations, to inform the select few that they wouldn’t need to spend a penny. It promised to be the trip of a lifetime. Plus, in New York, Lucie could hopefully avoid the ghosts of Christmas past.
Dale caught her eye and mouthed, *It’ll be fine. Don’t worry. *
And she knew, in that moment, that it would.
With Dale by her side.
There was no one else she’d rather visit New York with. Christmas wedding or not, they’d be sure to have some fun.
“You can come with me.”
Lucie turned awkwardly to face Dale. They were in the back of Arianwen’s bright red Fiesta, squashed together because of the child’s car seat to her left. Apparently, one car seat could be removed easily enough, and Phil had already put it in the boot, but the other one was more complicated. Like building a Lego pirate ship, Phil had told them apologetically, then explained that when baby number three came, they’d have to use his people carrier for all family outings.
“What do you mean?” she whispered, conscious that after three glasses of wine she didn’t want to speak too loudly – she knew she got loud when she was tipsy.
“When I tell Mum.”
“Nooooo.” A chill filled her belly. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for Dale, but facing Mrs Treharne, especially regarding something that concerned not just her middle son but also Christmas, was a terrifying prospect. “It’d be better coming just from you.”
“Nope!” He patted her knee. “You’re whisking me away to New York City, so you can help me break the news to her.”
“I’m hardly whisking you away, Dale. You agreed to come to support me, and I’m very grateful, but you know I’d do the same for you any day, don’t you?” The chill began to seep outwards, penetrating her limbs and making her stiffen.
“I do know that, Luce. But I’m not asking for that right now. I just want you to help me break the news, soften the blow or however you prefer to word it.” Lucie saw a tiny muscle in his jaw twitching, which she knew from long experience meant that he was stifling laughter – at her expense.
“Can’t you just tell your dad and get him to speak to her?”
“Nope.”
“Oh please, Dale?”
“Nope.”
Lucie sighed. Dale was right; she really should help him speak to his mum about it. Glenda had always been very kind to Lucie, ever since she’d first gone round for tea when they were in primary school. This thoughtfulness had continued through secondary school, and after Lucie’s mum had passed away, Mrs Treharne had been kinder than ever, as if she sensed that Lucie was lost. With no daughters of her own, she’d seemed to enjoy Lucie’s company and had taken her on frequent shopping trips during her teenage years, as well as telling her all about the facts of life. Yet Lucie still found her a bit intimidating; the woman was a fierce matriarch and extremely protective of her family. She had been a member of the PTA at St. Clotilde’s while her boys attended the school, and even spent a few years as a governor there. Glenda was a woman who didn’t baulk at expressing her opinion, and even though Lucie had never actually heard Dale describe a time when his mother had lost her temper, it had become the stuff of legend. Possible. Yet still to be witnessed first-hand. And terrifying.
“Okay then, I’ll come. When do you want to tell her?” Lucie’s neck had stiffened and she moved her head from side to side in an attempt to loosen it.
“Sooner the better I figure.”
“Next weekend?”
“Yeah, come round for Sunday lunch.”
“Hadn’t you better ask your mum first before inviting me?”
“Lucie, you know that won’t be a problem. Mum absolutely adores you. Of course I’ll ask her, but she’s always telling me to bring you round.”
“Next Sunday it is, then.”
Lucie wriggled. Her left leg had gone numb from being pressed against the car seat, and her right was aching from trying to prevent it from brushing against Dale’s. Not that the physical contact would bother either of them – they’d always been quite tactile – but it just seemed a bit strange being squashed up with him in the back of their friend’s car. As if they were teenagers again, or…
“You two are like an old married couple, you know that?” Arianwen flashed them a smile in the rear-view mirror. “I’ll never understand why you didn’t get together at some point.”
This time it was Dale who wriggled in his seat. Lucie hoped he’d look at her but he didn’t, seeming instead to deliberately turn his head and stare out of the window at passing cars.
Of course, Arianwen hadn’t been around before Lucie had left for university, and the thing – whatever it was – that had happened between them that summer was something that Lucie and Dale never spoke of: it was almost as if it had never happened. The very fact that Dale never raised it made Lucie certain that it was because it was something he’d rather forget.
Why else would he refrain from mentioning it?
Ever.