A Cat Called Alfie. Rachel Wells

wrong?’ Claire asked. Her back was turned and she was emptying some posh crisps into a bowl.

      ‘Well, actually nothing’s wrong, it’s just that I’m, well, we are pregnant!’ Tasha laughed, happiness written all over her face. Dave beamed too, and Jonathan went and slapped him on his back.

      ‘Great news, guys, congratulations.’ He kissed Tasha’s cheek. Claire froze for a moment, her face a picture of anxiety as she gripped onto the counter. I could see her struggle and then her fear. I willed her to say something; thankfully she turned around, plastering a smile to her face, composure resumed. My lovely Claire was instantly back.

      ‘Wonderful news, Tash, Dave. Oh how brilliant.’ She smiled, kissed and hugged her friends. I was able to exhale.

      Over the evening, as there was chatter of babies between the women, I could sense Claire’s underlying tension.

      Although she was behaving naturally and they talked about all sorts of things, the evening had definitely become about Tasha.

      ‘So do you think the acupuncture worked?’ Claire asked.

      ‘I don’t know for sure, but it might have done. It certainly didn’t do any harm.’ Tasha smiled. ‘I cannot believe how excited I am. I mean I know it’s early days but, wow, it just all feels so amazing.’

      ‘No sickness?’

      ‘Oh yes, all day, not sure why they call it morning. But by evening I’m hungry, so thank you for doing dinner.’ She laughed, her face was alive with joy.

      ‘It’s nothing special, if I’d known I might have produced something more suited to a special occasion,’ Claire said.

      ‘No shellfish or liver luckily,’ Jonathan laughed.

      ‘Oh get you,’ Claire teased. ‘Pregnancy expert.’

      ‘Hopefully you guys won’t be far behind us,’ Dave offered. Claire concentrated on her food and didn’t reply to that.

      As the evening wore on, I noticed that Claire had drunk quite a lot; it was as if she had consumed Tasha’s share of wine too.

      ‘I’m so happy for you,’ she kept saying over and over. I saw that Jonathan kept his arm protectively round his wife as they sat at the table and he didn’t normally do that. Claire wasn’t an alcoholic but when she was stressed she often drank quite a bit. She used to when she was unhappy and I didn’t want her to go back to those days. But Tasha and Dave were so happy, radiantly, that they didn’t seem to notice. They left shortly after polishing off their pudding, Tasha explaining that she was so tired she could barely keep her eyes open. As she kissed me goodbye I could only hope this baby didn’t take after Dave in the cat allergy stakes.

      When it was just the three of us once again, Jonathan cleared up while Claire nursed another drink. I set myself onto her lap, and she idly stroked me.

      ‘Are you all right?’ Jonathan asked, tension lining his face.

      ‘I am, I mean I should be, but I’m worried, Jon. What if it doesn’t happen for us?’

      ‘OK, darling.’ He put down the tea towel and sat beside her. ‘Why are you thinking like this?’