‘Christ, what have we got in there if it’s got wings?’ Luke went to laugh then stopped. ‘God, that’s amazing, Luce. What did it feel like? Tell me everything. Every single thing.’
I willingly described the extraordinary sensation, several times, in minute detail. I felt so incredibly happy and, as the night drew darker and the air chillier, I gratefully wrapped my cardigan around my stomach, keeping our secret that way for as long as possible.
Laughing as Luke and Dan danced to One Direction, even though they should have known better at their age, I allowed myself to relax. I chatted to Patricia briefly – the usual chit-chat – but I was probably distracted by the baby sensations I was feeling. My arms ached – ached – at the thought of holding our baby, but this time it was a good feeling. A beautiful feeling. I could barely wait.
Nell watched Lucy peering anxiously into the oven. She had some dodgy-looking meringues in there and, apparently, they were her fourth attempt. Nell couldn’t imagine bothering to cook something twice, let alone four times. She might re-cut a pattern fifteen times until she got it right, but that was different; that was her passion. She guessed this anniversary meal must be enormously important to Lucy, especially since she detested cooking so much.
Nell glanced around the small but homely kitchen. It was immaculate, with everything in its place. With Lucy in charge, how could it be anything but? There was a huge bunch of fragrant yellow flowers on the windowsill, brightening the room. There were always flowers in the kitchen; it was Lucy’s thing – well, Luke’s thing for Lucy.
Nell watched her, wondering why she had been cold-shouldered over the past few months. They were close and had been ever since Luke introduced Lucy to the family, so it was inexplicable. Upsetting, too.
Nell rolled her shoulders. It didn’t matter. Lucy was being friendly again; they would be back on track in no time. Besides, was it only Lucy’s fault they hadn’t talked much recently? Nell had her own reasons for not challenging the distance that had developed between them.
‘They won’t cook any quicker if you stare at them, you know,’ Nell found herself saying to Lucy. ‘God, I’m turning into my mum. Stop me if I start banging on about the WI and poking my nose into everyone’s business, won’t you?’
‘Nell, I don’t think you’re in any danger of that.’
This was followed by a semi-snort and Nell wondered if she had imagined the slight edge to Lucy’s tone. Perhaps not. Her mum was horrendously nosy – they berated her for it all the time – and Nell knew that Lucy was a very private person.
Lucy straightened, her face flushed from the oven. ‘So. I’m cheating a bit with a tomato bruschetta starter and I think I can just about cook the herby lamb things. It’s just these awful, pissing meringues.’ She wiped her furrowed brow. ‘I mean, how is it possible to undercook them, overcook them and, my best one yet … turn them into shrivelled cowpats?’
‘You know this is like the blind leading the blind?’ Nell picked up the iPad Luke had left on the counter. ‘How to cook the perfect meringue,’ she began, skim-reading the page. ‘Right. Apparently, you need to use a glass bowl, you mustn’t get yolks into the whites and it’s imperative that you use cream of tartar. What the hell is cream of tartar?’
‘Buggered if I know,’ Lucy replied, looking crestfallen. ‘This was a really, really bad idea.’
Nell spotted a recipe on the internet page. ‘Why not make Eton mess instead? If you have a meringue that’s even vaguely decent, you could smash it up, smother it with cream and slap some berries on top. Luke won’t even know he’s eating a cowpat.’
‘Genius. I’m sold.’ Looking relieved, Lucy took a seat on a bar stool, her movements measured and careful, Nell noted. Why? What was that about?
Lucy pointed at the magazine Nell was thumbing through. ‘Vogue. That’s probably a fashion student’s bible, isn’t it? Too many adverts for me, I’m afraid.’
‘I’d kill to feature in one of those adverts. My fashion line, I mean. That’s the plan … one day.’
‘The next Vivienne Westwood.’
‘Just … the new Nell Harte.’ Nell felt herself flushing. She probably sounded pretentious. ‘You know what I mean, though. I don’t want to be compared to anyone else. I just want to do my thing.’ She needn’t have worried; Lucy hadn’t noticed, seemingly preoccupied, if in a rather vague way, with a carton of coconut water.
‘So, what’s new with you?’
‘Me? Not much. You know my life is dull. Do you have any news?’
Lucy shook her head, casting her eyes down. ‘Not really. Obviously I got married five years ago today, but apart from that … nothing much to report, I’m afraid.’
Nell considered her sister-in-law. There was something different about her. She was wearing a new top, a floaty, floral effort, which wasn’t her usual taste, but it wasn’t just the clothes. Lucy had a great figure for fashion – slim, not remotely busty, slight hips – but actually, there seemed to be a fairly substantial bust there today. And the hips … Were they a little fuller? It was possible Lucy had put on a few pounds since they’d last had a proper chat, but Nell decided it suited her, career as a fashion model notwithstanding.
‘Would you like some?’ Nell gestured to the coconut water.
‘Ummmm, no thank you.’ Lucy pushed it away. ‘It smells gross.’
‘It doesn’t taste much better than it smells,’ Nell said, sipping it and gagging. ‘All the rage, but like many fashions, style over substance.’ She dumped it in the bin, noticing Lucy’s expression flicker. Was something wrong? Nell felt anxious, but as Lucy’s features settled, she relaxed again.
‘Patricia was popular at the barbecue yesterday,’ Lucy commented. ‘Chatted up by all sorts of … by all sorts.’
‘Yes, but she wasn’t having any of it. I don’t think she can see herself with anyone but dad. I don’t want her to replace him or anything either, but it would be nice to see her happy again.’ Nell pulled a face. ‘Not sure she gives off the right vibes though … she’s a bit …’
‘Detached?’ Lucy offered.
Nell shrugged. ‘I guess so. Yes.’
Lucy nodded distractedly. ‘It must be hard for her. I’ve only been married for five years, not the thirty – thirty three?’ She glanced at Nell who gave a nod of agreement. ‘And I can’t imagine being with anyone else but Luke. And I’m not just saying that because you’re his sister.’
Nell smiled and chewed a stubby fingernail. She didn’t know much about marriage, or relationships for that matter. She’d had a few boyfriends on and off since she was fifteen, but nothing serious. Not until now.
She was desperate to confide in someone and Lucy was here, now. Nell faltered. But maybe Luke was a better person to talk to about this. A man’s perspective. She could guess what the woman’s perspective would be. Actually, Nell mused, did she want to confess this particular deed to anyone at all? She already felt ashamed of herself and she wasn’t sure she could handle more judgement.
Hearing Luke returning from his run, Nell edged herself off the bar stool. ‘This has been lovely, but I’d better be off. I’ve got an evil new lecturer who thinks I need to work on my fashion portfolio, even though I’ve only been back at college for a few weeks.’
Nell suddenly noticed how pale Lucy looked and her brain kicked in. Swollen