Pippa opened her mouth to speak but Zoe held her hand up to silence her. ‘Hang on, let me get you your drink and a chair and you can tell me all about it.’ She rushed back behind the counter and set about making the tea. ‘Oh shit,’ she said as she fished the teabag out of the cup. ‘That’s not decaf. I tell you, I’m all over the place.’ She turned to look at Pippa again and smiled. ‘Pip, I’m so happy for you.’
‘Thank you, I’m so happy for me too!’ She really was. ‘It bloody took its time but it finally happened.’
‘I told you it would.’ Zoe pulled the chair from the side and placed it up against the serving hatch. ‘Sit here so you can tell me everything.’
Pippa gratefully took the chair and placed her bag down beside her. ‘I know you did, but it was just taking so long, I really thought it was never going to happen for us. No amount of planning, sex scheduling, positioning, reading… nothing was working.’
‘Well no, I don’t suppose reading would help to make a baby, Pip. You have to actually do the deed, not have your nose stuck inside a book. Unless you did it from behind, I suppose…’
‘Zoe! You know what I mean. I must’ve read like a million books about conceiving and tips to conceive and how to conceive…’
‘Again, sex pretty much does that job.’
‘Well, you would think, but Jason and I were at it like rabbits at one point and it still never happened.’ She became very aware of the elderly woman sitting on the table just to the left of her who had looked up at the mention of ‘at it like rabbits’ and seemed a little embarrassed. ‘Sorry,’ Pippa added, and turned back to Zoe, lowering her voice. ‘I actually think we had sex nearly ten times one day.’
Zoe passed her the tea over the counter and creased her brow. ‘Nearly?’
‘Well, it kind of slipped in but the door went so we had to stop.’ She glanced over her shoulder at the lady, who had decided enough was enough and was getting up to leave. ‘Oh, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to put you off your food.’
The lady shook her head and left, muttering something about kids these days…
‘Cheers, you’re now costing me customers, thanks to your potty mouth.’ Pippa began to apologise again but quickly realised Zoe was far from being serious. ‘So, have you told Jason? What did he say? Is he as excited as you are?’
‘I haven’t told him yet. Look, I’ve got this.’ She pulled a card out of her bag.
‘Surprise!’ Zoe read the swirly lettering that embossed the front of the card. Opening it she smiled, saying ‘You’re going to be a Daddy.’
‘Isn’t it lovely? Do you think he’ll like it?’
‘He bloody better! Couldn’t you just, you know, ring him and tell him the good news?’
‘No! I’ve waited seven years for this moment.’
‘And how long have you had the card for?’ Zoe smiled at her and Pippa felt embarrassed that they both knew what kind of answer she was going to give.
‘About six years.’
Zoe laughed again and cut a slice of Bakewell tart from the counter. ‘Here, you nutter, have this. It was made with love by a very special person.’ She winked at her.
‘Flattery will get you nowhere. Which reminds me, I’ve made a coffee and walnut cake in addition to your order this week as I had a load of walnuts left over from that wedding cake I made.’
‘Amazing! I love coffee and walnut cake – can we just add that to the regular order anyway?’
‘No problem, I’ll drop it all in tomorrow afternoon as I’ve got doctors first thing. Have you got enough stuff to tide you over?’ She looked into the display cabinet at the nearly empty containers that normally housed her cakes and pastries.
‘Yeah, should be okay. I’ve still got some Victoria sponge out the back, too.’ She pushed the plate with the Bakewell on it over the counter. ‘Anyway, enough of work. Eat!’
‘Oh no, I can’t. I really need to watch what I eat from now on.’ She slid the plate back towards her friend.
‘Oh behave! It’s a slice of cake and we are celebrating! You can be all strict with your food after you’ve had the baby, when you’re trying to shift the baby weight.’
‘Well, if we’re celebrating, where’s your slice?’
‘That, Pip, is a good question.’ She cut herself a piece.
‘Oh my goodness, do you know what I just thought?’
Pippa looked at her with suspicion, ‘What?’ she asked, cautiously.
‘Now that you are expecting, you can come to the mums’ meetings here!’
Pippa smiled, feeling warm inside. Zoe didn’t realise how long she had waited to hear those words. ‘You’re right. When do I start?’ She couldn’t hide the grin from her face.
‘As soon as you are ready, my love.’ Zoe shuffled behind the counter, ‘Cheers,’ she said, holding up her slice. ‘To baby Pip!’
Pippa smiled as a warm, fuzzy feeling drizzled through her body. She tapped her cake with Zoe’s. ‘To baby Pip!’
*****
Imogen
‘Miss, can I get the paint out?’
Imogen snapped her attention to the little blond boy staring up at her from the table and realised she had been completely daydreaming. She glanced over to the class teacher, who was teaching phonics to some children on the carpet.
‘When Mrs Anderson has finished her sounds, we will get the paint out. Let’s wait for the others so they can join in, yes?’
The little boy ran off without even acknowledging their conversation.
A wave of nausea started to build up from Imogen’s stomach and she felt the sweat begin to bead over her forehead. She needed to get to a bathroom, and quick! She tried to discreetly get Mrs Anderson’s attention, but it failed and she soon found herself in a position she would never want to be in again, where she had no choice but to run out of the classroom with no warning whatsoever to the class teacher. She practically skidded around the corner of the corridor at the end of the hall, where she sprung into the staff toilets just in time to reach the toilet bowl. A tirade of mixed feelings erupted as she vomited. She took a moment to compose herself afterwards – and to make sure there wasn’t any more – before standing to look at her reflection in the mirror.
She looked a mess. Whilst her wavy, light-brown hair was still in the ponytail she had placed it in just a couple of hours previously, there were numerous straggly sections that had dropped out around her face and were now stuck to her cheeks with the sweat from the hot flush she had just seconds before the vomiting started. Her eyes were red and bloodshot and her eyeliner had bled slightly into the fine lines around the edges of her eyes. Sporting a look that was a cross between someone who had just finished a marathon and a gothic clown, she spent a few minutes sorting her appearance before making her way back to the classroom.
‘Mrs Anderson, she’s back!’ little Becca screeched as Imogen walked into the room.
Mrs Anderson came over to her, immediately looking worried and, if she was honest, a little pissed off. ‘Everything okay?’ she asked, cautiously eyeing her up and down.
‘Yes, sorry. I just felt really sick all of a sudden.’ She put her hands onto her hips to help convince her that she was okay.
Mrs Anderson eyed her up and down before saying, ‘You don’t look too great. Do you need to go home?’
She shook