‘Then, I’ll be with you every step of the way – even if you use those eco-friendly reusable nappies.’
‘I’ll be a very environmentally-friendly mum – especially as, on my budget, most of the baby’s stuff will have to come from secondhand shops.’ She gave another big sniff. ‘You don’t want a best mate who’s carrying a kid around the whole time. Admit it. You think I’m a joke.’ Her chin wobbled.
I got up and put my arm around her, shards of pain piercing my chest as her eyes swelled, all red. If only I could wave a magic Harry Potter wand and turn back time a couple of months, for her. ‘This is hormones, Jess. You aren’t thinking straight. The rational you knows I’m one hundred percent behind you. And what about the dad…?’ Okay, I know I wasn’t going to mention him but the sooner Jess faced the realities of how she was going to manage financially, the better. ‘Whoever he is, I mean, not that I’m expecting you to confirm anything, but…’
‘Whoever he is? I can still reach that red food colouring,’ she muttered.
She had a point. Phil was the only bloke it could be. Jess only slept with guys she’d fallen for and it wasn’t long since she’d split with Phil, the married bastard who’d promised to leave the wife when his twins grew up – they’d just started pre-school.
‘Will you tell your mum and dad?’ I asked.
‘Not yet.’
‘Ryan?’
‘No way!’ She stood up too. ‘Look… Can we drop the subject for the moment? I… I need to get my head around it – weeding the borders will do me good. You tidy up in here – don’t forget to sort out all the bits for recycling but… thanks, Kimmy.’
I smoothed down her rumpled hair and leant forward – cue an awkward hug that hopefully made her feel a titch better. Then the doorbell rang. Jess escaped out onto the back patio and I scooted to the front. My eyes tingled. Poor Jess. The way her chin wobbled. Her blotchy red eyes. With a sniff, I opened the door.
Diamond shapes printed on a pink jumper and a coral cap greeted me. Terry had just about managed to tuck his top into his tight grey slacks.
‘Oh my God!’ I said. ‘Aren’t you just the cutest thing? With those tiny legs, that snub nose and such small, perky ears… You’re so well-groomed!’ No, I wasn’t hitting on Terry, I was talking to… ‘Frazzle?’ I asked. ‘You named it after bacon crisps?’
His eyes twinkled.
‘It’s so tiny!’ I looked down towards the end of the red lead.
‘Yes – that’s the point; she’s a micro-pig.’
I ran my hand along the black skin and gazed into the huge, trusting eyes. This was living the high life! Back in Luton, Frazzle would have been ribs on the barbeque before you could say oink. She was hardly bigger than my novelty pig oven gloves.
‘Now the introductions are over, may I ask, is everything is all right? There was, um, some yelling earlier – I couldn’t help overhearing something about putting a gun to someone’s head.’
Heat crept up my neck as I swung back to Terry. ‘Soz about that.Me and Jess – a little argument. And we’ve got all this work to do, before some prospective buyers arrive tomorrow.’
‘Anything I can do?’
‘Oh, no thanks,’ I said unconvincingly, thinking about all the chores ahead of me, before bed – like scrubbing the kitchen, vacuuming and dusting. Then there was bathroom after bathroom to clean…’
‘Come on, Frazzle,’ Terry said and barged past me. ‘Let’s help these two girls settle in.’ From under his arm he took a folded up magazine and waved it in the air. ‘I brought you that copy of Starchat. It’s the one that talks about Melissa’s school reunion.’ He winked. ‘There are also some pretty hot pictures of Jonny. Page twenty-three.’ He stood still for a moment and breathed in. ‘Something smells good. Wow.’ He’d reached the kitchen and took off his coral cap to reveal a bald head, carefully avoiding any spillages as he put it on the table. He let out a low whistle. ‘Someone’s been busy.’
‘I’m cooking for Melissa. She’s invited some wives around from the local golf club. The party’s tomorrow and the caterers have let her down.’
‘You’re a professional cakemaker?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ I said. The more times I told people that, the more it seemed true.
‘What a pity it’s not the real birdies coming.’ His eyes widened. ‘Wouldn’t you just love to meet the latest girlfriend to join the crowd, Tracy Clifford? Did you see–’
‘Last week’s Infamous?’ I interrupted. ‘I know – that white dust around her nose looked a bit suspicious.’
‘She insisted it was face powder.’ Terry grinned. ‘She won’t last long on that stuffy circuit. Ah well, I still expect all the goss. There might be someone famous there so I want all the details – what they wear, how much they eat.’
‘Melissa showed me this trick,’ I said and started to put the cakes into Tupperware boxes. ‘It involves chewing food for just a few seconds, then spitting it–’
‘Kimmy?’ Jess appeared at the patio doors and frowned at Terry.
‘Nice to meet you, sweetie,’ he said and stretched out a podgy arm. ‘I live next door. The name’s Terry and this is my better half – Frazzle.’
Jess’s tearstained eyes lit up as soon as she spotted the miniature pig sniffing some flour on the kitchen floor.
Terry picked up the animal and handed her to Jess. ‘She gets on well with Groucho and if you tie her to Walter’s weeping willow, she’ll be as happy as a pig in… well…’
Jess tickled behind Frazzle’s ears. ‘I’ll start the borders,’ she called over her shoulder and disappeared outside.
‘Nice girl,’ said Terry and helped me force down a Tupperware lid. He glanced sideways at me. ‘Is she all right? I’m a good listener, you know.’
I shook my head, not daring to open my mouth in case I broke Jess’s confidence and the whole pregnancy thing slipped out.
‘Well, if you change your mind…’
‘Thanks, Terry – I appreciate it,’ I said, managing to leave it at that.
He fiddled with something underneath the base of a cupboard. Suddenly classical music blasted into the room. He re-tuned it to some disco channel.
‘Cool radio,’ I said.
But Terry didn’t hear. Dishcloth at the ready, his ample hips rocked jerkily to some retro soul groove. As he filled the dishwasher and scraped remnants of butter and sprinkles into the bin, his breathing became laboured. I tried to work out his age. Late fifties perhaps? It was difficult to say as there were hardly any wrinkles on his chubby face. Certainly not much older than the oldest of Mum’s boyfriends.
I offered Terry a random chunk of chocolate from the worktop, but he mouthed the words “no” and “cholesterol”. Then he continued to fill the machine, doing the John Travolta point in between each item, stepping side to side and jiggling his bottom.
Glad to see Jess digging outside, with a more cheerful face, I headed upstairs to the bedrooms with a bucket of cleaning products, kitted out to clean my shower, the mint green bathroom and Jess’s ensuite. By the time I’d rinsed out the last sink, my arms ached and I needed a cold drink. It had been quite cathartic and I’d kind of put Jess’s bombshell into perspective. Every day women got pregnant. That was life – messy and unpredictable with shiny jewels of happiness sometimes coming out of the darkest spots. She and me, we’d manage somehow. I’d be the best aunt I could. We’d get as much equipment as we could from charity shops