‘I think you should stop.’ Ash was staring at Farah, his eyes intense, hands gripped together.
‘No,’ said Farah, trying to make them understand she wasn’t saying anything wrong – just pointing out the irony of it all. ‘We’re all happy she’s pregnant. A few years ago the only thing she had in her life was her hand modelling and now look… a husband with his own driving-school business – working with him like they’re a power couple, a whole new look as well.’ Farah’s smile was faltering; she could feel it strain under the pressure of appearances. ‘You all remember how Fatti was, don’t you? It’s against all the odds.’
‘Farah…’ began Mustafa.
‘I’m just –’
‘Stop,’ exclaimed Ash.
‘All right,’ said Mustafa, shooting a look at Ash. ‘There’s no need to use that tone.’
His voice rang out as clear as Ash’s. It was the most emphatic Farah had heard him.
‘Then she should stop.’ Ash was looking at Mustafa now too.
Before anyone could say anything else their mum clapped her hands together as if giving a round of applause. When she didn’t speak their dad said: ‘Who wants more tea?’
‘Jeez,’ muttered Mae.
‘I’ll have one,’ said Bubblee, still looking at Farah. ‘Ash?’
He was rubbing his palms, eyebrows knit together. ‘No, thank you. Perhaps it’s time for us to go.’
Farah’s stomach had turned into knots of anxiety as she looked at Fatti. Please don’t leave. I didn’t mean it like that. But the words – the ones she should actually be saying – failed to come out. She hoped her look said it all. Farah waited for Fatti to speak. The seconds seemed to stretch into hours.
‘No, we’ll stay,’ replied Fatti. ‘I’ll have one too. Peppermint.’
Fatti walked into the kitchen with Bubblee, leaving Farah behind in a room filled with silence.
Bubblee turned around and faced Fatti. ‘You know it’s because –’
‘I know,’ replied Fatti.
Fatti had been aware that it wasn’t going to be easy, not with Farah having wanted a child so badly, but she’d thought that perhaps Farah had now accepted it and let go of that want. Of course, you can’t let go of it because it’s not in your control. It holds on to you, not the other way around.
‘And she didn’t mean –’
‘Yes, she did,’ said Fatti.
Fatti turned her back to Bubblee, filling the kettle with water. The truth was that Fatti knew she’d never escape who she used to be, but at the same time she didn’t want to. It was fine with her that she used to be nervous and shy and never felt as though she belonged. It made the place she was in now all the more miraculous. What she didn’t like was the idea that her sister thought the old Fatti was still inside her somewhere. As if Fatti’s happiness, her whole persona, was a phase. Because she didn’t feel that different. It was more like being stripped of the negative stuff rather than it being buried. Fatti had peeled back the unwanted layers of who she was. And though she felt bad for Farah, surely Fatti deserved some sympathy for finding out her parents weren’t her biological ones, for going to meet them in Bangladesh, only to find out they didn’t regret giving her up one bit. But Fatti let go of that because she no longer wanted to be unhappy. Having Ash helped. It helped a great, great deal.
‘Okay,’ said Bubblee. ‘That wasn’t –’
‘Forget it.’ Fatti turned around and gave Bubblee a smile. ‘Let’s just forget the whole thing.’
Bubblee began warming some milk in a pan. ‘So, you and Ash are helping to overpopulate the earth then.’
Fatti saw Bubblee was smiling.
‘Yes. I’m sure you disagree.’
‘How does your stepson feel about it?’
‘You know, I think he’s actually excited,’ replied Fatti.
Bubblee looked incredulous. ‘Excited? Sounds a bit farfetched.’
‘Well, he didn’t stomp off to his room or tell Ash how much he hates him, so I’m going to take it as a positive sign.’
‘Gosh. I guess so,’ said Bubblee.
‘You’re going to be an aunt,’ said Fatti.
Bubblee’s smile met her eyes. She really was so beautiful, even if she wasn’t looking her freshest.
‘Will I have to babysit every time I come to visit?’
Fatti shook her head. ‘But I am going to make sure my child likes you the least.’
Bubblee looked so genuinely hurt that Fatti laughed and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
‘We weren’t made to be alone, Bubs,’ said Fatti. ‘Don’t try so hard to be different that you end up not getting what you actually need.’
Bubblee put teabags into the mugs. ‘Oh, right, what do I need then?’
Fatti considered her younger sister. There was so much there, if only she’d stop being so… well, Bubblee. As much as Fatti hated to admit it, who would put up with someone so difficult? Bubblee was lucky she was beautiful because Fatti supposed it’d make it easier for her to find a husband. Probably not Bengali, though. No, Bubblee would have to marry a non-brown person. Fatti would help her when it came to Mum and Dad. It would be good if she managed to find a nice Bengali boy, though. Someone who loved Bubblee for who she was. She’d never have said all this stuff out loud, of course – it made her sound positively backward – but she couldn’t help feeling it. Happiness comes from the people who love you, and who you manage to love back. It’s just the way it is.
‘Well, you’ll know when you find it.’
Just then, they heard Jay’s voice break the silence in the room as Mae told him that Fatti was pregnant. He appeared at the kitchen door, tall and slim, wearing a sweatshirt and trainers, hair flopping over his eyes.
‘Congratulations, Uncle Jay,’ said Fatti.
He smiled and hit Fatti on the arm before hugging her. ‘Better steal some of those kids’ toys I deliver then.’
‘This is the man Mum wants to subject some poor woman to?’ said Bubblee.
‘How’s…’ He cleared his throat. ‘How’s Farah taken it?’
Fatti just gave a simple smile.
‘Always asking the right questions, Jay,’ said Bubblee with barely hidden sarcasm.
‘And how long are you planning to stay?’ he asked her.
She looked away, turning the heat down on the hob. Fatti just about made out Bubblee shrugging before they were called into the living room by their mum. The three entered the room, puncturing the silence, as Bubblee wondered how long she could stay without her family asking her questions about where her life was going.
That night, as Farah got into bed she thought over the evening’s events. Why had she said those things? She turned over and looked at Mustafa, his back to her. He’d hardly said a word when they got into the car and she drove them home in silence. Since the accident Mustafa was no longer allowed to drive, in case he had a seizure – just another one of the many changes their life had undergone. She looked on the other side of her bed, at the empty space where a baby’s cot would easily fit. The light on her phone disturbed her as she checked it and saw the messages.
Fatti: Goodnight.