might die of embarrassment should one of them approach her. ‘Here you go. I got us large ones. I thought you could use it,’ she said, placing the drinks on the table and slipping around it to slide in next to Laura on the bench seat, rather than sitting opposite her, which she thought might seem confrontational.
Laura smiled gratefully. ‘I could,’ she assured her with a weary roll of her eyes, and took a sip.
Sarah did likewise. ‘I noticed your uniform. What is it you do?’ she asked. It didn’t appear to be a regular NHS uniform, the sort Sarah’s mother wore.
‘I, um … I’m a p-p-palliative nurse at a hospice,’ Laura provided haltingly.
The hospice where Steve’s father had died, Sarah gleaned, thinking that trying to improve the quality of life for people with serious illnesses was a commendable thing to do. She couldn’t help admiring her for it. She assumed that that was where Steve had met her. Had he become involved with her then, she wondered, while he was visiting his father? He’d stayed at the hospice for endless long hours on his own as his father had deteriorated. He’d been devastated the night he’d slipped quietly away. He would have needed a shoulder. Had Laura been the one to offer it, while Sarah had been at home with their child? The pang of jealousy she felt at that realisation surprised her, along with hurt that Steve might have been seeing someone else before they’d made the decision to part, though that would have happened sooner or later, she supposed. Their relationship had already been floundering.
‘Have you worked there long?’ she asked.
‘Nnn …’ Laura started, and stopped, clearly embarrassed. ‘Just over a year,’ she said with a weak smile.
‘You have a stammer,’ Sarah said carefully, aware of how she must be feeling.
Laura’s gaze shot to hers. Her eyes were so large she looked like a frightened kitten.
‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of.’ Sarah smiled kindly. ‘I had a friend at school who stuttered. She got stuck on certain letters. Her lips touched, she said, and she couldn’t get the words out. She tried to use alternative ways to start a sentence, but she used to get really frustrated. She hated it when people wouldn’t give her time to speak, or finished her sentences for her. I think what really hurt, though, was when people avoided talking to her out of embarrassment or ignorance or whatever.’
Laura blinked uncertainly, as if she wasn’t quite sure what the catch was. Sarah supposed she was bound to be wary. There was probably nothing more daunting for a woman than meeting her boyfriend’s ex-partner. She’d have come prepared for bitchiness and bitter accusations. Sarah did feel bitter to a degree, suspecting what she now did about how they’d met. She didn’t feel any malevolence towards Laura, though. There didn’t seem much point.
‘I told her that friends like that weren’t worth having anyway,’ she added, hoping to relax her a little.
Laura glanced down again. Her eyes were glassy with tears when she looked back up, and Sarah felt for her. ‘Thanks.’ She smiled, more readily. ‘It is embarrassing,’ she admitted, pausing for thought. ‘The mental gymnastics I have to do to come up with synonyms is so draining sometimes I give up before I’ve started.’
‘Well, that came out okay,’ Sarah assured her, with a surprised smile back.
‘Because I was taking it slowly,’ Laura pointed out. ‘You were right about people getting impatient. You can see their eyes glazing over sometimes, or else they get irritated, and you sense they’re itching to check their watches.’
Sarah nodded, thinking of her school friend, who’d said she wanted to give people a fat lip sometimes so they could see what it felt like to struggle to speak. ‘Have you always stammered?’ she asked gently.
Taking a sip of her wine, Laura thought about it. ‘A bit. It really kicked in when I was in my teens, though. I didn’t dare open my mouth for a while,’ she said, a small furrow forming in her brow.
‘Did you not get some support?’ Sarah asked, aware that there were various therapies and support groups available.
‘Eventually.’ Laura looked pensive as she placed her glass back on the table. ‘Not at first, though. I think my mother thought I would just grow out of it. We don’t get on that well, I’m afraid.’
‘That’s a shame.’ Sarah really did feel for her now. She would have needed all the help she could get at such