The Single Mums' Secrets - Janet Hoggarth Page 0,23
when you split up with Tom?’ Louise had always been slightly jealous of the way Christa was content on her own, like a baby in its amniotic sac, she just bumbled along, letting it buffer all the knocks for her. Even when she’d split up with Tom, she had been in control. She had left him, and not because there was anyone else better to leave him for, but because she’d wanted to. Louise didn’t understand when they’d seemed so well suited. When Christa had announced that that they’d wanted different things, the night she’d crashed into the hallway, teary and unsteady, Louise had hugged her, but didn’t ask what she’d meant. She didn’t need to because that was a place neither of them wanted to return to…
Christa had always been the one facing things on her own and surmounting them. Louise even remembered her accident when she’d been eight. They’d been playing outside at Grandma’s, with Curly, her yappy white terrier. He’d jumped up into Christa’s face to try and snatch the ball out of her hands and his teeth had caught on her bottom lip, tearing it, almost ripping it off. The fountain of blood was what Louise remembered most, and Christa screaming.
Christa had had to have her lip stitched back together and a skin graft from her thigh, making it look like she had a wavy line of black spiders crawling on her chin. But she never complained, she’d just watched in fascination as her lip healed and the swelling reduced, miraculously leaving a small livid scar from the corner of her mouth down to her jaw once the stitches were removed. Over time, the scar turned silver and it never seemed to bother her. Louise would have been so conscious of the obvious imperfection, but it just added to Christa’s mystery. She told boys she’d got it in a fight.
Christa had also travelled overseas to complete an Australian GP exchange program for a whole year, meanwhile Louise had been working as a newly qualified midwife in King’s, living with Ollie in Forest Hill. Travelling had been a dream but Ollie didn’t want to go; he’d wanted to get married… Before him had been William, and before that she had almost moved in with Fraser. Christa always managed on her own, didn’t she?
‘It’s how I’ve coped with lots of things,’ Christa said in a loaded manner, answering Louise’s question, turning her attention towards packing up her stethoscope, carefully winding it into the clips that would hold it in place, preventing the tubes from tangling up.
Louise’s stomach rocketed back up to her mouth. Stumped, she waited for the dark void that had cracked open between them to dissolve into easy banter like all the other occasions it had forced its way into their orbit. Let’s not go there… Louise couldn’t cope with where the conversation might take them, not now. Not ever.
A scream pierced the heavy night air, followed by what sounded like inconsolable sobbing. Louise sighed in relief, glad that Isaac had saved the day.
‘Do you want me to go?’ Christa asked, looking at Louise, her face impassive.
‘I’ll do it. I’ll bring him to bed with me. Thank you. I’m sorry I woke you for nothing.’
‘It’s OK. Just try to remember if it happens again to do the breathing. I might not be here to remind you next time.’
7
Mortifying Hormonal Rage
‘If he was a celebrity, who would he look like?’ This was the universal question Louise and I asked about any boy who was a potential boyfriend. It had started once I left for uni because I wasn’t able to physically witness her conveyor belt of admirers, existing in blissful ignorance without a mobile phone. I’d posed the question before I left for the school run should I bump into James. She mentioned some news reader whom I had to google, then showed me his Facebook page but there were hardly any photos of him on there. He just looked like a ubiquitous half decent-looking scruffy London dad.
‘He’s tall and always wears a grey T-shirt. They alternate. Sometimes it’s a Diesel one, sometimes a Wrangler. Last week he wore a new one, grey obviously. I think it was Levi’s.’ She’d looked interested for the first time in a while, then the light extinguished in her eyes. ‘He smiled last week and asked if I was OK, but you know what, I actually feel dead inside. I don’t give a fuck if I never see him again.’