‘Oh we all had far too much to drink one night when you were away, and it all got a bit messy.’ Becky lifted her chin slightly. Emma shot her a look. It was one of those looks – the let’s not mention this now kind.
‘Sounds like a good night.’ I’d cleared my throat. ‘I really need to get my stuff organised,’ I’d said, making a rapid exit. I could hear my heart thudding in my ears.
When I got up to my room I’d flopped down on the bed with a groan. If things were back on between Emma and Alex, it was a fairly obvious sign. I needed to stop half-wondering if there was something between us, and work out what it was I wanted in my own life. And if a weekend in Venice wasn’t a good way to start that, I didn’t know what was. I opened my wardrobe and tried to decide what to pack.
‘Oh my God, that’s the most romantic thing EVER.’
Sophie hadn’t even waited to message back when I shared the news on our little group chat. She’d dropped everything and called. I was on the train back from Bournemouth. I have to admit that it’s sweet that James couldn’t resist the urge to tell me before he saw me in person at the station when I got home to London.
‘How are you feeling?’ I said.
‘Like death.’
Oh yes. There’s another thing – a pretty big one – that happened this week. It’s clearly some sort of cosmic shift, or something. I can’t believe it’s happened. Sophie is actually pregnant. Eight weeks, which is early – I know that much, although I’m a bit hazy on the rest of the details – but she couldn’t resist telling us. Sometimes I find myself wondering if she’d carried on doing headstands after sex, and if that had been the thing that had done the trick. It’s a pretty weird image to have in your head.
‘I feel like I’ve got travel sickness but I’m not moving.’
‘That sounds awful,’ I said.
‘Ah, but it’ll be worth it,’ Soph replied, in a dreamy voice. I could already imagine Gen’s sardonic comments. It’s weird that we’re friends when we’re all so different. I guess that’s why it works. Plus I bet Gen’s going to be the best aunty you can imagine to Sophie’s baby. She’ll be taking it for exotic days out and introducing it to all her thespian friends at the theatre.
‘So what are you taking to wear? Where are you staying? Oh my God, you don’t think he’s going to get down on one knee, do you?’
I felt a leaden thud of fear in my stomach at that. ‘God, I hope not. I hardly know him.’
‘Jess!’ Sophie chided me.
‘I don’t mean “I hope not” like that, just …’ I felt a weird sensation at the idea of it. I mean I like James, and everything, but – the idea of settling down fills me with a vague sense of terror.
‘But he’s lovely,’ Sophie said. I know she’s very keen that we end up together. It’s very Sophie to want me to be with someone she’s selected specifically for me.
‘Oh yeah, yeah,’ I replied, nodding so vigorously that the woman sitting opposite me on the train looked at me as if I’d lost the plot. ‘Totally lovely. I just don’t think we’re quite there yet.’
I half-listened to Sophie chatting happily about odd, alien things, like nursery school waiting lists and house purchase timetables, making the right noises in the right places, staring out of the window as we passed the backs of suburban houses. The gardens follow a pattern. Untidy, stacked with miniature bikes and plastic toys and a huge trampoline on the grass. Neatly kept, with a greenhouse, tidy borders edged with hedges. Scruffy and chaotic, with uncut lawns and shaggy, overgrown hedges.
That’s what our garden in Albany Road looks like. Becky’s been saying she’s going to hire someone to sort it out for ages, but it’s funny, we all forget it’s there. Sophie’s going to be joining the trampoline and plastic toy society before long. When I think of that, I feel a pang of something I can’t put my finger on – it’s not jealousy, though. More the sense that she’s going to disappear out of our lives. I resolved to call her and Gen when I get back from Venice and sort out a night out, maybe dinner