What Goes Around: - By Carol Marinelli Page 0,29

rang to say that Lucy might be stopping by with Charlotte to visit the baby later this afternoon. I was about to say I’ll come home, because I really can’t stand the thought of coming face to face with Lucy, but then Alice uttered the immortal words - ‘What’s happening for dinner?’

Honestly! You raise three independent girls, yet as soon as they cross back over the threshold, it's like having teenagers again. After he left, when I had to muster everything I could, just to get out of bed, the question would be the same.

Every night.

When I’m home, I am cleaner, chef, coffee maker, grief counsellor and sounding board and frankly, today, I'd rather face Lucy.

‘Surprise me,’ I say and hang up the phone and then I feel a bit mean, they have just lost their dad.

I’ve lost him too.

I sit there in the quiet.

I lost him a long time ago, I remind myself.

But it hurts.

Perhaps rather more than it should.

And there’s no one I can tell.

It’s the same as the first time really – I just have to carry on.

I see my granddaughter stirring; see her little eyes open. She's such a good baby, she doesn't wake with a cry, she just pops in her thumb.

I actually want her to wake up just so that I can cuddle her, she’s been my only saving grace this week.

Apart from Paul.

I pick her up, even though she’s still asleep and it must be wind but I swear she’s smiling as I stand there holding her, blushing like a teenager as I recall.

Paul kissed me last night.

I was starting to think that maybe we were just friends, that maybe I’d got it all wrong but last night, when he dropped me home from the hospital, as I went to get out of the car, he stopped me.

My face is on fire as I remember the shock of a kiss that got just a little bit out of hand.

I thought I was past all that.

I was sure I was past all that.

Maybe I’m not.

I let out a small laugh.

She’s awake now and she’s such a dot, she’s just gazing up at me and I smile down to her.

‘Oh, the stories your Nanny could tell you,’ I say to her.

It’s not wind.

I swear she smiles back at me.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Lucy

It’s only when we turn into the hospital that I wonder if being here will upset Charlotte - but she doesn't seem to relate it to Monday. She's chattering away about the baby. I've never known her so excited, but then, I guess it's the first baby she's ever really had anything to do with. I'm an only child, so she doesn't have any cousins on my side and Bonny lives on the other side of the world and Eleanor’s other two are much older.

‘Do you think I'll get to hold her?’ Charlotte is holding the present as if it’s the baby as we walk along the corridor. ‘Do you think Eleanor will let me hold her?’

‘I think we’ll just have a little look today. She’s very new…’ I don't want Charlotte getting her hopes up. I know how horribly awkward this could be, but Gloria surely knows that I’m coming. She’ll probably have gone home, just in case, and Eleanor is always really nice to Charlotte.

Not today.

Eleanor doesn't look up and she doesn't look over as we walk into the room, she just carries on staring out of the window.

And Gloria is there.

I want to turn and run.

I want to push Charlotte forward and tell her that I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.

I do not want to face Gloria.

I do not want to be here.

Except I am.

Whatever Gloria thinks of me, I'm very grateful when she puts it aside and smiles and speaks to Charlotte.

‘You came at just the right time!’ Gloria says to Charlotte. ‘She's just starting to wake up.’

‘I’ve got a present for her.’ Charlotte hasn’t noticed that Eleanor is ignoring her. She’s trying to be polite and not just dash to the baby, as she wants to. She’s trying to hand Eleanor the parcel but she doesn’t even give Charlotte a glance. I know exactly how Eleanor feels, because all I want to do is lie in a bed and stare out of a window. I want to not have to get up when Charlotte cries, or not have to answer the phone, or door, or even speak. Yes, I know how Eleanor feels, because I’d far rather be doing what she

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