briefly, trying to picture them through the veil of time that had turned them into dim shadows – it was useless. She could scarcely remember what they looked like let alone conjure up a name.
‘No, sorry. I wouldn’t know where to start.’
Carys stared back, her smile softening. ‘How about if I tell you how the sessions are organised? That part is public knowledge and there may be something to help. The way the group works is by months, so all expectant mothers and their partners are invited to sessions, four calendar months before their baby’s due date.’
‘And who invites them?’ Izzy said, returning the smile, relieved that she wasn’t going to be turned away with nothing.
‘Through their GP initially. So, your friend would have had to register with a doctor’s surgery when she moved into the area.’
Carys flicked a look at her watch before shuffling the folders in front of her. ‘I do hope you find her. We were all devastated when it happened.’
Izzy made her way to the door, offering a brief thanks. Carys had been more helpful than she could have been in the circumstances and it certainly wasn’t her fault that Charlie had done what he had. She just hoped and prayed that she’d be able to find Grace after a gap of five years. She’d as good as told her he was having an affair. She hadn’t believed her at the time. Now the only question in her mind was – who with?
‘Hello, I’d like to make an appointment.’
‘Name?’
‘Madden, Mrs Grace Madden.’
‘I’m sorry. I can’t seem to find your details on the system. Which doctor did you say you were with?’
Izzy’s fingers curled around the receiver briefly before slotting it back into place, though what she really wanted to do was smash it to smithereens. She’d tried all the doctor’s practices in and around the St David’s area only to draw a complete blank. How on earth did Grace get to hear about the parenting sessions if she hadn’t registered with a GP? It was all a mystery and one she intended to solve.
‘Finished on the phone, love? You stop there and I’ll go and make you your favourite drink. There’s no need to rush off. It seems an age since we had a good old natter.’
She was around at Mam’s, simply because, after leaving the hospital, she’d been too wound up to make her way back home.
‘But I was only here a couple of days ago,’ she said, throwing her a smile over one shoulder. ‘What more could you possibly want to discuss?’
‘Nothing in particular and anyway, Christmas doesn’t really count. All that food is conducive to a bout of indigestion and not a good chat,’ her mam said with a grin, pushing a mug of chocolate into her hands, topped with marshmallows and cream. ‘Just the way you like it.’
Perhaps when she was fifteen but now wasn’t the time to say anything. Her mam was always trying to feed her up and today Izzy was just going to give in. She loved her really and, in a world that was suddenly feeling all a bit strange, that was the most important thing.
‘Thanks Mam, love you,’ she said, lifting the mug and letting the explosion of sugar assault her tongue with all the finesse of a sledgehammer. After all, there was nothing quite like chocolate to lift the spirits and it was meant to be good for you, although perhaps not with quite so many marshmallows.
‘Love you back,’ she replied, and they shared a smile as the years fell away. The drifting apart since losing Alys seemed to fade and it was just like it was in the old days before Charlie, before everything.
Hot chocolate finished, they hugged the table with their elbows, their knees nearly touching under the warped Formica, the same table Izzy used to sit at to do her homework. The same table she’d laughed and cried all over with this woman by her side. Her mother’s periwinkle-blue eyes were a little dimmed by time, the skin edged with wrinkles. Her hair was still a deep auburn mainly thanks to her fortnightly visit to the hairdresser. She put Izzy to shame with her smart matching lambs-wool jumper and skirt, the diamond hoop earrings Dad had bought her for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary glittering in the weak sun. But now wasn’t the time to bemoan the state of her own wardrobe. Izzy had more important things to think about.