duff, so the idea that it’s a bit of a challenge is news to me.
‘You’ve had two goes,’ says Gen, trying to be consoling. It’s never been her strong point. ‘I think it probably takes more than that. Look at all those people that have years of IVF.’
I spin my head round and give her A Look.
Sophie gives a wail. ‘Oh my God, what if that happens to me?’
‘I’m sure it won’t,’ I say, reassuringly. ‘I think you probably just need to not stress about it. And have sex lots.’
‘I have been. Rich says he’s feeling a bit worn out. And I’m bloody exhausted. I fell asleep at work the other day.’
‘That might be a sign you need to cool it a bit. Maybe focus on the wedding stuff instead?’ Gen flicks a glance in my direction. ‘Have you got any ideas for our dresses yet?’
Sophie shakes her head. ‘We haven’t actually made it official yet.’ She waves a naked left hand.
‘You’re not getting married?’
She shakes her head vigorously. ‘Oh we are, it’s just we haven’t had the official Will You Marry Me bit.’
‘Did you just instruct Rich he was getting married, Soph?’ Gen gives her a look.
‘I did not.’ She looks offended. ‘He did have some say in it.’
Gen gives a snort. The waiter arrives with a tray of drinks – gin and tonic for me, a beer for Gen, and a large vodka and tonic for Sophie.
‘Cheers,’ she says, clinking our glasses.
‘What happened to not drinking?’
‘Oh, bollocks to it. Just for tonight, anyway.’ She takes a large swig and gives a happy sigh. ‘God, that’s good.’
A couple of drinks later and Sophie’s feeling much better. She’s visibly relaxed, and it reminds me that in amongst all the other stuff – finding my way through this new job, the house stuff (which is what I’m calling it and definitely not the Alex stuff) – it’s so nice to have both my oldest friends living right here in the same city. I beam at them and they smile back.
‘I love you two,’ I say. ‘And that’s not the gin talking.’
We order another round of drinks. Thank goodness Sophie’s paying, because this place is astronomically expensive.
‘You should order the most tight-fitting, slinky, unforgiving wedding dress you can find,’ I say, thoughtfully. ‘I bet if you tempt fate you’ll be preggers before you know it, and you’ll have to have a bump-extension sewn in.’
‘Or you can get a Meghan Markle style dress?’ Gen’s one hundred per cent Team Meghan and a bit obsessed. ‘She looked like she’d left room for expansion in hers.’
‘D’you think?’ Sophie perks up a bit. I’m scrolling through Instagram to find photos of Meghan’s dress, and before we know it, Sophie’s writing lists and making plans and normal Sophie service is resumed. I catch Gen’s eye over the top of Sophie’s head as she scribbles down a list of wedding dress designers in her ever-present notebook, and we exchange grins. Friend duty complete.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jess
30th March, Bournemouth
I’m on the train heading south to the seaside. It’s Mother’s Day on Sunday, so I’m staying with Mum and spending the day with Nanna Beth. It’s only the second time I’ve been home since I moved – the last flying visit having to fit in around Nanna Beth’s chess tournament. I hadn’t factored in the cost of train journeys when I said I’d be back to visit as often as I could. But I speak to Nanna Beth on the phone all the time, and she’s still swapping Instagram photos with me. She’s developed a bit of a following: I showed her how to add hashtags to her posts, and it turns out there’s a whole world of elderly people out there sharing their photos. Who knew? Jav keeps joking there’s a book in it. She’s following her, and now her grandma in Mumbai and Nanna Beth are Instagram friends too.
Nanna Beth’s got a bit of an eye – I’m scrolling through her photos as we rumble out of the edges of London, past tired old buildings and graffiti-covered industrial units. The train stops and I snap a photo of a faded ghost sign and share it. Nanna B loves them.
The train pulls into Bournemouth and it feels like stepping into a pair of comfy old slippers after a long day in heels. I can smell the sea in the air and the sky stretches out huge in that way you only get at the seaside. I don’t even have to think