Page 63 of The Three of Us
‘But I met someone new today. Someone fun and uncomplicated. And single! He’s Rosie’s brother-in-law and he’s called Darren or Darwin or something like that, although everyone just calls him Daz. And we really seemed to get on well. It’s early days but if I do see him again, if I let myself get too close, then there could be a pretty big stumbling block up ahead, because he lives thousands of miles away… in Australia.’
‘Distance is irrelevant, Carly, and you’re making problems before they even exist. Take it a step at a time. See how you get on, and if it’s meant to be… well, just listen to your heart, and go where it takes you. To the moon and back, if necessary. At least you can get to Australia on a plane. No space rocket required! Now, get that DVD on. I’m in need of a bit of Richard Gere.’
‘Oh, yeah? Which particular bit?’
‘Carly! I swear I have no idea what you mean. I’m a respectable widow woman, I’ll have you know. I must say, though, I quite fancy a wedding on some hot sunny beach, with the sand between my toes, and a lovely new floppy hat.’
‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, Mum. I’ve only just met the guy.’
‘Oh, I’m not talking about your wedding, Carly. I’m talking about me and Richard Gere. Well, we can all dream, can’t we?’ And then she curls her legs up on the sofa beside me and we settle in for a bit of much-needed romance.
Chapter 36
Molly
It’s Friday, the day of the scan, the one where they will finally find out the sex of the baby, and Molly is quietly excited. The plan is to head for Norfolk this evening, straight after the appointment, and share the news with both families before they tell anyone else, although her mum is still insistent that it won’t be news to her. She already knows that the baby is a boy and it always has been.
Molly is busy baking. She’s heard about a little market a short bus ride away that’s held on alternate Sundays and she’s thinking of taking a stall before Christmas, selling decorated cupcakes with snowy toppings and trying out a range of gingerbread biscuits in festive shapes, as gifts or for hanging on the tree as decorations. She has made a small trial batch of gingerbreads as a present for Sian and Ralph, who she hasn’t seen since the accident in their hall, using a dog-shaped cutter and adding red icing collars, little eyes and a black tip to the tails. She just knows they’ll love them.
She is making cakes to take home to Shelling too, of course. She could hardly set up a gender-reveal cake business and not make some to mark her own big moment. Her parents have booked a table at the Brown Cow for dinner, but there will always be room for cake. She smiles at the thought of them all round the table, her own family and Jack’s, doing a countdown and then biting into the cakes at the exact same moment, everybody finding out together whether the secret centre is pink or blue.
She lays out all the ingredients, the two bottles of food colouring standing side by side. There won’t be time after leaving the hospital to come back and bake, if they are to catch the early evening train. She knows it will be a waste but there is no option but to bake cakes with middles in both colours, and then throw the ‘wrong’ ones away, maybe feed them to the pigeons outside the station. They won’t care what colour they are.
Molly sings along to a tune on the radio as she works. She hadn’t expected to settle in London, much as she had been willing to give it a try, but being pregnant, making friends, and getting absorbed in her baking, have given her new purpose. Yes, a bigger flat with an extra bedroom, and definitely a bigger kitchen, would be nice, but that would all come in time. There is only so long a baby can sleep in a small cot beside their bed. It, he, she will need a room of its own soon enough. And Jack will want to move onwards, upwards too. There will be better jobs, more responsibility, more money. Maybe more children too. She thinks he has finally got his head around the idea of becoming a dad and, while still not exactly singing about it, there has been a sort of acceptance lately, maybe even a touch of excitement. He’s still asking regularly about which fruit or vegetable he can compare it to, so that has to be a good thing. And he does know what the soon-to-be large banana or bunch of carrots look like, which is an improvement on the mysteries of the artichoke dimensions the baby has apparently reached this week. Jack wouldn’t know how big an artichoke was supposed to be if his life depended on it. Not that she would either!
She stirs the cake mixture with a big wooden spoon. Something about the physical effort, the idea of her own gender-reveal offerings made lovingly by hand, keeps her away from the electric mixer this morning. They are going to be bigger than usual, simply because they are hers and Jack’s. In her head, she counts out how many cakes she will need for the family, then adds a few more to allow for possible damage en route, and another one for Flossie, the dog.
Jack was in a rush this morning. It’s only a few days before his pet project goes ‘live’. She knows very little about it, just that it has to go well. It’s a matter of reputation, satisfaction, pride. His first really important piece of work since they arrived, his first chance to prove himself to the consultancy firm he works for now, a step on the ladder towards the next challenge, whatever and wherever that might be.
She had made a grab for him as he left, laying his hand on her belly, planting a kiss on his cheek. ‘You won’t forget, will you? This is important, Jack, and I want you there with me. To meet our baby together. The appointment is at four o’clock, so I need you back here by half past two really to allow plenty of time, if we’re going together on the Tube, and taking our weekend bag and the cake carrier with us. We are, aren’t we?’
‘Of course. Well, I hope so. But you know how it is. I might get held up, and you can’t carry all that stuff by yourself, so if I’m not here by three, get a taxi to the hospital and I’ll meet you there. Worst-case scenario though, because I will do my absolute best to get home in time so we can go together.’
‘Looking forward to finally knowing?’
He nods. ‘And to proving your mum wrong if it’s a girl, obviously.’
She had nudged him, laughing. ‘She won’t like that!’
She wonders if Jack is secretly hoping for a girl. And, if he is, is it only to get one over on her poor mum? He’ll be teasing her forever if she’s wrong.
The phone rings just as she’s putting the cakes into the oven.
‘Mum. Talk of the devil! I was just thinking about you.’
‘All good, I hope?’ her mum says, not waiting for a response. ‘Just calling to check on your train time. Your dad will come and meet you at the station. But don’t you go telling him, will you? On the drive over. I want to be the first to know.’
‘Of course I won’t. Jack’s mum will be bursting to find out too, and it’s only fair we tell you all together. We’re hoping to catch the five thirty train, so we should get in to Norwich about twenty past seven. We’re pushing things a bit with Tubes and traffic and everything, and knowing what hospitals are like the scan could well be running late, so if we’re unlucky we might have to catch a later one. Then it could be quite a late dinner, I’m afraid.’
‘That’s fine, love. The rest of us will meet in the pub for a drink anyway, then your dad’ll bring you straight there to join us. Oh, I’m that excited I don’t think I’ll be able to eat a thing!’
‘Well, leave room for cake.’
‘Oh no. Nothing sweet for me, love. I’m watching my waistline. Just my usual pie and mash.’
Molly smiles to herself. Pie and mash is her mum’s idea of a diet. With lashings of gravy too, probably! ‘You’ll want this cake, Mum, I promise you. See you later.’
Molly blows a loud kiss down the line and hangs up.