Page 23 of Because of Them

“A kiwi fruit?”

He nods, tipping on his heels. “Our little baby isn’t a plum anymore. The app said at thirteen weeks he is the size of a kiwi fruit.”

“You downloaded an app?”

Michael pulls our bags from the lockers, slipping them over one shoulder and placing his free hand on the small of my back.

“Come on, you can eat it on the way to the gardens.”

AUDREY

“Mummy, you have to dance too!”

I laugh with a wave, brushing off my daughter’s persistent pressure to join her on the tiny disco dancefloor. Wrongly, it appears, I had thought Maisie’s kindergarten having an all-out graduation party at a fully catered disco party centre was a wonderful idea. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the kids are having a fantastic time, but I just sat down after making small talk with a group of other mums and my feet are aching in my boots. I also thought having her partner-in-dance, Cassidy, here would give me the slack I needed to stay out of the dance firing line.

It’s an odd kind of comfortable, knowing that Maisie has someone to share her love of dance and ballet with. Although it started a little too close to jealousy, the feeling is now soothing,knowing that when Maisie is with her father she has a special relationship with Cassidy too.

I never had a village when Maisie was little, so I find it weird that one started to form after I split with her father. But it did. Which makes me feel even better about the decisions we made. Funny how they also led me here, pregnant after a wild fling with a younger man.

My hand gravitates towards my middle, cradling the bump that is finally forming. The small swell that pushes against the button of my jeans and has me living in leggings and dresses. Maybe, if I’m lucky, this village will help me with this baby too.

Clearly not taking no for an answer, Maisie skips over to me, sidestepping around her friends.

“Does your belly hurt?” She yells over the music and I cringe. This lack of filter is exactly why I’m still not ready to tell her about the baby. She has the social graces of a, well, of a five-year-old.

“No chicka, I was just thinking about how your teachers promised there would be cake.” I smirk at my little white lie, proud of how quickly it rolled off my tongue.

“Oh my gosh, are we having cake soon?” She jumps up and down, the pink and blue frills of her dress floating around her.

“In a little bit, maybe. For now, you’re stuck dancing with me and my two left feet.” I push myself off the chair, shaking off the tension in my arms and gesturing to where Maisie’s friends are dancing in the middle of the room. A handful of parents are scattered amongst the group, but most are lined against the walls, chatting away over the pounding music.

Maisie looks down at our feet, pointing her toes out to tap my own.

“Do you really have two left feet?”

Laughing, I grab her hand and lead the way into the middle of the room, right underneath the disco ball hanging from the ceiling.

“No, not really.”

Taylor Swift blends into a Disney tune that blends into something poppy that makes all the kids scream but I can’t quite recognise. The beat sounds oddly familiar but also incredibly distant and removed. If I had to place a bet, I’d say an up-and-coming superstar has sampled a song from my youth.

Maisie and I sway and spin to the music. After a while, I stop caring if I’m moving in time. I follow her lead, pointing my toes to the side, swaying my hips side to side, spinning—very wobbly—on one leg. Cassidy comes to join us, and we form a triangle of joy, celebrating Maisie. Her friends are forgotten, but I see them dancing around us. They laugh and twirl and skip. A young girl cartwheels, her oversized graduation cape tumbling around her.

“You’re not as bad as you think.” Cassidy leans in, and we link elbows, each holding one of Maisie’s hands.

“I’m just pretending I’m not a thirty-two-year-old single mum and instead I’m young and fun and drunk at a club.”

Cassidy leans her head down to rest on my shoulder. It’s only there for a second, but the gesture spreads a light feeling through me. Callum made a good choice.

“How life changes,” she muses.

Her circumstances are so different to my own, but her life is changing in unexpected ways, too. I’ve realised now how hard it must have been to hear about someone falling pregnant by accident when a pregnancy is something she will never experience. She’d messaged me the next day, apologising for acting ‘weird’ and telling me about her infertility. I couldn’t convince her that she hadn’t acted in an unusual way, and that I wouldn’t have known she was feeling uneasy if it wasn’t forher message. Even so, I apologised in turn for unloading my emotional baggage onto her.

We’ve spoken many times since then. She offered to take Maisie to dance class every week, and truth be told I’m grateful to get out of the evening trips. I will support Maisie in every way, with whatever she wants to do. But sitting amongst those other mums, with their perfect lives, while waiting for the ballet lesson to finish made bile burn in my throat. I didn’t fit in there. I’m not sure that Cassidy would either, but she loves dancing so much that she doesn’t seem to mind.

As well as taking Maisie to dance class, Cassidy drops off fresh flowers and leftover baked treats from her boutique every week. She asks about my painting, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like I have a friend who really understands the way painting makes me feel. I guess being a creative type herself, she can relate to the tranquil feeling that washes over me whenever I sit down at my easel.

We’ve somehow fallen into an easy friendship, united by the changes in our lives in the most unexpected way.

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