Page 49 of The Notecard
Mum and Michael will be here soon. The lamb is almost done. The roast potatoes need another thirty minutes. I’m in the kitchen when the doorbell goes. Mum and Michael aren’t due yet. I answer and it’s Rob. He sounds drunk. I let him in and after a moment, he walks into my flat.
‘Nick!’ says Rob.
He’s definitely drunk. He stumbles. He gives me a hug.
‘What happened? I thought you weren’t drinking until Fee was pregnant?’
‘I slipped, but it’s fine, mate, honestly. No worries. Do you have any food, I’m starving?’
Rob walks into my flat, staggers a little, and then falls onto the sofa. He laughs.
‘What happened? Does Fee know where you are?’
‘Fee. Fee is fine. Fine Fee. Fee fine. Not pregnant yet, but fine.’
‘I’ll make you some coffee,’ I say, walking into the kitchen.
Rob needs to sober up before he can even think about going home. I turn the kettle on, get the cafetière ready, and think about making him something to eat. He needs something to absorb the alcohol. He needs fat and carbohydrates. I go with a bacon sandwich.
‘What happened?’ I ask.
‘A girl at work was leaving. Everyone was going to the pub. I was just going to have one. Honestly, mate, just one.’
‘Then you had seven.’
‘Eight, actually,’ says Rob. ‘Oh fuck, Fee’s going to kill me, isn’t she?’
‘She might unless I can sober you up. Stay here. I’ll get you a bacon sandwich, and a big cup of coffee.’
‘I love you, man, you’re the best.’
I smile at my best friend, then go back into the kitchen and finish his bacon sandwich and coffee. It’s still relatively early. I should be able to sober him up before Fee suspects anything.
I remember when Rob and I were about seventeen. We had just started sixth form and it was just before Christmas. We’d got hold of a bottle of something. Vodka, I think. We bought a bottle of coke and went to a local park. It was the first time we’d got really drunk. Staggering around, puking, and behaving like drunk idiots. It was also the time I realised I could hold my drink far better than Rob. He was a mess. I kept myself together well enough to get him home, explain to his parents what had happened, before I went home myself. I was okay, but poor Rob couldn’t handle it. We’re back in the same place all these years later. Me trying to sober him up. I hand him the bacon sandwich and put the coffee on the table. I tell him it will help.
‘Thanks,’ says Rob, before he looks at me, his eyes sad, tears starting to form. ‘I just want Fee to get pregnant, that’s all, mate. I just want her to be happy. I want us to have a baby.’
‘I know, mate,’ I say. ‘I know.’
I can see how much Rob wants to have a baby with Fee. I can see the pain of it etched across every square inch of his face. I suppose they call it trying for a reason, but it seems a little unfair. As if by trying to have a baby you’ll get pregnant, and if you can’t conceive for any number of reasons, it means you aren’t trying hard enough. It’s clear that Rob and Fee are trying their best, but it doesn’t really matter how hard you try. It’s not about the effort you put in. I see sixteen-year-old girls all the time at the hospital who get pregnant by mistake. I see them trudging in with their parents or with sullen, terrified looking boyfriends, or sadly on their own to either terminate the pregnancy or get help. They weren’t trying. Rob is trying so hard, but there’s nothing he can really do but hope.
Meg
Ihave no idea why I slept with Harry. It was a mistake. I was at work and everyone was going out for a drink. I wasn’t really in the mood, but thought, why not? I hadn’t been out in a few weeks. Harry hasn’t been working with us for long. He moved from Bath after university, had a couple of other jobs, and now he’s with us. He’s handsome. He goes to the gym and has an amazing body (basically hairless too, as I found out, which made me feel like a woolly fucking mammoth because I wasn’t prepared for a one-night stand). Two drinks turned into six, then it was dinner, more drinks, and people were talking about a club. I wasn’t up for a club and neither was Harry. We shared an Uber, and because Harry was a gentleman, he insisted we go to mine first. Things got heated in the Uber, we kissed, he ended up coming in and spent the night.
It was fine. The sex was fine. We were both drunk, so it wasn’t great, and it was Harry from work. He’s good looking, but not my type. He talks about sport far too much, and I think he’s the sort of person who only watches Hollywood films that involve enormous explosions. Sex with him was a bit like that. Quite a lot of action, loud, but ultimately it lacked any sort of emotional depth so when it was done, I was left feeling nothing. The whole thing was a bit of a disaster, but what made it so much worse was that when Harry was leaving, Nick walked past. I could have literally died. The chilling look of disappointment on his face. The thing I wanted to say to him and have wanted to say since that moment in his flat with the notecard, is that I like him. I think we have a connection, a chemistry, there’s something between us, and even though I don’t know what it is, that the timing is awful, it’s still there. Instead I slept with Harry from work.
‘Are you going to tell me what’s going on?’ I say to Keri.
We’re in the kitchen. She looks tense.
‘What do you mean?’
‘What do I mean? You acted like a crazy, obsessive, maniac girlfriend in there. You repeated what Hugh said in a childish voice and stormed out.’
I look at Keri, my best friend, and she looks back at me. Her face breaks.
‘Do you think Hugh noticed?’
