Page 77 of The Notecard
‘I thought it was four tests?’
‘I did two more after we talked,’ says Keri, and I can’t help but laugh.
‘Sorry, I shouldn’t laugh.’
‘No, it’s okay,’ says Keri. ‘I’m going to keep the baby, Meg. I have to. Hugh and I made it, and I know it’s not ideal, it’s not what we had planned, but it happened. We’ll make it work.’
‘That’s wonderful, Keri, and for the record, I think you’ll be an amazing mum.’
‘I think so too,’ says Keri, and then she cries again, and this makes me start crying.
We both cry down the phone for a minute. I don’t know about Keri, but I’m thinking about the fact I’m going away for six months, and when I get back, Keri is going to be very pregnant, and life will be so different. I’m keeping my room in the flat, but what if Hugh and Keri decide to live together? I love them, but they won’t want me hanging around. They will need their own space. Then after the baby comes, life will be different again. I’ll be aunt Meg. Aunt Meg, god, it sounds so old. The days of Keri and I sitting in the flat, drinking, laughing, watching Grey’s Anatomy with a takeaway, and me popping out for a cigarette are definitely over, and as happy as I am for Keri, for the future she’s going to have, I’m sad for the life we’re leaving behind. She took me in when I was at my lowest point and helped me through the darkest days after the breakup with James. Without her, I wouldn’t be where I am now.
We both stop crying, and then there’s a sudden and loud pounding on my door. I tell Keri I have to go, and that I’ll call her later. I get up and answer and Mum is standing there looking frantic. Something awful must have happened.
‘What is it? What’s happened?’
‘It’s Laura,’ says Mum, bereft. She looks shaken to her core. I prepare myself for bad news.
‘What, Mum? What’s happened? Is it the flowers?’
‘No, Megs, we sorted the flowers.’
‘Is it Emma? Has she said something? Is it the dress? Has Simon called the wedding off?’
‘No love,’ says Mum, almost in tears. ‘It’s her phone. It’s on ten percent power and she can’t charge it in her room. Can I charge it here?’
‘That’s it? That’s the big drama?’
‘Yeah,’ says Mum. ‘If her phone dies, Megs. I mean, can you imagine? On her big day.’
‘Just plug it in, Mum.’
‘You’re a lifesaver,’ says Mum, rushing into my room to plug in Laura’s phone.
I think Mum might have lost her mind and all sense of perspective.
Nick
‘Are you sure you packed everything?’ says Mum.
‘Yes, Mum,’ I say, slightly annoyed that she’s asked me the same question four times.
Mum and Michael are here. The movers have just left with all the furniture and the flat is empty except for a few things I’m taking in the car. The photo of Dad and me. The lava lamp. My espresso machine. A few boxes of personal stuff. Mementos.
‘It looks so empty,’ says Mum, standing in my living room and looking around. Michael, sensing my annoyance and Mum’s inevitable breakdown into tears, suggests getting coffee.
‘We’ll pop to the place on the high street. What do you want, Nick?’ says Michael.
‘A flat white please,’ I say, smiling at Michael. ‘Thank you.’
‘I should stay here with Nick. Just in case he needs something,’ says Mum.
‘Come on, Sarah. Leave him alone for five minutes,’ says Michael. ‘In case you’ve forgotten, he’s a grown man. He’ll be just fine.’
Mum and Michael are both still tanned from their holiday in Ibiza. When they got back, it’s all I heard about for the next two weeks. Mum had the best time. The house was amazing. The beach was incredible, and the weather, not too hot but warm, just right. The local people were so lovely, and the food, Nick, the food, oh my god, and especially the fish, unbelievable. You have to go. You’ll love it. He would love it, wouldn’t he, Michael?
I am happy for her. For Michael too. They’re quite the couple these days. It makes leaving for Nottingham a lot easier knowing they’re together. They’re already planning on going back to Ibiza in a few months. Mum can’t wait. She told all of her friends from the book club, and they’re all so jealous. I can only imagine how Mum introduces Michael to everyone: This is Michael Byron. He had a number one hit in the Eighties, A Call To You, yes, he wrote that and was on Top of the Pops when Top of the Pops meant something, and he has a house in Ibiza. It’s right on the beach. You must go, the fish is to die for.
