Come Back to Me by Sara Foster Page A

trying not to look disturbed at this strange question. She and Chloe were quite friendly when they saw one another, and she was obviously mentally computing that he wasn’t referring to his wife.
    â€˜I didn’t, I’m sorry,’ she said politely, but with a little more restraint in her voice. She looked unsure of him now. ‘Sorry, Alex,’ she said, moving to her car. ‘I’ve got to dash, Nathan will be waiting.’
    â€˜No problem,’ he replied, trying to smile normally but feeling his face crease up oddly. Esther gave him a quick, tight smile back, confirming to him that he was looking more like a lunatic than a friendly neighbour, and got in the car, firing the engine quickly and waving without looking as she drove down the street.
    Once she was gone he took a few more glances left and right. Nothing.
    â€˜FOR GOD’S SAKE,’ he bellowed, not giving a shit any more if the whole neighbourhood decided to watch. ‘COME OUT IF YOU’RE THERE. PLEASE!’
    Silence. The only things moving in the street were flimsy branches on the skeletal trees.
    She had been so close for a few moments, and now she was gone again, and for how long he didn’t know. Maybe forever.
    As he trudged back inside, frustration making his head throb, he heard his phone ringing downstairs. He reached it just in time to see ‘Chloe’ on the small screen, and was frozen in indecision until it went silent.

21
    Chloe made her way hurriedly to Bar 38, thanking god that she was meeting her cousin for lunch. In her opinion Mikaela was capable of lightening the foulest mood, though not many of her relatives would have said the same. It was well known that, in the family, Mikaela could be found under any of the more downbeat euphemisms – she was everything from the problem middle child to the black sheep of the family to the skeleton in the closet – although they all had great trouble actually keeping her in the proverbial closet as Mikaela tended to spring out over and over again like a demented jack-in-the-box.
    At the doorway to the pub, her mobile rang. It was her mother, who barked, ‘Have you told him yet?’ and was outraged when Chloe said no. Chloe was sure this meant that Margaret had either phoned the entire gardening club already and was now waiting for her daughter to get heract together so Margaret wouldn’t look bad, or that she was suffering great pains in keeping the confidence. She was fervently wishing she hadn’t let her mother in on such a precious secret.
    When she had finished the call, she walked through the door and spotted Mikaela as her cousin rose with an excited wave and gestured to two goblet-sized wines already waiting on the table. They made small talk for a while. Chloe was enjoying the ease of female company: seeing her friends seemed to have become a frustratingly rare thing since her mother had begun competing with her job for her spare time.
    â€˜Okay, spill the beans,’ Mikaela said suddenly, startling Chloe from her reverie.
    â€˜What? There are no beans.’
    â€˜Of course there are. You look like you’ve got something you’re dying to tell me.’
    â€˜What makes you think that?’
    â€˜The way you’re acting, like, all quiet and brooding. I know you of old, Chlo. Spit it out.’
    â€˜Well,’ she hesitated for just a second, then to her chagrin found herself blurting, ‘I’m pregnant.’
    â€˜What?’ Mikaela looked gobsmacked. ‘Really?’
    â€˜Yes, really.’ Chloe attempted a feeble smile. It didn’t quite work.
    â€˜So, you’ve got a great job, you’re happily married, and you’re having a baby. Is that why you’re looking so miserable?’ Mikaela put a hand on Chloe’s arm and stroked it softly. ‘C’mon, Chloe, aren’t you pleased?’
    Chloe was taken aback by the way her life had just been described to her, as