Our Kind of Love by Victoria Purman Page A

physics yet to be defined – the chance of marital bliss was in inverse proportion to the number of bridesmaids you had.
    Paolo cleared his throat. ‘Was Dan there?’ Anna could hear the chill in her father’s voice, even after all these years.
    ‘Yes Dad, Dan was there. He was the best man.’ And then, swiftly and subtly, and because she knew what would come next, she threw in something she knew would distract them. ‘Ry and Julia are in Italy for their honeymoon.’
    The family collectively sighed. ‘Where in Italy? The north or the south?’ Sonia began clearing the small plates from the table and Grace hopped up to help.
    ‘I’m not sure. I didn’t get much time to talk to them at the wedding.’ Every time she mentioned the wedding she saw Joe’s face. His crinkly blue eyes and that smile that gave her heart palpitations. And why was she feeling so hot all of a sudden?
    ‘Where is Alex?’ Nonna called across the table and over the clatter of plates and cutlery.
    ‘At a meeting,’ Sonia added quickly before getting up to fetch something from the stove.
    Anna took another gulp of wine. This was it. It was time to let the cat out of the bag. ‘Actually, everyone, there’s—’
    ‘Ta da!’ Sonia appeared at Anna’s elbow and heaved a round metal dish to the middle of the table.
    The family fell silent.
    Finally Luca asked, ‘What is that?’
    ‘It’s a wok.’ Sonia lifted the lid as if she was revealing a just disappeared rabbit in a magic trick. A cloud of steam wafted to the ceiling.
    ‘You didn’t cook pasta?’ Anna felt the ground shift beneath her feet. Every Wednesday since forever she and her siblings had turned up for dinner at her parents’ house. Every Wednesday it was something reliably, culturally appropriate. Something comforting and familiar.
    Sonia waved a hand. ‘I thought I’d try something different. It’s Chinese. A stir-fry.’
    Paolo, Nonna, Luca, Grace and Anna peered suspiciously into the dish.
    ‘Is that brown rice?’ Grace asked sheepishly.
    ‘Yes, it’s brown rice,’ Sonia answered. ‘I read in a magazine that it’s much healthier for you. Your father could do to lose a few kilos. Since he retired he’s been getting fat.’
    ‘Hey,’ Paolo said with a grin, leaning back and patting his stomach. ‘I thought you liked something to hold on to.’
    ‘Dad!’ Grace and Anna shrieked in unison. Sonia passed a serving spoon to Luca and he lumped a great dollop of rice, meat and vegetables on his plate.
    Anna stared despondently into the wok. She felt tears well up and tried to blink them away. If ever she’d needed comfort food and the familiarity of all that she knew, it was tonight.
    She chugged down the last of her wine and without even asking, Paolo had the bottle in hand, filling it. First, her mother at the door. Now, her dad with the wine. She knew she was loved, felt it in the depths of her soul. She hoped it was safe to tell them. To hell with it. She placed her glass carefully at the top of her plate, picked up her fork and tinkled it against the glass, rather like people did at weddings when they wanted the bride and groom to kiss.
    ‘Everyone, I have some news.’ It took a few moments for the chatter and eating to stop and silence to descend over the table.
    Her mother dropped her cutlery with a clatter and slapped her palms to her cheeks. ‘Oh my God.’ Sonia’s face was so expectant and she appeared to be on the verge of delirious tears. Oh no.
    ‘Mum wait—’
    ‘Are you pregnant?’
    Anna felt a sharp pain behind her ribs and pressed her fingers there to stop it. This was going to be so much harder than she thought.
    ‘Well?’ Grace demanded, giving Anna a forceful nudge with her elbow. ‘Are you?’
    Anna watched the steam rise from the wok. She grasped St Christopher and began turning it in her fingers. She’d just that second realised that their dreams of being great-grandparents, grandparents, aunt and uncle had been shattered,