living a happy life.’
I watch her shuffle over to the TV and take her place by Franklin’s side. He has no idea how she feels about him, but she’s content just to be near him. And he’s kind to her, as he is to everyone. But is this enough for Edie? I guess it has to be. Her words ring in my ears as I trudge up to Velma’s office. Was she right? Did I make the right decision?
Although, when you drill right down to it, I didn’t make any decision at all. All I did was ask a question.
Chapter 10
Sort out job: tick. Book doctor’s appointment: tick. Throw away wedding dress: tick.
Well, OK, I lied there. I can’t bring myself to throw it away, but I’ve shoved it into a black bin bag and put it in the loft. Where it will no doubt go mouldy because it’s still a bit damp, but I just can’t bear to look at it anymore.
I’ve put my ring away in my make-up bag, along with the locket. Paul gave the ring to me for safe keeping, afraid he’d lose it and not willing to trust it to either of his two best men. Typical of Paul that he couldn’t choose which of his two best friends to pick and ended up having both of them. He always was a have-your-cake-and-eat-it kind of guy.
Being angry with him helps, but only a little. And when I start to picture Paul having to explain to his friends how there isn’t going to be a wedding after all, my mind pulls down the shutters. It’s a self-protection thing. My dad wouldn’t be drawn on the details. I guess he thought they would be too painful for me to hear about.
The last item on my to-do list is to make a decision about my living arrangements. The way I see it, I have five options. I could carry on living here, in my own home, and force Lipsy and Robert and their three-week-old baby to move out. Unsurprisingly, this is not my preferred option. Or I could carry on living here, in my own home, with them. Ditto above. This tiny house is cramped for two independent adults; it was uncomfortable for three; impossible for three and a baby. It will be beyond impossible for three adults and two babies.
Option three is to move back in with my mum and dad for a while. Well, we might as well just draw a thick black line through that one right off. Option four, a surprise development, is the offer of Jean’s spare room. But Jean isn’t what you’d call a close friend, and while she might develop into one given time, I wouldn’t feel comfortable imposing on her that way ...
OK, the real reason is that I’m planning to keep the baby a secret at work just a little while longer. Which might get tricky if I’m living with a colleague.
Which really leaves only option five: find myself somewhere else to live. Alone. At least for a little while. For the summer, say. When the baby’s due – whenever that is – I’ll move back home and Lipsy and Robert can be the ones to move out. But at least my conscience will be clear.
Right now, I don’t need anything else to weigh heavy on my conscience. If I have to sacrifice some short-term comfort for my daughter’s happiness, so be it. At least I’ll be making someone happy.
At least I’ll have someone’s approval.
*
Church Street, Derby
Friday 9th March
Dear Stella,
I’ve sat down to write this letter at least twenty times but each time I find I don’t know where to start. I still can’t believe what happened – I can’t believe you’d throw away our future just because of a silly misunderstanding. I’ve wracked my brains to come up with the real reason, and I can only assume that you had cold feet because deep down you just don’t want to marry me. Everything else, all your worries – Lipsy and her baby, moving away – we could have sorted out. I know we could. I’d have driven you back there myself every Friday, or at the very least every other weekend. Now what am I supposed to do? Could you tell me that? Am I supposed to just carry on with our plans, our future, all that we’d talked about, on my
I watch her shuffle over to the TV and take her place by Franklin’s side. He has no idea how she feels about him, but she’s content just to be near him. And he’s kind to her, as he is to everyone. But is this enough for Edie? I guess it has to be. Her words ring in my ears as I trudge up to Velma’s office. Was she right? Did I make the right decision?
Although, when you drill right down to it, I didn’t make any decision at all. All I did was ask a question.
Chapter 10
Sort out job: tick. Book doctor’s appointment: tick. Throw away wedding dress: tick.
Well, OK, I lied there. I can’t bring myself to throw it away, but I’ve shoved it into a black bin bag and put it in the loft. Where it will no doubt go mouldy because it’s still a bit damp, but I just can’t bear to look at it anymore.
I’ve put my ring away in my make-up bag, along with the locket. Paul gave the ring to me for safe keeping, afraid he’d lose it and not willing to trust it to either of his two best men. Typical of Paul that he couldn’t choose which of his two best friends to pick and ended up having both of them. He always was a have-your-cake-and-eat-it kind of guy.
Being angry with him helps, but only a little. And when I start to picture Paul having to explain to his friends how there isn’t going to be a wedding after all, my mind pulls down the shutters. It’s a self-protection thing. My dad wouldn’t be drawn on the details. I guess he thought they would be too painful for me to hear about.
The last item on my to-do list is to make a decision about my living arrangements. The way I see it, I have five options. I could carry on living here, in my own home, and force Lipsy and Robert and their three-week-old baby to move out. Unsurprisingly, this is not my preferred option. Or I could carry on living here, in my own home, with them. Ditto above. This tiny house is cramped for two independent adults; it was uncomfortable for three; impossible for three and a baby. It will be beyond impossible for three adults and two babies.
Option three is to move back in with my mum and dad for a while. Well, we might as well just draw a thick black line through that one right off. Option four, a surprise development, is the offer of Jean’s spare room. But Jean isn’t what you’d call a close friend, and while she might develop into one given time, I wouldn’t feel comfortable imposing on her that way ...
OK, the real reason is that I’m planning to keep the baby a secret at work just a little while longer. Which might get tricky if I’m living with a colleague.
Which really leaves only option five: find myself somewhere else to live. Alone. At least for a little while. For the summer, say. When the baby’s due – whenever that is – I’ll move back home and Lipsy and Robert can be the ones to move out. But at least my conscience will be clear.
Right now, I don’t need anything else to weigh heavy on my conscience. If I have to sacrifice some short-term comfort for my daughter’s happiness, so be it. At least I’ll be making someone happy.
At least I’ll have someone’s approval.
*
Church Street, Derby
Friday 9th March
Dear Stella,
I’ve sat down to write this letter at least twenty times but each time I find I don’t know where to start. I still can’t believe what happened – I can’t believe you’d throw away our future just because of a silly misunderstanding. I’ve wracked my brains to come up with the real reason, and I can only assume that you had cold feet because deep down you just don’t want to marry me. Everything else, all your worries – Lipsy and her baby, moving away – we could have sorted out. I know we could. I’d have driven you back there myself every Friday, or at the very least every other weekend. Now what am I supposed to do? Could you tell me that? Am I supposed to just carry on with our plans, our future, all that we’d talked about, on my
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