Best of Friends (23 page)

She didn’t sound fine, Lizzie thought. “Have you ever thought about whether you wanted children or not?” Lizzie asked delicately.

“Children …” Erin said the word as though she’d never linked the notion of pregnancy with children before. “This is all such a shock. I’m not a motherly person, to be honest. You have kids, do you?”

“Two, but they’re not exactly kids anymore,” Lizzie laughed. “They’re grown-ups. I was quite young when I got pregnant,” she added.

“Like my mother,” Erin said, looking down at her hands.

“Really?”

“She was seventeen.”

“I was twenty-two myself,” Lizzie said. “I suppose those few years do make a difference. Did your mum find it hard to cope?”

She wondered if that was what was freaking Erin out—the memory of motherhood being a struggle for a teenage mum, who wasn’t much more than a child herself.

Erin’s pale face looked even more stricken.

“I must get your husband. What’s his name again?” asked Lizzie anxiously.

“No,” begged Erin. “Don’t go. I can’t face anyone now. I can’t walk up past everyone looking this sick. When I feel a bit better, I’ll get Greg and we’ll go. But not yet. Please.”

Lizzie’s mind was doing overtime. What if this baby wasn’t Erin’s husband’s? Was that why she was so shocked by the news?

“It’s not the end of the world, you know,” she said. “Problems that look bleak now might not be later on.”

It was as if Erin didn’t hear her comforting words. “My mother didn’t cope, you see. She was too young so my grandmother took me and raised me. I thought that my aunt was my sister and that my mother was another sister who’d gone away years ago. Nobody told me the truth until I was eighteen.” She hesitated. “And then I left.”

Lizzie put her other arm round Erin’s shaking slender body. “You poor girl, it must have been such a shock. But it was a long time ago, wasn’t it? And, of course, you’re going to think about your mother at a time like this—well, if you are pregnant,” she added, seeing as they’d both taken this wild leap of faith. “But you’re an adult, not a child, and you’ve a husband. This could be a wonderful time for you.”

“You don’t understand.” Erin sounded distraught now. “I never went back home after I left. I wanted to hurt them by staying away. I sent some postcards so they knew I was alive, but I never went back, and then, when I began to think I should, it was too late. I can’t go back now. It’s all my fault.”

Tears began to fall down her face and Lizzie felt terribly sorry for her. Earlier, when she’d been introduced to Erin, she’d thought the younger woman looked utterly confident and totally in control of her life. Now she appeared frighteningly out of control. Lizzie wondered if she should ignore Erin’s request and rush into the house and find Greg.

“I’m sorry,” sobbed Erin, holding on to Lizzie’s arm as if she’d float away without an anchor. “I’m never like this usually. It’s all just such a shock.”

Relieved that Erin was being more lucid, Lizzie abandoned her idea of getting Greg. “Shock makes us think and do strange things,” she advised, “and you might feel a lot different in the morning.”

“It’s complicated,” Erin said, drying her tears on her sleeve as the napkin was now soaked. “I really don’t want children, I never did. I mean, my own mother couldn’t handle having a child. She gave birth to me and ran away. She wasn’t mother material and neither am I. Genetics strike again. That’s the only thing I’ve inherited from her.” She laughed weakly at her caustic little joke.

“But your grandmother brought you up. She’s your blood relative and she cared for you,” countered Lizzie. “So you can’t say that being unmaternal is part of your heritage.” She paused, suddenly wondering if the reason why Erin had stayed away from her real family for so long was because her grandmother hadn’t been a good mother substitute. It would be understandable that Erin didn’t want children if her own experience of childhood had been a painful one. “Was she good to you, your granny?” she asked hesitantly.

For the first time, a real smile lit up Erin’s face. “Yes.”

It wasn’t a story that Erin was used to telling, but she found it al-most a relief to pour it out to Lizzie. And telling it stopped the tears because she’d trained herself not to cry when she thought about it.

“I phoned a few times to tell them I was all right,” Erin told Lizzie dully. “Mum would cry when I phoned and one day Kerry took the phone from her and said if I was such a bitch not to come home, I could bloody well not bother them again.”

Lizzie winced, imagining the effect that would have had on the hurt and lonely teenager far from home. “That wasn’t fair,” she said.

“Kerry was protecting Mum, that’s all,” pointed out Erin. “She was very loyal and her loyalty was to Mum. After Shannon had run off and literally left Mum holding the baby, Mum was devastated. Kerry remembered all that. My doing the same must have felt like another horrible blow.”

What Lizzie still didn’t understand was how Erin could have to-tally cut off contact. “Didn’t you try again?” she asked.

“When I met Greg, I wrote a letter to Mum giving my address and saying that I wanted to come back.” Erin used her sleeve again to wipe her eyes. “There was never any reply.”

The only noise came from the hum of the party. Lizzie thought of how tragic it was that a family had been ripped apart by such circumstances. If only Erin had known who her real mother was when she was younger; if only she hadn’t run away so impulsively; if only her grandmother had replied to the letter. There were so many “if onlys” in the whole, sorry story. Just then, a figure emerged out of the darkness, and gave a gasp of surprise.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were there.” Abby had come out for some air and wandered into their part of the garden. Seeing she was interrupting a serious conversation, she turned to go back to the house, but Lizzie stopped her.

“Don’t go,” she said. “Erin’s just not feeling well.”

“Oh.” Abby looked down at the tall redhead on the bench. She looked drained and vulnerable in the moonlight, a far cry from the cool, distant woman Abby had met earlier. “Can I get you something, Erin? Water?”

“Water would be great, thanks,” Erin said.

Abby returned with a glass of water and some baby wipes.

“People with young kids have these everywhere,” she said, handing them to a grateful Erin. “Can I do anything else?”

Erin made a noise that was half laugh, half sob.

“Are you sure I’m not intruding?” Abby asked anxiously, feeling guilty over how cool she’d been when she’d met Erin earlier. Erin was so stunning and Abby, in her miserable mood, was reminded that she’d never be that young or that gorgeous again.

“No,” said Erin. “I wasn’t feeling well and Lizzie happened along and helped, and in return I told her all my problems.” She felt better enough to flash a small smile.

“Lizzie makes you tell her your life story the first time you meet her.” Abby grinned. “We didn’t know each other really until tonight and I’ve bored her rigid with chapter and verse on me.”

“Well, snap.” Erin laughed for the first time. “How do you do that, Lizzie?”

Flushing, Lizzie shook her head. “I don’t,” she protested.

“You do,” insisted Abby.

“You’re like Sally. People feel they can tell you stuff,” put in Erin. “I’ve never talked about my family to anyone other than Greg until tonight.”

“I might get on well with other women, perhaps, but I’m hopeless with men,” Lizzie sighed. “I originally came into the garden to hide from the solicitor who works next door to the surgery and who almost put his hand down my top! He wasn’t interested in telling me anything, except that he was a man of stamina. He thought when I backed away that I was playing hard to get.”

“Told you it was a lucky outfit!” teased Abby.

She was nice, thought Erin in surprise, realising that her initial assessment of Abby had been wrong.

“Ugh, lucky,” said Lizzie. “I’ll never wear it again. Jess can have it if she wants. She’s tall and slim enough to suit it, although that turquoise T-shirt suits her brilliantly too.”

“Oh, is the young girl in blue your daughter?” asked Erin with interest.

Abby nodded proudly. “Jess is fifteen and a half and she’s very clever, but she’s a bit shy. She babysits for Sally and she’s helping tonight.”

Steve’s silhouette appeared at the French windows, peering out, and he ambled down the path to where the three women were sitting at the end of the garden.

“So this is where you’ve all got to,” he said.

“We’re having a good girlie chat,” Abby said quickly, sensing that Erin wouldn’t want anyone to know she’d been ill.

Steve nodded. “Sally sent me out to tell everyone that we’re moving on to dessert now. Profiteroles with cream and real chocolate sauce. Sally’s recipe and they’re delicious.”

“We’ll be in soon,” said Abby.

“Oh, and Greg’s been looking for you, Erin. I’ll tell him you’re with good company.”

“They make you believe in true love, that pair,” sighed Lizzie as Steve went back to the house.

“I know what you mean,” said Abby, thinking of her own marriage again. She and Tom wouldn’t make anyone believe in true love. They were more the anti-true-love lobby. Or the out-of-love lobby. Unbidden, the image of Jay Garnier came into her head.

“Coming in?” enquired Lizzie. “We deserve something sweet, don’t we?”

Abby smiled ruefully. “I think we do.”

Greg and Erin left soon after dessert had been served.

“You were gone ages. I began to get worried about you,” he said as they got into the taxi.

“Oh, I was fine,” Erin lied. “Making friends.”

“They’re nice people, aren’t they?” Greg said. “I like this place, you know. It’s homey.”

“Yes, it is,” said Erin absently, her mind a long way away.

Lizzie bundled up the chiffon top when she got home and stuck it on the top of her wardrobe, vowing never to wear it again. Then again, if she hadn’t been wearing it, she’d never have rushed into the garden and been there when poor Erin was sick. Helping Erin was her good deed for the day.

Lizzie pulled on her nightie and wondered whether Erin had told her husband the news or not. It was clear that the other woman wasn’t sure how she felt about being pregnant—if she was.

Lizzie thought wistfully of her own first pregnancy. She remembered the joy she’d experienced once she’d got over the shock and Myles had asked to marry her. She’d been so happy then. Myles had loved her, she was pregnant with a precious baby and she’d had her whole life ahead of her. And what had she now? Nothing but the ability to attract sleazy men. Feeling sorry for herself, she curled up in bed and tried to sleep. Hopefully, she’d feel better in the morning.

“We’ll tidy up tomorrow,” Sally said to Steve and Delia as they surveyed the wasteland that was the house after a wildly successful party.

Delia stared at her daughter-in-law in astonishment. “Are you sick?” she teased. “I’ve never seen you be able to settle after a party until the place was spick and span.”

There was an ominous silence and Delia looked from her son to Sally. “What’s wrong?” she asked urgently.

“Nothing,” said Sally, “probably nothing.”

Delia’s hand fluttered to her chest and she sat down heavily. “What do you mean, ‘probably nothing’?”

Steve took Sally’s hand in his. “Sally’s found a lump in her right breast and she’s going to see a specialist in the breast clinic on Wednesday.”

Delia felt her heart quicken. “Oh God,” she prayed, “please let it be all right.”

“It will be,” Sally said confidently. “It will be.”

Delia and Steve exchanged a long look.

“Don’t worry,” Sally said lightly. “Dr. Morgan says he’s the best breast man in the business, and by Wednesday we’ll be wondering what we worried over. I just have lumpy breasts, that’s all. Nodular, Dr. Morgan called them. I’m going to have an ultrasound, that’s all, and I bet it’s nothing but a cyst, honestly.”

This was a rerun of the conversation Steve and Sally had had every day since Sally’s recent visit to the surgery.

“Yeah,” said Steve, “you’re probably right.” His arms enfolded his tiny wife tightly and she leaned her head against his chest, hating the fact that he was worried and wanting to comfort him.

Delia, who daily counted her blessings in having a loving family so close by her, closed her eyes and sent up a silent prayer to Daniel, her darling husband who’d died three years before. Sally had been so good to her after Daniel’s death—even though she was recovering from the death of her own father at the time—as kind and loving as Delia’s daughter, Amy.

“Yes,” said Delia firmly, “we’ve got to be positive. I’m sure it will be fine.” After all, what else was there to say?

twelve

T
he next day, Sunday, Greg got up early and drove into Cork to the bagel shop that sold even better bagels than the ones he and Erin used to buy in Chicago. He also picked up some fresh roast coffee, the Sunday papers and a bunch of heady pink tulips from a small shop on the way out of the city.

When he got home, Erin was only just out of bed. She stood at the top of the stairs, touslehaired and heavy-eyed.

“Morning, honey,” Greg said, climbing the stairs three at a time to hand her the flowers and kiss her awake.

“Oh, thank you,” she said, admiring the tulips.

“Thought they might cheer you up,” he said. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll have coffee and bagels ready, OK?”

She nodded and shuffled into the bathroom to shower. When she felt utterly scrubbed clean, she switched the shower from hot to cold and let freezing water cascade over her upturned face and body. It had been her favourite trick when she’d been moonlighting years ago and had only gone home to shower and change between jobs. Today, the icy blast had the desired effect. When Erin made it downstairs, dressed and with her wet hair sleeked back, she looked wide awake and her usual self. She didn’t feel it, though. The shock of a cold shower couldn’t remove the nagging sensation that Lizzie Shanahan was right and she was pregnant. She hadn’t been able to check because pregnancy tester kits were not among Erin’s normal health and beauty equipment, but she could buy one tomorrow after Greg had gone to work. Since she still wasn’t sure what
she
felt about this turn of affairs, she wasn’t ready for Greg’s reaction. He loved her enough to deal with her not wanting children. That might change if they were presented with the
fait accompli
of an actual pregnancy. After all, the timing wasn’t right.