The Baby

A MESSAGE FROM CHICKEN HOUSE

M
y grandmother had my mum a bit early, then decided to get married later on. Babies upset everything – baths, plates of food and relationships. But sometimes (not always) the love they bring changes everything too – for the better.

Lisa Drakeford tells a warm, funny, wise story that will keep you guessing about what effect one little bundle has on friendship – and everything!

BARRY CUNNINGHAM
Publisher
Chicken House

Contents

olivia february

nicola march

alice april

jonty may

ben june

Acknowledgements

Copyright

For Dan Tunstall. So sad that you'll never read this
.

And for a real-life Olivia – nothing like my fictional one.
She's had a rubbish year and I've been so proud and
impressed at the way she's handled it.
I promised her mum I'd keep an eye out for her.
This book is to make you smile, Olivia H
.

‘Don't disturb Mrs Greasly next door. You know how cross she gets about noise late at night.' Her mum tugs with anxious fingers at her handbag.

‘I know.' Olivia nods.

‘And don't excite Sandy.'

‘She'll be with Alice.'

Her dad jingles his car keys.

‘Use the carpet spray under the sink if you spill anything.' Her mum loiters on the doorstep. Olivia's dying to close the door.

‘I will.'

‘Oh, and remember Alice. Check on her, won't you? You know how scared she gets with strangers.'

Olivia stares at the doormat, tracing patterns with her toe.

Just go, will you?

‘And make sure she gets something to eat.' Her mum's eyes narrow. ‘You won't let anything horrible happen to her, will you?'

Olivia wants to scream. It fizzes in her stomach. ‘Course not.'

She throws a look at her dad, begging him to drag her mum away to the restaurant. Why is it always,
always
like this? Why, even at her seventeenth birthday party, are they still worrying about her sister? It makes her so mad. Why is it
still
about Alice?

But she takes a breath and sticks a smile on her face.

‘She'll be fine. I'll keep an eye on her. She's not been sick all day now.' It's typical of her sister to be recovering from a bug
at the worst possible moment.

She sees her mum look nervously over at her dad who shrugs and points the key at the car. Olivia sighs and half closes the door.
Please go. Please just go
.

She closes her eyes with relief when her mum snaps shut her handbag and makes steps towards the car.

At last!

But it's difficult to ignore the anxious look from her mum up towards Alice's bedroom window.

The door crunches closed and she takes the stairs up to her room two at a time. It's actually happened; after moaning and grumbling for the best part of two weeks now, her parents have finally left her to it.

At the top of the stairs she lets her shoulders sag, feels a lift in her chest, starts to smile.
Let's get this party started!

‘God, I'm so fat.' Nicola grimaces in the mirror, spreads her fingers across her belly and bends over towards the iPod for music.

She's dressed in leggings and a long ‘I
♥
NY' vest top. There's a half-finished bottle of cider on the floor beside her.

‘Don't be stupid. You look lovely.'

Nicola groans and jabs her stomach. ‘There's nothing lovely about this.'

Olivia attends to her mascara, her mouth open with focus. ‘Shut up, Nic – it's just Christmas weight. We've all got it. It takes three days to gain and three months to lose.'

Nicola shakes her head, unconvinced. ‘So where's yours?'

Olivia sifts through her make-up bag. There's a rattle of tubes and applicators between her fingers. ‘Well disguised, underneath this.' She tugs at her top, pulling it over her bum.

Nicola shrugs and averts her eyes. Olivia shakes her head. Her friend's always been the same. She's the original yo-yo dieter. Ever since Olivia's known her, from the age of seven, she's been unhappy with how she looks. She's seen Nic gain and lose weight at the drop of a hat and Nic's never satisfied with the result. And tonight, just like every other night, Olivia thinks Nic looks lovely. She's curvy in the right places, unlike Olivia who's more straight up and down. Nicola's hair is glossy and long, winding around her shoulders. Her mum describes it as her ‘crowning glory.' She has a pretty face with a heart-shaped mouth, which is enough to have boys falling over themselves for her attention. Only she has no idea. So frustrating. She has no confidence in her looks.

There's nothing Olivia can say; she's said it all before. But even so, she slips her hands on Nicola's shoulders, breathes in her musky smell and smiles at the image in the mirror. ‘Nic – you look great. Gorgeous.' She catches Nic's brown eyes. ‘You're my best friend, my oldest friend, and I wouldn't have you any other way. And when you're working for Versace you've got to remember me.' Nicola has massive aims to work for a top designer when she's older and Olivia's sure that she can do it. Her taste in fashion is brilliant.

Nicola frowns, lowering her eyes. Embarrassed. Her voice catches so it comes out as a husk. ‘You know I'll always remember you. And you look amazing too. You do all the
time. I love that top.'

Olivia pulls at it. ‘Do you think?' Pouts. ‘I'm not so sure. Jonty hates it. Says it's too low cut.'

Nicola sighs. ‘Don't listen to him. If it was up to him he'd have you in a nun's outfit.' She turns towards Olivia and checks her friend's face.

Olivia feels like she's being weighed up by an elite fashion stylist. It's nice. She respects Nicola's opinion. She waits while Nicola wipes at Olivia's eyelid with a brush. ‘You spend too long worrying about what he's going to say.'

Olivia feels a disappointed lump develop in her throat. Turns towards the cider bottle, suddenly wanting more. ‘Habit, I guess,' she mumbles.

Nicola grabs her arm – Olivia can feel her fingers dig deep into her skin. ‘Bad habits need to be broken.'

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

But Nicola lets it go. Instead she reaches over to the iPod, flicks through for a change of track and turns up the volume.

With just a few last minute touches to their clothing, some squirts of body spray and more of their favourite make-up; with some laughs over Nicola's outrageous new shoes, and a bit of posing, they're almost ready to make their grand entrance down the stairs. Jonty and his mate Adam are already downstairs having arrived just before her parents left. She can hear them setting up the speakers, jeering at each other, blasting out X-rated songs now that her parents have
finally gone.

Olivia checks the time on her phone and half hopes, half dreads the first ring of the doorbell. One thing's for sure: she could really do with their mate Ben being one of the first visitors. He can be relied on to get a party going. His cheery banter always eases even the most awkward of situations. Apart from the ones between her and Jonty. In fact, Ben is sometimes the reason for awkwardness there.

Two sharp raps on the bedroom door and Jonty walks in. He's wearing black jeans and a denim shirt. His skin is shiny and fresh and he's washed his hair. It makes him even more good-looking. He seems excited and edgy.

They smile at each other. She feels tense goosebumps rise on her neck.

‘Ready?' She notices his glance linger on her vest top, but thankfully he doesn't say anything.

There's a brief wash of his eyes over Nicola.

Olivia sees Nicola put weight on her back foot like she's nervous or worried about something.

But now there's the clatter of voices down in the hallway. They're here! Olivia takes a deep breath, walks across the landing to Alice's room, pops her head round the door where she sees her sister sitting on her bed sorting through her gemstones. ‘You OK there, Alice? I'll bring you up some pizza later.'

Alice nods happily. ‘I'm fine.'

Olivia closes the door and grins over her shoulder at the waiting Nicola. ‘Then let the party commence.'

She likes the sound of the words as they echo around her landing.

Two hours in and the party is full on.

Music blasts against walls, jars against pictures, rattles amongst glassware littered on surfaces. The quiet little semidetached house has never known such force. It literally quivers.

People are strewn around the two reception rooms. Their skin, their hair, their clothes are bathed in the glow of a good time. Boys grabbing each other in the front room, slam-dancing and moshing. Girls bent double in the lounge, laughing over phones, cracking up with drinks balanced in wavering hands. Couples with their fingers all over each other; in hair, in clothes, in mouths moist with drunken laughter. The kitchen teems with conversation and raised voices. Hard to be heard over the music.

Tiles tacky underfoot. Walls with giant shadows. Ugly, looming figures throwing exaggerated profiles against low lights and candles. Scents of perfume, sweat, beer, cider and wine. And one of a strongly fragranced candle which burns by the side of the computer. Despite the warmth of tightly packed bodies, there are blasts of icy February air which cut at ankles as they dance around the kitchen. The back door bangs open and shut as people stumble into the dark chill of the garden to smoke.

From where Olivia's standing, against the sink, next to two friends who are definitely worse for wear, she thinks it's going
well. She presses her fingers against the cool of the ceramic behind her. This is a good party. She can just feel it.

She watches Jonty over in the corner, talking with mates Adam and Durant, their profiles throwing laughter shapes against the wall. Jonty looks happy.

That's a relief. Don't want him angry, not tonight
.

Ben's dancing with a circle of friends – mainly girls. He's the centre; their faces all turned towards him, laughing. Olivia smiles with pride. He's her best boy friend. Came into her life only last year but a fierce friend all the same. Back at the start of the last school year he wandered into her Science class, a cloud of shaggy hair, shining eyes and outrageous shoes. He sat beside Olivia as it was the only free stool. Within minutes he was re-threading her friendship bands and telling her that if she liked The Horrors' music, and judging by the graffiti on her Science folder she did, then she should really revisit some original stuff from the eighties.

By the end of the lesson they were mates. He even managed to finish her question on photosynthesis.

He's now a regular visitor to her house. A day rarely passes when they don't see or meet each other. Olivia's mum thinks the world of him and even Nicola seems happy to share the friendship, they get closer every day. He's easy company, makes few demands and has both girls laughing at things which didn't seem funny before. He even makes an effort with Alice, who's unusual – to say the least – and awkward with people. But somehow Ben sees through this. He is kind and gentle with her.

It's only Jonty who doesn't get Ben. But it's sort of understandable – before Ben came along Jonty was the only boy she spoke to. It must have been a shock for him to suddenly have to share her. Besides, they are poles apart. Ben's obsessed with music and fashion; Jonty couldn't care less. He hangs around in trackies and T-shirts and hates shopping with Olivia. Anyhow, Jonty doesn't have any money. He lives with his nan and uses any money he
does
have on his gym membership and protein shakes. Ben, on the other hand, works in a cafe on Saturdays and spends all his wages on clothes and music by Sunday.

Watching Ben now, in amongst all the dancers, she feels a rush of love for him; gratitude for his friendship. She grins to herself. Maybe it's the cider.

She can't see Nicola. Now she thinks about it, she hasn't seen her for a while. Not since the first half-hour when they'd started off the dancing. She hopes she's stopped worrying about her appearance. She's normally laughing and joking with Ben or Olivia. It's weird that she's not around.

Pouring herself some more cider Olivia thinks briefly about Alice too. Sighs. She'll go and check on her in a bit. In a while. When she's had this drink. Maybe take her some pizza later.

Ben grabs her by the wrist, his eyes creased with laughter. Pulls her from the sink and her two drunken friends. ‘C'mon, dance to this. It's so good.'

She allows herself to be dragged into the circle of bodies, weaving and swaying and pounding in time to the music. The drink; the music; the voices around her; the shadows; the smells. She gets sucked in. Swirls around. A giant, laughter-filled,
cider-infused twist.

‘Where's Jonty?' Ben's sweating. It glistens on his cheeks.

‘Not sure.' She points at a boy in the corner, Ben's current love interest. ‘I see Mark made it then?'

Ben shakes his head. ‘I've gone off him. His toenails are a disgrace.' He pulls his mouth down. ‘A disgusting old-man yellow.'

She rolls her eyes. ‘You're so picky. And a bloody perfectionist.' She has to shout in his ear, it's so loud.

He slides his warm hands over hers. ‘There's nothing wrong with high standards.' Lifts his chin like he does when he's trying to make a point. ‘Something you could learn from.'

She frowns, turns her head and thinks about changing the subject. She's been down this road with Ben too often. Ben's voice is careful, close to her ear. ‘Don't really get why you still see Jonty.'

Olivia sighs. She looks around her at the swaying dancers. She stands on the edge, half dancing, half not. ‘Everyone says that. It's just … I've been with him for so long that I can't imagine what it'd be like without him.'

The music morphs into another song. Someone's slick mixing.