The Year of Taking Chances (20 page)

‘Well, I’ve been better,’ Saffron replied breezily with a brave, trying-her-hardest sort of smile, but her shoulders sagged, a dead giveaway.
No, she was not okay.
‘Come in.
It’s good to see you again.’

‘You too.
When did you get here?
And how long are you staying this time?’

‘I arrived a few days ago.
Kind of a spur-of-the-moment decision really, just upped and left.
I’m not sure how long I’ll stay.’
She hesitated as if she was about to say
more, but then plastered on that terrible fake smile again instead.
Who was she trying to kid?
Gemma had been staring despair full in the face herself recently and she recognized a fellow sufferer
from twenty paces.

‘Come in, anyway.
My drink options are limited to tea or coffee, but I’ve just bought some chocolate Hobnobs, which you’re welcome to share.’

In the small kitchen Saffron filled the kettle and took two clean mugs out of the cupboard while Gemma sat at the table.
‘How are things then?
Last time I saw you, we were dancing under
that glitterball in your living room and making our New Year’s resolutions.’

‘That’s right.’
Gemma snorted.
‘And planning world domination after reading our fortune-cookies.
Not that I’ve made my fortune yet, sadly.
Quite the opposite, to be
honest.’

She must have been sounding more despondent than she intended, because Saffron quirked an eyebrow.
‘That doesn’t sound good.’

‘No.’
There was a waiting sort of silence.
Cards-on-the-table time.
‘It’s my husband,’ she said heavily after a few moments.
‘Gone and broken his back,
hasn’t he?
Well, a couple of vertebrae anyway, and an ankle for good measure, too.
So he’s stuck at home, out of work, and it’s all been pretty .
.
.
’ Her throat felt tight
all of a sudden.
‘Pretty shit, frankly.’

Saffron slid into the chair opposite her, abandoning the tea-making.
‘Oh no.
So sorry to hear that.
He is going to be all right, isn’t he?’

‘Yeah, eventually.
But in the meantime things are a bit tight, money-wise.
I’m working in the pub and taking on some dressmaking jobs, but we’re kind of hand-to-mouth right
now.’
Now it was Gemma’s turn to slap on an artificial smile.
Enough already.
‘But we’ll be okay.
We’ll manage.
How about you?’

Saffron knotted her fingers together in her lap.
‘Well, the short version is that I’m pregnant and the father doesn’t want to know, which is absolutely fine by the way –
I mean, I can totally cope on my own.’

Whoa.
So that was why she looked so strained and tired.
‘Of course you can,’ Gemma told her bracingly; the only possible response.

‘But then the other day I went along for a scan and .
.
.
’ Her face crumpled.
‘And they said there might be complications – because I’m so bloody ancient and
decrepit, basically.
But I’ve got to wait f .
.
.
f .
.
.
four weeks for another test to f .
.
.
f .
.
.
find out!’
She put her head in her hands and burst into sobs.

‘Oh, love,’ cried Gemma, rushing round the table to put an arm around her.
Every pregnant woman’s worst fear.
‘Oh God, what a nightmare.
How awful.’
She stroked
Saffron’s hair, feeling desperately sorry for her.
And the father .
.
.
He doesn’t know this yet?’

Saffron shook her head, red-eyed.
‘He wouldn’t care anyway.
I tried to tell him about the baby, but he .
.
.
he’s got another girlfriend now.’

Gemma’s jaw dropped in indignation.
‘Already?
That’s bloody charming, isn’t it?
Sounds like you’re better off without him.’

‘Well, that’s the thing,’ Saffron said, her voice laced with misery.
‘It was an accident.
We’d only been together a few weeks.’

‘Oh no.’
Gutted.
‘That must have come as a surprise.’

‘Tell me about it.
And at first I was so freaked out and shocked I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to keep the baby.
That’s why I came here at New Year, to try and get my head
around everything.’
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
‘Then I decided I really
did
want the baby, so I wrote him a letter to tell him about it.’

‘And what did he say?’

‘Nothing.’
You could see the pain in Saffron’s face.
‘Absolutely nothing.
In the letter I mentioned the scan, in case he wanted to come along, but no.
Didn’t
show.’

Gemma shook her head.
‘The bastard.
Honestly,
men
.
What would it have taken for him to make one phone call?
To meet you and talk about it, like a grown-up?
Some people have no sense
of decency.’
She squeezed Saffron’s shoulder and straightened up.
‘Let me make you that tea.
No, sit there, I’ll do it.
Where are these Hobnobs, then?
You need to keep your
strength up, remember.’

‘Thanks,’ Saffron said, as Gemma made the tea and tipped half the packet of biscuits onto a plate.
‘I don’t know how I’m going to manage.
I’m terrified of
having to do everything on my own.
I haven’t got a clue about babies.’

‘Most people feel like that at first,’ Gemma assured her.
‘I know I did.
As for the test – an amnio, is it?
It’s the hospital taking precautions, that’s all,
taking extra care of you.
Look, if you give me a bit of notice, I’ll come with you if you want.
I will!’
The words were out before she remembered her new job in the pub, not to mention
how expensive it was to get into London on the train these days.

Saffron looked as if she was about to cry again.
‘That is so sweet of you.
Thank you.’
She rubbed her eyes.
‘My sister said the same when I Skyped her last night, but
it’s not exactly practical because .
.
.
’ She broke off, sniffing, and stood up.
‘Sorry, let me just grab a tissue and blow my nose.
Back in a minute.’

She left the room and Gemma heard her thudding upstairs to the bathroom.
Just then Saffron’s mobile started ringing on the table.
Caller unknown
, it said on the display.

Gemma hesitated.
‘Your phone’s ringing!’
she called, but there was no answer.
The walls in these stone cottages were so thick, the sound didn’t travel much at all.
After
three more rings, Gemma picked up the phone and answered it.
‘Hello, Saffron’s phone?’
she said politely.

‘At last!’
came a flustered voice.
‘I tried the office and they said you were ill, but I was so desperate to talk to you, I had to try.
You won’t
believe
what
Troy’s done now, the despicable little shit .
.
.
’

‘Oh.
Excuse me?
This isn’t actually Saffron,’ Gemma said over the garbled torrent.
‘Sorry, I just picked up her phone.
She’s upstairs.’

‘In the flat?
But I just tried ringing there.
Where are you?’

‘I’m .
.
.
’ Gemma hesitated.
‘Well, in Suffolk.
I live next door to the cottage where—’

‘Suffolk?
She didn’t tell me she was going to Suffolk!’
The voice was familiar for some reason, shrill and indignant as it was.
‘So where are you?
I’ll drive
over.’

‘Um .
.
.
’ Gemma wished Saffron would hurry up and take over this call herself, but now she could hear the loo flushing and water running upstairs.
‘I .
.
.
Look, who is
this?’

‘It’s B—’ For a moment Gemma thought the line had gone dead, but then the woman said, ‘It’s her sister.’

‘Oh!
Shall I get her to call you back?’

‘Tell you what, just give me the address and I’ll drive over.
Chat about it with her in person.
I could do with getting out of London.’

There was something odd about this conversation, but Gemma didn’t want to be rude or start quibbling, especially when Saffron had just said herself how nice her sister had been about
offering to come to the amnio with her.
Besides, judging by the state Saffron was in, a visit from her sister was probably exactly what she needed right now.
‘Okay,’ she said haltingly,
then proceeded to give her directions to Larkmead and the cottage.

‘Splendid.
Thank you!
I’ll head off immediately.
Tell her to put some wine in the fridge, for goodness’ sake!’

Gemma put the phone down, frowning.
She hadn’t expected Saffron’s sister to sound quite so bossy.
And why would she think Saffron had any wine, when she knew she was pregnant?

‘Sorry about that,’ Saffron said, coming back into the room a minute later.
‘My bladder – honestly, it thinks it’s a tap these days.’

Gemma smiled faintly.
‘I remember that, from being pregnant with my two.’
She nodded down at the phone.
‘I just took a call for you while you were upstairs, I hope that’s
okay.
I did try shouting to you, but I don’t think you heard.’

‘Who was it?’

‘Your sister.
She said she’s going to get in her car and come straight over.
I gave her the address.’
She paused.
‘It was a bit weird, really.’

Saffron’s pale-blue eyes had opened very wide.
‘Eloise?
What does she want?
How did she sound?’

‘Well .
.
.
Kind of manic, really.
She was saying something about Troy.
Being a despicable little shit?’

‘
Troy?
But he’s .
.
.
’ Saffron’s jaw dropped and a few seconds ticked by while she stared in disbelief.
‘Oh no.
She wouldn’t.’

‘What?
I don’t understand.
Have I done something wrong?’

‘I’ve got two sisters – one’s in Australia, and the other’s not speaking to me right now.
I think the woman you just spoke to is .
.
.
’ She groaned.
‘I
can’t believe this.’

‘What?
Who?’
Gemma felt absolutely mortified.
She should never have answered that phone.
Meanwhile Saffron looked as if she might be sick.

‘Bunty fucking Halsom, that’s who.
My client from hell.
The woman I’d love never to see again.’
She made a growl of frustration.
‘It must be her – she’s
been seeing someone called Troy and is completely obsessed with him.
Oh Christ!’

Gemma clapped a hand to her mouth.
Bunty Halsom from the telly?
‘That’s why her voice was familiar,’ she said weakly.
‘I’m so sorry.
She told me she was your
sister, and I just thought .
.
.
’

‘That bloody woman.
Of all the nerve.
Honestly, I could throttle her, I really could.
No idea about boundaries.
No idea whatsoever!’
She grabbed her phone and began dialling.
Gemma
heard it ring a few times and then a voicemail kick in.
‘Bunty?
This is Saffron Flint.
Please do not come to Suffolk.
I do not want to see you right now.
I am on holiday and will not answer
the door.
Do you understand?
I will not answer the door!’