‘I bet that one won’t be a swearer,’ said Freya, nodding towards the bedroom. ‘She’s an angel.’
Netta’s heart bloomed at the thought of her precious, golden-haired Lottie sleeping peacefully in the next room. ‘She’s only five months old,’ she said. ‘She’s got plenty of time to develop her vocabulary.’
‘Well, good luck to you if she keeps that sort of company,’ said Freya, jerking her thumb towards the lounge. ‘So,’ she said, a sly smile creeping over her face. ‘Tell me the latest Mo news, please. I need something delicious to distract me from the fact my vag feels like it’s about to fall off.’
Netta grinned. ‘He’s good. He’ll be here next week to help me pack this place up and then we get the keys to the house the week after that.’
Freya squealed. ‘Themansion.’
Netta laughed. ‘It’s not a mansion.’
‘I’m so happy for you, Netts.’ Freya brought her hands to her heart. ‘You guys are the real deal.’
‘I know,’ said Netta, smiling. ‘I can’t believe how things have turned out. First Lottie, then Mo.’
‘Shame he couldn’t be here for your birthday dinner,’ mused Freya, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
‘The Brit Awards are kind of a big deal,’ said Netta, proudly. ‘He has to be there. His song is nominated.’
‘Mmm hmm,’ agreed Freya, distracted by her phone again. ‘I heard it on the radio today, actually. That girl sings it amazingly. It’s so good.’
‘Yeah, he’s loving writing for other people. He reckons the songs are just pouring out of him at the moment.’
‘That’s because he’s found his muse,’ teased Freya, poking Netta on the shoulder. ‘You’ve unleashed his creativity.’
‘Ha! Nah. It was the therapy that did that. It’s like learning how to look at things differently has opened up a whole new world for him. It took a long time and a lot of work, but he sees now that his mum’s death wasn’t his fault. I’m so happy for him. And proud. It definitely wasn’t easy for him.’
‘And you think he’s ready for full-time daddy duty?’
As if on cue, Lottie let out an almighty wail from the bedroom. ‘I think so,’ said Netta, standing. ‘As much as any of us ever are, before we’re parents.’
Freya laughed. ‘Which is to say, not at all.’
‘True story. But he’s amazing with her. They’re so beautiful together, Frey. She loves him like a dad and he loves her like she’s his very own,’ Netta said, starting for the bedroom. ‘Which is lucky, because she and I are kind of a package deal these days. Two for one.’
The bedroom windows were open a little to let the last of summer’s warm evening breeze into the apartment, and the drapes fluttered around the bedhead as Netta scooped Lottie from her cot, swaying side to side and patting her nappied bottom as her tears eased. Netta’s heart swelled at the solid weight of her daughter nestled in her arms. It had been a journey of ups and downs to get here, but she’d done it. On her own. Well, on her own with the help of a sperm donor and a team of very clever medical professionals. It hadn’t been easy—the pressure of choosing the right donor, the failed attempts at conceiving, the worry that all the expense would lead to nothing but heartache. But then a positive test result—and Netta’s whole world had shifted.
Since the night of the burnt meatballs, Netta and Mo had never really left each other’s lives, still talking regularly, but they’d kept their distance as they’d each followed the path they needed to. Then, when Netta was six months along, they’d decided it was time for them to be together—when they were both ready, both whole, save for the space they still held for each other.
It had been Mo’s hand she’d squeezed when she was in labour,hisfingers she’d almost broken when the contractions had become unbearable. It’d been his voice that had announced it was a girl. His proud, awestruck face as he held Lottie for the first time, as careful as if she were made from glass, wrapped up like a little pink-faced burrito in a striped hospital blanket.
Mo had spent more time in Melbourne than he had in England in the last eight months and he and Netta couldn’t wait to live together properly—a little full-time family—now that the new house had settled and he’d wrapped up his commitments. Netta brought Lottie closer and kissed her softly on her forehead. All of it still had the power to floor her—how lucky she was, how beautiful things were, how exciting the future looked.
‘There’s someone at the door!’ shouted Maisie from the hallway.
‘Let Auntie Netta get it please!’ Freya’s voice was strangled. ‘Don’t you dare open that door, Maisie!’
Netta emerged from the bedroom, Lottie gurgling happily as she did her best to gum her little fingers clean off. ‘Who could that be?’ said Netta. ‘I didn’t invite anyone else.’
Freya shrugged. ‘I know nothing,’ she said in a gangster voice, holding her hands up in innocence.
Netta narrowed her eyes. ‘If it’s a stripper, I’m going to have to kill you.’
Freya shrugged again and smiled. ‘Guess you’ll just have to go and see.’
Netta made her way warily up the hallway. She opened the door a crack and stopped short, her breath caught by a huge grin of surprise. ‘What are you doing here?’ she cried, flinging the door open and throwing her free arm around Mo. ‘Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the Brits right about now?’
Mo pulled out of the hug and stroked Lottie’s plump cheek with his knuckle before planting a soft, loaded kiss on Netta’s lips. ‘I heard there was a more important event happening right here,’ he said. ‘Happy birthday, beautiful.’
