‘But aren’t you happy?’
‘Yes. No. I don’t know.’ Netta was spiralling. ‘Pete doesn’t want a baby. How am I going to tell him?’
‘You say, “Pete, I’m pregnant,” and leave it at that,’ said Freya. ‘If he doesn’t want to be involved, then that’s his problem. You can do this, Netta.’
Netta nodded. She could. She knew she could. She’d just never imagined it happening like this. ‘What—what do I do now?’
‘First of all, you don’t get to have any of this.’ Freya slid the bottle of champagne away. ‘Second of all, we get you to the GP to get a referral for a dating scan to measure the baby and estimate a due date.’
There was a silence before a smile finally took over Netta’s face. ‘A due date,’ she repeated. ‘I’m going to have adue date! I’m going to be someone’s mum!’ The worry of what Pete would think melted away and she was engulfed by a wave of happiness as this new version of reality dawned on her. There were bound to be challenges ahead, she knew that—some of them she’d probably never be able to anticipate until they were upon her—but whatever they were, she was ready. The drama, the euphoria, the heartbreak of London and Mo was nothing compared to the enormity and beautiful complexity of this feeling. The hollowness she’d carried since returning was filled, replaced with a solid dream she could hold. She was going to make it work. She was going to give this baby the beautiful life they deserved. Netta stood and hugged Freya hard.
‘You’re going to be amazing, Netta,’ Freya whispered in her ear. ‘That’s one lucky bub you’ve got in there. Now,’ she said, pulling back and casting her eyes around the apartment. ‘I’m staying to get this place unpacked and set up. You can’t be doing it alone in your condition.’ Her tongue was firmly in her cheek but all the same, she stayed and helped Netta fill the kitchen drawers and cupboards with her things, dress the bed in crisp, freshly washed linen and re-hang the art and treasured photos she’d had in storage since she’d moved to Pete’s.
‘Just the books to go, now,’ said Netta when they were done. ‘I can do those on my own. You’d better get back to your husband and many,manychildren.’
‘I’d stay but my boobs are about to spring a leak. I need to feed a baby pronto.’ Freya adjusted her breasts uncomfortably. ‘This one’s so lumpy it feels like a bag of Lego.’
‘Oh, the things I have to look forward to,’ said Netta, a thrill charging through her body.
‘Ha!’ laughed Freya, gathering up her bag. ‘Lego boobs are just the tip of the iceberg. So many treats in store, lovely. So many.’ She chuckled and hugged Netta close. ‘I’m so happy for you, Netta. This is just the absolute best. Anything you need—’ she patted her chest, ‘—I’m here.’
‘Love you,’ said Netta. ‘Thanks for your help today.’
‘You know the deal. Su casa, mi casa. I’m just so happy I have an escape hatch again for when things get too hectic at the zoo.’ She broke into an uncoordinated shimmy. ‘Cut me a key, baby! Mama needs some quiet time.’
Netta closed the door behind Freya and shut her eyes, breathing in the moment—committing it to memory so she could roll around in it for the rest of her life. When she opened them, she was a new woman. A woman ready for the next big adventure. A woman on the flipside of the past—of all the failed relationships, of the Mitch Carlton fiasco, of Morrison Maplestone.
Now all she had to do was tell Pete.
Chapter Forty-Seven
MO
‘What do you mean you’re not coming?’ Rhona’s tone suggested Mo had just told her he was planning to join a monastery instead of coming over for dinner. ‘It’s Thursday. You always come for dinner on Thursday.’
Mo shifted the phone to his other hand and dropped heavily into the couch in a haze of incense smoke and relentless fatigue. ‘I’m just not up for it.’
‘Seems to me you haven’t really been up for anything since Netta left,’ said Rhona. ‘Seems to me that could be worth spending some time thinking about.’
Mo had no response to that. She was right—surprise, sur-fucking-prise. But it was more than that, too. Telling Netta his story had been like opening a floodgate, and now he was consumed by torrents of emotion at the most inopportune times. He couldn’t trust himself to be anywhere, or around anyone, until he could be sure the urge to punch a wall or burst into tears wasn’t going to turn up uninvited.
‘Have you heard from her?’ asked Rhona, undeterred by his silence.
‘No.’
‘Has she heard from you?’
‘Also no.’
‘Mo, you know I love you,’ said Rhona, ‘but I feel compelled to tell you that you’re behaving like an absolute chimp. You know as well as I do how often people like her come along, and if you don’t, I’ll tell you right now:not very often. You’re letting something slip away that you might never find again. It’s stupid.’
‘Fuck, Rhona. Why don’t you just say what you really think?’ Mo dug his fingernails into his palm until deep crescent grooves appeared. ‘I know, okay? You don’t have to tell me. It’s just not that simple. This whole thing has messed me right up; the diary and opening up to her and remembering everything. I’m a fucking ruin.’ Mo looked at the lounge room’s potted plants, all drooping in some bizarre botanical reflection of his mental state. ‘My head’s everywhere.’
‘You can talk to me, you know,’ Rhona said, her voice softer. ‘I’m all ears, whenever you need me. I could even send Don and the kids out for dinner tonight if you just want to come over and talk?’
Mo shifted uncomfortably, his body unable to find peace even within the embrace of the green couch. He was so lucky to have a friend like Rhona, but he couldn’t talk about it again. Not now, while it was still so raw. ‘Thanks, Rhones, but if it’s okay with you, I think I just need to keep myself to myself for a while. I’m not much fun to be around at the moment.’
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘But there’s something I was going to discuss with you tonight, Mo. It’s not great, to be honest. And I know the timing couldn’t be worse, but it’s time sensitive, so it can’t really wait.’
