‘Yes...’ I hesitate, thinking.Havethey got any better?I sigh, confused. ‘Well, they don’t seem to be quiteas painful and debilitating as they were when I first came out of hospital.’
She nods. ‘Do you do anything else apart from avoiding lotsof different foods and eating at specific times?’
‘Oh, yes. I do deep breathing exercises and meditation –although I’m not very good at that – and I make absolutely sure I go to bed andget up at regular times, because lack of sleep can really mess with yourhormones. Plus I’ve started doing a bit of yoga for relaxation.’
She nods. ‘Brilliant. But how do you know it isn’t the yogaand relaxation techniques that aren’t the things that are helping you? It mightbe nothing to do with your food restrictions.’ She smiles. ‘You never know. Youmight find you can eat a slice of this delicious cake and be absolutely fine.’
‘Oh, I don’t think so. No, I’ll just stick with the plan,’ Isay, rejecting the idea immediately. I look out of the window, searching for achange of topic because I’m really not sure I like the direction in which thisconversation with Katrina is heading. My anxiety has resurfaced in the form ofsweaty palms and a raised heartbeat. It’s all very well for Katrina to be so relaxedabout eating cake, but she doesn’t have to face the possible consequence ofthree days in bed, going through agony. And it doesn’t help to say, well,they’re not as painful as they used to be – because what if I change back andstart doing things ‘normally’ again, and then the migraines return to being asfierce as they were at the start? It’s not worth the risk...
‘That girl looks sick of her life,’ Katrina says, and I lookto where she’s pointing.
It’s Primrose. ‘Oh, I know her. She had her baby son justbefore Christmas.’ We watch her wheeling her pram very slowly over to the benchby the duck pond and sitting down. ‘I guess she’s tired because of thesleepless nights. New babies and everything.’ My heart contracts, thinking ofMum. Is that how exhausted she was when I was born?
‘I don’t like the way she’s just staring at that duck pond,not taking any notice of the poor little sprog,’ murmurs Katrina, frowning.‘You can hear him crying from here. Listen.’
I lean closer to the window and sure enough, George’sincessant wailing can be heard very faintly. Then, as we watch, Primrose risesfrom the bench, and without even a single glance over at the pram, she walksaway.
‘What’s she doing?’ I murmur to myself, my eyes swingingbetween her and the pram.
‘She looks as if she’s walking in a trance. And she’slefther baby behind?’
Alarmed, Katrina and I scrape back our seats in unison.Luckily, we’ve already paid, so I say a quick goodbye to Ellie behind thecounter, and we make a hasty exit from the café.
I run ahead of Katrina and get to the crying baby boy first.I debate whether to try and comfort him, but I’m worried I might make thingsworse for the little cherub, so instead, I grab the pram handles and we start marchingswiftly after Primrose, who seems to be heading for the bus stop. Baby George startsyelling even more loudly and I slow down and reach into the pram for his dummy.
‘There, there, little lamb,’ I whisper, slotting in thedummy, which stops the wailing instantly. He really is too cute.
‘Where do you think she’s off to?’ calls Katrina.
‘Not sure. She lives in a flat in one of the side streets.’I’m panting slightly with the effort of trying to catch her up.
‘Let’s hope she’s going home and not catching a bus, then,’murmurs Katrina, and my heart races as a double-decker looms into view alongthe high street.
My eyes glued to Primrose, I sigh with relief as she reachesthe bus stop and walks on, still moving as if in a dream.
‘I think she must be going home,’ I say, watching in horroras she crosses the high street without even looking both ways for traffic. She vanishesinto a side street and I turn to Katrina. ‘Don’t worry. I’ve got this. Stanwill be waiting for you.’
‘Are you sure?’ Katrina carries on walking and crosses theroad with me.
‘Yes, honestly. I... I think it might bebest if it was just one person turning up with her baby. Rather than a delegation,if you see what I mean?’
Katrina nods. ‘Yeah. I think you’re right. I hope the poorgirl’s okay.’
‘Me, too. At least little George is calm now.’
She looks in the pram and smiles. ‘Little cutesie. Well,I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Good luck.’
Parting from Katrina, I start running with the pram andfinally manage to catch up with Primrose as she’s trying to get her key in thefront door lock.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I stop at the gate, not wanting to scare her. ‘Primrose?Hi.’
She turns and stares at me, a vacant look on her face.Maybeshe doesn’t recognise me.I smile brightly. ‘It’s Martha? We met the otherday at Ellie’s café and we chatted on the green?’
She doesn’t flicker. I’m not sure my words have evenregistered.
‘I think you forgot something?’ I say with a gentle smile asbaby George stirs in his pram. His dummy falls out and he starts to wail again,and the sound seems to pull Primrose into the present.
