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37
Rebecca
Val was already sitting in the corner table in Pennethorne’s when I got there, the one near the wine wall. I looked at it longingly.
‘Yes, I know you want a house with a wine wall,’ said Val, having witnessed me lusting over it many times before.
I slumped into my seat. Val had already ordered me a large red and it appeared as if by magic.
‘Didn’t fancy a large?’ I asked her, looking pointedly at her miniscule glass.
‘Not really,’ she said, taking a tiny sip of her drink. ‘Trying to cut back.’
I picked up the food menu, scanning through it, although I pretty much knew it off by heart.
Val coughed lightly. ‘We’ve been trying for a baby for a while now, if you must know.’
I put the menu down, my mouth dropping open. This was huge.
‘That’s brilliant news!’ I said. ‘I hadn’t realised, otherwise I wouldn’t have kept trying to ply you with alcohol.’
I knew Val wanted kids, but she’d always been adamant that she wasn’t planning to get pregnant until she was at least thirty-eight. She and Ekon wanted to travel the world first, she’d said.
She sighed. ‘It’s not exactly going to plan, to be honest.’
I slipped off my cardigan, looking around the bar. It was a gastropub in the middle of Somerset House, and you generally saw the same faces, mostly from the creative businesses that worked out of the upstairs rooms. I’d earwigged on literary agents having lunch with authors, music producers having drinks with their artists and, at Christmas, they’d be joined by tourists warming up after an afternoon on the pretty outdoor skating rink.
‘How do you mean?’ I asked.
‘I thought I was pregnant just before Christmas, even though I was on the pill. Remember when I threw up that time, after I’d had that weird-looking sushi for lunch?’
‘Yes,’ I said, remembering how relieved I’d been that I’d gone for a simple chicken and salad focaccia at that particular restaurant.
‘So my period was late that month and I thought the pill had failed.’
‘Right … but it hadn’t?’
Val shook her head. ‘But in those few days until I did the test, I felt sort of excited. And when I found out I wasn’t pregnant, we both felt disappointed.’
Somebody came over to ask if we wanted any food and we said that we’d order some in a bit.
‘So you’ve been trying since then?’ I asked.
‘Four months,’ said Val, with the confidence of someone who’d been tracking her cycle. ‘And nothing’s happened. So I’ve been to the GP and they’re going to run some tests.’
I reached over and rubbed her arm reassuringly. ‘I’m sure there won’t be anything wrong. It can take years, can’t it? The average time it takes to get pregnant is longer than you think.’
Val nodded but didn’t look convinced. ‘In the meantime, I thought I’d at least try to sort my health out. I’ve cut down on alcohol and caffeine. Started doing a bit of yoga, that sort of thing.’
‘Blimey,’ I said. ‘Hardcore.’
We laughed.
‘Val?’
‘Yes?’
‘I’m really happy for you.’
