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Lucy got up from the sofa. ‘I’ll go and give her a hand.’
‘There are loads of big plates on the shelves above the sinks,’ Stella called after her as Lucy made her way down the hall to the kitchen. She turned back to Bridget. ‘While I’ve got you…’
‘Please don’t ask me about him.’ Bridget dropped her chin to the chest in mock despair.
‘You know I’m going to ask you about him.’ The ‘him’ Stella referred to was Neil, Bridget’s boyfriend of two years and one that they all knew would never commit to Bridget despite her clearly wanting him to. He’d been married before; said he didn’t want to do it again. ‘Have you talked about, you know, what might happen?’
‘Not exactly.’ Bridget sipped her wine. ‘I don’t want to put any pressure on him.’
Stella could never quite understand how someone who always seemed so in control of her life, so self-assured and brilliant, could be so undemanding when it came to what she really wanted with the man she loved. It infuriated her, in fact.
‘What about kids?’ Stella shifted to get comfortable on the sofa, positioning another cushion in the small of her back.
‘Yes. Well, not exactly, but I have mentioned it.’
‘Bridget, don’t you think that’s deserving of a proper conversation rather than just being something you mention? I mean, if he’s not wanting the same things as you… You deserve more, that’s all.’
‘You would say that because you love me, I know that. But I love him, Stella. And he might change his mind.’
‘Bridget, this isn’t about not having the same politics as your husband. This is about knowing what you want in life, and I know you want to have children of your own one day. And I don’t think he does. What’s more, I think you know he doesn’t. And if you don’t share the same fundamental hopes and dreams, then it’s only going to get harder.’
‘Maybe. But I’m just not ready to call time on us yet.’
‘Just be careful,’ Stella said softly. She reached out her hand to her friend.
‘I will. Although to be honest, the same should have applied to you.’ Bridget laughed her throaty laugh. ‘I mean, seriously, Stella, twins?’
‘Don’t laugh. I wasn’t even really sold on the idea of one when we had Max and now,’ she gestured to her enormous bump, ‘I’m going to have three under three. I feel a bit sick just thinking about it. Although that could just be the indigestion.’
‘How’s Simon? I feel like I’ve not seen him for ages.’ Bridget tried to inject some enthusiasm into her voice.
They both knew Bridget wasn’t a massive fan of Stella’s husband, but they chose to ignore it. It was just easier that way.
‘He’s good, really busy with work. He loves his job, it’s exactly what he wanted to do. Big team, bit of travel. He’s away this weekend, in fact.’
‘And what about you?’
‘I’m not sure if I’m going to go back after these two…’
‘I didn’t mean work, I meant how are you getting on without him here. You must be exhausted.’ Bridget looked at her friend, drained of her usual sparkle. Her dark hair hung loose on her shoulders, her skin pale.
‘I’m fine, really.’ Stella met Bridget’s concerned gaze. ‘Caroline’s coming up at the weekend to help me get organised for the babies.’ Stella stroked her stomach gently.
‘That’ll be nice?’ ventured Bridget.
‘That’ll be annoying, you know it will.’ Much as she loved her sister, Caroline could really get on her nerves too.
‘She might be annoying, but she’s good at all this stuff.’ Bridget gestured at the toys.
‘She is. You know I love her really. She’s just a bit bossy, sometimes.’
Lucy popped her head around the door. ‘Food’s ready.’
Bridget got up from the sofa. ‘Right, I’ll pull you up. One, two, three…’ She offered her hand to Stella and they joined the others in the kitchen, now awash with tea lights and a table covered in tapas.
That night, they’d talked as they always did, sharing stories and secrets. Sarah regaled them with indiscreet tales about famous people from her latest film set, Lucy shared her fears that one of her best-selling authors was about to defect to another publishing house and Bridget did her best to avoid answering any further questions about Neil. Stella was exhausted, but listening to her friends as they passed plates between them and topped up each other’s glasses was just what she’d needed.
Later, as her head had hit the pillow, a message had popped up on her phone. It was from Simon, telling her he loved her and that he couldn’t wait to see her when he was back in a few days’ time. Too tired to type, she sent back a string of heart emojis and threw in an aubergine for good measure.
