Chapter 27
Louise’s house was filled with pink and blue balloons for the baby shower. A table was decorated with pink and blue camellias, and laden with finger food and flute glasses for Prosecco. The French windows opened on to the terrace and a pile of beautifully wrapped gifts sat on a side table. The girls were dressed in summer frocks or flowy trousers and silk tops, while Louise wore a soft pink dress that flattered her eight-month bump.
‘I’m on a child-free day so I’ve decided to wear the most stainable clothes possible, just to celebrate,’ announced Bryony, waving a full glass. The handsome Mike had manhandled the garden furniture into a suitable arrangement on the patio and then made himself scarce, but not before planting a brief kiss on Louise’s cheek. They presented the picture of happiness.
‘This place is gorgeous, what a lucky little babe it’s going to be, with a view of the sea and all .?.?.’
The fact that the baby wouldn’t give a shite about a view of the sea wasn’t mentioned by anybody. Cassie was feeling irritable, and fakery in any form was getting right on her nerves. Ramona had been extended an invitation by Louise, who didn’t like to leave anybody out, but she announced that she’d rather have a nipple piercing without pain relief than go to Louise’s baby shower and feel like a freak.
It was only a few days since the evening babysitting for Finn’s children, but an ominous feeling had been haunting Cassie all week. She picked up a miniscule hamburger and nibbled it thoughtfully. Let it go, she urged herself, there’s not a solitary thing you can do right now, so she accepted a refill of Prosecco from a young teenager, who’d obviously been paid a few bob to help out for the afternoon and seemed delighted with herself. Why couldn’t Samantha have been more like this girl, friendly and obliging? She hadn’t mentioned anything to Finn because, well, there was a conflict of interest, wasn’t there? She didn’t want to be the one turning him against his own daughter, not that he’d want to hear what she had to say. And yet, the teenager inside her wanted to protest the unfairness of it and how mean Samantha had been to her. Side with me, not her. Wasn’t that exactly what Samantha was so afraid of? And how would she have felt in the same situation, if her beloved Da had found some other woman? Awful.
‘Hi, how’re you doing? You’re looking great. How’s the doggie walking going?’
Babe-a-licious Bryony was looking lightly tanned and untouchable.
‘I’m teaching now, actually.’
‘Really, what?’
‘Children.’
‘Cool.’
A glass was rung with a fork by Celine, who appeared to have volunteered herself as MC and had arrived early to offer her ‘help’, which apparently included downing most of a bottle of Prosecco. She began, ‘Hi everyone, excuse me, I just want – on behalf of our lovely Louise – to say a few words to celebrate our years of friendship and the imminent arrival of Louise’s baby, the last of us .?.?.’
Here, there was a small hiatus as someone whispered to her that there was someone else – oh, for fuck’s sake, Cassie thought, like she cared.
‘Sorry, Cassie, almost the last of us .?.?. to have our babies, and I’m just thinking about all of us, how in the future our little ones will be able to play together, and in the years to come there’ll be a whole new generation .?.?. of us.’ With that, she gave an alcohol-fuelled sob.
‘Tissue alert,’ called someone good-naturedly. ‘First tears of the day.’
There was an emotional round of applause as the others, apart from Norah, wiped their eyes. Cassie felt close to tears herself, from boredom. Or at least, that’s what she told herself, sipping her way through yet another glass of bubbles. Norah appeared immune to the tidal wave of sentiment. ‘I wouldn’t inflict my pair of little horrors on anyone,’ she muttered.
The presents were opened and admired: a T-shirt with Mama on it from Celine, a vegan mother-and-baby pamper kit from Bryony, and from Norah a very large parcel which turned out to be her own postpartum doughnut cushion, in the interests of recycling, along with a box of chocolates – quite how the two combined, it wasn’t clear.
‘If you’re anything like I was, you’re going to need it,’ she explained grimly.
Cassie’s gift was a pair of fluffy cashmere socks and a little wall plaque that said: Anyone can be a mother, but it takes someone special to be a Mum – Louise was so touched and Cassie felt humbled.
‘Honestly, that is so beautiful .’
Just then the charming teenager was given a nod and reappeared with a pink and blue iced cake. Evidently, they were keeping the gender reveal a surprise. Without wishing to be mean-spirited, Cassie thought it all felt so .?.?. conventional. She just hoped for the poor child’s sake that it fitted neatly into either the pink or blue category.
It was strange how observing something completely separate from yourself could bring you face to face with your own truth. Suddenly, it all became blindingly clear. It wasn’t fair but, as obnoxious as Samantha might have been, she had a point. The kids had lost their stable home, they were just about to find out that their mother was expecting someone else’s baby, and now here she was, swooping in to take their dad. She was the interloper. It couldn’t be clearer, and she had to tell Finn, right now. It just didn’t seem right for her to take her happiness at other people’s expense. Thankfully, the tearful toasting was over, and she was able to slip off to the loo and surreptitiously phone a taxi.
*?*?*
‘You’re sozzled.’
She was standing in his apartment, her jacket slightly off-centre, a cross-body bag askew across her chest.
‘That’s not the point, it’s all true, admit it, it’s all my fault. Samantha hates me and the other two only don’t because they don’t know what I am yet. I’ve betrayed their trust. That’s what I am. I’m a traitorous bitch. We’re finished.’
‘Cassie, that’s horseshit. You are not responsible for Sam’s appalling behaviour; you should hear what she calls me. The only reason she doesn’t abuse her mother is she doesn’t dare. This is not all your fault , so don’t imagine you’re specially chosen for her ire.’
‘You’re just saying that because you feel sorry for me.’
‘You’re actually very gorgeous when you’re rat-arsed.’
‘I’m ser-us. Don’t patronise me .?.?.’
‘Come here.’ He pulled her in towards him and kissed her hungrily. This wasn’t what she’d intended at all, but still .?.?.
*?*?*
She woke at about 7 p.m., with the beginnings of a hangover, beside Finn, who was scrolling on his phone. He seemed to find the whole thing pretty funny.
‘I can’t believe a baby shower was that dramatic. You should go to them more often.’
‘Oh God, was I crazy? I’m so embarrassed. I will never look at a cocktail hot-dog again as long as I live.’
She got up and trailed into the shower in the hope of feeling a bit fresher. Her headache was beginning to kick off and she was in urgent need of painkillers so she padded back into the kitchen, where Finn was sipping on a glass of red wine and expertly chopping chicken and vegetables to add to what smelled like a Thai green curry. Cassie remembered that she’d had very little to eat since breakfast. She slipped her arms round his waist and breathed in the aroma.
‘Yummy, that’s exactly what I need.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Glass of red?’
‘I’ll need something to wash down the Panadol.’
They sat on the sofa and ate with the plates on their knees. He really was a fantastic cook when he put his mind to it.
‘This is exactly what I don’t let the kids do.’ He smiled.
‘It’s great being a parent, isn’t it?’ Cassie leaned against Finn’s shoulder, feeling as safe as she’d felt since .?.?. Well, since she was little. ‘You get to make all the rules.’
‘Do you ever wonder about how everything came together for us to meet that morning, with Phyllis and randy Napoleon that kept trying to bonk Patricia’s Bichons?’
They laughed at the ridiculous memory.
‘If either of us had been half an hour either way, we might never have met. Do you ever regret it?’ he asked.
‘Well, my life is a lot more complicated than it used to be, but no, I don’t regret it.’
‘And you never regret leaving London?’
‘No.’ She sighed, aware there was a note of sadness in her voice. ‘I mean, I regret how things ended with Gav. But I suppose it was the end of an era. I gave it everything I had. It just didn’t repay me.’
‘Cass, I owe you an apology. You were put in a rotten position with Samantha, and you shouldn’t have been. It was my responsibility, mine and Marisha’s.’
‘Being called the wicked stepmother was a first, I’ll admit.’
Still, she had the niggling feeling that he hadn’t put a stop to Samantha’s behaviour. He hadn’t actually stood up for her. She took a deep breath.
‘Finn, I’ve never asked you this before but .?.?. what am I to you?’ She cringed. It really was one of those questions men hate being asked. But she had to confront it.
‘Cassie, you know what you are. You’re my girlfriend.’
‘I know, but sometimes I feel like the girlfriend of .?.?. a part of you. The other part I don’t feel like I’ve much connection with at all.’
There, she’d come out with it.
‘What do you want me to say?’ He sighed.
She wanted him to say that he loved her, that she was the most important thing in the world to him and everything else would work out around that.
‘If you have to ask, I can’t help you,’ she muttered, aware of sounding petulant.
‘Come on, Cass, you know how difficult things have been .?.?.’
‘Sure, of course, I’m sorry,’ she said, though underneath the doubts still niggled.