Chapter Forty-Six Netta
Chapter Forty-Six
NETTA
A week and a half later, Netta turned the key in the front door of her apartment for the first time in more than two years. She pushed the door open, a wave of nostalgia surging through her at the sight of the sand-coloured floorboards and milky walls.
Freya bustled up the stairs behind her, huffing and puffing, loaded up with bags. ‘You know what’s great about new apartment buildings?’
‘I don’t know. What’s great about new apartment buildings?’
Freya dumped the bags at her feet and flexed her fingers. ‘Elevators, that’s what.’
Netta laughed as she shuffled inside, weighed down by a box of crockery, and leaned against the door to hold it open for her friend. God, she’d missed this place.
‘You’ve gone all misty,’ said Freya. ‘I’ll go down and get some more stuff so you can have a moment.’
Netta nodded gratefully, unexpectedly overcome with emotion at being back inside her apartment after so long.
She put the box down and took a slow walk through to the lounge, where her antique leather couch sat low and inviting on a shaggy rug and the big window let in streams of sunlight.
The kitchen was small and needed a little work, but she wasn’t much of a cook so its worn benchtops and simple wooden cupboards had never really bothered her.
She loved the leadlight window that sat high above the sink and the little bench that fitted two stools.
She and Freya had spent many nights there with a bottle of wine, solving the world’s problems. She went through to the bedroom and was floored by an overwhelming sense of being home.
Light filtered through the sheer curtains that hung from the ceiling to the floor, and her bed—stripped and ready to be dressed in her own linen—was like an old friend.
A big timber-framed mirror leaned against the wall and a rug she’d bought on a trip to Bali lay at the foot of the bed.
She sat on the edge of the mattress and took a deep breath.
‘Am I interrupting anything?’ Freya appeared in the doorway, clutching a mop and a plastic storage bag full of bedding, the air sucked out of it to make it look like a stiff, lumpen cloud.
‘Only me reuniting with a lost love,’ said Netta, smiling. ‘It’s so good to be back here.’
‘This place definitely suits you. Let’s get her cleaned up, shall we?’
***
Netta leaned on the mop handle, a sheen of sweat lighting her face. ‘Right. It’s as clean as it’s ever been. Thanks, Frey. You’ve stayed for ages. You probably need to get back to your bambinos.’
‘Two very important things still to be done before I take off.’
‘Which are?’
Freya retrieved her handbag from the couch and pulled out a bottle of champagne and a thick bunch of sticks and dried leaves wrapped together with twine. ‘We must cleanse and then christen the apartment, Netta.’
‘I think we’ve just cleansed the life out of it,’ Netta said. ‘I’m going to be smelling disinfectant for a week.’
‘No, no. The smudge stick is to cleanse it of any bad juju, silly. It banishes negative energy.’
Netta rolled her eyes but happily let Freya swirl the smoking stick around the apartment.
A little juju cleanse couldn’t go astray, after all, especially after the release of the interview a week ago.
It had, predictably, made quite the splash in the UK.
Other women whom Mitch had treated poorly had come forward, and he’d seemingly scurried under a rock with his fingers in his ears.
Thankfully, the article didn’t even nudge the shores of Australia—and it seemed other ‘news’ had quickly swept her interview out of the spotlight in the UK.
Netta was glad to box that particular portion of her history up and dump it off a cliff.
As the air filled with the herby scent of sage and lavender, Netta busied herself finding wine glasses in one of the boxes stacked in the kitchen.
‘There, done. Good vibes only,’ announced Freya, dropping the smoking stump into the sink. ‘I’ll just pop to the loo and then we can crack open the champers.’
Freya disappeared into the bathroom and Netta rinsed the glasses free of the dust they’d collected in storage.
‘Netta!’ Freya shouted from the bathroom after a moment. ‘Have you got any tampons?’
‘Ah, yep. Hang on.’ Netta set the glasses on the rack to drain and swiped her handbag from the bench.
She rummaged to find the stash of tampons she always kept in there, and as her fingers found the unopened box, it dawned on her that she hadn’t had a period for ages; she’d been so caught up in the break-up and the trip and Mo to even notice.
She knocked lightly on the bathroom and opened it just enough to post the box through to Freya.
‘Thanks,’ Freya called. ‘My gusset is very grateful.’
A few moments later, Freya emerged from the bathroom, drying her hands on her jeans in lieu of a hand towel, to find Netta motionless in the kitchen. ‘What’s up?’
‘I’ve just realised I haven’t had a period since before Pete and I last slept together.’
‘So, you could be …’
‘No. Surely not.’
‘Have you got any tests here?’
Netta’s hands were shaking. ‘I think there might be one in the tub of bathroom stuff.’
Freya vanished into the bathroom and reappeared, triumphant, a few moments later. ‘Found one. Should we do it?’
Netta nodded, suddenly terrified. She took the box from Freya and quietly closed herself into the bathroom, tugging the test open with trembling fingers.
She peeled down her jeans and sat gingerly on the toilet, a spiral of anticipation tightening around her.
She peed on the stick and replaced the cap, popping it on the edge of the sink.
‘Have you done it?’ called Freya from the kitchen.
‘Yep.’ Netta’s voice shook with nerves. ‘Set a timer for three minutes.’
‘Well, where is it?’ Freya asked when Netta returned.
‘It’s in there.’ Netta pointed to the bathroom door. ‘I don’t want to see it till the alarm goes off.’
‘Netta,’ started Freya, carefully, ‘is there any chance it could be Mo’s?’
‘No. We were careful.’
Freya nodded. ‘So, if you’re pregnant, then it’s—’
‘Pete’s. I did a test the night before we broke up but it was negative. Maybe I did it too early.’
Freya let out a puff of breath. ‘It’ll be okay, Netta. Either way, it’s going to be fine.’
Netta placed her hands on the kitchen bench and leaned into them. ‘Oh God, Freya. I was drinking in England. I didn’t know.’ Her eyes were wide with horror. ‘I mean, never to the point of being anywhere even close to drunk, but if I’d known I would never have—’
‘It’s okay,’ said Freya. ‘I mean, obviously it’s not ideal, but worrying about it now won’t help either.’
Freya’s phone started barking as the alarm went off. ‘Do you want me to check it?’
Netta nodded. ‘Yes, please.’
Freya disappeared into the bathroom and returned, the test in her hand.
‘Well?’ Netta’s body was tense, every sense on high alert. ‘What does it say?’
Freya glanced down at the stick and back to her friend. ‘You’re pregnant.’
‘Holy shit.’ Netta’s head spun and the room swirled to keep up with it. She’d wanted this for so long, but now that it was happening, it felt too fast and way too late at the same time. She sank onto a stool, resting her elbows on the bench as she cradled her head in her hands. ‘Let me see it.’
Freya passed her the stick and sure enough, Netta was met with two lines.
‘The second line is pretty faint,’ she said. ‘Does it still count?’
‘A line is a line,’ said Freya. ‘It wouldn’t show up at all unless you had HCG in your system.’
‘I can’t believe it,’ said Netta, placing the test on the countertop. ‘I mean, we tried for months and now I get pregnant? Talk about timing.’
‘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 a due 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, many children.’
‘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.