Chapter 21 #3
Overall, in the grand scheme of things, today had been a win. Everybody was still alive – if not entirely unscathed – and given the usual waiting times in A it was Rosemarie.
‘Hiya, how’s it goin’?’ Ally panted.
‘Great, ssssh, he’s gone to make tea for us so I’m phoning you, but I might have to go suddenly.’
‘Right . . .’ said Ally, feeling a bit unsure about this new version of Rosemarie.
‘Do you want some good news? You can stop wondering. I found out the pattern on his duvet cover! It’s sort of geometric, in shades of navy.’
‘Very heterosexual.’ Ally laughed. ‘But . . . was it not awkward to . . . I mean . . . is he even able to walk?’
‘Well, you see, that wasn’t really a problem because I went on—’
‘OK, OK, got it . . . got it . . .’ Ally laughed again, although that bubbling-over happiness felt a bit like a knife in the ribs for a Sunday morning solo surfer. Rosemarie, in fairness, might have picked that up.
‘So, anyway, how’re you?’
‘Well, Pete and I talked for a long time after he got back. It was a really good talk, but then . . . nothing. I don’t know, Rosemarie, you got a chance to see him, what do you think?’
‘He’s a good boss, tough but fair . . . William is a sweetheart, though, and he does like you.’
Oh no, she was talking about William as though she was his friend’s girlfriend who was rooting for him . . . being protective. What about me? she wanted to shout. You’re supposed to be Team Ally!
‘Oh, listen . . . I think I can hear him coming. Anything else?’
‘I think my fish is pregnant.’
Normally, that would have been the trigger for a lengthy analysis.
‘Oh right, that’s . . . great. Got to go, byeee!’
Ally could hear a male voice in the background before the call was cut off. She’d been relegated to secondary importance behind Fergus, who was clearly a bit of an eejit, even if he was preternaturally brave in the face of runaway furniture.
Fuck! They’d clearly all had a lovely lads’ night in the apartment yesterday before the two of them jumped into bed. She hadn’t wanted to be there, exactly . . . Still, it would have been better than sitting here on her own – and she was the one who’d known them all first!
Oh, well, there was only one solution: hoovering.
After the half hour it took (small apartment), she felt about seven per cent better.
OK, that evening was family dinner, so, having learned her lesson the previous month, she decided to start being positive and try to make life choices that would enhance, rather than sabotage, her life.
She chose a cute black knitted mini with chiffon sleeves, embroidered with red flowers, and teamed it with knee-length black patent boots. She studied herself in the mirror and decided it was a clear win – she looked a good sixty-nine per cent better than she felt.
But wait . . . How could she be so selfish and uncaring? Sally could go into labour at any moment . . . which made her a sort of fish nana (even though she was the only one allowed to say it). This was an emergency. Ally flung on her coat and made for the car – she needed advice, and fast.
‘Sooooo . . .’ said the earnest-looking assistant at the aquarium section of Petstop. ‘Your guppy sounds like she’s about to drop fry.’
Bloody hell, thought Ally, that sounded more like an unfortunate accident with a spice bag; however, the girl seemed to be an expert so she just nodded mutely.
‘Right . . . first, you need to build a nursery for the little ones.’ Oh my God, a nursery! What, murals and mobiles? And to think she’d nearly ignored the whole thing.
‘You’re going to need lots of live plants for her, so she’ll feel safe.’ Ally nodded vigorously – nothing was too good for her unborn fish. ‘And then protect the fry, or the parents will eat them.’ Jesus, what sort of a world was this?