Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
T ext messages between Emily Gastright and Leo Mills:
Emily: Hey, how’s Sadie doing? Any better?
Leo: Ehh. In some ways. She’s not a wailing wall or anything, but she’s not herself.
Emily: [sad face emoji]
Leo: I think if she wasn’t pregnant, she’d be kicking ass and taking names about this, anyone daring to interfere with her self-sufficiency. You know our girl is stubborn about her independence. But because she doesn’t want to distress the baby, she’s trying to smother her feelings to stay calm, and I’m keeping a careful eye on her because I don’t think it’s doing her any good.
Leo: Kind of want to go on the rampage about this myself.
Emily: Anything any of us can do to help?
Leo: Nah. Everything that can be done in practical terms is being done. Just hugs and coffee and the industrial metal playlist on the sound system until further notice. Thanks, precious xx
Emily: Anytime, you know that xx
Emily
I reread Leo’s messages with a listless sigh. Reception is thankfully empty right now, because I’m thoroughly preoccupied. My first urge is always to do something when one of us is blue, or in trouble, or whenever anything bad happens, really. Seeing the way Sadie went white as a sheet when she checked her banking app has really stayed with me. When I first arrived at Foxton-on-Sea, she was one of the first friends I made, and her innate self-assurance and ferocious self-sufficiency really inspired me to grab life by the balls myself. I don’t like seeing her so defeated. And I know it spoiled her first baby shopping expedition for her, and tarnished the memory, and that just stinks.
We need to do something to wash that shit away and replace it with a fun memory.
And then it hits me.
I fire up WhatsApp instantly, certain I’m onto something and that the others are likely to agree.
From the WhatsApp group called THE TIME HAS COME!!!! (Members: Emily Gastright, Eli Gastright, Dean Gastright, Liaden O’Brien, Tippi Mills, Tim Stewart)
Emily Gastright: Guys, we need to make a plan
Emily Gastright: Most of you will have seen how quiet Sadie’s been since the whole identity theft thing, and she doesn’t need this.
Emily Gastright: She needs to be cheered up. She should be happy and relaxed, especially in her condition, not stressed and sad. We need to take her mind off everything.
Emily Gastright: What if we threw her and Leo a baby shower a bit early? We can make it Sadie-centric, nothing corny, no storks, etc. What do you all think?
Liaden O’Brien: Sounds like an excellent plan. I’m seeing mocktails, the grisliest and most fucked up horror films we can find, and enough fruit salad to sink an aircraft carrier.
Tim Stewart: She’d love that. That’s really nice.
Dean Gastright: I’m in. What should we bring?
Eli Gastright: Same. Who else should we invite?
Emily Gastright: Aside from the Wishbone crowd? Obviously Tim and Eleanor [smiling emoji]
Tim Stewart: I can see if Nat’s available, too? Eleanor would like it if she was there.
Emily Gastright: Of course! Will be lovely to see her.
Tippi Mills: I’m in Spain right now, but I’d love to contribute something - can you let them both know my gift is pending?
Emily Gastright: Sure [smiling emoji]
Liaden O’Brien: What about if we hire masseurs to come to the shower?
Eli Gastright: Can pregnant women have massages? I thought they were a no-no.
Liaden O’Brien: As long as they’re done a certain way, they’re a yes-yes.
Dean Gastright: Then I’d say hell yes, anything that helps her decompress.
Tim Stewart: I can ask Jacob if he wants to come, but don’t be offended if he doesn’t. I know his job is pretty intense right now.
Eli Gastright: Totally fine.
Eli Gastright: This was a good idea, Em.
Liaden O’Brien: Seconded. I’ll look into the masseurs if you find mocktail recipes.
Emily Gastright: I’ll also clue Leo in on this. Probably best to hold it at his and Sadie’s.
I breathe out a sigh of relief. I know it’s not about what makes me feel better, but now that we have a plan, I feel more confident that everything will smooth out a little easier, and I can focus on the rest of my day.
And on the mocktails recipes I’m Googling.
Ooh, virgin Cosmopolitans…
Leo
The gang went nuts with catering. Dean ordered pink iced cupcakes, enough for at least two per guest. Eli dropped off a slow cooker full of his epic chicken meatballs in a Cajun cream sauce that fills the room with the most mouth watering, stomach rumbling, oh-my-god-give-it-to-me-now smell. Em and Liaden bought snacks like hungry kids left to run wild in a petrol station shop, and there’s a genuinely ludicrous amount of crisps and pretzels and chocolates in all the serving bowls I have, and a couple of theirs, too. Gary is eyeing the peanuts longingly from my shoulder, where he’s been for the past ten minutes - progress - and I give him a couple to ingratiate myself to him even more. Even Tippi took part in the spread all the way from Spain, sending an order of doughnuts the size of my head from a local artisanal bakery, all filled to puffiness with various fruity jams and creams. There’s even a pineapple and coconut one, which Sadie has claimed and set aside, because tropical flavours are everything to her right now.
The gang came through for us, big time.
It was a relief to have something positive to focus on. Sadie’s been smothering her rage so that she doesn’t upset the little muchacho inside her, but I know she’s seething. And driving herself nuts racking her brains trying to figure out how this happened, given that she doesn’t use cash machines and hasn’t lost her passport or driver’s licence. I’ve done my best to console her and distract her in any way I can, but she’s rattled. Even though the ‘bank’, using that term lightly, returned all her money pending the investigation; she’s not going to feel settled until she knows who did this.
She hasn’t been up for anything in the sack for the past two evenings, either. It’s the first time since she moved in with me that we’ve skipped it, and given how horny her hormones have made her once her first trimester ended (hallelujah, praise all of the gods), it’s a big indication of how down she is. Secretly, I’ve still just enjoyed holding her, stroking her hair and whispering comforting nonsense to her until she falls asleep. I only wish it was done under better circumstances than ‘I’m comforting you because you’ve been cleaned out and put into debt by some asshole’.
My money is at her disposal, whatever the outcome. She loses her money, I’ll replace it and then some, in an account run by a more security conscious bank. If she wants to sue, I’ll bankroll it. I’ve paused my idle search for new business premises for an idea I’ve had, only until this is all sorted out. Maybe this new side project I’m thinking of will be something she’ll be interested in getting involved with once everything is settled. Something rewarding to bring her back to her focused, optimistic self.
But she’s smiling now at the sight of all these snacks, and that’s just made my day all by itself.
“Lookin’ good, Stewart,” I say to her from the doorway of my dining room.
She looks up and smiles wryly. “Me, or all of this food?”
“You, of course. You know the only thing I’m interested in eating is your pussy,” I say, strolling over. Gary, sensing impending flirting, sensibly flies to the top of a chair. I grab a peanut M through inevitably damp eyes, Sadie declares that these are the clothes we will take the baby home in, along with the baby gro Tim and Nat give us. It’s grey, and in white letters on the front are the words, “Just Done 9 Months Inside”, with a prison bar stitched over the top.
And finally, Em gives us one more present ‘from Gary’, who squawks his approval: a black and white striped hand crocheted baby blanket covered with a green parrot motif.
Everyone gives something that we or the baby will use every day, and I love them for it.
Once he or she is born, our kid is going to be surrounded by love.