Thursday 11th January

I’m still embarrassed two days later when I hand over the sheets to both Clara and Hartley at their food tasting. I can’t look Hartley in the eye. Aside from him possibly being suspicious of me shitting myself, I was rude to him. I’m never normally drunk around clients, but then I suppose it’s not my fault he’s also a part-time Uber driver. I was off duty and allowed to let my hair down, surely?

‘These are so you can score your meals and write down any comments or suggestions you have. You’d be surprised how overwhelming it can be.’ I smile professionally.

‘We are just trying food, right?’ Hartley asks, an amused smirk appearing.

I glare back at him before quickly covering it with a professional smile. ‘Like I say, you’d be surprised.’ What a dick.

‘Yes, Ley,’ Clara whines. ‘This is important.’

She calls him Ley? Ugh, why on earth would you shorten a gorgeous name like Hartley to Ley? Monster.

She flicks her hair over her shoulder. ‘I for one am not going to serve a sub-standard meal to my guests.’

God, she’s annoying.

‘I can assure you that what you’re about to try will be delicious. All our meat and vegetables are sourced locally, and our chef has been with us over a year. He actually used to own the pub before we took over and was here for twelve years.’

‘So, he knows the place,’ Clara smiles with an understanding nod.

‘Yep. He definitely knows his way around the kitchen.’ God, I sound cheesy sometimes.

Florence comes walking out from the back dressed in her black trousers and a white shirt I asked her to wear. Thank God. My usual waitress let me down, so I called her in last minute. I wasn’t sure if she was going to show, what with Hugh being so overbearingly overprotective, but I saw her walking round the back at the same time as Clara and Hartley arrived.

‘Ah, and here is our waitress for the day, Florence.’

‘Hi,’ she waves, the smile not meeting her eyes.

Now I look closer at her she looks a bit grey. There are dark rings around her eyes too. I need to corner her as soon as this is over. Something's going on. With the way Hugh reacted the other day I wouldn’t be surprised if there was trouble in their marriage.

‘Hi, Florence,’ Clara says, standing up to air-kiss her. Hartley nods a hello.

‘They’re ready for the starter course, when you are, Flo,’ I say, then smile while asking with my eyes if she’s okay.

She nods discreetly. ‘Of course. Coming right up.’ She disappears into the kitchen, an unsettling silence descending over us.

I’m just about to ask how their week was when the front door bangs open and Emily, the sixty-year-old cleaner, comes in carrying her vacuum.

‘Oh, hi, Emily,’ I smile, standing up. What the hell is she doing here? ‘I thought I cancelled you this morning. We’re doing a tasting, you see.’

‘Oh, right,’ she says, her eyes falling in disappointment. Half of me thinks she just likes getting out of the house. Since her husband retired, she’ll find any excuse to be out and about.

I feel bad letting her down like this. She doesn’t mean any harm.

‘Or... you could clean as long as you do it quietly? No vacuuming.’

‘Yes.’ She grins broadly, warming my heart. ‘Sounds good.’

I look back to Clara. ‘Emily here has been cleaning this pub for the last twenty years.’

‘Really?’ Clara says, looking at her with her nose scrunched up, as if she’s a bit of dirt on her shoe. She was probably brought up to treat cleaners as staff. Stuck up cow.

‘Yep,’ Emily nods, completely oblivious to her disdain. ‘Oh, the things I’ve seen over the years in this place.’

Oh God, I always forget how unpredictable she can be. We don’t want her telling them about all the vomit she’s scooped up over the years.

‘Thank you, Emily,’ I say with a tight smile, hoping she’ll get the hint to leave.

‘Especially over this last year,’ she continues. ‘Since the wedding business I’ve found all sorts. Used condoms are the worst. You’d think the dirty beggars would want to dispose of them after, but they never do.’

‘Yes, thank you, Emily!’ I almost shout. ‘We’d love to chat but we’re very busy tasting.’

‘Oh,’ she says, looking crestfallen. ‘Okay. I know where I’m not wanted.’ She flounces off to the other end of the bar with a humph. Jesus. I didn’t mean to upset the bitch.

Florence comes out of the door holding two trays. Now her face looks kind of green.

‘You have a few options when it comes to the starter. We have our winter vegetable soup.’ Florence places the tray down in front of them containing the little pot with a fresh baked roll on the side. ‘The mozzarella salad. Or the pate.’

‘Ugh.’ We all turn to look at Florence, who I’m guessing made the noise. She covers her mouth quickly. ‘Excuse me.’ She runs off towards the toilet.

I grimace. ‘Sorry about that.’

It’s then that the sound of violent vomiting echoes around the room from the bathroom. The poor cow is really going for it. I frown back at them.

Clara puts her fork down pointedly.

‘Maybe I’ll put on a bit of background music?’ I suggest, already running behind the bar and looking at the stereo system. I press play, glad for the music immediately blasting out loudly, covering the vomiting noise.

Only then I notice the woman singing the lyrics. It’s My Neck, My Back by Khia. She starts singing about how she wants her man to lick and suck her pussy and then her crack. Dear God! What kind of wedding reception did we host if this is the last song played?

I look over to find Hartley has burst out laughing and is currently holding his sides from chuckling so hard. Clara looks very unamused, her eyebrows raised as if expecting an explanation.

‘Sorry.’ I shout, trying to pause it. But the fucker won’t pause. Right, I’ll turn it off instead. I press the stop button but that’s sticking and doesn’t seem to work either. Why is this happening to me?

I finally find the power cord and yank the whole thing out of the plug, but in the process also knock the system onto the floor. Oops.

‘Sorry about that.’ I say, all in a fluster, deciding to just style it out. I can worry about the replacement stereo later.

Florence’s vomiting echoes back around the room. God, how can the poor cow still be going at it?

‘Shall we perhaps move onto the mains?’ I ask, getting up and collecting the uneaten tray of food. I know I’m going to have to do it myself. There’s no way Flo’s in any fit state.

I rush into the kitchen and grab the tray containing two roast dinners under the hot lamp.

‘Where’s Flo?’ Marty, the chef, asks.

‘Hungover,’ I answer with an eye roll. Except now I realise; she must be pregnant.

I can’t believe I haven’t thought of it until now. She’s been tired, nearly passed out, and now she’s sick? That would also explain why Hugh went mad at me. I’m such an idiot. But then... she was drinking cocktails on Tuesday. Surely, she wouldn’t risk that? Thinking about it she insisted on buying. I bet hers were virgin cocktails and she pretended to be drunk.

I walk out, struggling to hold the heavy plates. God, how do the waitresses do this? It’s hard bloody work just holding two, and I’m always snapping at them to go faster. They must hate me. No wonder my nickname is snow queen.

I take a second to compose myself before walking back down the corridor towards Clara and Hartley. I’m nearly at the table when Florence comes barrelling out of the bathroom, crashing right into me.

‘Flo!’ I shout, as I try but fail to swerve right and miss her. I end up mis-stepping and come crashing down onto the floor, my face landing in a roast dinner. I pull my face up from it and wipe the mashed potato from my nose, while gravy drips down my cheeks.

‘I’m so sorry.’ Florence exclaims, trying to pull me up. I look over to see Clara looking on in revulsion.

Strong hands are suddenly underneath my arms and I’m hoisted up to standing so quick I get a head rush. I steady myself against Hartley’s chest, shocked he’s rushed to my rescue.

‘Are you okay?’ he asks, attempting to wipe my face with his napkin. His worried forest-green eyes check over me, as if I’m made of glass.

For a second, I forget how to talk completely.

‘Yeah, I’m...’ God. Mortified? Dying of embarrassment? Take your pick.

‘I think maybe we should reschedule this?’ he suggests. Is that a hint of amusement in the corners of his mouth? It better bloody not be. I’ll kill him.

‘Yes. I agree it would be best for us to reschedule.’ I nod furiously, clinging onto the smallest hint of professionalism.

Jesus, first I have a panic attack in front of him, then smell of shit in the back of his car, and now I’m throwing gravy dinners over myself. What a great impression he must have of me: a clumsy, mentally instable, poo smelling woman.

They quickly leave, but not before Emily tells them how hard it is to get the smell of vomit out of a pub. Fantastic.

‘Nadine.’ I turn to see Florence looking a lot paler than a minute ago.

‘Are you okay?’

I’ve barely finished the question before she vomits on my shoes. Just when you think it can’t get any worse...

‘I’m not okay,’ she utters, wiping her mouth. ‘I’m pregnant.’

‘I knew it!’

I wait for the expected feelings of jealousy to overtake me. The same feelings I’ve felt whenever I’ve been invited to a baby shower, christening, or first birthday party. The crushing guilt that I couldn’t keep my baby. But it never comes. Instead a euphoria overtakes me, causing noticeable goosepimples on my arms.

‘Flo, I’m so happy for you.’ I fling her into my arms, not caring if she vomits down my back.

She pulls away to look up at me, frowning. ‘Are you really?’

‘Yes! Of course, I am. Don’t let what happened with me ruin what’s happening with you. I’m so happy for you guys.’

She finds a seat and sits down. ‘Thanks. But... ugh, I’m so ill. I’m not even sure if I’m going to make it to Lydia’s wedding.’

I remember those days well. It’s insane to think I kind of miss it in a way. It was my body’s way of showing me I was still pregnant.

‘My sister’s wedding should be the last thing on your mind. Like she’d even notice. You know how bridezilla she’s become. I’ll drive you home and put you back to bed.’

She smiles weakly back at me. ‘Thank you.’

‘So, I take it this is why Hugh went so mental at me for involving you in the bloody bride disaster the other day?’

Her eyes widen. ‘He did not go mad at you. Did he?’ Her shoulders droop, as if she already knows the answer.

‘It's fine. I get it. He’s being protective because you’re carrying his baby.’ I smile whenever I think of a mini Florence and Hugh.

‘It’s not just that.’ She sighs, putting her head in her hands. ‘He previously lost a baby with Felicity.’

‘Felicity? That whore that tried to stop you getting married?’

She snorts a laugh. ‘Yeah, that’s the one.’

I feel a new compassion for her. She may be a bitch but losing a baby changes you. Makes you hard, jaded. A bitch, even.

‘Well, just because it happened with her doesn’t mean it’ll happen to you,’ I offer weakly. I mean, really, who the hell am I to tell her to stay positive? I’m proof that anything can bloody happen. It’s beyond your control.

‘I know,’ she nods. ‘But until I’ve had my twelve-week scan, I won’t relax. Neither will Hugh. They were ten weeks gone when they miscarried before.’

‘How many weeks are you?’ I can’t help but ask.

‘I’m only seven weeks. It's seriously early days.’

I take her hand and squeeze it tight. ‘It’s going to work out for you. I know it.’

Her eyes fill with tears. ‘How do you? After what happened to you, how can you be positive about anything?’

I smile back sadly. ‘You’re not me, Flo. You’re going to be fine.’

‘How can you say that?’ she demands, a tear escaping, trailing down her cheek. ‘I’ve only had this baby inside me a couple of weeks and already the fear of losing it has my heart breaking. I just... I don’t know how you survived it, Nads. I really don’t.’

Sometimes I don’t either. But life goes on regardless and sooner or later you have to start going back through the motions of living.

‘Because I was too much of a pussy to take my own life,’ I joke.

She narrows her eyes at me. ‘You were suicidal?’ she shrieks in disbelief. ‘You never told me that.’

Oh Jesus. I can’t be telling her this stuff while she’s in such a fragile state.

‘Of course, I wasn’t. Just joking.’ She blinks rapidly, as if not believing me. ‘Look, I got on with things because I had no other choice. Now, let’s take your wedding ring off and use my necklace to see if it’s a boy or a girl.’

She laughs. ‘You know that’s a load of crap.’

‘Hey! Maybe we need some superstitious silliness right now to take your mind off the seriousness.’

She bursts into heavy tears. ‘Nadine, I bloody love you sometimes.’

I allow her to hug me tight as she sobs on my shoulder. I say a silent prayer to a God I no longer believe in. Please God, if you’re real, don’t let it happen to Florence. Not her.

* * *

Thursday 11th January

I’m back at the high school this evening helping out these little brats they call kids. It’s getting easier though. I wonder whether Hartley has had a word with them. That or I’m getting so used to my sister Lydia’s enraged phone calls every time something with her wedding goes askew that I’m becoming more tolerant in general.

I’ve helped small pairs of kids practice their lines of Romeo and Juliet and I'm just clearing up the outfits for the day when Anna, the sweet Bambi-eyed girl that let us out of here yesterday, comes in, tears streaming down her face.

‘Hey, what’s up?’ I ask, immediately going to her and pulling her into an awkward side hug.

‘Ugh, everything! I’ve fucked everything up. I’m useless,’ she wails, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

God, I forgot how everything is the end of the world when you’re a teenager.

‘Ssh, don’t be silly.’ I start to subconsciously rock her like you would a baby. ‘It might feel awful now, but I promise you there’s nothing that can’t be fixed.’

‘Really?’ she asks sarcastically, pulling back and wiping her nose with the back of her hand. ‘I don’t see how you can fix a baby away. Last time I checked that was called an abortion.’

What the fuck?

‘Whoa! Wait, are you telling me you’re pregnant?’

She sniffs, her eyes falling to the floor. ‘Yeah.’ Her huge brown eyes find mine again, filled with trepidation. ‘Now try to tell me how everything will be okay.’

‘Oh, Anna.’

If I would have guessed on anyone being pregnant it would have been that slut Chelsea with the neon pink bra, not sweet Anna.

‘The school will expel me when they find out, and then I won’t be able to finish taking my GCSE’s. I’ll probably end up working full time in New Look or something.’ She gulps, more tears welling in her eyes.

My heart sinks for her. Why does it always happen to the nice kids? I try to think of something to cheer her up.

‘No. I’m going to help you,’ I announce with a determined nod. ‘You can take your GCSE’s at college if the school finds out, but until then you need to hide this as best you can. Keep your head down and study like mad.’

She smiles back gratefully. ‘Thanks, Nadine.’ She sniffs. ‘You’re so nice. I wish my mum was as understanding as you.’

‘Oh, I’m sure your mum loves you.’ I scribble down my number for her. ‘Here, take this and call me anytime you want to chat.’

She smiles and turns to walk out of the door. She pauses just before leaving and turns around. ‘Nadine?’

‘Yeah?’

‘You never asked me if I wanted an abortion. What made you assume I wanted to keep it?’

God, she’s right. That’s terrible of me, to just assume.

‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I just...’ I think of my Belle. ‘Well, I suppose I just see any baby as a miracle, regardless of the crummy situation.’

She smiles brightly. ‘Thank you.’ She walks out, her shoulders no longer as drooped as before. I’m glad I’ve given her some hope. ‘Oh, hi, Sir,’ I hear her say.

Oh no, Hartley. Did he hear anything?

He enters the room and I immediately know he heard from his tense jaw and bunched eyebrows.

‘Hey,’ he smiles uneasily.

‘How much did you hear?’ I ask, too weary to beat around the bush. It’s been a long day.

He sits down on the bench and rests his head in his hands. ‘She’s pregnant?’ He phrases it like a question, but it’s clear he already knows.

I nod.

He looks devastated. Clearly this is more than the normal teacher/student relationship. Shit... you don’t think he’s the father? Oh my God!

‘You’re not the father, are you?’ I ask with a gasp.

His mouth drops to the floor. ‘Are you fucking serious?’

‘Well... I was,’ I admit, suddenly feeling stupid.

‘Jesus! I haven’t started to shag my students. Or anyone other than Clara for that matter,’ he confirms with a condemning shake of his head.

Well, thank God for that. All respect for him was quickly going down the toilet. I was already wondering whether I’d have to go to the police, as well as to see Clara, and the headteacher.

‘Okay, I’m sorry. It’s just that you look so pale and worried.’

I’m really not used to teachers caring so much about their students. I remember telling Mr Conlon about my concerns of Maddie Charston being bullied for the strawberry birthmark on her forehead and he couldn’t have given less of a shit. Poor Maddie. It was Max Factor that sorted her out in the end.

‘Of course, I’m fucking worried. She’s my student and now she’s knocked up.’

‘Sssh!’ I hiss, jumping up to close the door. ‘You don’t want this getting out.’

He sighs heavily, swiping his hand through his hair. ‘Why didn’t you persuade her to consider an abortion? What was with the "all babies are miracles" crap?’

Just thinking of Belle again has me gasping for breath. I falter, staggering backwards slightly, hitting my back against the door.

‘Nadine, are you okay?’ He jumps up and is in front of me within a second. ‘You look like you’re about to faint. Are you having another panic attack?’ He holds my upper arms as if to steady me.

At just this tiny act of comfort, I feel the unshed tears brimming at my eyes. All of the tears I hold in every day since it happened. I want nothing more than to collapse in his arms, crush my face into his warm chest and sob my heart out. Ask him to hold me, stroke my hair, tell me everything will be alright. But I can’t. I know that. I barely know this man. And what I do know is that he’s due to marry someone else.

I take a deep breath. ‘I’m fine,’ I assure him, my voice shaky and completely unbelievable.

His thumb gently lifts my chin. ‘Hey, I’m sorry if what I said upset you. I can be a heartless bastard sometimes.’

‘It didn’t,’ I say hastily, pushing his hand away. I don’t want to look him in the eye when I lie to him. ‘Sorry, I’m just being weird and emotional. I must be due on or something.’

He frowns. Jesus, why on God’s holy earth did I think it acceptable to tell him I’m due on my period? I’m not even due for another few weeks. Now he’s going to be thinking of me bleeding. Ugh, poor bastard will probably need to have therapy.

His eyes bore into me until I’m forced to look at him.

‘Nadine, I think you’ve got a massive heart, that’s all.’

I sniff and shake my head.

‘I mean it. I heard what you said to Anna. Anyone else would have been horrified at the idea of a pregnant teenager, but you were so kind to her. You gave her hope.’

‘She does have hope,’ I say defiantly, already feeling strangely overprotective of her. ‘Even if the school finds out, she can still do her GCSE’s at college.’

He scoffs. ‘And you think she’ll be able to do that while pregnant? Carry on her education with a baby around?’

I cross my arms over my chest. ‘All I know is that if she wants that baby, everything else is just background noise.’

He looks at me, a strange expression on his face. ‘You’re very odd, you know that?’

I snort a bitchy laugh. ‘Just because I actually like kids, unlike your fiancée.’

He glares back at me. ‘Hey! That’s not fair.’

‘Why isn’t it?’ I snap. ‘She said so herself. She doesn’t want kids. Don’t you want them?’

I know I shouldn’t have asked such a personal question, but it’s pretty clear that this isn’t the normal client/planner relationship.

‘Of course, I do,’ he grumbles, turning to comb his hair through with his hand. ‘It’s not that simple.’

‘Really? Because it sounds to me like you don’t want to face up to the realities of your future marriage.’

His face scrunches up, his forest-green eyes flashing with animosity towards me. ‘Fuck you, Nadine. You know nothing.’

He stands, turns, and storms out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Oops.