Thursday 18th January

I can’t do it. I can’t reduce my medication. Last night I was back to two tablets and the thought of only having one tablet tonight already has me twitching in anxiety. Why had I ever thought it would be easy? I was stupid to think I could attempt it before Lydia’s wedding this weekend. Hopefully I’ll be less of a basket case by then.

So maybe it turns out I’m not supposed to have another baby. Maybe Belle is my one and only. In a weird way that’s kind of okay with me.

The thought of going through it all again just for the same fate to be repeated has my heart already detaching and attempting escape for fear of breaking again. I don’t think I’d survive it a second time. At least now I can work on accepting a child-free future.

I’m barely in work when the phone starts calling, Clara’s number flashing up at me. I knew giving her my mobile number was a mistake.

‘Hi, Clara,’ I say through gritted teeth.

‘Hi,’ she says brusquely. ‘So, I’ve been thinking that I want ice sculptures.’

Jesus.

‘Um, okay.’ My voice comes out flat and uninterested. I shake my head, remembering to be professional. ‘Sure, I know a contact. What kind of sculpture were you looking for?’

‘I was thinking life-size sculptures of me and Hartley kissing. What do you think?’

That you’re a crazy bitch who wouldn’t know taste if it hit you in the face.

‘Um... okay. I can get a quote for that.’

‘Oh, money is no issue,’ she says dismissively.

Of course, it isn’t, not for Princess Clara.

‘Okay. I’ll call you back later then.’

Money is no issue. God, I’m used to dealing with brides on tight budgets. Not spoilt bitches like her. She so doesn’t deserve Hartley. Whoa, where did that come from? I need to stop thinking about this soon to be married man.

I call up my supplier, Jenny, and tell her about Clara’s idea.

‘Classy,’ she deadpans. ‘So, we’re looking at two grand, easy.’

‘That’s fine. She said money is no issue.’ I eye roll as if she can see me.

‘Well, isn’t that nice for her,’ she snorts. ‘In that case, tell her three grand.’

I burst out laughing. ‘Okay, I will.’ The cocky cow deserves it.

She chuckles. ‘If she agrees I owe you a night out!’

I’m barely off the phone when it starts buzzing again. I look. It's Clara. Of course, it is. There I was thinking my sister was the biggest Bridezilla I’ve come across.

‘Hi, Clara. I just got off the phone with the ice sculptor.’

‘Never mind that,’ she snaps. ‘Daddy wants to know if you can serve caviar?’

I grit my teeth to stop myself from growling. I hate being interrupted. My mum has always said, manners cost nothing. ‘We can get that in for you, yes.’

‘Fabulous. Also, I’m thinking about swans.’

I hold my now throbbing temples. ‘Swans?’ I repeat in disbelief.

‘Yes. Wouldn’t it be amazing to have a couple of swans wandering around? They’re such majestic animals, don’t you think?’

I wouldn’t. I hate birds. Their beaks freak me out.

‘Well, I’d have to check and see if we need any kind of licence to have them on site first.’ Hopefully this will deter her.

‘Nadine, darling, don’t bore me with the details. Just let me know when you know, a simple yes or no.’

Rude bitch. Don’t tell her to go fuck herself. Don’t tell her to go fuck herself.

‘Okay, fine,’ I force through gritted teeth. ‘I’ll call you back.’

‘Oh and is there any chance you could look into plastic surgery for one of my bridesmaids?’

‘Sorry?’ I must have misheard her. She wouldn’t have just asked me about plastic surgery, right? Especially with less than a month until the wedding.

‘My bridesmaid,’ she explains, ‘my dear friend, Jessica, has a huge nose, and she’s been thinking about getting it fixed. I’ve offered to pay as long as it would heal before the wedding. We don’t want that honker getting in the way of the photos!’ She shrills a laugh.

I cannot believe this bitch.

‘No. I’m afraid I don’t look into cosmetic surgery,’ I state firmly. ‘That’s gonna have to be you.’

‘Okay. Speak soon. Ciao.'

Jesus, that woman is awful. Imagine offering to pay for your friend’s surgery! What a heartless cow. I’ve barely opened my spreadsheet for suppliers when the phone’s ringing again. This fucking woman!

‘Hello?’ I answer aggressively.

‘Nadine, now I’m worried about the weather. Is there any way you can cover the entire outside area so if it rains no one will notice?’

Oh, for fuck's sake. Now this bitch wants me to do an anti-rain dance.

‘Clara, you need to calm down.’

‘Excuse me?’ she asks, affronted.

Oops. I’m not used to telling my clients to calm down, but it just slipped out naturally. I can’t help but be passive aggressive with her.

‘What I mean is that regardless of the weather, you’ll have a fantastic day,’ I say brightly, attempting to salvage the situation.

‘Well that’s not what I asked is it?’ she barks. ‘I might just have to calm down and go somewhere else for my wedding.’

Oh crap. If I thought she was a pain before, pissed off Clara scares the shit out of me.

‘That’s not what I -’ But it’s too late. She’s hung up on me. Great, just great.

The one client I’m not to upset, and I’ve just fucked her off royally. Fucking fantastic.

* * *

Friday 19th January

As I drag myself into the school, I have to remind myself why I’m even doing this. It’s really not helping me stop thinking about Hartley and how he’s mental to be marrying Clara. If anything, forcing myself to spend time with him is making me like him.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t fancy the guy. Okay, that’s a total lie. I fancy the pants off him. But that’s all it is—he’s good looking and fun to be around. But I’m not in love with the man or anything crazy like that.

It’s not like I can back out of organising their wedding now. Especially after upsetting Clara. Hugh would kill me. If only their wedding would fall after he’d paid his uncle back, he wouldn’t be so neurotic about it.

‘Hi, Nadine,’ Anna says as soon as I’m through the door, bounding over to me. ‘I was hoping you’d be in today.’

‘Oh, really?’ I ask, intrigued. She’s a lot more chipper than when I last saw her. Maybe she’s told her parents and they’ve actually been really understanding.

‘Yeah, I was wondering something.’ She tucks a bit of blonde hair behind her ear, her eyes finding the floor before looking back at me with her eyebrows squished together, suddenly appearing shy. ‘Would you... I mean, how would you feel about...’

After the day I’ve had I can’t be beating around the bush with bullshit.

‘Jesus, Anna. Just spit it out.’

Her face falls. Oh well now I feel awful. I forgot how sensitive teenage girls are.

‘Well if you don’t want to know!’ she cries, turning to storm off.

I grab her arm softly to stop her. ‘Sorry.’ She turns back. ‘I’m sorry, Anna. I’m just having a bit of a hard day.’

She sighs. ‘That’s okay. Trust me, I know how that feels.’

This poor girl is going through the biggest challenge of her life and here I am snapping at her just because I’ve had to deal with an arsey client.

‘So, what did you want to ask me?’ I smile, forcing myself to appear cheery.

She looks around to check no-one is within hearing distance. ‘I wondered if you’d come with me for my scan,’ she whispers.

My mouth drops open. Her baby scan? Surely, she’s not that far along yet, is she?

‘Are you twelve weeks already?’ I ask, my voice barely audible, my mouth is so dry.

‘I will be next week,’ she confirms, tucking more hair behind her ears. ‘According to the midwife woman, who totally judged me by the way.’

‘No way?’

‘Yep,’ she nods. ‘She kept asking me if I was sure I wasn’t interested in a termination.’

My hackles rise, my nostrils flaring in a fresh wave of rage. ‘She what? How bloody dare she!’

She nods, her big brown doe eyes staring up at me. ‘And then when I said I was keeping it, she just assumed I’d be giving it up for adoption. Started giving me leaflets about it.’

‘Are you serious?’ I almost shout, anger coursing through my veins. ‘Who the hell is this midwife? Talk about a bitch. You should put in an official complaint.’

She shrugs in despair. ‘I wouldn’t know where to start.’

I’m already googling it on my phone.

‘But anyway, would you come with me?’ Her Bambi eyes look up at me hopefully.

‘Of course. I don’t want anyone else being a dick to you.’ I can’t believe how protective I feel for this girl in such a short time of knowing her.

She snorts. ‘Thank you. I just... I don’t think I can trust one of my mates to keep it a secret, and it’s not like I can ask my parents.’

So, she hasn’t told them then.

I bite my lip. ‘You are going to have to think about telling them though, you know? You’ll start showing soon.’

She shakes her head. ‘I can’t think about that right now. I want to get this scan out of the way. Make sure everything’s alright before I think about what I’m going to do.’

Jesus, another anxious pregnant woman to deal with. Only this one isn’t even a woman yet, she’s still a girl.

She gives me her number and promises to text me the full appointment details.

I find Hartley practically pulling his hair out during the rehearsal. His glossy blonde locks are spilling from his top knot from the amount of times he’s run his hands over it in despair.

‘No!’ he shouts. ‘How many times, Harry? The line is Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace! Thou talk’st of nothing.’

Harry shrugs. ‘Is it really such a big deal?’

Hartley bristles. ‘Oh, of course not,’ he grunts sarcastically. ‘In fact, why bother with the lines at all? Why not just make it up as we go! It’s only Shakespeare, the most influential writer of all time. In fact, why bother with outfits when we can wear pyjamas?’

Jesus, the man has lost it. For the first time I can see why he teaches drama. He’s a total queen.

‘Alright there, Mr Valentine?’ I ask behind him, trying hard to hide the smirk on my face.

He turns, shocked at the interruption. ‘Great.’ he snaps, jerking his head back dramatically. ‘Bloody fantastic.’

I raise my eyebrows, unable to hide the snicker on my lips. ‘I really think you should calm down.’

‘Yeah,’ he snorts. ‘Because we all know the way to calm someone down is to tell them to bloody calm down. You might as well piss on a burning building, for all the good it’ll do.’

I look back at the kids. They seem exhausted, leaning on the props just to get some sort of rest. Shakespeare’s hard to understand at the best of times.

‘I’m taking Sir for a coffee break. You guys relax for a minute.’ I start leading him away, pushing against his shoulder. It’s hard when he’s such a tree.

‘Or read your lines!’ he shouts back. ‘Something that could actually help.’

I roll my eyes at the kids, causing a few to laugh.

‘Jesus, Hartley, you need to calm down. You’re going to give yourself a heart attack.’

He clenches his jaw. ‘Don’t you go starting on me. I’ve already had Clara on the phone screaming that you told her to calm down.’

I grimace. ‘Yeah... that was a mistake.’

‘Well someone here has to bloody care about this play, otherwise the whole thing will go to shit. And it’s my name against it.’

Jesus, it’s a school production, not a show in the West End.

We make it to the deserted staff room where I fill up the kettle and press boil.

‘But really... it is just a school play. It’s not like this is the West End. Parents are only going to expect so much.’

He shakes his head. ‘You have no idea. We have talent scouts coming. This could be the difference between some of my talented students getting a scholarship to a drama school, or them ending up doing drama at a mediocre college.’

I smile back at him, shocked and impressed at his passion.

‘You really do care about these kids, don’t you,’ I state more than ask.

He rakes his hand through his hair. ‘Of course, I do. I wouldn’t be in this job unless I did.’

I smile. ‘Yeah, the pay and the hours aren’t the most appealing otherwise,’ I admit with a chuckle.

‘Do you ever miss it?’ he asks seriously, his eyes holding me in place.

I think back to those adorable little faces I left behind. After losing Belle my heart was no longer in it. Looking at those beautiful happy little faces used to uplift me, but it quickly turned to sadness. My Belle would never make it to reception class. She’d never go on to secondary school. Have a prom. Get married. Have a child of her own.

God, just thinking about it again has the hurt twisting inside me, making my eyes tear up.

‘Sorry,’ he says, his eyes darting from side to side in panic. ‘I didn’t realise something happened to make you leave.’

I force a laugh. It comes out sounding bitter. ‘Nothing happened. At my work, anyway.’

He frowns. ‘Oh. So... why are you upset?’

I think about telling him, but I can’t. I don’t know him well enough and I like the idea of him knowing a version of me that isn’t drowning in her own grief.

‘Something happened in my personal life that made me look at work differently. Made me look at everything differently really.’

He looks me in the eye, holding eye contact for longer than is necessary. It feels impossible to look away, as if our eyes are magnets drawn together by a force stronger than us.

‘I can see the pain in your eyes.’

I blink, as if I can dislodge the connection between us. I shake my head. ‘I’m fine.’

He smiles, his forehead wrinkling. ‘I never said you weren’t. Doesn’t mean you haven’t been through shit in your life.’

God, he really needs to stop saying such honourable things in front of me. It’s not helping my crush. But God, when he talks to me it's as if nothing else in the world exists.

‘Yeah, well, that’s part of the reason my heads all over the place at the minute,’ I admit. ‘I’ve been trying to reduce my anti-depressant dose and... well, it’s not going well.’

God, why am I telling him this? What is it about him that makes me want to spill my secrets?

‘Shit,’ he says, clasping my hand with his giant one. God, it’s warm. I feel it all the way down my spine.

‘I mean, don’t worry or anything!’ I quickly say, throwing my hands up to break the contact. No good will come from him touching me. ‘I’m not some nutter that’s going to freak out and kill everyone.’

His eyes soften with concern. ‘I’d bloody hope so too,’ he chuckles.

The door suddenly bursts open, Harry out of breath.

‘Sir, Karl is fighting with Ben!’

‘Oh, for fuck's sake.’ He rolls his eyes at me. ‘Back to work.’