That night, I have the nightmare to end all nightmares. I’m in the hospital, about to go to my twelve-week scan, except I’m alone this time. I’m lying on the bed, waiting for the sonographer to come in, a sense of impending dread crawling over my skin. The door creaks open, but it’s not Scary Gladys I see. It’s a different Gladys altogether: Phoebe’s disturbing three-dimensional painting from Friends.
I wake up in a cold sweat just before she can ask me if I’m ready for my examination.
‘That’s it,’ I say to the empty room, ‘no more cheese and crackers before bed.’
I shuffle off the bed to go downstairs, finding it a little more difficult than usual. Although I don’t have a bump per se yet, my waistline is definitely thickening. My body is already starting to show the effects of pregnancy, and it’s scaring the life out of me. Looking down at my burgeoning stomach, I feel as though I’m watching all my years of hard work unravel, that I’ll be back to where I started in no time. Tears prick my eyes as I place my hands where my bump will be. I desperately want to feel the unmitigated joy that most mums-to-be feel when they see themselves begin to change.
‘What’s wrong with me?’ I whisper. ‘Why can’t I get used to this?’
*
It happens at fourteen weeks and three days.
I notice it as I’m putting on my baker’s whites, ready to start work for the day. My old ones were a few sizes too big on me, since I was a lot bigger when I started working at The Pastry Corner. Last year, however, I finally had the courage to order some that fit. I’d been scared I’d put all my weight back on for way too long and ordering new whites was my way of putting that behind me.
Today though, they’re a little tight.
I know what’s causing it, of course: the baby. Plus, the second helping of sticky toffee pudding I had at my mum and dad’s last week probably played a part. I look down and see the buttons around my stomach strain a little.
It’s perfectly normal, I tell myself, I knew this would happen, I prepared myself for it.
I feel bile rise in my throat as I stare at my tiny bump. Anxiety begins to grip me; it feels like the control I’ve had over my weight for the last two years since I joined Carb Counters is slipping away. I should be overjoyed seeing my body change to accommodate the baby; it’s a sign that my pregnancy is moving forward at a healthy rate. But all I can think about is the weight I’ve gained. I’m less than halfway through my pregnancy too, so I’m only going to put on more.
I realise I’m putting my destructive thought patterns before the baby’s wellbeing and feel horribly selfish. A lot of women – including Zara, who still doesn’t know about the baby – would love to be in my position. This is supposed to be the happiest, most exciting time of my life, but my brain is trying to ruin it.
I maintain a happy façade for the rest of the day, serving customers and whipping up cakes and pastries to my heart’s content. A few notice my bump and ask questions. I tell them about the baby and try to ignore the anxiety bubbling away inside me.
People are noticing a change already. Won’t be long until Chunky Monkey makes a return. Just like you always knew she would.
*
The Carb Counters meeting that night gives me something to focus on. The routine of getting ready for the meeting offers some comfort and stops my thoughts from wandering.
The only problem is Zara’s here to help me, so keeping my pregnancy a secret won’t be easy. Not least because I feel like someone’s run me down with a bus. The nausea’s subsided, but now I just feel awful.
‘Craig’s talking about booking a weekend away,’ she says, taking a seat in the circle. ‘We thought maybe somewhere in the Lake District, a nice cottage or something.’
My response comes out on autopilot. ‘That’s great, it’s a lovely place to visit apparently.’
She doesn’t answer immediately so I turn around to face her. Her head cocks to one side and her eyes narrow.
‘There’s something different about you,’ she says. ‘You look … I don’t know, just different. Have you got something you want to tell me?’
I freeze as I try to come up with an excuse. There’s got to be something I can say to throw her off the scent.
‘Um … I …’
‘Only me!’ Emma calls as she strolls into the community centre.
I breathe a sigh of relief and dash over to her, hoping Zara won’t press me any further. I don’t even register a very important envelope falling out of my Carb Counters folder.
‘Hey Cleo, you dropped this,’ Zara says.
I turn around just in time to see her pick up the envelope with my scan photos inside. My heart leaps into my mouth and I freeze in place as she lifts the flap.
‘Let’s see what we have here,’ she says with a grin. ‘Maybe this is the big secret you’ve been hiding.’
‘No, don’t look at that!’
My legs finally decide to move and I’m across the room in seconds. But I’m too late; Zara has taken the scan photo out of the envelope. Her smile vanishes in an instant as she puts two and two together.
‘You’re …?’ She looks up at me, tears shining in her eyes.
I close my eyes and sigh. ‘I’m so sorry, I know I should’ve told you.’
‘Well, why didn’t you? I take it you found out that day you collapsed at the meeting.’
I nod, holding back tears. ‘Yeah, they did some blood tests and … I found out then. I’m just over fourteen weeks gone. I really wanted to tell you, but I thought after everything you’ve been through, it might seem like I was rubbing your face in it.’
The whole of Zara’s body seems to deflate. ‘Cleo, you’re one of my best friends! If you’ve got amazing news like this, I’ll be happy for you, no questions asked. You’re right, I’ve been through a lot trying to have a baby, three miscarriages and an ectopic pregnancy aren’t easy to forget. But that doesn’t mean for a second that you had to hide your news from me. I’m a big girl, I don’t need to be protected Cleo.’
‘I know you don’t; you’ve come so far in the last year and I really did want to tell you. I was just trying to find the right time, that’s all.’
Zara scoffs and folds her arms across her chest. ‘Were you going to send me an announcement after you’d given birth? Maybe invite me to the kid’s uni graduation?’
There’s a flicker of her trademark humour in her voice, but I can tell she’s still mighty pissed off with me.
‘Maybe,’ I joke. ‘You’d have definitely been invited to their wedding.’
‘Good, you know how much I love buying hats,’ she replies with a grin. ‘You owe me a catch-up, lady. I want to know everything that’s going on with you. How about after the meeting’s finished?’
I consider taking a rain check and going home for the night because I feel so washed out, but decide against it. Instead, I stick my hand out for her to shake.
‘Deal.’
*
The group members have their ups and downs this week. Sheila’s hit another brick wall with her diet, mainly due to a string of birthday meals in the same week. If I’ve told her once about the ‘lighter’ options on menus, I’ve told her a thousand times. But let’s be honest, who really wants to pick away at a salad when everyone else is tucking into pizza and steak?
‘Well done everyone,’ I say as they file out the door. ‘Keep up the good work for next week.’
Tonight’s workout came courtesy of a dodgy-looking DVD from the eighties: my boss Claudine’s idea of a replacement for me. In her email to me, she promised to sort out a proper fitness instructor, but she thought that Abz ‘n’ Ass would do for now.
‘Ready to go then?’ Zara asks, linking her arm through mine.
‘As I’ll ever be,’ I reply, feeling a sense of relief that I’m not lying to her anymore.
The Bell and Candle isn’t too busy when we go in. The snug little pub is the centre of all of Silverdale’s social activity with its cosy booths and friendly bar staff. Zara goes to grab a table while I head to the bar to order some drinks.
‘Hi Ben,’ I say with a smile. ‘Can I have two white wines please? Actually … a white wine and an orange juice.’
I kick myself for almost ordering my usual glass of wine. Ben nods and sets about sorting my order. I can’t miss his stern expression or the way the bottles clatter as he handles them.
‘Still no further forward with winning Emma back?’ I venture.
‘Nope, I’ve been hitting my head against that brick wall for the last seven months,’ he snaps. He sighs and leans on the bar top. ‘Sorry, it’s not your fault. I’ve tried everything I can think of to win her back, but she’s not having any of it. I don’t suppose she’s said anything to you?’
I grimace and shake my head. ‘Sorry, can’t help you. All she told me at the time was that things weren’t working out between you.’
He rolls his eyes, mutters ‘bollocks’ and stalks off to the other side of the bar to serve a customer. I don’t even think he’s realised he’s forgotten to charge me for the drinks. I slip some money behind the bar and carry the drinks to the table Zara’s managed to snag.
‘How’s Lover Boy?’ she asks, taking the glass of white wine from me. ‘Still heartbroken?’
I nod as I make myself comfortable. ‘He’s got it bad. From what Emma told me when they split up, they just stopped working. He’d do anything to win her back though. Poor bloke even forgot to take my money for these!’
Zara giggles and shakes her head. ‘What was it Shakespeare said, the course of true love never did run smooth? The man knew what he was talking about, that’s for sure.’
‘How are things with you and Craig?’ I ask. ‘If you’re thinking of booking a weekend away, it must be going well.’
The broad grin on her face tells me everything I need to know: she’s still under his spell. ‘Cleo, I’ve never been so happy. He’s really turned a corner. I know we’ve had a few false starts over the last little while, but this is it. He said he wants to put all the baby stuff behind us and have a fresh start. Isn’t that amazing?’
‘Yes …’ I say slowly, ‘as long as he means it this time. I don’t want to see you get hurt again. You deserve better than that.’
Zara stiffens and sips her wine. ‘He’s serious this time. Trying to have a baby took a lot out of us and we needed to separate so we could figure things out.’
He spent his time ‘figuring things out’ with as many different women as possible, I say to myself. Any attempt to bring this up before has resulted in an argument, so I decide not to say anything.
‘Well that’s amazing,’ I say with a tight smile. ‘I hope you enjoy the Lake District.’
‘No, you don’t,’ she replies. ‘But thanks anyway. I know you probably think I’m mad to still love him after everything, but … I can’t help myself.’
Out the corner of my eye, I’m sure I can see a group of people look over at me. Maybe my bump’s more visible than I first thought? Fear begins to grip me: do I look like an ugly, misshapen mess? What if they’re laughing at me? I can’t bear the thought of being the butt of jokes again. I smooth my top down, making sure my bump stays out of sight. I try to remember some helpful advice from my therapist: don’t worry about what other people think of you, Cleo. Worry about what YOU think of you.
‘He’s my lobster,’ Zara continues, giving me a distraction from my spiralling thoughts. ‘You know, like in Friends? Lobsters mate for life, apparently. Craig’s mine, just like Scott’s yours.’
I burst out into a fit of giggles. ‘That’s a lovely sentiment, Zara, but I don’t think so! Another lobster’s got her eye on him from the sounds of things. He says he’s not interested, but I don’t know.’
Her eyes widen and she reaches over to grab my hand. ‘What? Tell me everything.’
*
So that’s exactly what I do.
Zara is hooked as I take her through the twists and turns of the last few months, including Scott and I sleeping together and Kayleigh being in the background. I wonder whether to leave out the surprise kiss we shared after the twelve-week scan, in case she gets her hopes up, but I chuck it in anyway.
‘No way!’ she yelps when I get to that part. ‘Does this mean you two are going to get back together? Should I buy a hat?’
I sigh and shake my head. ‘No … things kind of went sour after that. We started talking about the morning after we slept together and why he left me without saying anything. Turned out he was scared, apparently. So was I, Zara; I didn’t know what was going to happen or what us spending the night together meant for our relationship. But I’d have never just legged it with no explanation. Then Kayleigh messaged him asking him to go out for drinks with her and her friends. He said he wasn’t going to go, but I told him not to let me stop him.’
The familiar anger and frustration come bubbling to the surface as I think about it again. My hands clench into fists and I feel my heart begin to race. Aware that stress isn’t good for the baby, I take deep breaths to calm myself down.
‘Are you sure he didn’t just make a mistake after you slept together?’ Zara asks. ‘We’re all human, after all, and anyone could see how perfect you were for each other. He didn’t handle things as well as he should’ve, but maybe there’s a way to fix things.’
I feel myself bristle. ‘Zara, he left me twice. I can’t just ignore that. He’s said he’s sorry, but what’s to stop him from doing it again? I could forgive him, take him back and we could be a family, but then he could decide he wants something else. Then it wouldn’t just be me he walked out on, it’d be our baby too. What would I tell them? Sorry Daddy’s not around, he’s off backpacking round Asia or starting a new life in America? I know he said he wanted to give me space, but he left me feeling like he didn’t want anything to do with me.’
She reaches over and places her hand on top of mine. ‘Cleo, sometimes you just have to let things go. Whatever way you slice it, Scott is a good guy. He might’ve made a mistake, but is that really a reason to throw everything away? You could’ve made the first move to clear the air with him, so maybe it’s better to just draw a line under this.’
Maybe she’s right, I say to myself, maybe I’ve been too harsh. Perhaps I should just chalk all of this up to experience and move on. She’s certainly right about one thing: Scott is a good guy. Worst-case scenario, he’s a good guy who did a bad thing, but he’s definitely not a bad person.
‘There he is now!’ Zara gestures over my shoulder and points towards the door.
I turn around and what I see next shatters my heart into a million pieces. Scott is here, but he’s not alone.
He’s with a stunning woman. I instinctively know she’s Kayleigh.