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Back A Bumpy Year Save as PDF
Chapters (49)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by Olivia Spooner
  3. A BUMPY YEAR
  4. Copyright
  5. Contents
  6. Dedication
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. Acknowledgements
  48. About the Author
  49. An Invitation from the Publisher

I’m stalling. She’ll be crestfallen if I say no. Mags loves helping others. Especially those she thinks are vulnerable. It’s the reason she has so many cats. Mags volunteers to be a foster home for displaced or stray cats and, of course, has ended up keeping the ones that couldn’t be rehomed. Her small house permanently smells of cat wee, which is why we rarely go over there. Also, Lily isn’t exactly a cat person – she lives in terror of a cat landing on her lap. I have to admit, my desire to have a cat has diminished since Mags accumulated her feline friends.

After brief consideration, I decide the risk of offending my friend is too great.

“Sure,” I say, feigning enthusiasm. “I’d love you to come.”

So I turn up with yet another person to class and the first thing Mags does – before she’s even completed the obligatory introductions – is announce that she’s my friend for life (so lovely), and she is going to love me no matter what (strange, but OK, I’ll go with it). Then she says, her cheeks flushed, her eyes wide and watery, that she’s gay and the happiest she’s ever been. After which she sits down, puts a hand on my knee, leans in and kisses me on the cheek.

I’d forgotten how much of a sharer Mags can be, especially when she’s nervous.

Of course, I know she has a girlfriend and that our relationship is platonic, but do the rest of the room? Hell, no. They’re now all staring at me as they try to factor in the possibility of two dads (they’ve been too polite to ask about Elliot and Pete) and a second mum.

Even Margot is speechless. She keeps looking from Mags to me and back to Mags as if we’re going to start making out.

Priya stands up and walks over. Her stomach is so much bigger than last week and her walk has turned into a wide-legged waddle.

“Welcome, Mags,” she says, smiling and leaning down to give my friend a hug.

Then it’s my turn. She pulls me into her stomach, her arms around my shoulders (hugging doesn’t work well when one is sitting and the other standing, especially when heavily pregnant). It feels far too intimate as my head pushes against her firm basketball belly.

“So happy for you, Trish,” she whispers in my ear.

“Thanks,” I mutter, willing her to let me go.

But she doesn’t. Instead, she pulls me even tighter and gives me a sloppy kiss on the forehead.

I should have come to the meeting on my own.

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