‘Love ya too, babe’

Three delicious courses later, the four of us were sitting with full bellies and, as usual after an evening spent with Eve and alcohol, my sides were aching from laughter. Eve had lit a cigarette. After a couple of drinks she would always treat herself to a one-off cheeky fag. She had been telling another anecdote about one of the inmates at the prison where she worked, which was highly inappropriate and would undoubtedly have broken every code of conduct regarding patient confidentiality.

I let out a long sigh and leant over to touch Ben’s arm. I could see he was inebriated from the red wine and now the Cognac, which was in an oversized brandy glass that he held loosely in his hand. Occasionally he lifted it to his mouth and took a sip.

Eve took a last drag of her cigarette and dropped it into her coffee cup.

‘Well, I’ve had a fab birthday, thanks, guys. A wonderful way to turn twenty-five on planet Earth,’ Ben said as he picked up Eve’s packet of cigarettes and motioned to her with his eyes. Eve waved her hand for him to help himself.

Eve launched herself onto Patrick’s lap and kissed him hard on the lips. Patrick’s flushed cheeks were the only visible sign of intoxication, despite consuming nearly one of the two bottles of wine we had shared between us. He was now making his way happily through the Cognac. I smiled and looked at Ben.

‘Thank you,’ he mouthed before he lit his cigarette. I looked around at the three people at the table. I reflected on the simple meal, the mismatched crockery. I looked at the faces of pure contentment and felt a glimmer of gratification at what I had been given.

‘And here’s to my wonderful wife and mother-to-be.’ Ben blew out a plume of smoke, raised his glass and the others followed in unison. ‘You’re going to make a wonderful mum.’ Ben looked at me, the light from the candles reflected in his eyes. I found a smile and plastered it across my face.

‘Thanks,’ I mumbled. But I knew his words were wasted on me, for I already felt like the worst mother on earth.

8

ANNIE

It was Christmas Eve and the day had begun much as every day did, with the whisper of a promise. By lunchtime I was already feeling the weight of its lie.

I had spent the morning, like I did most mornings, moving from one room to another, making sure everything looked pristine. As the hour edged nearer to midday, I tried to ignore the perpetual push of anxiety that manifested itself in the manner in which I yanked the sheets to perfection. The anxiety had made its way round my body and was becoming apparent in my breathing which was no longer natural and rhythmic. It was laboured and I felt an overwhelming urge to keep taking deep breaths, not always succeeding. When I could catch one, it brought momentary release that was addictive and caused me to continue striving for that deeper relief.