‘You can smirk, but it’s good to have standards in life, Bessie.’

‘Standards? Mum, I failed practically everything. What if Michelle’s mum is saying, “I don’t want you mixing with that Bessie Worrall – she’s a right thicko!”’

‘Well then, I’d have to go and have a word with her,’ her mum said in a low voice, leaning forward with her eyes narrowed. Her attempt at menacing was so funny, Bessie laughed out loud.

‘That’s more like it. You should be laughing today, of all days. Promise me you’ll have a lovely time tonight, won’t you?’

‘I will.’ Bessie pulled down the hem of her cropped pink sweatshirt and felt her tummy flip at the prospect of the conversation she knew she was going to have with her very best friend in the whole world ever, ever, ever . . .

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER EIGHT

August 20th 2021

Bess pulled out the bath plug, letting some of the tepid water drain away, before replenishing it with hot and climbing back in. She lay back and watched the conditioner leach from her now glossy hair. Shaking her hands free of water, she reached for the packet of cigarettes and lighter that she had balanced on the side of the bath. With the filter in her mouth, she held the tip against the flame and inhaled deeply, enjoying the first hit of nicotine as the smoke rolled into her lungs. Smoking was her dirty secret and her guilty pleasure. It always had been. She wasn’t addicted and had no need to puff away on a daily basis, but as and when the mood and opportunity arose, she loved to indulge and kept a secret packet of menthol cigarettes and a lighter secreted in an old Tampax box in the bottom of the airing cupboard. Closing her eyes briefly, she put her free hand on her tum, where that little baby had taken root, only to fly too soon. Her tears gathered, not for her loss but at the guilt that washed over her. Not only because Mario had felt forced to rush home, but also because she would never – could never – tell him that, when all was said and done, when she knew she was losing the baby the strongest feeling that had pierced her breast and sat in her throat was one of relief.

With two boisterous young children to look after, getting pregnant was the last thing on her mind, and the surprise of it had floored her. When the pee-soaked test had read positive, Bess, who was sitting on the loo with it in her hands as the kids caused mayhem in the hallway, had cried and asked her reflection in the mirror, ‘What the hell am I supposed to do now?’