Pieces of You.

Luke noisily kissed Dan’s cheek then did the same to Dee. ‘Look at the size of that barbecue.’ He turned back to Dan and rubbed his chin gravely. ‘You know what they say about men and their barbecues don’t you, Dee?’

Dee giggled as Dan handed Luke a beer.

‘Shut up, you arse. And don’t you dare mention my man tools.’

‘Tongs.’ Luke shook his head. ‘You are such a girl, Danny boy.’ He caught sight of me and immediately came over. ‘Hey you,’ he said in my ear. ‘Everything okay?’

I nodded. I wanted to tell him about the baby moving but now wasn’t the time. I leaned in and gave him a kiss. He hugged me, his hands on my back. There was something about the way Luke touched me that made me feel completely cherished. Or turned on. Depending on the type of touch on the given day.

‘I missed you,’ he said, pulling back to look into my eyes. ‘That’s totally naff, isn’t it? I’ve only been at work.’

‘Yes, it’s totally naff. You’re adorable though. Never stop saying stuff like that.’

I felt Dee watching us, but when I looked at her properly I wasn’t quite sure what to read from her eyes.

I pushed Luke away jokingly. ‘Go. Go and help your boyfriend.’

Luke grinned and strolled back to the barbecue. ‘Hand your tongs over, boy,’ he told Dan. He started to fork sausages on to a plate or into the bin, depending on their blackness.

The food was disappearing as fast as they were cooking it. I picked at an avocado salad and helped Frankie dissect a rather charred sausage she kept describing as ‘dirty.’ Dan was drunk and taking all the credit for the cooking. ‘Well, my sausages might have been a bit burnt, but it’s probably going to be better than Lucy’s dinner tomorrow.’

I flicked his bare thigh hard, gratified when he yelped.

‘Ouch!’

Luke handed the tongs back over. ‘For that, my friend, you are on your own. No one disses my wife’s cooking, not even me.’

‘But it’s really, really bad …’ Dan protested.

‘Enough! Bring me one of those burgers if it’s a shade lighter than noir, would you, serving wench?’ Skipping out the way of Dan’s slap, Luke put his arm around my shoulder. ‘Are you sure everything is all right? You look lovely, by the way. That purple thing is nice.’

‘Really? My stomach shows under this cardigan and my boobs look massive.’

‘Every cloud.’ Luke tightened his grip. ‘Not long now until the next scan. Counting the days.’

‘I think Dee might have guessed about the baby but I haven’t said anything.’ I gestured to my untouched glass. ‘But listen. I felt the baby move. Properly. I was panicking because of those twinges, but then it felt like something fluttering around inside me.’

‘Christ, what have we got in there if it’s got wings?’ Luke went to laugh then stopped. ‘God, that’s amazing, Luce. What did it feel like? Tell me everything. Every single thing.’

I willingly described the extraordinary sensation, several times, in minute detail. I felt so incredibly happy and, as the night drew darker and the air chillier, I gratefully wrapped my cardigan around my stomach, keeping our secret that way for as long as possible.

Laughing as Luke and Dan danced to One Direction, even though they should have known better at their age, I allowed myself to relax. I chatted to Patricia briefly – the usual chit-chat – but I was probably distracted by the baby sensations I was feeling. My arms ached – ached – at the thought of holding our baby, but this time it was a good feeling. A beautiful feeling. I could barely wait.

CHAPTER FIVE

Nell

Nell watched Lucy peering anxiously into the oven. She had some dodgy-looking meringues in there and, apparently, they were her fourth attempt. Nell couldn’t imagine bothering to cook something twice, let alone four times. She might re-cut a pattern fifteen times until she got it right, but that was different; that was her passion. She guessed this anniversary meal must be enormously important to Lucy, especially since she detested cooking so much.

Nell glanced around the small but homely kitchen. It was immaculate, with everything in its place. With Lucy in charge, how could it be anything but? There was a huge bunch of fragrant yellow flowers on the windowsill, brightening the room. There were always flowers in the kitchen; it was Lucy’s thing – well, Luke’s thing for Lucy.

Nell watched her, wondering why she had been cold-shouldered over the past few months. They were close and had been ever since Luke introduced Lucy to the family, so it was inexplicable. Upsetting, too.

Nell rolled her shoulders. It didn’t matter. Lucy was being friendly again; they would be back on track in no time. Besides, was it only Lucy’s fault they hadn’t talked much recently? Nell had her own reasons for not challenging the distance that had developed between them.

‘They won’t cook any quicker if you stare at them, you know,’ Nell found herself saying to Lucy. ‘God, I’m turning into my mum. Stop me if I start banging on about the WI and poking my nose into everyone’s business, won’t you?’

‘Nell, I don’t think you’re in any danger of that.’

This was followed by a semi-snort and Nell wondered if she had imagined the slight edge to Lucy’s tone. Perhaps not. Her mum was horrendously nosy – they berated her for it all the time – and Nell knew that Lucy was a very private person.

Lucy straightened, her face flushed from the oven. ‘So. I’m cheating a bit with a tomato bruschetta starter and I think I can just about cook the herby lamb things. It’s just these awful, pissing meringues.’ She wiped her furrowed brow. ‘I mean, how is it possible to undercook them, overcook them and, my best one yet … turn them into shrivelled cowpats?’

‘You know this is like the blind leading the blind?’ Nell picked up the iPad Luke had left on the counter. ‘How to cook the perfect meringue,’ she began, skim-reading the page. ‘Right. Apparently, you need to use a glass bowl, you mustn’t get yolks into the whites and it’s imperative that you use cream of tartar. What the hell is cream of tartar?’

‘Buggered if I know,’ Lucy replied, looking crestfallen. ‘This was a really, really bad idea.’

Nell spotted a recipe on the internet page. ‘Why not make Eton mess instead? If you have a meringue that’s even vaguely decent, you could smash it up, smother it with cream and slap some berries on top. Luke won’t even know he’s eating a cowpat.’

‘Genius. I’m sold.’ Looking relieved, Lucy took a seat on a bar stool, her movements measured and careful, Nell noted. Why? What was that about?

Lucy pointed at the magazine Nell was thumbing through. ‘Vogue. That’s probably a fashion student’s bible, isn’t it? Too many adverts for me, I’m afraid.’

‘I’d kill to feature in one of those adverts. My fashion line, I mean. That’s the plan … one day.’

‘The next Vivienne Westwood.’

‘Just … the new Nell Harte.’ Nell felt herself flushing. She probably sounded pretentious. ‘You know what I mean, though. I don’t want to be compared to anyone else. I just want to do my thing.’ She needn’t have worried; Lucy hadn’t noticed, seemingly preoccupied, if in a rather vague way, with a carton of coconut water.

‘So, what’s new with you?’

‘Me? Not much. You know my life is dull. Do you have any news?’

Lucy shook her head, casting her eyes down. ‘Not really. Obviously I got married five years ago today, but apart from that … nothing much to report, I’m afraid.’

Nell considered her sister-in-law. There was something different about her. She was wearing a new top, a floaty, floral effort, which wasn’t her usual taste, but it wasn’t just the clothes. Lucy had a great figure for fashion – slim, not remotely busty, slight hips – but actually, there seemed to be a fairly substantial bust there today. And the hips … Were they a little fuller? It was possible Lucy had put on a few pounds since they’d last had a proper chat, but Nell decided it suited her, career as a fashion model notwithstanding.

‘Would you like some?’ Nell gestured to the coconut water.

‘Ummmm, no thank you.’ Lucy pushed it away. ‘It smells gross.’

‘It doesn’t taste much better than it smells,’ Nell said, sipping it and gagging. ‘All the rage, but like many fashions, style over substance.’ She dumped it in the bin, noticing Lucy’s expression flicker. Was something wrong? Nell felt anxious, but as Lucy’s features settled, she relaxed again.

‘Patricia was popular at the barbecue yesterday,’ Lucy commented. ‘Chatted up by all sorts of … by all sorts.’

‘Yes, but she wasn’t having any of it. I don’t think she can see herself with anyone but dad. I don’t want her to replace him or anything either, but it would be nice to see her happy again.’ Nell pulled a face. ‘Not sure she gives off the right vibes though … she’s a bit …’

‘Detached?’ Lucy offered.

Nell shrugged. ‘I guess so. Yes.’

Lucy nodded distractedly. ‘It must be hard for her. I’ve only been married for five years, not the thirty – thirty three?’ She glanced at Nell who gave a nod of agreement. ‘And I can’t imagine being with anyone else but Luke. And I’m not just saying that because you’re his sister.’

Nell smiled and chewed a stubby fingernail. She didn’t know much about marriage, or relationships for that matter. She’d had a few boyfriends on and off since she was fifteen, but nothing serious. Not until now.

She was desperate to confide in someone and Lucy was here, now. Nell faltered. But maybe Luke was a better person to talk to about this. A man’s perspective. She could guess what the woman’s perspective would be. Actually, Nell mused, did she want to confess this particular deed to anyone at all? She already felt ashamed of herself and she wasn’t sure she could handle more judgement.

Hearing Luke returning from his run, Nell edged herself off the bar stool. ‘This has been lovely, but I’d better be off. I’ve got an evil new lecturer who thinks I need to work on my fashion portfolio, even though I’ve only been back at college for a few weeks.’

Nell suddenly noticed how pale Lucy looked and her brain kicked in. Swollen boobs, slightly fuller in the face, flinching at pungent smells. Of course.

‘That is evil,’ Lucy agreed. ‘Poor you.’ She stood up but remained behind the counter. ‘Thanks for the meringue advice.’

‘Any time. Thanks for the chat.’ Nell walked around the counter and pulled Lucy into a warm hug. Yes, she was definitely right about her sister-in-law. That was a firm, pregnant stomach, all right. Nell felt a shiver of apprehension. This time. Let it happen for them this time.

‘You’re not leaving?’ Luke strolled in wearing shorts and a damp-looking T-shirt. ‘I’ve got to do an extra shift this afternoon, but you can stay for a bit, can’t you?’ He sniffed an armpit. ‘Do I smell that bad?’

‘Your feet do,’ Lucy said, pulling a face.

‘I have to do some work. Yuk … how do you put up with him, Luce?’ Nell danced out of the way of his sweaty embrace and headed down the hallway.

‘You dropped this.’ Turning, she found Luke holding out a piece of paper.

She took it, feeling idiotic. ‘You didn’t—’

‘Of course I didn’t read it, Nell.’ Luke’s eyes assessed her. He was concerned, not judgemental. ‘You still do that?’

Nell gave an off-hand shrug. ‘Only now and again. That’s an old one. I – I only do it when I feel a bit, you know … anxious.’

Luke nodded, seeming to accept what she said. ‘Makes sense.’ He put his hand on her arm. ‘But you know you can talk to me about anything, don’t you? Anything at all?’

‘Yes. I do. And thank you. Don’t worry about me, Luke; I’m fine. Enjoy your anniversary dinner, won’t you? Even the cow pats.’

Leaving him to ponder that gem, Nell closed the door and leant against it. Why hadn’t she said anything to Luke? He had given her the perfect opportunity to open up about it and she had chickened out. Maybe it was okay to have a secret. Like them with their baby, maybe it was okay for her to keep this to herself.

Sitting in her bedroom later that afternoon, her portfolio open and untouched on the desk in front of her, Nell fidgeted. The vintage dressmaker’s dummy she’d found in the shop in Camden – the delivery had cost more than the purchase price – stood regally next to her desk, wearing a half-finished pinafore. Nell wished she hadn’t decided to add patch pockets; they were a nightmare to sew and she kept putting it off.

Sorting through some swatches of material, Nell tried to concentrate. Aside from the whirl of feelings that seemed to be paralysing her, her focus kept being splintered by crashing noises downstairs. Her mother, sorting through her cake tins, presumably to find the perfect size for whatever she was planning to create next. She sounded as though she was auditioning for Stomp.

Perhaps baking was like taking drugs for some people? Perhaps it dulled the pain the way alcohol or cocaine did? Nell couldn’t remember her mother baking as much as this when her father had still been around, but maybe she was mistaken. God, she needed her own place. She started as she heard a knock on the door. Luke appeared.

‘Hey. What are you doing here? I only saw you earlier on …’ Nell half stood up.

‘I was worried about you. Sit down, sit down.’ Luke came in and closed the door pointedly. ‘I’m on my way to my shift but I wanted to come and see you.’

Nell was touched. ‘That’s really nice of you.’ She sat down and gestured to the bed. ‘Sorry I can’t offer you a spot on the sofa in my new pad,’ she added wryly. ‘The bed is the best I can do.’

‘Still gagging to get your own place, then.’ Luke threw himself carelessly on the bed, the way only a brother would.

‘Is it that obvious?’

Nell smiled at the sight of Luke sprawled across the bed. It reminded her of the old days when they used to talk into the early hours of the morning before their mum stomped down the landing and scolded them.

‘Yeah, it is. And I don’t blame you. There’s nothing like having your own flat or whatever, but it will happen, Nell. These things take time and you’re only young.’ Luke changed tack and cut to the chase, as was his way. ‘So. The letters to dad. I know you said that was an old one I picked up earlier, but was it?’ His tone was gentle. ‘I don’t mean to pry. I just want to know that everything is all right with you. I mean, I know why you started writing those letters to dad in the first place.’ Luke’s eyes dropped to Nell’s wrists.

It was involuntary, but Nell found herself rubbing her left wrist. The right wrist bore matching scars but the left was far more deeply scored. She was right-handed; it made sense. The skin felt gnarly beneath her fingertips, a stark reminder of her past. The old feelings came rushing back. Her mouth suddenly felt parched. That inner panic, the feelings of appalling fear and apprehension were swirling in her stomach, gathering momentum. She fought them, hard. It took a minute or so, but she finally gained control again.

‘I – I … honestly only do it now and again,’ Nell confessed. ‘Write the letters, I mean. And only when something is on my mind.’

She stared up at her noticeboard. It was covered with torn-out magazine pictures, vintage postcards and quotes by Chanel, Lagerfeld, Valentino. It was her inspiration board, full of her passion. Nell couldn’t understand why recently she wasn’t moved by it. She hadn’t been since she’d met … ever since … something had changed. She expelled air, wishing she could release the tension in her heart as easily.

‘What’s on your mind, Nell?’ Luke sat up and gave her an intense stare. ‘There can’t be anything going on in your life you can’t talk to me about, surely? This is me. Nothing shocks me and nothing will make me think worse of you. You know that.’ He reached out and touched her knee. ‘You’re my little sis. I’ll always be here for you.’

Moved to tears, Nell bit her lip. She wanted to unburden herself. But what could she say? That she had met someone? Someone who was not a ‘long term prospect’ as Ade would say, mostly because he spoke and wrote as though he was approaching a bank with a business plan, but someone, nonetheless. Someone she shouldn’t have met, someone she had no right to be with. Nell shut the words down inside. She couldn’t. She loved Luke and she trusted him with her life, but her woes weren’t any of his concern right now. It was Luke and Lucy’s wedding anniversary – hardly the time for Nell to be dropping her own rather unsavoury bombshell. And with Lucy most likely pregnant again, it felt even more distasteful to own up to her own, rather shady secret.

‘Another time?’ Nell offered weakly. ‘I – I don’t know if I’m in the mood for talking today. You go and enjoy your anniversary dinner. After your shift, anyway.’ She checked her watch. ‘You’d better make a move, hadn’t you?’

Luke stood up. ‘Yeah. If you’re sure. But you know where I am, okay?’ He bent and kissed Nell’s head. ‘I don’t want you to feel alone ever again. Not like you did before. You have me and you always will.’

‘I know that. Thank you.’

‘Okay. I’ll catch you later … I’ll be in trouble if I’m late for my shift.’

Nell watched the door close behind him. Luke was right. She didn’t need to feel alone. She had people she could talk to. She had her friend, Lisa – although Nell was fairly certain what Lisa’s reaction would be to her news. Touching her wrist again briefly, Nell tugged her portfolio towards her and re-read her assignment. She had a lot of work to do. She’d be far better spending her time doing that than dwelling on her love life. There would be time enough for her to discuss her relationship woes with Luke. She’d tell him next time she saw him.

CHAPTER SIX

Lucy

‘The food was amazing, really.’ Luke took my hand across the table. ‘I loved the Eton mess. Loved it.’

‘Are you sure?’

I wanted to believe him, but I actually thought I’d burnt the meringues. Luke had (very sweetly) asked for seconds, but that was only because he had impeccable manners. Only an utter gentleman would have made such a furore over a couple of soggy bruschetta and a plate of over-cooked herby lamb.

I sighed. I had no idea why I had bothered to try and cook. Neither of us were drinking, as I couldn’t and because there was a chance Luke might have to go back to work. It might have helped wash down the terrible food I had cooked. I fervently hoped Luke didn’t have to go back. We needed this meal, this time together. It was our wedding anniversary and we’d both been so stressed about the pregnancy.

But, cooking aside, I had come up trumps on the gift front this time. I’d bought Luke an oak chopping board with ‘Antihero’ carved into the side which was a literary joke about his job. It had cost me an arm and a leg, not that I cared about that.

‘Aaah.’ Luke looked sheepish. ‘I don’t have your gift yet. I mean, I have a card and the gift will follow, if that makes sense.’

‘Oh. Okay. No problem.’

I admit it; I was taken-aback. For Luke not to produce a gift was unlike him, out of character.

As he opened his chopping board, I drew his card out of its envelope.

Darling Lucy

Another incredible year together. I’m proud to call you my girl every single day and I know we will soon be holding our baby and moaning about sleepless nights. I long to moan about sleepless nights! Your gift will be here soon, and it’s a good one, I promise!

Love always, Luke x

‘Awww.’ I was touched. It was a lovely message … the best.

‘I love this,’ Luke said, turning the chopping board over in his hands. ‘Antihero. Ha ha, brilliant!’

‘Better that you do all the cooking in future.’ I pulled a face at the burnt meringues and stood up to start clearing the plates.

‘Don’t be daft. Hey, sorry about the delay with the gift, but honestly, it will be worth the wait.’ His face was earnest. ‘You know I always get on board with the whole present thing. But this gift took a bit longer than I thought it would and I have one thing left to do to make it perfect.’

I shifted in my seat. I had vague backache but our chairs were notoriously uncomfortable.

‘You look amazing, you know that?’

‘Do I?’ I glanced down at my dress. I’d made an effort with a teal-coloured jersey concoction with capped sleeves and a deep V-neck that made the most of my new-found cleavage. It was a romantic dress for what I was determined would be a romantic night. The process of IVF was curiously neutral. Intimate in its own freakish way, but not between husband and wife. I wanted tonight to be about myself and Luke – about reconnecting – and most importantly, about remembering why we got together in the first place.

Luke turned in his chair and pulled me closer so I was standing between his legs. ‘That dress is lovely, but it’s not that. I haven’t wanted to say this to you before now, because of … well, you know. But pregnancy suits you. You look beautiful. Really beautiful. It takes my breath away just to look at you.’

I was lost for words. Completely lost. I felt Luke’s hand on my waist. He moved it across my stomach, across my swollen bump.

‘I’m so excited about our future,’ he said, his eyes clouding over with emotion. ‘This is going to be the best thing that’s ever happened to us, I just know it.’

‘Me too.’

I felt such an intense rush of happiness, it threatened to blind me. This was going to be the making of us. This baby was everything we had ever wanted and I was going to do my very best to enjoy the final months of my pregnancy, to embrace this experience. I had wanted to so badly, but fear had held me back. I covered Luke’s hand with mine so we were holding my bump together.

Luke stood up, cupping my neck. He kissed me, a sweet, gentle kiss that became more urgent. I kissed him back, sliding my arms around his waist. I knew his back was super-sensitive, so I ran my hands across it, smiling as he flinched with pleasure. He groaned.

I smiled, bending to kiss him again. I liked making Luke groan.

‘No, it’s my phone,’ he said, reaching down and drawing it out of his pocket. ‘It must be work.’

‘Ignore it?’ I said hopefully, resting my forehead on his shoulder. Oh, the frustration.

‘I can’t. Shit.’ Luke checked the message. ‘I need to go in. Christ. Talk about bad timing. It’s only a four hour shift, but still. Sorry, Luce.’ He gave me a kiss, the kind that had a ring of promise. ‘Let’s reconvene later. Or in the morning. Shall we?’

I nodded. I could wait until then. Reluctantly, I let go of him, our fingers touching until the last second.

‘We are such saps; I love it.’ Luke headed out of the room, throwing a grin over his shoulder. ‘Laters, dude.’

I held up a hand in farewell, the other wrapped around my tummy.

Five hours later

My back felt tight and cramps spiralled through my groin. I slowly lowered myself on to the bed. I hadn’t imagined it. That burning sensation I had been feeling earlier down one side of my groin was becoming more acute, the pain thrumming through my body. To think that earlier, all I was worrying about was burnt meringues and leathery lamb. Now, my adrenalin was pumping like crazy and I could hear rushing in my ears.

Where was Luke? I had left him a message, just a brief one, calm and without a hint of panic, but I hadn’t heard back from him. The panic I had hidden was taking hold, gripping me round the throat. I needed to talk to someone, but it was Sunday; my midwife didn’t seem to be on call today. I’d left her a message, too, not bothering to hide my terror this time.

I took some deep breaths, trying to work out whether I could move. There wasn’t any blood; that had to be a good sign. The other times, there had always been blood. Blood before any proper cramps. I was tired, I had morning sickness from dawn until dusk and I was suffering from crippling migraines. But these were symptoms of a normal pregnancy; I had been assured of this.