Kerry Barrett - Under The Mistletoe

‘I can manage.’

‘What? In between hobnobbing with the neighbours and making marzipan berries?’ She jerked her head towards the puddle of red colouring. ‘Have you any idea how difficult that is to get off?’ She banged her fist on the breakfast table. ‘Maybe Adam was right! You’re totally irresponsible! If we lose this place we’ll be out on the street. How could you be so selfish?’ she gulped.

‘Jess, calm down,’ I stuttered. I’d never seen her like this before.

‘Calm down?’ She picked up a half-empty bag of flour, plunged in her fingers and lobbed a handful at my head. ‘Hey, this is fun, isn’t it? Let’s make as much mess as we can.’ She brandished the bottle of red food colouring.

‘No… not my… hair,’ I screamed, in between spitting out flour. Too late. And peroxide was so absorbent. Jess picked up one batch of perfect muffins, rushed to the patio doors, slid them open and–

‘No, Jess! You may as well put a gun to my head and shout pull!’

She gazed at me. Her lip quivered. Was that a sob ?

‘What’s the matter?’ I hurried over and prised the wire rack from her fingers. I put it on the worktop. We both sat down. A fat tear plopped onto her shirt and I tucked a random strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Is it Ryan? Or work?’ My voice sounded alien due to the flour having dried it out. ‘You can tell me, Jess,’ I said, softly, chest squeezing. I’d never seen my bestie this upset before. ‘Whatever it is, I’ll help you sort it. That’s what best friends are for.’

‘How?’ she sobbed. ‘Can you wind back time?’

‘What do you mean?’

Her shoulders shook. ‘You’ll think me so dumb, Kimmy. I’m pregnant!’

Chapter 10

Breathe, Kimmy, breathe. In and out. Inhale, exhale… Look at me, already practising to help Jess with her contractions. I stared at my best mate, a crumpled mess. Jess. Pregnant. As a baker, there had to be some witticism I could make about a bun in the oven. But joking was the last thing on my mind. My heart pounded at the thought of a baby growing inside her stomach. This was serious, grown-up stuff. Life-changing. I opened my mouth to talk but words wouldn’t come out. Instead I reached out and squeezed Jess’s arm.

‘It’ll be okay,’ I said, eventually. ‘We’ll get through this.’

‘How?’ she wailed. ‘I couldn’t afford a week’s nappies, let alone a cot or pram on my current wages.’

My eyes filled at the sight of sensible, level-headed Jess sobbing like I did at the wrong time of the month. I shook myself. Get a grip, for Jess’s sake. I focused, for a second, on the rows of cakes I’d made for Melissa. Like a herbalist or naturopath, I decided which was the best to lift Jess’s spirits.

Which to choose? The Santa Coladas? No, not alcohol, in her condition. And was popping candy even safe, in the early stage of the pregnancy? Maybe Jess would be better off with the plain, un-iced cinnamon spice ones. After all, lots of women got bad indigestion when expecting a baby.

‘Here…’ I guided Jess to one of the stools and put the plate in front of her. She opened her mouth to speak.

‘Shh!’ I said. ‘Don’t talk. Just eat for a moment.’

She sniffed loudly and, like a small child, did as I said. After a few mouthfuls, one solitary tear trickled down her cheek. But cakes were a girl’s best medicine – whether it was to comfort a broken heart or ease nerves before an important appointment. I poured myself a glass of water. I’d never seen Jess so angry, chucking flour into my mouth and colouring into my hair. At least it was red and not some way out colour like green or blue or … Blue? Wait a minute – had she even done a pregnancy test?

There had to be some mistake, I thought, as I watched crumbs tumble down her chin. This was the girl who’d grilled Miss during school sex lessons and asked if two condoms were safer than one (the answer’s “no”, due to more friction). I passed her a square of kitchen roll as she ate the last mouthful.

‘You’re more in need of a tidy up,’ she said and wiped her mouth. ‘Sorry. I … don’t know what came over me.’

I forced my lips to upturn before sliding the red food colouring down to the other end of the table. ‘Just in case.’

She half-smiled back.

‘Have you done a test?’ I asked, gently.

‘Yes. I nipped to the chemist on my lunch break and bought one of those fancy kits that tells you how far gone you are – eight weeks, it said.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘I was sick again this morning at work. Thought nothing about it until Dalek gave me the evils and asked if there was something I needed to tell her.’

Jess and her colleagues called Dana, their boss, Dalek behind her back, because, like those monsters from Doctor Who, she spoke in a flat, monotonous voice and made everything sound like a threat.

‘You were sick yesterday morning, right? But I thought that was some veggie burger you’d eaten?’

‘Obviously not. And I’ve taken up chewing gum the last month, because recently I’m always hungry. Then I remembered Mum saying that you’re supposed to get that pregnancy nesting instinct, when you go mad cleaning, towards the end, not the start like she always did.’

‘So?’

‘Me, cleaning Ryan’s bedroom on a Saturday morning? Usually not even I’m that keen. I obviously take after Mum.’

‘Right…’ Mustn’t ask about the dad; not yet. Don’t do it.

‘So now you know why I lost it… This house is more important than ever at the moment. When it was just me living at his, Ryan found it too much. He won’t want a mini-me hanging around as well. In any event, that bloke’s moving in and–’

‘You know I’m here for you. We’ll get through this. Together.’

She shrugged. ‘I can manage on my own. I’ll have to.’

‘Don’t be silly. That’s what best friends are for.’

‘I said I’m fine,’ she snapped.

I bit my lip. Okay, she was still in shock – as was I. A pit formed in the centre of my stomach. This was what Adam wanted – kids, a domestic future together. But even if I was married, with a regular job and mortgage to boot, the thoughts flashing through my mind of how Jess’s life was about to change, made me realise… I just wasn’t ready for any of that. An unsettling flutter in my chest made me question… Much as I wanted Adam back, in the long run, was it for the best?

‘Of course I’m going to help,’ I said firmly. ‘Haven’t we always looked out for each other? Like the time Mum was rushed into hospital with stomach ache. You met me there and supplied me with coffees whilst I listened to the doctors…’ They told her, for the hundredth time, to clean up her lifestyle.

Jess’s voice broke. ‘Like when I broke up with Phil…’

Hmm, her latest boyfriend and, I guessed, the imminent father.

‘You dropped everything and came round to Ryan’s. We spent the whole night talking, watching rubbish TV and eating popcorn.’ She bit her lip. ‘But this is different… My mess… I… I must stand on my own two feet.’

‘Well, I’ll always think of myself as the kid’s slightly bonkers aunt-in-waiting. Unless… I mean, you’ve still got options…’

Jess bit her thumbnail.

‘There’s no need to rush into anything,’ I continued, gently, ‘but if–’

‘I’m having it.’

As I knew she would. Jess kept stick insects as a child and, to her mum’s annoyance, wouldn’t even throw out the masses of eggs before they hatched.

‘Then, I’ll be with you every step of the way – even if you use those eco-friendly reusable nappies.’

‘I’ll be a very environmentally-friendly mum – especially as, on my budget, most of the baby’s stuff will have to come from secondhand shops.’ She gave another big sniff. ‘You don’t want a best mate who’s carrying a kid around the whole time. Admit it. You think I’m a joke.’ Her chin wobbled.