Nicki lets out a small snort. ‘You can’t even reign it in on my baby shower, can you? Of all days?’
Phoebe does this bitchy cackle. ‘Nothing’s been reigned in about this baby shower, Nicki. I mean, I get that you’ve chosen the heteronormative path of least resistance, but I just saw a vagina piñata outside.’
Nicki snorts again. ‘It’s a vulva actually.’
‘Seriously, what evenistoday?’ Phoebe asks. ‘I feel like I’m living in a fever dream, and this heat isn’t helping.’
My arms prickle as I wait for Nicki’s response. I wait for her to tell this total bitch of a woman how perfect today is, and how hard I’ve worked and how grateful she is. There’s nothing I haven’t thought of. No extra details I didn’t add. As a gift for my best friend. I hope she tells Phoebe to leave; quite frankly, she’s been messing with the energy all day.
But Nicki says none of that.
‘I know. Today is my worst nightmare realised. I promise you, I’ve had nothing to do with any of this.’
I gasp but they’re both laughing too hard to hear me.
‘Can you say that in calligraphy for me?’ Phoebe cackles again. ‘Nothing can be said today in normal handwriting.’
‘Poor Charlotte probably took an online evening course to learn calligraphy for today.’
‘Well, so she should. Personally, I can’t piss unless signs for the toilet are spelled out in calligraphy.’
‘I’m surprised you saw them through the wall of peonies.’
‘Don’t. I’ve developed hay fever. Whatever today is, I’m allergic to it.’
As tears mix with sweat on my face, as my knickers fill with blood, as I squat in the gravel, I can only listen, stunned, as one of my best friends shamelessly rips the piss out of me. Ridiculing the day I’ve spent weeks planning for her. I’m frozen with shame and humiliation. Nicki hates today? She hates all this? Everything I’ve done? As I peer out again, her face is crumpled with laughter. She’s not only ridiculing me, she’s enjoying it. Then, somehow, as the universe has obviously decided to enter me into some super-advanced test today, it gets worse.
‘Is your friend Charlotte on Ritalin or something?’ Phoebe asks. ‘Does she chase her pill down each morning with a bottle of butter icing?’
Nicki snorts for a third time. ‘Charlotte’s always been a lot.’ Then she stops laughing and her voice quietens and I strain to hear her properly. ‘She means well, she does. But today is a bitselfishof her . . .’ I gasp again. ‘It’s awful, but she’s not been able to get pregnant, even though she’s tried everything. Three rounds of IVF that didn’t work. It’s been so painful to watch. All she’s ever wanted is to become a mum. And it’s come so easily for Lauren and me . . .’
‘So easily,’ the Undercut Bitch interrupts. ‘Nicki decides she wants a baby and nothing could stop her. You’ve never looked back.’
‘That’s not true. You know that.’ Nicki reaches out and takes her hand again, interlocking their fingers. They lean into each other, their faces almost touching, but Phoebe pushes Nicki away.
‘I think you love everything about today. I think you’re more like your friend Charlotte than you realise.’
‘What? I’m not.’
‘You’re basic, Nicki. Admit it. Today is basic, and you’ve pretended to be above it, but secretly you love this.’
‘What? I don’t love this. Today has been something toendure! The cupcakes! The games! It’s not fair. Charlotte’s been using me to have the baby showershe’salways wanted. And I’ve just had to go along with it otherwise I’m a bitch. This isn’t me. You must know that!’
My insides line with lead. I can’t quite compute what I’m hearing. I’ve spent hundreds on today – thousands possibly. I’ve been up late for weeks, making all the craft, ensuring every last detail was perfect. I’ve . . . I’ve . . . I can’t believe she thinks—
‘—Charlotte might be basic but I’m not basic. When you sent me a picture of that invite this morning I felt sick, wondering what you must think of me. Theglitter. . .’
My legs are standing up when I really haven’t told them to. And my hands are at it too, curling into fists against my will. Slowly, I rise from the gravel.
‘. . . You know I think baby showers are weird, gendered, archaic, wasteful ego-fests. My baby doesn’t need any of this shit and neither do I. I’m blessed enough, you know? Do I really need all this . . . capitalism . . . but come on, Phoebe. Let’s get to it, shall we? Why are you here? What do you want? Are you just here to . . . oh my God, Charlotte.’
One hand goes to Nicki’s mouth and the other to her bump as I stand before her, shaking my head.
Transcript: Inspector Simmons
interviewing Nicole Davies, Lauren Powell,
Steffani Fox, Charlotte Roth