Page 18 of Wild About You

It was at that moment that Jamie opened the door a crack and peered round. At the sight of Hugo, he visibly relaxed.‘There you are,’ he said, swiftly entering and closing the door before Hugo could get round his legs. Hugo stopped growling, but stared mulishly at his owner.

‘He threatened to bite me,’ said Tally, in a severe voice.

‘Did he?’ Jamie wasn’t even looking at her. ‘He does sometimes exhibit guarding behaviour.’

‘Just let him have it.’ She sat down heavily and tried to look unflustered. ‘I mean, he’s a sweet little thing really, aren’t you, Hugo?’

Hugo glared at her.

‘Does it have raisins in it?’ said Jamie. ‘They’re very bad for dogs. Come here, you ingrate.’

Hugo refused to budge. Jamie reached in his pocket and took out a biscuit. ‘Thankfully I’m prepared for this situation ever since he ate Lucinda’s sunglasses.’

Lucinda. My eyes flew to his face. Perhaps Lucinda might be the key to his misery. His face was its usual set mask of chilliness.

Hugo was delighted at the appearance of the biscuit and immediately dropped the bar, which Jamie kicked clear as though it was a loaded gun before giving him the biscuit then bundling him into his arms.

‘Sorry for the interruption,’ he said, and caught my eye. ‘I thought you were working from home?’

‘I felt like coming in,’ I said.

‘Congratulations on finding your way,’ he said.

It was all I could do not to throw a stapler at him.

I made good headway on my strategy document but was also well aware that things were not right with Fi. Her expression was stony after Jamie left, and it was clear she wanted her space, so we all worked in careful silence. Halfway through the morning I happened to look up and saw that her eyes were full of tears.

I looked away immediately. Everything about her indicated DO NOT DISTURB and I didn’t want to initiate a chat in front of Tally. But when she got up to go to the loo, I waited for a few seconds then followed.

I caught up with her in the cold hidey hole of the loo, window open, obvs, even though there was still snow on the ground. Perhaps Mr I’m-a-poor-earl could save some money on the heating if he occasionally closed a window.

‘Anna?’ She turned to me, her expression neutral, the shutters still closed over her eyes. ‘Has Sean been texting again?’

‘Nope,’ I said. ‘That is, yes, but that’s not why I’m here. What’s wrong? Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine.’ But her normally sunny face was trembling, her lips pursed with the sheer effort of trying not to cry. There was something slightly scary about seeing Fi crumble in front of me. Her default setting was strong; I sometimes felt she was made of beautiful, durable York stone whilst I was made of chalk.

There was only one thing to do: I put my arms around her, and she sobbed on my shoulder. I had to stop myself from squeezing her tight, like she was a little child.

‘Sorry.’ Eventually she emerged from my shoulder and gave me a weak smile.

‘No need to apologise. I’m a veteran of the toilet sob at work. You should have seen the loos at Mackenzie’s after a restructuring announcement. Scores of men and women weeping, and it usually happened at least once a quarter.’

She smiled. ‘It’s all the bloody hormones I’m taking.’ She wiped her face on her sleeve before I could get a handful of tissues out of the holder.

I nodded. I knew Fi and Richard were having IVF; we’d chatted around the borders of the subject but not ventured into the depths of it. It’s weird what is veiled in secrecy, or is it shame? I could talk to her about weight gain, sex and periods, but not the relentless scramble to have a child. I’d been advised IVF wouldn’t help me, but that wasn’t the reason I avoided the subject. Every time it was mentioned, Fi’s shutters came down, as if she couldn’t admit it might fail, and couldn’t relax until the baby was there. Their baby – the one that already lived in her mind, name picked out, features decided. I knew about the pain of that.

‘This attempt,’ she said. ‘It hasn’t taken.’

I looked her in the eyes. I knew she needed a witness, not for me to look away. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said. We shivered together in the icy draught from the window.

‘It will happen, won’t it?’ she said. ‘Eventually? Before our savings run out?’

I paused. The truth was, I didn’t know; IVF success rates were perilously low. I’d always told myself I would havekids; told myself that even as the odds shortened, until finally they crumbled to zero. But looking at Fi’s face, I knew she didn’t want hard truths. Right now, in this moment, she just needed reassurance.

‘Everything will be fine,’ I said, hugging her again, so she couldn’t see my face. ‘I promise.’

It was a white lie, but sometimes we need those, don’t we?

---