But Issys too kind-hearted a person to hold a grudge and when that natural mothering instinct kicked in, it kicked in hard. Shed gone with Penny to break the news to their parents, who hadnt managed to hide their initial distress and disappointment. Shed taken her to the GP, who confirmed the pregnancy and attended the first hospital appointment, where the trainee midwife had taken three vials of blood, and a scan which showed that, yes, Penny was eighteen weeks gone already. The radiographer had said he was ninety per cent sure the baby was a boy. And Issy had smiled along, excited about the prospect of becoming an aunt, even though every one of these steps served to remind her of what she didnt have.
Then last weekend Penny had been passing clumps of dark-brown blood, convinced she was having a late miscarriage because she didnt have what it took to be a good mother. This was the call that had pushed Issy to attempt to eat her way through a tin of chocolates designed to keep a familys sweet tooth in check for a month.
Youve been incredible. More than incredible. Youve been the best sister Penny could have wished for, I assure her, although Im scared Im going to cry. I can feel those first tell-tale prickles. It reminds me of the time I had acupuncture for sciatica, the little needles making pinching sensations, but this time its in my eyes rather than my legs. I concentrate on breathing in through my nose, not wanting my sadness for Issy to show. I cant break down. Ive got to step up and be strong. And youre going to be the best aunt too. When that little lad arrives, hes going to want for nothing.
He deserves the best, Issy says vehemently, and between us well make sure he gets it. Pennys going to go to special classes that prepare teenage mums for motherhood how to change nappies and make up bottles and all that practical stuff and Dad has put in a request to reduce his hours at work. Hes going to look after the baby two days a week so Pen can continue with her A levels. Its not ideal, but were making the best of it. A glimmer of something that looks like sadness passes over her face, before Issy literally snaps herself out of it, closing her eyes tightly together and when they pop open again they are a fraction brighter than theyd been only moments before. Shes not the first seventeen-year- old to get pregnant, and she wont be the last. It is what it is.
Shes lucky to have such a supportive family. My mum would have gone apeshit if Id got pregnant at Pennys age, I say, imagining how horrified mum wouldve been if Justin and I had announced an unplanned pregnancy at seventeen. Who am I kidding? Shed go apeshit if I got pregnant now without a ring on my finger first.
Issy sniggers. Well, we all know how much your mum loves a wedding. Anyway, keep taking those little round pills every day and youll be fine. No babies for you anytime soon!
Id need to have sex to run the risk of pregnancy and theres no fear of that, I say glumly. I dont think therell be anyone in the near future either. Im just not ready to put myself out there again. The thought of getting naked in front of a stranger fills me with dread. I dont want some random guy looking at my wobbly bits and judging me! Im going to have to wait until Justin gets back and see if he wants to work things out.
Issy wrinkles her forehead in disagreement. Youve not got any wobbly bits, except the bits that you want to wobble. She jiggles her ample bosom to clarify her point. And youre utterly gorgeous. Any bloke in his right mind would kill to be with you, but for some crazy reason I dont understand, you dont see what everyone else sees.
Youre only saying that to be kind.
Its the truth. Youre right Id say it even if it wasnt because I love you but it is.
Ill pay you later. I laugh, embarrassed. Its hard to take compliments, especially now when Im feeling so dejected, but at least it shows Issy isnt deliberately shutting me out. Thats a small blessing.
However, Im glad when the timer buzzes to indicate the pizza needs rescuing from the oven. Grabbing the oven gloves, I quickly whip out the pizza stone, noticing the cheese topping starting to turn a burnished crispy brown rather than the stringy golden goo we love.
Phew, that was close, I add, nodding towards the pizza.
What times Connie coming? Hope calls through. Shes in the lounge watching Coronation Street, and I can see her through the open doors. Shes propping up an enormous stack of cushions behind her, trying to get comfortable.
She texted to say she was leaving work quarter of an hour ago, so she should be here any minute. Just in time to grab a slice of pizza, I answer as I rummage around the cutlery drawer for the elusive pizza cutter. If shes having a wild night of carbs and cheese, I add.
The doorbell rings as if on cue and I rush to greet my oldest friend. Not for the first time Im blown away by her beauty. She looks radiant standing in the doorway with the peachy light reflecting off her long wavy hair, the early-evening sky a vivid orange wash behind her. Near the roots Connies hair is the same dark shade its always been, but the ends are dip-dyed a vibrant peacock blue. Last week theyd been scarlet. Colour suits her, but I wonder if this constant reinvention is a sign that Connie isnt sure who she wants to be. Shes like a teenager playing around with her image to see what suits her best. I want to tell her that she doesnt need to change, that shes already incredible as she is, but know that even if I did shed only play down my words as I did with Issys.
Hi! we exclaim in unison, embracing each other in a warm, squishy hug.
The weekend was about to begin, and it couldnt start soon enough.
*
I do love The Lion King, Connie says with gusto as the disc whirrs to life in the DVD player. Its got so many catchy tunes. Thats why when you invited me to join the Singalong Society it was the perfect choice. I cant believe how long it is since I last saw it. Her eyes sparkle with anticipation, full of a childlike fervour.
Its for kids, Hope says derisively. I doubt there are any other groups of twenty-somethings spending their Friday nights watching cartoons. Im telling you now, next week were moving on to a real film. Ive had enough saccharine Disney to last me a lifetime. Her eyes narrow as she chunters on, her grudge against Walt and his successors in full swing. All that sappy happily ever after piffle, she tuts. It bears no resemblance to real life.
Disney isnt just for kids, I answer defensively. Hope dissing Disney feels almost like a personal insult. Its for all ages. Theres always a serious issue buried under the princesses and castles.
Hope doesnt look convinced.
This one was based on Hamlet, you know, I continue, gesturing towards the TV. And no one would dare to call Shakespeare piffle. Hes the greatest playwright that ever lived. I pause, grabbing a fistful of salty peanuts from the small topaz-blue bowl on the coffee table that divides the room in two. Suddenly Im starving. Theres a reason hes on every exam syllabus going, why his work will always be a key component of any literature course. Hes a storyteller, pure and simple. One of the best thats ever lived.
I pop a pinch of peanuts into my mouth, crushing them between my teeth with a satisfying crunch. The burst of flavour dances across my taste buds.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. We all know youre a geek when it comes to this kind of thing.
Her dismissive words are softened by the affection written on her face. Hope had never understood my love of literature. In fact, Hope probably couldnt remember the last time shed read a novel, whereas I constantly had at least one book on the go, usually more. It was another reminder of how different the two of us are, yet the bond between us has always been undeniably strong despite that. Were tight. Unbreakable. Just as sisters should be.
Keep an open mind about this one, please? I beg.
I know its ridiculous, but I feel under pressure to ensure tonight works out as planned. Its not just the four of us getting together to watch a film, its a chance for us to take control. Plus, as the inaugural meeting of The Singalong Society for Singletons, it has to go smoothly. The whole point of the thing is to inject some joy back into our lives.
Well, Ive not seen it since I was about ten, so maybe I can be won over. But dont hold your breath. Im a tough nut to crack.
A piracy warning flashes onto the screen, signalling the films about to start.
And dont we know it, I reply boldly, poking out my tongue in retort.
Issy tries and fails to stifle a giggle as she pours the contents of a share-sized bag of cheese and chive crisps into a bowl, whilst Connie looks impassively at the floor to avoid getting involved. Typical.
Its my choice of film next week, Issy says. Ill be sure to choose something that isnt animated, if it means that much to you.
Ssh, I hiss in a stage-whisper. Its starting.
The rousing opening note of The Circle of Life roars from the television causing each of us to sit straighter in our seats. Captivated by the power of the Zulu chanting and the sun rising over the desert, we settle down, prepared to be transported to Africa via a cute little lion cub and a soundtrack full of belting songs.
*
Aww, look at baby Simba! Hes petrified! Issy exclaims as the future king is held aloft in the showy presentation ceremony. Bless his little cotton socks. He looks like hes got the weight of the world on his shoulders.
If we knew what was going to happen in life, wed all look like that, Hope answers, wearing a grim expression. Its no wonder babies cry all the time. All that lies ahead of them is a lifetime of slogging their guts out at work, trying to please other people, and being shat on from a great height by people who said theyd love them forever. She frowns and I frown back at her. After everything Issys just said, she has to start talking about babies. Sometimes Hopes mouth runs away without her brain.
Hope turns away, offended by the insinuation in my look, and Im instantly ashamed of being so hard on her. She might be abrasive, but my sister wouldnt purposefully hurt someone.
Poor Hope. Shes done her fair share of feeling sorry for herself during her first week at the house. Its all been textbook behaviour for the broken-hearted listening to sad love songs on repeat, pigging out on extra-large bars of Galaxy and moodily sulking around the place in her tartan flannel pyjamas. I know the drill, Ive been living it myself for long enough.
Pause it a minute, Hope says quietly, opening the door to the square of carpet at the bottom of the stairs that we optimistically refer to as the hall. My bladders about to burst and its better to stop the film now before it gets going.
No one dares mention the tears that are brimming in her eyes were all well aware that Hope hates to appear anything less than rock solid. Shes spent her whole life coming across as strong and dependable, so I can only imagine how hard it is for her now, trying to keep up that front when shes so obviously crumbling.
And Im going to get some more nibbles, Issy says, pushing herself up off the sofa. That glass of wine has gone right to my head. I need something to soak it up.
Theres some kale crisps in my bag, Connie offers. In Connies mind this is a generous proposition, in Issys less so. If you want something a bit less fatty, I mean. They dont taste the same as normal crisps, but theyre much better for you. Feel free to help yourself.
She tries to hide it, but I spy Issys eye roll. Shes not the type to buy into these faddish foodie fashions. If she wants crisps, she wants actual crisps, made from glorious carbohydrate-riddled potatoes and full of saturated fat thatll fuzz up her arteries. Like me, Issy believes junk food is one of lifes guilty pleasures. And Friday nights definitely call for junk food, no two ways about it. We could always get take-away? she suggests hopefully. Im sure the Indian down the road put a flyer through the door just last week
I gawp in her general direction. Even Im stuffed, and thats saying something because Ive got a massive appetite, but the waistband of my jeans is digging into my bloated stomach and its not a pleasant sensation. Im tempted to undo the button, thats how uncomfortable it is. Weve just had pizza! I exclaim.
And your point is? laughs Issy. I could eat a horse right now. And Im sorry, Connie, but your kale crisps arent going to cut it, Im afraid.
I dont fancy those either, I confide in a conspiratorial whisper, scrunching my face up in distaste. I dont know how anyone can eat them. They look like crispy bogies.
We dont need a take-away, Connie says resolutely. Lets eat whats already out. She gingerly reaches for a Wotsit, the gaudy powdery orange flavouring smearing over her fingertips. She pulls a face as she nibbles it, as though it might bite her back. The cheesy puffs are a far cry from the kale crisps, thats for sure. If no one else is eating my crisps, then I will.
Youre welcome to them, Issy mutters, resigning herself to the fact shes been outvoted on the take-away. But hang on a minute. Im going to get my dressing gown, its bloody freezing in here tonight.
A young Simba is frozen on the TV screen, surveying the vast pridelands with his father. He looks so small and insignificant against the sprawling savannah.
This film always did make me sad, Connie starts, nodding towards the screen. But Ive got such an empty feeling in my stomach right now. Not hunger, she adds quickly. I always felt a bit like Simba. My family fell apart when Mum died. Shed been the lynchpin holding us together and once she was gone, it felt like there wasnt any point any more. Dad tried his best, bless him, but he didnt have a clue how to deal with a pre-pubescent teenager. It was like he was waiting in fear for the moment hed have to go to the chemist and buy me sanitary towels. And the rest of the family, my aunts and uncles, they were there at first, bringing lasagnes round for us to keep in the freezer and phoning on Sunday mornings to see if we wanted to join them for a pub lunch in the Peak District. But really, we were alone. Mum arranged all the family parties, the barbecues, the day trips to the seaside where wed pile in the car with a cricket set and a cool box Once she was gone, it all stopped.
Tears pooled in her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks with the slightest of blinks and I instinctively reach out to hug my friend. As I pull her in close her heartfelt sobs reverberate through the both of us.