Karen wasn’t downstairs, but Sophia was. Her skin looked pale and shiny.
I wanted to speak of her pregnancy outright, but the words wouldn’t form properly. I had hoped she would have said something to me by now, but that hadn’t happened either.
‘Morning,’ I managed and sat at the table.
‘How are you feeling after your hot date yesterday?’ I had seen Sophia and Mini when I came back and was subjected to half an hour’s grilling over my ‘mystery man’.
I smiled at Sophia who was trying her best to sound chipper but I recognised the strain, the way each word came slowly and with effort. I had experienced the worst kind of morning sickness. I wanted to put my arm around her, to tell her it was okay, but I would have to wait until she spoke to me.
‘Well, it wasn’t a date,’ I said, taking out some fruit from the fridge, which still filled me with a surge of delight whenever I opened it to reveal sparkling shelves and everything sitting snugly in its home.
‘Yes, it was.’ Mini strode into the kitchen, looking fresh and funky in tight, blue trousers and a red-and-white-spotted shirt, her long, dark hair was freshly washed and blow-dried.
‘Wow, Mins, you put us all to shame,’ Sophia said, looking her up and down.
‘Yeah, well, you’ll get your mojo back, Soph – you’re just feeling a little out of sorts.’
How was it that Mini had not yet managed to work out that Sophia was suffering from pregnancy sickness? Unless perhaps the two of them were in cahoots about the whole thing, and perhaps they thought I was none the wiser.
‘Anyway, are you still feeling high after the brunch?’ Mini looked excited.
‘Well, I was, and then this morning, the damn child next door was crying again.’ I spoke boldly and then noted how Sophia and Mini exchanged a brief look; Mini’s was something that resembled despair.
‘So will you do anything about it?’ she asked.
I shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I sort of want to go round there and have it out with her.’
‘Do you think that’s wise? If it’s a social-care matter, then leave it in their hands,’ Sophia said.
‘But that’s just it, they are telling me there is nothing to be concerned about – they have assessed the situation and they have no concerns.’
‘But you still think there’s something going on?’ Sophia asked.
‘Perhaps. I don’t know. It doesn’t bother you guys?’
‘I haven’t heard a thing,’ Mini said.
‘Me neither,’ Sophia said.
‘But you know there’s a little boy living next door, don’t you?’
‘I couldn’t say for certain.’ Mini looked again to Sophia for reassurance.
‘Nope, never seen him,’ Sophia said. ‘But then your room does look right over their garden, so that gives you the advantage there. Or rather, disadvantage in this case.’
I shook my head. ‘Maybe I’m just letting it all get on top of me.’
‘Have you got your psychologist’s number?’ Sophia said.
‘I have an appointment tomorrow.’ I felt the familiar wave of serenity wash over me when I imagined myself speaking freely with Joe.
Mini and Sophia looked at one another again, this time Mini’s face looked hopeful.
I sat on the train on the way to uni and looked at Mrs Clean’s most recent post. It was a photo of a potting bench, something I had never heard of before. It was a normal workbench, but a little taller and more elegant. I presumed you would stand and pot your seeds on it. She had written that she had been wanting to get one for ages and she was over the moon with it. On the worktop were a few tiny pots and packets of seeds.
Underneath, there were the usual fifty thousand or so likes and a string of comments. As usual I went straight in to sift through to the negative comments, but more specifically I wanted to see what lucybest65 had to say on it. And there it was.
Are you telling me this woman is buying all this stuff herself? She has clearly been gifted it – at least have the courtesy to tell us that.
A few people had replied to her; a couple agreeing, only to egg her on, several others just to tell her off. Questions about lucybest65 tumbled through my mind and I was interested to know what she had been up to since the last banal photo she had uploaded.
I clicked on lucybest65’s profile and I was taken through to her grid which boasted a handful of photos. There was a new image, so I clicked on it. She had taken a photo of a window, all I could see of her body were her feet, which were up on a stool. A large window was in front of her and through the open blind, on the opposite building’s rooftop, was a large cinema screen. There were about fifty or so seats full with people all facing the screen. I zoomed in on the photo and saw it was a screening of The Greatest Showman.
Sat in my lounge and I have the best seat in the house.
Although the photo was grainy and a little out of focus, she seemed to have captured a moment in time that many would be envious of. She had only a handful of followers, and no one ever commented on her posts. I felt an urge to comment, to say something about being set up in the most perfect location to watch a film for free. But more than that, I was suddenly intrigued. I wanted to know more.
I was being given access to a window into someone’s life – in this case, literally her window. I spotted a few familiar items in the background of this photo, things I had seen in her previous images: a blue vase on a small table, a small Dalmatian dog ornament and occasionally what looked like a cat’s
