‘I tried homeopathic remedies, crystals, herbal therapies, anything I could think of to work with my body in a natural and healing way.’ She looked across at me, one eyebrow half raised. I knew what she was waiting for, some reaction of cynicism or disbelief. I showed nothing.
‘Wow, you really do feel bad about ghosting me, don’t you? That was great bait, and you didn’t even take a nibble.’
‘I’m a changed woman,’ I said, but now wasn’t the moment to tell her why or how. ‘And besides, I know absolutely nothing about fertility. If dancing naked in a meadow under a full moon helps... then you should definitely give it a try.’
Mel’s lips twitched and I was so grateful to have made her smile I almost cheered.
‘Obviously we did try that. But nothing,’ she joked, before her face sobered again. ‘So, then we turned to conventional medicine.’
I drew in a deep breath. I knew how Mel felt about doctors, hospitals, and medical technology. It was a hang-up from losing her mum so young, but hospitals terrified her. For Mel and Steve to embark on the kind of journey they’d been on – were still on – spoke volumes about just how much they wanted this.
I should have been there, giving her whatever support she’d needed. But instead, I’d taken my eye off the ball for so long the game had gone on without me.
‘We’ve had two failed attempts at IVF now,’ she admitted sadly, telling the fabric of her skirt rather than meet my eyes. ‘And that’s all we’re allowed on the NHS. From hereon we’ll have to save up and go private.’
‘Oh, Mel, I’m so sorry.’
‘I wanted to cancel our trip to New York, cash in the tickets, but Steve insisted we needed some time away from doctors’ appointments, hormone injections, and temperature charts.’
I nodded wisely as though I knew exactly what they’d been going through, but she was speaking the language of a country I’d never visited, nor one I’d ever particularly wanted to see.
‘It’s wearing. It takes it out of you. And it was starting to become all we ever spoke about. That’s not healthy.’
I shook my head and squeezed her hand. ‘No. It’s far better to obsess about how many likes your latest TikTok got, or how many properties you currently have listed on your books.’ I gave a humourless laugh. ‘That’s way healthier.’
My eyes went to hers and I tried to convey the depth of just how sorry I was that I’d failed her. It was the first time our friendship had ever been tested, and I’d flunked the exam.
‘I could have reached out to you,’ Mel said, with a graciousness she didn’t need to show me. ‘I guess I just didn’t want to admit I was so rubbish at doing the one thing my stupid body was built to do.’
‘I won’t have you speaking about my friend like that,’ I said, injecting a small dose of humour into my words. I sobered for a second and bit my lip uncertainly. ‘That’s if I’m still allowed to call you that.’
In answer she looked up at me through tear-spiked lashes. ‘Who else would put up with you? Who else would stay up all night talking to you when you have a problem?’
I was glad my face was partly in shadow so she couldn’t read the expression on it. If she had, she’d have known about Rhys. Don’t ask me how... but she’d have known.
Chapter Seventeen
‘Well, well, well. What a surprise. Who’d have thought I’d run into the two of you here,’ declared Jackson. His acting was appalling, but you couldn’t fault his timing, nor the fact that he was carrying a tray bearing a fresh round of cocktails.
‘Budge up,’ he said, getting Mel to scoot along the bench. He set down the tray and then took a seat, beaming widely at both of us. ‘I see no blood, nor contusions. I take it my cunning plan went well.’
‘We thought we’d save the GBH until you got here,’ I said sweetly.
Jackson frowned. ‘You knew I’d turn up?’
‘Your meddling is infamous,’ Mel said, rewarding him with a none too gentle jab in the ribs. ‘You’re like a criminal who can’t resist returning to the scene of his crime.’
Jackson hammed another overly dramatic sigh. ‘Is this the thanks I get for finally getting you two talking again?’ His voice sobered as his eyes went first to me and then to Mel. ‘You are talking again, aren’t you? Is everything going to be alright?’
There was an almost boyish anxiety in his voice. Jackson never spoke much about his own younger years, but from the little he’d mentioned, I didn’t think his home life had been particularly harmonious. It explained why he’d always shied away from conflict.I often wondered if that was part of the glue that had held us together over the years; that we’d all had less than perfect childhoods. Mel’s had been destroyed by losing her mum, Jackson’s had been filled with arguments, and mine... well, mine had been a mixed bag, spent with a woman I’d always loved but had never properly understood.
‘We’re good. Or we will be,’ I said, double-checking my reply with Mel, who gave me a gentle nod.
‘Thank the Lord. No, thank me,’ Jackson cried delightedly. ‘Because I have a secret ulterior motive and a very good reason why I didn’t want the two of you at each other’s throats.’
‘We were never that,’ Mel said softly.
The thread I’d carelessly allowed to fray was still strong enough to bind us into something stronger than just friends. It had withstood challenges before: new relationships, lost jobs, and unexpected detours in life plans. But what bound us together was constructed out of something like elastic. You might pull against it, or stretch it so tight you nearly broke it, but when the tension was as its greatest it still held, and then it pinged you right back in again.