Carrie opened the text, feeling the familiar thrill quickly followed by trepidation. Marcus’s name came up as she surreptitiously looked at the message behind the computer screen in her office. Despite the large private office dominated by the dark oak desk, she knew this was wrong and something she needed to hide. She glanced down quickly. “Hi, gorgeous! I can’t believe that it’s almost New Year’s Eve! Do you realise it’s 11 months, 29 days, and 3 hours since I last had the chance to show you what you’ve been missing all year?! What time can you get away?” “Hello stranger, so you’ve finally remembered me then?” She texted back relaxing, knowing that this was going to be another session of flirting and banter between her and one of her closest friends. “Ha ha! I work on the basis that absence makes the heart grow fonder. Missed me?” “No, but I’ve missed your bad jokes.” “Lol!” “BTW I’ve achieved my NY resolution of multitasking. I can waste time, be unproductive and, do nothing all at once.” “That’s not funny!” “Anyway, I’ve found a great place to go. How do you fancy champagne cocktails followed by oysters overlooking Chelsea Harbour?” 14 “I’d prefer Sydney Harbour but if that’s the best you can do, I might be able to make it.” “Ha! Ha!” The heavy oak door opened as the small round face of Carrie’s PA appeared round the door. “Carrie, Linda Mwansa is here.” Carrie quickly glanced down at the phone texting “Gotta go!” The phone bleeped immediately displaying another message. “Chelsea Harbour Hotel. Penthouse Suite. See you for breakfast on 31st. BTW, PJs not necessary!” The shadow of the formidable civil rights activist walked across the room lit by the winter sun, towards Carrie with hand extended. They smiled at each other warmly and shook hands as Linda Mwansa sat down opposite the Human Rights Lawyer and looked at her directly. “It’s particularly good to meet you after all this time Carrie, I’ve followed your career closely over the years and know that my brother will be in good hands.” “I’m honoured to meet you Linda and hope that I can help, but you do know that I’m not as experienced as some Human Rights Lawyers out there. I’m sure there are plenty of better qualified legal representatives that would do an excellent job for you – Sir John Fisher is somebody that comes to mind, have you thought of contacting him?” “Better qualified? I think not. Your qualifications easily match the highest legal names, Carrie. There might be Barristers who have more experience but what you have is passion and energy. I don’t want somebody who 15 is jaded or complacent”. She paused choosing her words carefully, “I need somebody who really understands, and who genuinely wants justice.” Carrie sighed and sat back in the deep leather chair that almost engulfed her slight frame. Her mind racing, she quickly recalled the public case and media speculation over Thabo Mwansa, the young man accused of raping a South African woman whilst working as a junior doctor in a hospital. The dedicated Doctor had been accused of rape and put in prison awaiting trial, whilst the case had been presented as a done deal by the white South African woman who had started a social media campaign that had gone viral. She knew she was out of her depth but there was something about this case that wouldn’t loosen its grip over her, and she had followed it with a hungry thirst for more information outside the public foray presented by the media. A calculated risk taker, she considered the consequences of taking on the job pro bono and knew that from her point of view it was about setting a precedent for the future and defending somebody whose life would be shattered if found guilty. “He didn’t do it Carrie,” Linda Mwansa said, shaking her head. “Believe me, I know my brother. He is not a rapist. He respects women. This is a clear case of injustice.” Carrie clicked the mouse to reveal the desktop calendar that had gone to sleep mode. “The earliest I can make a start is in January. I have a few days holiday booked. Even lawyers need some 16 respite now and again!” She smiled, hoping that this high-profile client would understand. “What’s a few days here and there.” Linda Mwansa replied, “He’s been incarcerated for 6 months without a trial date. When could you start?” “10th January?” Carrie said, playing for time. “Thank you, Carrie, I’m very grateful.” Linda Mwansa said, standing up. “I will do my best Linda, but you know that nothing is guaranteed. I’ll be in touch with the paperwork.” Carrie said, shaking her client’s hand. “I know, I know. But at least I can sleep with the knowledge that he is in safe hands, my friend.” Linda smiled warmly. She opened the door and looked back at her only chance of justice as she walked out of the room. The heavy oak door closed softly, signalling to Carrie that she could check her phone again, heart pounding. One message: “Hi Cass. Looking forward to book club tonight and hope that we might talk through it from beginning to end for once! Vino contributions welcome! Rachel xx She put her head in her hands and sighed. What on earth was she doing? An uncomfortable feeling swept over her as she tried to quell the guilt that was beginning to consume her.

****

Rachel I am looking through my private scrapbook again, quietly turning the pages, remembering the journey Marcus and I have taken together. He doesn’t know I have it. It’s my secret. My memories. My babies. Temperature charts, calendars, car park tickets from hospital visits, pages from baby catalogues, colour swatches, scans, they are all here, carefully preserved. He doesn’t know I named each one, even though they were the tiniest dot of a life unknown, and a soul that was yet to grow inside me. I read my diary entries noticing how they move from excitement and hope to despair and darkness. I never want to go there again, but now I find myself wondering, hoping, praying. Life has just about returned to normal, whatever normal is, I think. I am sure that Marcus is secretly happy that it’s over. There is no point going on and no money to continue. The emptiness and longing are beginning to subside, but I know that I will always feel incomplete. I close the book and hide it at the back of the bookshelf and stand up. The girls are coming over later and I need to get organised, need to sort myself out, need to put on my happy face. Suddenly I feel nauseous as bile rushes from my stomach and reaches my throat. I reach the kitchen sink and throw up. I don’t feel right and feel scared. My breasts feel sensitive, and I still feel sick. Can it possibly be? I am scared. I do not want disappointment and heartache again. I am scared. I find the pregnancy test in the bathroom cupboard and check the date. Of course, it’s in date! I buy them all the time. Three minutes, three hours, it feels the same but then I dare to look. It is positive. My disbelief manifests itself in tears. Filled with courage I try again – Positive! I am pregnant! Someone is looking after me, I know it. I hold the pregnancy test tightly in my hand and run downstairs.

Rachel pressed send to the group and smiled to herself looking around the pristine kitchen. Life was beginning to look good at long last. She patted her stomach and walked over to the mirror in the hall turning herself sideways as she smoothed down her T-shirt. No sign yet, not even the slightest curve of her belly she noticed disappointed. Never mind, plenty of time for that she thought trying to contain her excitement. After six years of failing IVF, she could not believe that she had found herself pregnant. Clearly, this baby was meant to be – just at the point of giving up all hope, her boobs had become sensitive, she felt nauseous, and there was a fluttering in her stomach. Was that excitement or the start of a new life? She squashed the possibility of misdiagnosis with an inherent feeling that she was right. She pulled the pregnancy kit out of its box and carefully read the instructions even though she had done this countless times before. Marcus’s car pulled up in the drive as music blared from the car stereo. He was in a good mood as he recalled the texts, he had exchanged with Carrie earlier, masking the stress and work challenges he kept hidden from 19 everybody who knew him. He glanced up and saw Rachel at the kitchen window waving to him smiling. Seeing her face, his heart lurched as his emotions churned inside him. He loved her dearly but was it enough? Yes, he truly loved her but was he “in love” with her? In fact, what did that stupid saying actually mean? He slammed the car door and locked it using the remote without turning around. Rachel opened the door beaming before he had a chance to put the key in the lock. “Wow! Somebody’s had a good day!” he smiled kissing her as he walked in. She kissed him back passionately, eyes shining. “Guess what?” “What? We’ve won the lottery?” he said absentmindedly as he threw his jacket on the kitchen table and made himself a coffee. “You could say that”, she said, jumping up and down. “Seriously? What do you mean?” Marcus said suddenly interested. “Well, how do I say this?” she contemplated, trying to hide her excitement. “Rachel just tell me what’s going on!” he said, facing her as he put his hands on her shoulders. “I’m pregnant!” “You’re joking? Are you sure? How can you be? The IVF stopped weeks ago.” “I know. It’s just happened darling. It’s a miracle! Can you believe it that after all this time, it’s happened naturally!” Rachel exclaimed as tears formed making her eyes moist. “Are you sure? Have you taken a test?” 20 “Ta da!!” she yelped producing the test result from behind her back, waving it at him. “Darling, it must be a mistake. Perhaps you should check with the doctor before you go telling everybody, we need to be sure, don’t you think?” Marcus said experiencing a roller coaster of emotions. “Marcus, I am sure,” Rachel said exasperated. “My boobs hurt, I’m feeling nauseous and …well, I just know! I thought you’d be over the moon, but why am I getting the feeling that you’re the one who isn’t sure, not me! You do want this don’t you?” she questioned. “Of course, I want this!” he replied, walking over to her with his arms outstretched. “It’s just that, well, I’d given up hope and now you’re telling me that we are going to have a baby! I’m just getting my head around it.” He said softly, speaking into the soft unruly curls that were the trademark of his wife ever since they first met, ten years before. “I know! Can you believe it?!” Imagine, we’ll be going to parent evenings at school, watching him or her getting a trophy for sport or performing in the school play along with the rest of them!” Rachel said, pulling away gaily pirouetting around the kitchen. “Hey, steady on! I think there’s a way to go first. Let’s not get carried away,” Marcus retorted, trying to contain Rachel’s excitement as a slow thumping headache made its way to his temple. He opened a cupboard and took out two paracetamols and tried to change the subject. “It’s the girls’ night in tonight, isn’t it? I think I’ll make myself scarce and go to the pub - that ok with you?” he said, swallowing the tablets. “What? Oh yes fine. I’ve worked out that I’ll be due sometime around September/October time! I’ve made an appointment at the doctor’s tomorrow so should know for sure then.” “OK, good. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to change and go out for a drink with the boys. And Rachel, remember, don’t say anything to anybody until we know for sure alright?” Marcus said, smiling to hide the strain on his face. Hattie Hattie glanced up at the clock on the kitchen wall and knew that once again she would be the last to arrive. It was the usual monthly book group cum girls’ social at Rachel’s house, the designated venue for their girly get-togethers because of its size and proximity to everybody’s work. She sighed and looked at the chaotic mess on the kitchen table. The twins had been gluing and sticking paper and plastic for a school project and the remaining debris reflected the over-zealous use of pink glitter that had somehow stuck to every crevice and grain in the worn pine table. There is always payback for allowing and encouraging children to be creative she reflected cleaning up the mess. As a teacher and ‘educator of young minds’ as she liked to describe herself, it was her job to encourage and allow her two precious daughters to let their creative juices flow. But once again she was alone juggling between parenting perfection and trying to rediscover who she really was before the pressure of work, marriage, and children. Rob was away on police business that took him away for at least one week a month and whilst it gave them financial security, loneliness gave way to a longing to return to the days when they struggled for money but at least she had somebody to talk to about the minutia of her day, only in the way that partners do. Hearing the doorbell ring, she raced to the door collecting a bottle of wine from the fridge and car keys on the way. “I’m so sorry for the mess in the kitchen,” she said apologetically to Hannah, the teenager from next door who had come to babysit. “Oh, no worries! I’ll sort the kitchen out for you,” the young girl said, smiling as she walked into the Victorian hallway obstructed by a girl’s bicycle, muddy shoes and an umbrella that lay haphazardly on the wooden floor. “You are a Godsend!” Hattie exclaimed, pecking her on the cheek. “I should be back by midnight at the latest.” She ran to the small hatchback parked neatly outside the house and heaved a sigh of relief. These monthly meetings at Rachel’s were like therapy and she desperately needed a dose of fun and frivolity. Why was it that despite having a close group of girlfriends who knew her inside out, did she feel the need for something more. She turned the ignition on and looked in her rear-view mirror as her mobile beeped a message. Two unread texts popped up on the screen - one from Rob and the other from Rachel. Shaking her head in disbelief she opened the text from Rob. ‘Hi, sorry I’m not around tonight. I realized just now that it’s your book group night. Hope Hannah is helping. See you on Saturday, love you R xxx.’ Fighting back the tears that seemed to come so easily these days, Hattie shook her head in frustration determined to enjoy the evening and not dwell on the fact that her marriage was beginning to show cracks. Jenna Jenna’s mum was on the phone again asking for help. It was the second call of the day and something that was beginning to become a common occurrence in the daily melee of Jenna’s failing business, her money woes, and two children. “Mum, I told you earlier today there’s nothing wrong with your phone. I think the plug for the answerphone has been dislodged from the wall. There’s no need for you to buy a new one. I’ll come at the weekend and take a look.” “Did we speak earlier today, dear?” Jenna’s mother said, trying to recall the conversation. “Yes, mum, we did, but it really doesn’t matter. Listen, I’m sorry but I have to go out in a minute. Can I give you a call tomorrow?” “Yes, of course, dear, but don’t forget my answerphone is broken and so you can’t leave a message.” “Mum! I’ve just said it’s not broken, it just needs to be plugged in,” Jenna responded, trying to take the frustration out of her voice. “Oh? Well, if it’s not working by tomorrow, I’ll get another one.” Jenna sighed heavily. “OK, mum whatever! I’ll give you a call tomorrow.” She put the phone down gently only to see her youngest son looking at her intently. “Are you OK mum?” “Yes, fine, darling. That was grannie. Everything is fine. Just go to bed and Jonathan will do lights off she said glancing across to her eldest son who raised his eyebrows as he put the kettle on. “He’s not a baby, you know! He can put himself to bed!” She ignored him whilst searching for the car keys “So lights off at 10 then, OK?” “Yes, whatever,” Jonathan poured his coffee “Just go mum and don’t worry. It’s Friday remember, no work tomorrow.” “Yes, I know!” Jenna smiled gratefully, wondering how she would manage without her eldest son who was rapidly turning into a man before her very eyes. Almost 18 he would be flying off to university in less than 6 months and then what? The burgeoning demands of her elderly mother were only just manageable because of his ability to keep her sane. She softly closed the door behind her hearing the sound of yelps and boisterous play fighting between the two boys.

***

Hattie leafed through the Little Coffee Shop of Kabul searching for the point of reference that was forming so much discussion later that evening. “I know it’s here somewhere!” she exclaimed, peering closely at the open page whose words seemed to blur into a sequence of undefined shapes. “For God’s sake Hattie, put your glasses on!” Rachel laughed affectionately and grabbed the book off her. “Here it is!” She read the passage they were all looking for. “Tomorrow is Thursday, and you will come to the bazaar. I am dreaming of seeing your eyes and praying to Allah that you will not be wearing your burqa. I know it is safer that way, but it makes me so angry. It’s as if a woman’s eyes, a woman’s face, are evil. We who are old enough to have lived through one regime after another, know the burqa is about a man’s fear, not about a woman’s malice.” (The Little Coffee Shop of Kabul, Deborah Rodriquez) Jenna sat back on the worn pine kitchen chair and gulped the last drop of wine in her glass before pouring herself another, “I think wearing a burqa would make me feel anonymous in a good way.” She said, reflecting on the passage. “Imagine walking around London without wearing make-up, doing your hair, and just going about your business.” “Jenna, if you hadn’t just downed 3 glasses of wine, I’d be worried about you, my girl! Women have died to allow us to wear what we like, say what we like, and do what we like! Oppressive states like Afghanistan only get away with it because it is cocooned from the real world. I feel sorry for the woman, and so should you!” Carrie said, trying to conceal the fact that she was furious behind the smile she had forced, to take the sting out of her words. “Well, who rattled your cage?” Hattie laughed. “Someone had a bad day. We all know that Jenna’s just winding everybody up for effect as usual.” Jenna shrugged and winked across the table mischievously knowing that Carrie would take the bait. “Anyway, they had been hiding their secret liaison for months from her son, hadn’t they? Did you think they’d ever get it together? I didn’t, and I was surprised when they made it public in the end. If I were her son, I would have felt betrayed and hurt that she didn’t trust him enough to tell him.” “Ditto!” Rachel said, looking around as the others nodded in agreement. “I need to get going,” Carrie announced suddenly drawing back her chair. “Got an early start tomorrow.” “Hey so early? Come on Carrie, how about a coffee before you set off?” Rachel asked, concern forming across her brow. She got up to put the kettle on ignoring Carrie’s wish to leave. Carrie sat down again and looked at the others as an uncomfortable air filled the room. “You OK Cass?” Hattie asked as Carrie smiled awkwardly, lips pursed. “Yeh, sure. I am fine. I’ve just got a lot going on at work that’s all.”

Marcus Marcus threw the leather holdall into the back of the Mercedes sports and slammed the boot shut. The crisp air showed his breath as the sun peeped its way through the clouds that lay low on the horizon forming a light mist. Water droplets clung to blades of grass and leaves, glass beads in the stillness of the winter morning, and what was the last day of the year. A whole year over, and what had he done? Wasn’t that the lyrics to a song he wondered absentmindedly, admiring nature’s beauty that was still possible in a London garden? The bedroom curtains were closed as Rachel lay peacefully asleep, oblivious to the day ahead. It was New Year’s Eve, and as usual, Marcus would be out until the last minute when of course he would turn up at the annual gathering of the gang, which this year was to be beyond the inner circle, and at a house party with additional friends. She roused as the sound of the car engine revved on the drive as it pulled quietly away. Unlike previous years, his mind was drifting between the anticipation of seeing Carrie and the recent curved ball that Rachel had thrown by way of finding herself pregnant. It was five years since they started the illicit liaison that took place just once a year on New Year’s Eve. Just one day, that is all he convinced himself, what was the harm in that? It is not as if they sleep together outside this. He had to admit to himself however, this was probably the most important and thrilling day of the year and one that he could not give up despite the nagging guilt that surfaced each December. When did he see Carrie last? He recalled. The traffic lights turned to red as he slowed down on the approach thinking about her. Funny thing friendships with women he contemplated. A mate of his always insisted that men could never be friends with a woman without fancying her in some way. Was that true? He thought about Rachel’s other girlfriends and whilst he could see the attraction in some of them, they did not have the spark that somehow Carrie ignited in him, such that they could playfully banter and talk for hours about nothing. These days it was rare to see her without the others, but before and during evenings out together, and at dinner parties, they always ended up laughing at one end of the table. Marvin Gaye’s ‘Let’s Get it on’ played on the stereo as he found himself beginning to feel aroused. He pushed Rachel to the back of his mind and headed across Chelsea Bridge towards the hotel that he had booked. Facing the river, the prestigious building reflected the morning sun in its glass-fronted lobby dominated by a twelve-foot Christmas tree, decorated with hundreds of white fairy lights. “I have an apartment booked.” He said to the receptionist, who smiled warmly at him as he entered the building. “Mr Welbeck?” I think your friend is already here. It’s apartment 130 on the top floor.” He smiled to himself, remembering Carrie’s need to always be early. “Thanks, I’ll make my way there myself. No need for a porter.” The door of the apartment opened just as he put the electronic key into its holder. “You’re late!” “You’re early!” Carrie opened the door smiling. Her long chestnut hair lay loose to her shoulders that were covered by a thin silk shirt open to her navel that just revealed the slight curve of her breast. She was bare legged to the top of her thigh revealing pink silk panties. She stepped to one side as Marcus entered the spacious apartment taking her in. “What?” “You look amazing.” “Really?” Her nakedness protruded through the see-through shirt as Carrie walked towards him smiling. “So, I suppose I should give you your Christmas present now, shouldn’t I? Sorry it’s a bit late.” She said, biting her lip. Marcus picked her up and looked around. “Where’s the bedroom?” “Next door” He placed her carefully on the bed looking at her with shining eyes. “I’ve missed you Carrie,” he said, unbuttoning her shirt. “I’ve missed you too,” she said, moving his face to her breast