Seventeen

"How did it go?" Thomas asks as soon as they're settled with mugs of tea, the early spring evening sunshine filtering through the windows in patterns of frayed yellow. Kitty tugs uncomfortably at the too tight shirt, the only one she has that she deemed smart enough for court.

"Badly, as always. He's not budging. They've had to order a final hearing."

"I'm sorry."

Kitty gives him a watery smile. "It's alright. Rosalie's leaning heavily on the evidence of abuse and the fact that since he's away all the time and I pretty much work from home, I'd be a better parent, if I got child support from him."

"You are a better parent, full-stop."

"Thank you." She kicks off the black high heels that she polished to a shine last night, curls up with her head on his shoulder, tea splashing dangerously like a stormy sea hurling itself against the side of the mug. Thomas wraps his arms around her, pulls her closer so she's almost sitting in his lap.

"How was your day?" she asks. He plays with her hair absently, winding the loose, half-formed curls around his fingers, watching the way the sunlight picks out the brown in them.

"Good. Had a couple of ops, a couple of meetings. It's so peaceful without Yelland there."

"I'm glad."

"Hmm."

They sit in companionable quiet for a few minutes, and then she turns to kiss him, resting her hand against his cheek. Outside, a car horn blares from the not-so-distant A-road. It's different, he thinks, as she pulls him closer. Today is different.

So when she draws back, a question in her eyes, the only answer he can give is yes.

…

"Miss Marshall, could I have a word?" Mr Brett's head appears around the corner of her classroom where Flora is just setting up the counting cubes for her lesson after break and nibbling on a chocolate bar. This incessant craving for sweets started up even before she knew she was pregnant and at the moment, it still doesn't show any sign of letting up. Not for the first time, she thanks God for Kitty's offcut tin.

"Of course," she says. "Come on in."

"It seems congratulations are in order. When's it due?"

In all honesty, she's been expecting something like this for a while now – Mr Brett is anything but unobservant – her brush with morning sickness (which has subsided now, thankfully) and her slowly expanding waistline are obvious to anyone who cares to look closely.

She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Thank you. September."

"Well, that's lucky. Unless you have any problems with it, you can continue teaching until the end of the school year."

"I know. But then you'll need to look for a supply teacher for next year."

"That won't be too difficult, I'm sure. How much maternity leave will you need?"

"I don't know yet. It's a year, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. I think it would be best if you took the whole year to be with your baby, and then you can start again with a fresh class next September. What do you think?"

"Sounds really good."

"Wonderful. And if you ever need help with anything, my door's always open."

"Thank you, Roland."

…

Saturday morning, Flora sits and waits outside of Kitty's flat for a good two hours with her lesson plans, trying to think of interesting ways to present the story of Cinderella and the Big Write. It's not unusual for Kitty to be out, dropping off a cake or working at the café, and Flora knows she'd be much more comfortable with all her papers and her planner spread out across the kitchen table in her flat, but she can't face all the pictures of her and Charlie, smiling out of wooden frames, not when it's been a week and he still won't see her. Nancy unwillingly keeps her updated on how he's doing – they've taken the measurements for prosthetics and he doesn't need quite so many painkillers anymore – but it's slowly killing Flora that she can't be by his side, helping him through it all.

It's almost lunchtime when Kitty appears out of Thomas and Miles' door, holding a pair of heels and laughing about something. She turns to kiss Thomas, who's standing in the doorway, before he shuts the door and Kitty notices her visitor.

"Flora!" she says. "Hi, sorry – have you been waiting long?"

Flora considers telling her yes, two and half hours actually, but she just shakes her head.

"Okay, then. Come on in."

She follows Kitty through to the kitchen, and puts all her stuff down on the table. "I'll make lunch, shall I? What do you fancy? I've got some soup somewhere, and my offcuts tin hasn't been visited by Miles or Tom recently…"

She's talking far more than Flora has ever seen her talk, and there's a glow under her skin that wasn't there when Flora saw her a few days ago.

"You're happy," she remarks.

"Oh, what, yes, I am." Pink tendrils creep across her cheeks. Flora knows the look. It's the one she always wore in the mornings when Charlie was on leave, but now Charlie doesn't want to see her and…no. No, no, no. She shakes her head.

"So was it good?"

"Flora!" Kitty claps her hands to her mouth. Her cheeks have gone from pink to bright red.

"Go on." She summons up a smile for her friend, forces it into her eyes. She will be happy for them. "Tell me all. It's what girlfriends are for, aren't they?"

"I don't have any basis for comparison," Kitty says. "But it was amazing."

"I'm pleased for you."

"Thank you. I'm just so…" Kitty searches for a word, holding the Covent Garden soup box and absently picking up a pair of scissors. "Effervescent. I can't describe it. I feel like I'm bubbling over."

"I know the feeling."

"He will come around, Flora. He has to."

"But what if he doesn't? The only way I can raise this baby is if I have him right there with me. I'm so scared, Kitty, I really am."

"We'll sort it out. If I have to march into his hospital room and give him a good shake, we'll sort it all out."

…

She lets herself into their flat the next day to find Helen and Miles curled up on the sofa. "Hi," Helen smiles.

Kitty gives her a smile in response. "Is Tom in?"

"Just gone out, actually," Miles says, turning the TV to mute. "He shouldn't be long."

"Okay, thanks," Kitty turns to go, but Helen stops her.

"I'm so forgetful – Kitty, you know a few weeks ago you were looking for a shop or something, for your business?"

"Yes…" Kitty says cautiously.

"My cousin's selling hers. It was a wedding-dress shop, but she's moving to London. I can put in a word for you, if you'd like?"

"Thank you, that would be great."

…

That afternoon, they walk along the river, hand-in-hand and just enjoying the stillness that surrounds them, the quietness of the roads and the air, the music of the river swooshing along its banks. They end up back at Kitty's place with take-out food that is half-eaten then abandoned to kisses that taste of curry and the shedding of clothes on the kitchen floor amid soft laughter. His hand traces the curve of her hip, and she locks her arms around his neck as he carries her into the bedroom.

…

In the morning, Kitty is woken by the rain, and she lies there, her hair splaying out across Thomas' chest, and marvelling at how wonderful it feels to be waking up next to someone she loves.

A/N So, what do you think? I'd love to hear from you. The cake in the last chapter is based on this one a local cake-shop did for the Royal Wedding, which I thought was hilarious - if I can remember my password, I'll put it on Tumblr for you. Review! N xxx