Read Online Not What They Were Expecting by Neal Doran - Free Book Online
Authors: Neal Doran
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your day mixed up with the queen. Or somebody else, anyway…’
Rebecca knew they weren’t officially telling people outside family about the pregnancy for another week, but it wouldn’t count telling her old pal Sophie. She wouldn’t classify it as good news, and conceivably wouldn’t remember it at all as it didn’t make a direct impact on her life.
The two women had met at university, and their friendship had been one not quite of opposites attracting, but rather opposites reassuring each other that they were making the right decisions so they didn’t end up like the other. In Sophie, Rebecca had a friend who would do a lot of the things she wouldn’t, someone who took chances, would be spontaneous, inhale glamorous drugs when offered, and get involved in complicated affairs. And seeing the messes that Sophie ended up in as a consequence – how she felt her friend was trapped with an obsession with status and looks, constantly wrestling with the nagging idea there might be something else better out there – these made Rebecca feel happier about herself and her choices. It helped her remember she was getting what she wanted from life.
Sophie meanwhile had always said she couldn’t imagine how Rebecca didn’t go mad with the restricted life she lived. Looking at the wealth of experiences she’d had compared to those of her stay-at-home friend confirmed to Sophie that the drama in her life was worth it. However, all of Sophie’s other friends were people she’d met while pursuing her career or some form of excitement and were more like herself. It was nice to have somebody she could talk to about her latest trauma, who wouldn’t take the conversation and make it about themselves, or wouldn’t store up any admission of insecurity as a weapon for the next time they had a falling out.
‘You know you’ll never pass the birthday knicker test again now,’ Sophie told her.
Sophie had, since the age of nineteen, had a ritual. The annual Knicker Test. Back then she’d prepared for a big night at a university ball by spending money meant for books and food on lingerie from Agent Provocateur to impress her new boyfriend. But even money for books and food could only stretch so far, and all she’d bought had been a pair of knickers. Rebecca, who had the room in halls next to Sophie and would soon move into a student house with her, remembered being stunned at the price of them. It was more than she could imagine spending on pants for a lifetime. But they had looked and felt beautiful when she was examining them on Sophie’s cluttered desk, after her big trip to the shops to get them. They looked pretty amazing on Sophie too, Rebecca had had to concede, when her friend had walked out into the halls corridor wearing just them, a pair of heels, and a ratty old T-shirt bunched and tied above her waist. One of the other girl’s boyfriend’s, who’d popped over to revise a bit of French literature, seemed to think so too, much to the evident displeasure of his girlfriend.
The bra that would go with the pants would need to wait until she got another cheque from her parents or the student loans people, Sophie had said at the time. ‘Or you could just pop down to the by-pass looking like that, and make the money in no time,’ Rebecca had suggested. The rest of the big end-of-term night out had been fabulous for Sophie, and Rebecca remembered she’d had a pretty good time at her first ball too, although it did seem mainly to be a typical night of getting pissed and snogging the same people you always did, just in prettier clothes. The boys in their dinner jackets had seemed even more inclined than usual to pretending their fingers were guns and they were James Bond. Sophie and her boyfriend hadn’t lasted, and the bra had never been bought (‘Let’s face it, I don’t really need one with these bee stings anyway,’ Sophie had reflected), and the knickers had been wrapped up in the crepe paper and box they had
Rebecca knew they weren’t officially telling people outside family about the pregnancy for another week, but it wouldn’t count telling her old pal Sophie. She wouldn’t classify it as good news, and conceivably wouldn’t remember it at all as it didn’t make a direct impact on her life.
The two women had met at university, and their friendship had been one not quite of opposites attracting, but rather opposites reassuring each other that they were making the right decisions so they didn’t end up like the other. In Sophie, Rebecca had a friend who would do a lot of the things she wouldn’t, someone who took chances, would be spontaneous, inhale glamorous drugs when offered, and get involved in complicated affairs. And seeing the messes that Sophie ended up in as a consequence – how she felt her friend was trapped with an obsession with status and looks, constantly wrestling with the nagging idea there might be something else better out there – these made Rebecca feel happier about herself and her choices. It helped her remember she was getting what she wanted from life.
Sophie meanwhile had always said she couldn’t imagine how Rebecca didn’t go mad with the restricted life she lived. Looking at the wealth of experiences she’d had compared to those of her stay-at-home friend confirmed to Sophie that the drama in her life was worth it. However, all of Sophie’s other friends were people she’d met while pursuing her career or some form of excitement and were more like herself. It was nice to have somebody she could talk to about her latest trauma, who wouldn’t take the conversation and make it about themselves, or wouldn’t store up any admission of insecurity as a weapon for the next time they had a falling out.
‘You know you’ll never pass the birthday knicker test again now,’ Sophie told her.
Sophie had, since the age of nineteen, had a ritual. The annual Knicker Test. Back then she’d prepared for a big night at a university ball by spending money meant for books and food on lingerie from Agent Provocateur to impress her new boyfriend. But even money for books and food could only stretch so far, and all she’d bought had been a pair of knickers. Rebecca, who had the room in halls next to Sophie and would soon move into a student house with her, remembered being stunned at the price of them. It was more than she could imagine spending on pants for a lifetime. But they had looked and felt beautiful when she was examining them on Sophie’s cluttered desk, after her big trip to the shops to get them. They looked pretty amazing on Sophie too, Rebecca had had to concede, when her friend had walked out into the halls corridor wearing just them, a pair of heels, and a ratty old T-shirt bunched and tied above her waist. One of the other girl’s boyfriend’s, who’d popped over to revise a bit of French literature, seemed to think so too, much to the evident displeasure of his girlfriend.
The bra that would go with the pants would need to wait until she got another cheque from her parents or the student loans people, Sophie had said at the time. ‘Or you could just pop down to the by-pass looking like that, and make the money in no time,’ Rebecca had suggested. The rest of the big end-of-term night out had been fabulous for Sophie, and Rebecca remembered she’d had a pretty good time at her first ball too, although it did seem mainly to be a typical night of getting pissed and snogging the same people you always did, just in prettier clothes. The boys in their dinner jackets had seemed even more inclined than usual to pretending their fingers were guns and they were James Bond. Sophie and her boyfriend hadn’t lasted, and the bra had never been bought (‘Let’s face it, I don’t really need one with these bee stings anyway,’ Sophie had reflected), and the knickers had been wrapped up in the crepe paper and box they had
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