Read Online Will You Remember Me? by Amanda Prowse - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Amanda Prowse
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about tea yet, but you can whistle now.’
‘Get in the kitchen, woman! Toast is what we need.’ He pointed towards the kitchen and winked at his wife. Then he turned to Jo. ‘Heard from Danny?’
Jo exhaled through bloated cheeks and shook her head. ‘Don’t ask. He’s driving me bonkers.’ She tapped the spoon against the side of the mug and reached into the fridge for milk, comfortable in her neighbour’s kitchen.
‘How long now till he’s back from his holiday in the sun and can drive you bonkers in person?’ Martin asked. He was keen to defend his mate, who was probably struggling on tour, no doubt missing home and wishing his view was anything but the barren, dusty landscape that lay outside his tent.
‘About six weeks or so.’ Jo, oblivious to his dig, placed Martin’s mug of coffee on the sideboard.
The toast popped up and Poppy went to fetch it. She laid it on the breadboard and reached for the butter knife that was staked into the carton.
Max yelled to alert everyone that he was awake. ‘I’ll grab him!’ Jo eagerly swooped on his buggy.
‘Peg, toast!’ Poppy shouted up the stairs as she cut the slices into triangles. She placed them on two small plates and set them on the table.
Clutching her lipsticks and brushes, Peg took a seat at the table; Jo joined her, with Max on her lap. Max grabbed the toast and began tearing at it with his front teeth.
Poppy felt the room spinning; she gripped the chair to steady herself. ‘I’m really sorry to be rude, Jo, but I think I’m going to go and have a lie down, I don’t feel too good.’
‘That’s fine. Are you all right, mate?’ Jo settled Max on the chair and reached for her cardigan, phone and keys. ‘Actually, you don’t look great. Think you’re coming down with something?’
Poppy shrugged. ‘Maybe.’
‘Can I do anything, get you some paracetamol, look after the kids?’
‘Thanks, honey, but we’re fine.’ Poppy wanted her to go so she could lie down.
‘I was thinking of heading off anyway,’ Jo lied. ‘I’ll leave you lot to it.’
‘But I need to do your lipstick!’ Peg wailed.
‘Tell you what, Peg, I’ll come back tomorrow and we can finish off then, okay?’
‘S’pose.’ Peg thrust her bottom lip out to show her disapproval.
It was early evening and the kids were tucked up. Martin, having washed up the tea things, went upstairs and sat on the bed where his wife lay bathed in the honey-coloured glow of the lamplight.
‘How you feeling, babe?’
Poppy sat up. ‘Bit better now, thanks. Sorry to leave you lumbered, I just felt crappy.’
‘Reckon you’ve been overdoing it. Maybe it was more of a shock hearing about Simon and your nan than you let on. I still don’t know what to make of it all.’
‘Me either,’ Poppy agreed. ‘It’s weird, isn’t it?’
‘I’m a bit worried about you.’ He ran his fingers over the bare arm that poked from under the duvet.
Poppy took his hand in hers as she sat up straight and supported herself against the pillows propped behind her. She gave a small cough. ‘I went to the doctor’s today…’
‘You did?’
‘Yes.’ Poppy scanned the ceiling, mentally searching for the right words.
‘You all right?’ He sounded a little impatient, irritated to have been left out of the loop.
‘Well,’ she swallowed, ‘there’s something we need to talk about—’
Martin jumped up and punched the air. ‘I bloody knew it! I knew it! You’ve been a bit of a pain in the arse these last few days and I sat on the loo earlier, trying to think of how to make you happier, and it clicked. After what we’d spoken about with Peg, when she thought she was getting a baby brother or sister. And we have been rather frisky since I got back.’ He kissed her hand. ‘I thought to meself, Poppy’s not miserable, she’s worried!’
‘Mart—’
‘No, it’s all right, babe, I know what you’re going to say – it’s very early days, but you think you’re up the
‘Get in the kitchen, woman! Toast is what we need.’ He pointed towards the kitchen and winked at his wife. Then he turned to Jo. ‘Heard from Danny?’
Jo exhaled through bloated cheeks and shook her head. ‘Don’t ask. He’s driving me bonkers.’ She tapped the spoon against the side of the mug and reached into the fridge for milk, comfortable in her neighbour’s kitchen.
‘How long now till he’s back from his holiday in the sun and can drive you bonkers in person?’ Martin asked. He was keen to defend his mate, who was probably struggling on tour, no doubt missing home and wishing his view was anything but the barren, dusty landscape that lay outside his tent.
‘About six weeks or so.’ Jo, oblivious to his dig, placed Martin’s mug of coffee on the sideboard.
The toast popped up and Poppy went to fetch it. She laid it on the breadboard and reached for the butter knife that was staked into the carton.
Max yelled to alert everyone that he was awake. ‘I’ll grab him!’ Jo eagerly swooped on his buggy.
‘Peg, toast!’ Poppy shouted up the stairs as she cut the slices into triangles. She placed them on two small plates and set them on the table.
Clutching her lipsticks and brushes, Peg took a seat at the table; Jo joined her, with Max on her lap. Max grabbed the toast and began tearing at it with his front teeth.
Poppy felt the room spinning; she gripped the chair to steady herself. ‘I’m really sorry to be rude, Jo, but I think I’m going to go and have a lie down, I don’t feel too good.’
‘That’s fine. Are you all right, mate?’ Jo settled Max on the chair and reached for her cardigan, phone and keys. ‘Actually, you don’t look great. Think you’re coming down with something?’
Poppy shrugged. ‘Maybe.’
‘Can I do anything, get you some paracetamol, look after the kids?’
‘Thanks, honey, but we’re fine.’ Poppy wanted her to go so she could lie down.
‘I was thinking of heading off anyway,’ Jo lied. ‘I’ll leave you lot to it.’
‘But I need to do your lipstick!’ Peg wailed.
‘Tell you what, Peg, I’ll come back tomorrow and we can finish off then, okay?’
‘S’pose.’ Peg thrust her bottom lip out to show her disapproval.
It was early evening and the kids were tucked up. Martin, having washed up the tea things, went upstairs and sat on the bed where his wife lay bathed in the honey-coloured glow of the lamplight.
‘How you feeling, babe?’
Poppy sat up. ‘Bit better now, thanks. Sorry to leave you lumbered, I just felt crappy.’
‘Reckon you’ve been overdoing it. Maybe it was more of a shock hearing about Simon and your nan than you let on. I still don’t know what to make of it all.’
‘Me either,’ Poppy agreed. ‘It’s weird, isn’t it?’
‘I’m a bit worried about you.’ He ran his fingers over the bare arm that poked from under the duvet.
Poppy took his hand in hers as she sat up straight and supported herself against the pillows propped behind her. She gave a small cough. ‘I went to the doctor’s today…’
‘You did?’
‘Yes.’ Poppy scanned the ceiling, mentally searching for the right words.
‘You all right?’ He sounded a little impatient, irritated to have been left out of the loop.
‘Well,’ she swallowed, ‘there’s something we need to talk about—’
Martin jumped up and punched the air. ‘I bloody knew it! I knew it! You’ve been a bit of a pain in the arse these last few days and I sat on the loo earlier, trying to think of how to make you happier, and it clicked. After what we’d spoken about with Peg, when she thought she was getting a baby brother or sister. And we have been rather frisky since I got back.’ He kissed her hand. ‘I thought to meself, Poppy’s not miserable, she’s worried!’
‘Mart—’
‘No, it’s all right, babe, I know what you’re going to say – it’s very early days, but you think you’re up the
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