“What did I…” He started laughing, expecting her to laugh too.
But after a bath, she took Brown Bear and her pillow into the spare room, where she remembered all the ways he’d let her down. “My fucking house,” he’d said. Well, that was exactly how she feltabout her children! Florence might have half his DNA (actually, she had no idea if that was how DNA worked), and she might have his surname. But she was still Coralie’s. And so was the son inside her. And she would decide how they lived.
My babies, she cried silently, her teeth clenched.Mine, mine, mine.
•••
The next morning,Adam brought up her breakfast.
“You can have this very special breakfast no matter what.” He put the toast and tea down next to the bed. “But I’m just wondering if you’re still angry with me?”
“Are you still angry withme?”
“I wasn’t angry with you.” He sat on the bed. “I was just caught by surprise.”
“I wasn’t angry with you,” Coralie said. “I just didn’t appreciate how you made me fall over.”
“I’mreallysorry about that,” he said sincerely, even though it was clear she meant it as a joke. “I also have something to show you before you see it yourself.”
She sat up. “What?”
He handed her his phone. What was she looking at? Vanessa Andorra, Stefan, Richard—each standing (at a weird “arty” angle) on three bollards outside the gallery. The headline of the article wasWhen Life Gives You Fossil Fuels. The subhead read: “Vanessa Andorra’s compelling new program engages with and subverts its problematic source of sponsorship.”
“What the hell? Oh, it’s in the Culture section. I thought it was in thenews.” She handed him back his phone. “Vanessa will be pleased, I think. Not that I care. Futurum probably will be too. Anytime they’re allowed in polite society, the big polluters win!” She wasgrinning and trying to be funny, but she felt insane and very near tears.
“I’m sorry that awful man is standing on a bollard in your town,” Adam said. “And taking credit for your work. He’s a total, and utter,cunt.”
“Which awful man? Stefan was my friend!”
“I’m sorry to say it,” Adam said. “But he’s a cunt as well.”
And Coralie felt that beautiful feeling, the feeling she’d longed for all her life, that the outside world didn’t matter, and that no one could hurt her, because she had everything and everyone she needed,right therein her home.
•••
On July 23, 2019,as everyone had known would happen for weeks, if not years, Boris Johnson won the Conservative Party leadership race and became the new prime minister. It was one hundred days before the second Brexit extension would expire. October the thirty-first was the new “do or die” date to leave the EU with or without a deal. “Do or die” was Johnson’s own phrasing. What about people who didn’t want to leave the EU—ordie? People like Coralie Bower?
She resented having to add No Deal planning to her already packed to-do list of nesting and baby prep. In addition to months of nappies, wipes, and some tubs of emergency baby formula, she had a cupboard full of Heinz ketchups, recycled toilet rolls, Mutti tinned tomatoes, jars of peanut butter, curry pastes, basmati rice, and the nice Barilla pasta, all bought on sale over a period of months. Closer to the deadline she’d add paracetamol, ibuprofen, lentils and chickpeas, fish fingers, and frozen peas. The night after Boris Johnson moved into Downing Street, she woke up thinking,Salt!It madeany meal nicer and was good to trade in an emergency. Actually, so was sugar. At 2 a.m., as if it were totally normal, she added four boxes of sea salt and six slabs of Lindt to her Ocado.
•••
The final Eleanor Roadbirth class took place on the hottest July day ever recorded in the UK. Well, at that point! Presumably it was just the first of many thirty-eight-degrees-Celsius days as mankind cruised through the planet’s habitable threshold! Thirty-eight degrees was nothing in Australia. But in London, everything and everyone ground to a halt in shock. On her way out, she popped to the neighboring terrace to call upon Miss Mavis.
She took a long time to come to the door. “Are you checking on me because I’m elderly?”
“No!” Coralie lied.
They both laughed. Miss Mavis tutted. “You should rest in this weather, in your condition.”
“I’m going to a birth class.”
“A birth class! Teaching you pain, is it?” Miss Mavis shook her head. “Foolishness!”
“Youpoorthing!” a posh old white lady called to Coralie from across the street. “I carriedallmy children in high summertoo!”
Coralie had to get the impression down as quickly as she could. “Youpoorthing!” She exclaimed the whole exchange into a WhatsApp voicenote and sent it straight to Alice.
Gathering in Fiona’s hallway, the women and Sam were moaning and fanning themselves.
