After the One Cass Lester (best books to read for young adults txt) 📖

‘The Butterfly’, as she’d nicknamed him; and with Finn, it had been the moment she’d she seen the blue line on the pregnancy-test stick. But, as Charley knew, more than most, sometimes the people we love die, and so love always comes with the risk, the petrifying risk of the agony of loss. Having loved and lost, Charley recognised with painful clarity that the terror of losing her baby was stopping Angie from taking the risk of loving the little girl lying in Charley’s arms.

She shifted up the bed so as to be within arm’s reach of Angie. ‘I think you should hold her for a bit,’ she said, holding the baby out towards Angie.

‘Actually, I’m a bit tired,’ said Angie. ‘I’ll call the nurse and get her to put her back.’

‘No. Don’t do that,’ said Charley quietly. ‘Ange, you need to hold your baby. She needs it and so do you.’

Her friend still made no move towards taking her baby, so Charley pressed on.

‘Your baby, Lily, needs your love, Angie. And you need hers. If—’ she paused to find the right way to voice the unspeakable, ‘—if the unthinkable happens and you haven’t shown her you love her, you will never forgive yourself. You’ll never have the chance, it’ll be too late. You have a chance to love this precious girl now, please take it. Love her while you can, and for as long as you can. Please, Angie. For me.’

Slowly, warily, Angie leant over and touched her baby’s perfect, delicate fingers. Then she tentatively stroked her silky-soft cheek. The baby gave the tiniest of sighs, and Charley held her breath.

‘Come on then, my Lily,’ murmured Angie softly, holding out her arms for Charley to gently tumble Angie’s newborn into her embrace. Closing her eyes in bliss, Angie cradled her baby daughter, and oblivious to the world, sank back and wilfully let love engulf them both.

Charley got up and left them to their moment. When she got to the door of the intensive care unit, she stopped and looked back for a moment. Then she slipped out, and closed the door behind her.

Driving home Charley remembered what Tara had said about finding something good to come from a bereavement. Well, maybe something good had come from Josh’s death, if losing him meant Charley had been able to understand and help Angie. Whatever happened, Angie’s love for Lily would be Josh’s legacy, his memorial, she decided. Sometimes the thread of life is cut far too soon: sometimes after years, sometimes just months, days, or mere moments, but however long, or short, the thread turns out to be, Charley realised it could never be untangled from the lives it was interwoven with.

Chapter Thirty-eight

After a few worrying days, to everyone’s joy and relief, Lily was strong enough and had put on enough weight to leave neonatal intensive care, and she and Angie were moved to a maternity ward.

The friends gave the family twenty-four hours so that Angie’s other children could spend time some with their new sister. Then, at the next evening visiting hour they arrived together in a joyous gaggle to meet Lily. Angie slid the bundle into the first pair of welcoming hands. They were Pam’s.

‘Hello, lovely,’ said Pam softly, while the others flocked around, arguing over whose turn it was next.

‘Angie, she’s adorable!’ cried Nisha, ‘My go next!’

‘I think you’ll find there’s a queue!’ joshed Tara.

‘Yes, and you’re after me!’ Nisha good-naturedly elbowed Tara away.

Laughing, Tara happily turned her attention to opening the bottle of fizz she’d brought.

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, with Charley perched next to her, Angie slid her arm round her mate and gave her an affectionate squeeze. ‘Looks like you’re last in the queue. Bad luck!’ she joked.

Charley smiled gently. ‘I’ve already had my first cuddle with Lily,’ she reminded her.

‘True.’ said Angie, then, holding Charley’s gaze she mouthed silently, ‘Thank you.’

Charley didn’t reply. There was no need.

Meanwhile, of course, The Annual Kim Henderson Memorial Prosecco Night and combined Grand Shop Opening had loomed ever closer and was just days away now, because, regardless of little things like births, deaths and marriages, life has a habit of going on.

Nisha had sent details to the local press and radio, social media was awash with postings, alerts and tweets, and so, even though Charley’s attention had been elsewhere, the event had gathered its own momentum, and Saturday was rolling towards them unstoppably…

On the Friday afternoon, Nisha had scheduled a last-minute rundown in the shop with everyone to double-check the arrangements. Tara arrived as soon as she could after work, but Nisha had given up her entire afternoon to help prepare for the launch.

‘I’ve got the Prosecco from the Cash and Carry. I’ll bring it down tomorrow,’ she told them. ‘I bought sixty bottles.’

‘Sixty! We’ll never get through that lot,’ said Charley.

‘Oh, I dunno,’ replied Tara. ‘I’ll help!’

‘How are we going to keep it chilled?’ asked Pam.

‘Ice-packs and cool boxes,’ replied Nisha, who seemed to have thought of everything. Then she plonked a package on the table, and Charley discovered that Nisha’s idea of a launch was a little more ambitious than she’d expected, and a great deal more outrageous.

‘Tomorrow, in the afternoon, Pam and I will set up in the shop,’ Nisha announced, briefing them as if it were a military campaign. ‘Charley and Tara, you’ll go round town handing out flyers wearing…’ she paused for effect while she delved into the package for two fancy-dress costumes she’d bought online – ‘these!’ she cried, holding the outfits up dramatically.

Charley gasped. ‘I— AM— NOT— WEARING— THAT!’

Nisha looked crestfallen. ‘Why not?’

The outfits were ridiculously skimpy French Maid costumes with the shortest skirts and lowest cut tops Charley had ever seen. Their tasteless tackiness was topped off with frilly white aprons embroidered, or rather emblazoned, with the legend, ‘Let Me Pop Your Prosecco!’

There was a horrified silence. Charley and Pam exchanged mortified looks.

‘Oh, come on! They’re perfect! You’ll look great in them!’ said Nisha. And going over to Charley, she