Charlotte Delaney has sworn off men. After one relationship disaster after another- including turning a guy gay!- Charlotte is so over the male species.
Isaac Fletcher had his heart cruelly broken. Yes, it was years ago. No, he never got over it. I...
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When Sam made a comment weeks ago about inviting my father out to Aylesbury to go fishing with him, I thought he was joking. Turns out, he was being deadly serious. Now, I've never seen the appeal when it comes to fishing because, really, why would you want to sit riverside for hours, waiting and waiting for a fish to bite? It seems so tedious to me.
Yet, I found myself being dragged along for the trip simply because I had nothing else to do this Sunday. Isaac was working. Martha had gone off somewhere with Keira and a group of my cousin's friends. Sophie was on her way back from New York with Daniel. Emma and Adam were in Florence for a dirty weekend. Lucas and Milli were visiting her grandparents in Edinburgh. Mum was too overbearing to be around, so really, I had very little in ways of options this weekend.
I suppose I could have stayed in London, ambled around the flat for hours and then gone over to Isaac's to spend the rest of the day with him but seeing as he and I were currently having a difference of opinion in how we should be spending our time together, it was probably easier to give him a wide berth until either my hormones died down or he came around to my way of thinking.
That's how I found myself here, in Aylesbury, fishing with my best friend and my father. Although, I wasn't the one doing any kind of fishing. No, I was the one sitting on one of those folding chairs, flicking through a copy of Mother&Baby, wondering who on this earth would spend thousands of pounds on a bloody pram. In its defence, it's a good looking pram and not may of them can make green look appealing but this one... NO! It's far too much money.
"Dad?" I say, although it sounds more like, da-ahd. It's the universal tone of voice whenever an offspring wants to emotionally manipulate a parent into giving into their every whim. "I've seen a pram I think the baby would like."
"Good for you," Dad laughs, casting his rod back towards the water. I think that's what it's called. When his line settles in the water, he retakes his place on his own foldable seat and pops the cap of a bottle of beer. I try not to be jealous of his drinking. "What do you want me to do about it, though, Charlotte?"
Shaking my head, I kind of have to wonder how I ended up with a father that's practically immune to all my persuasive techniques. Not even Sophie and Emma were able to get Dad to cave in, although I'm pretty sure if Mum gave it a go, Dad would fold in an instant. Actually, that sounds like a much better plan. "Uh, nothing, it's alright," I tell my father before reaching into my bag to find my mobile phone. After doing a Google search for the link to the pram, I share it with my mother, adding a smiling and angel emoji before sending it to her. When that's finally done, I turn back to my father and say, "I've sorted it."
When he does nothing but nod at my words, I roll my eyes and go back to reading the magazine, folding down the corners of the pages where I see some inspiration that I like. I was nearing the twenty-week mark of my pregnancy and I was quietly confident that nothing was going to go wrong from here on out, although I knew there were no guarantees. I've heard the horror stories of women suffering a late miscarriage or having stillborn babies, but all the tests were clear and I was feeling fine so surely looking for nursery ideas wasn't jinxing it.
