Girls Under Pressure Read online

  “No.”

  “Are you sure? You smell a bit sicky.”

  “Oh, this is really Let’s Flatter Ellie time. First you say I look awful and then you say I smell. Terrific.” I’m trying to joke but I feel ridiculously tearful and my mouth is starting to burble of its own accord. “I know I look awful, you don’t have to rub it in. I’m just a flabby fat fright, I know. No wonder Dan’s gone off me, can’t even be bothered to come and see me when he’s just the other side of this stupid mountain, he was the one meant to be mad about me but that didn’t last five minutes, did it, and now . . .”

  “Now?” Anna repeats urgently.

  There’s a burst of cartoon music from the living room and Eggs yells triumphantly.

  “Wallace and Gromit!”

  “Hey, come on, you girls, come and watch the telly!”

  “Come on,” I say, sniffing. “Seeing as he’s gone to such trouble to get it.”

  “No. In a minute. Let’s have this out now,” says Anna, hanging on to me. “Ellie.” She takes a deep breath.

  “What?”

  “Are you going to have a baby?”

  “WHAT???”

  I stare at her in total astonishment.

  “I’ve been trying to psych myself up to asking you for ages. I kept telling myself I was jumping to mad conclusions. I haven’t said anything to Dad. I promise I won’t breathe a word till you say it’s OK. And it is OK. I mean, obviously it’s not what anyone planned, and we’ll have to consider all the options, but the world isn’t going to come to an end. We’ll manage no matter what you decide. And it’s your decision, Ellie, because it’s your baby.”

  “Anna. Listen. I’m not going to have a baby.”

  “Well, if that’s what you’ve decided––”

  “I’m not pregnant! Anna, are you crackers or something? Baby? Me?” Then I suddenly gasp. “Oh, God, is it because I’ve got so fat?”

  “No! You’ve got thin over the past few weeks, but I thought that was because you were worrying—and unhappy because Dan hadn’t got in touch.”

  “Dan? Oh Anna, you didn’t think Dan was the father!” The idea is so ludicrous I burst out laughing.

  Anna can’t help giggling too.

  “Look, Dan and I haven’t done anything at all. Just a few kisses, that’s all. How could you think . . . ?”

  “I know, it did all seem so unlikely. But you must admit, you’ve been a bit withdrawn and moody lately, completely off your food, being sick, suddenly terrified of looking fat—and then I couldn’t help noticing you haven’t touched your Tampax box this month. I know you’re not really regular just yet but it all started to add up. Oh, Ellie, you’ve no idea how great it feels that I’ve got my sums wrong!”

  She gives me a hug, but then she tenses.

  “You do smell of sick.”

  “Stop it! Don’t start again!”

  Anna holds me at arm’s length and looks me straight in the eyes.

  “What is wrong, Ellie?”

  ‘Nothing.”

  “Come on. You haven’t been yourself for ages.”

  “Well, good. I don’t like myself. I want to be a new self.”

  “I liked the old Ellie,” says Anna. “You’ve lost some of your sparkle. You’re so pale and drawn looking. I was mad to encourage you with that stupid diet. You’ve lost too much weight.”

  “No, I haven’t. I’ve hardly started. I’m still horribly fat, look.” I pluck at my clothes with disgust.

  “You look,” says Anna, lifting my thick jumper.

  “Get off, Anna,” I say, trying to pull away. “Stop staring at me.”

  “You’ve lost lots of weight. I didn’t realize just how much. Oh, God. Ellie, you’re not anorexic, are you?”

  “Of course not. Look, I eat heaps. Like two dinners today, right?”

  “Yes, I suppose so. Unless . . . Ellie, you didn’t deliberately make yourself sick, did you?”

  My heart is thumping but I manage to meet her eyes.

  “Honestly, Anna, give it a rest. First I’m pregnant, then I’m anorexic, then bulimic!”

  “Sorry, sorry. I’m making a complete mess of all this. Look, the Dan situation. You say you’re not friends anymore?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what the situation is because I haven’t seen Dan for ages.”

  “Are you two women going to stay gassing in this kitchen all day long?” says Dad, putting his head round the door. “Come and watch the new telly now I’ve got it.”

  “OK, OK, we’re coming.”

  “And you’ll be seeing Dan soon enough,” says Dad. “I bumped into his dad in the pub. I invited the whole family over for a Christmas drink this evening!”

  family girl

  “You’ve done what?” I say to Dad.

  “I thought you’d be pleased,” says Dad, bewildered. “You’ve been dying to see young Dan, haven’t you?”

  “No! Well . . . the point is, I wanted him to get in touch with me. Now he’ll think this is all my idea. Oh, Dad, how could you?”

  “Yes, how could you?” says Anna. “You idiot! Christmas drinks? What drinks? We’ve only got wine for the meal tomorrow and a few cans of beer. And then there’s all their kids. How many are there, five, six? And what about food? We’ll have to give them snacks of some sort. I’ve got one jumbo bag of crisps and one tin of peanuts. They’ll wolf them down in one gulp.”

  “Is Dan coming, Dad? I like Dan. He plays good games and makes me laugh,” says Eggs.

  “Yes, pal. Dan is coming. I’m glad someone’s pleased.” He hoists Eggs onto his shoulder and they go back to the television.

  “I’m not going to be here when they come,” I insist. “I’ll go out.”

  “Don’t be daft, Ellie. Where can you go? You can’t tramp up and down the mountain in the dark.”

  “But it’ll look so gross. Oh, God, if I stay I’ll look gross. I haven’t brought any of my decent clothes with me.”

  “Neither have I. Still, Dan’s family aren’t exactly stylish dressers.”

  We both have a catty giggle. They are dedicated anorak wearers.

  “So what are we going to give them to eat?” Anna says, looking through the cardboard boxes in the kitchen. “I’ll have to drive down to the village and raid the Spar shelves. Honestly. As if I haven’t got enough to do. I was going to get all the veg prepared and stuff the turkey ready for tomorrow.”

  “I’ll get started on all that,” I say.

  I scrub potatoes and peel sprouts and stuff turkey until my hands are sore. Then I dab at my face in the freezing bathroom and try to pull my hair into place. I pull on my black jeans and my black-and-silver shirt. My stomach still seems bloated and I’m scared they won’t fit—but I can button the jeans easily and the shirt doesn’t pull across my chest the way it used to. So I must have lost weight. Quite a lot . . .

  Anna is really grateful when she gets back from her trip to Spar, and even more so when I grill little sausages and fill pastry shells and wrap brown bread around tinned asparagus spears. I arrange them ultra-decoratively, making little faces with wedges of cheese and pineapple and olives on crackers for the children. I don’t have as much as one nibble, although I’m feeling a bit faint—but I get a weird little thrill out of this. I’m in control now. I’m getting thinner.

  I’M GETTING THINNER!

  But I feel fatter-fatter-fatter when I hear the car draw up outside the cottage and the slam of doors and lots of voices.

  Anna, Dad and Eggs go to the front door. I hang back, trying to look cool.

  Dan’s brothers and sisters pour in, wearing hand-knitted old jumpers and baggy dungarees. There are far more than I remembered—some have got friends with them. It’s a good job Anna did her Spar trek. Then Dan’s mum and dad come in and they’re wearing matching sheep sweaters and jeans that go in and out in all the wrong places. They’ve got friends, too—a man with yet another jolly jumper (manic woolly frogs) and smelly old cords, and a droopy woman in a p