Free The No-Kids Club by Talli Roland

of noses or slippery tongues; everything was smooth and slick and . . . nice .
    She climbed from the car, waving as Nicholas pulled away. They got along well, he was fun to be with, and they agreed on all the important points. What more did she need?
    There was nothing wrong with nice, Clare told herself, unlocking the front door. Nice was perfect, actually.

CHAPTER TEN
    P oppy tried to ignore the sun peeping through the crack in the curtains. Usually, she was raring to go—Alistair always groaned at how she leapt from the bed with so much energy, as if she flicked a switch to ‘On’. But today was different. Today was Mother’s Day .
    Her mind flashed back to Friday afternoon, when she’d helped the kids put the finishing touches on their Mother’s Day cards. They ’d been so excited, regaling her with tales of how they planned to surprise their mums on the big day. Faisal had told her all about th e breakfast in bed he’d organised, so proud that his dad was letting him make French toast by himself. Poppy had forced herself to nod and smile while her gut contracted with grief and longing.
    She tugged the duvet over her face and closed her eyes, trying to go back to sleep, but her buzzing mind wouldn’t submit. Instead, her brain filled with images from Friday night . . . how Alistair had climbed into bed and said her name quietly, and how she’d pretended to be asleep when in reality she’d been far from it. They rarely disagreed about anything, but when they did, they were sure to make up within hours.
    Not this time, though. Alistair hadn’t mentioned adoption again, but he had helpfully left the literature on her bedside table, just in case she had a change of heart. She’d leafed through it, tears pooling in her eyes as she recalled his hopeful expression. He’d said he wasn’t giving up on IVF, but . . .
    Sighing, Poppy flopped over and stretched out an arm across the empty bed. Alistair was in Brighton on a training course for his physiotherapy clinic this weekend, and because it was so close to where his mum lived, he’d stayed there last night to be with her for today. He’d invited Poppy over, but she wasn’t in the mood to play happy families. She wanted to stay home and lick her wounds in peace.
    Suddenly claustrophobic in the stuffy room, Poppy sat up and threw off the cover. Outside, sun streamed from a brilliant blue sky and the first hint of green was appearing on trees and bushes. Maybe some fresh air would make her feel better about everything. She quickly pulled on her clothes and jacket, tugged on her boots, and was out the door. A wander around Portobello Road usually lifted her spirits. She loved watching the market booths being set up as the vendors bantered and laughed.
    The sun was high but the air was cool, and Poppy quickened her pace to keep warm. As she scurried under the Westway, her eyes fell on a family in front of her: mum, dad and two dark-haired girls with ringlets and high, clear voices that cut through the hum of the motorway above her. The children clung onto each of the mother’s hands as they chatted about where they were taking her for breakfast, making her guess and laughing with abandon as her answers became increasingly outlandish.
    The smaller of the two girls turned and smiled straight at Poppy, and her heart ached as she noticed the little one was the spitting image of her mother. Unable to tear herself away from the family, she lingered several feet behind them, smiling as their voices floated back. Before she knew what she was doing, she’d followed them down a side street and right up to the door of a small restaurant called Mike’s Café.
    ‘Coming in?’ The dad turned to look at her quizzically, holding the door open behind him.
    Poppy froze, her cheeks flushing. ‘Um, no, that’s okay.’ Before the man could respond, she rushed down the street, pulling her blonde hair forward to cover her flaming face.
    She sagged against a concrete wall,