Free The Drowning Lesson by Jane Shemilt

laying the table and had forgotten about them. I measured rice into a pan and left it simmering.
    In the sitting room, Adam was talking to Francesca. Gianni had moved to the sofa next to Andrew; I caught a few words about the Italian lakes.
    I drew Adam aside. ‘Alice knows I’m pregnant. That teacher told her about the baby. She’s upset we didn’t tell her earlier.’
    ‘I knew it,’ Adam said. His mouth had compressed into an angry line. ‘I’ll talk to her now.’
    As he turned to go, Megan was at the door; she stopped him with a hand on his sleeve. ‘Alice is fast asleep now.’ She smiled up at him. ‘She was exhausted. She had a little cry but then she cheered up when we talked about names. She’s chosen one already.’
    ‘I can’t thank you enough.’ I hugged her. ‘Nothing I said was helping.’
    ‘She guessed a while back but as no one said anything’ – Megan touched my arm – ‘she thought she must be going mad, imagining things that weren’t there.’
    ‘Poor Alice.’ I felt sick.
    ‘Thank you.’ Adam bent to kiss her cheek. ‘You’ve been brilliant.’
    ‘I’m glad I could help.’ Her blush was deep. ‘I think it’s all going to be fine now.’
    I doubted it would be as simple as that but at least Alice knew the truth now. I took Megan’s arm and led her into the candlelit dining room. The walls were dark red, the candles making little pools of light on the polished oak of the table. Sofia had set a small plate of thin pink ham, layered with crimson-fleshed figs and discs of mozzarella, in each place.
    ‘This is so perfect,’ Francesca said to Adam, drawing out a chair and sitting next to him.
    ‘A bit womb-like, don’t you think? Trust Emma to bring her work home …’
    Francesca gave a tinkle of laughter.
    I smiled and turned to Megan. ‘What names did Alice come up with?’
    ‘Samuel for a boy, Samantha for a girl.’ Megan replied. ‘She’s reading
Lord of the Flies
in English. Sam was one of the boys in the good tribe. I suppose she thinks –’
    ‘Of course,’ I interrupted. I didn’t want to admit I had no idea what Alice was reading. ‘Samantha,’ I repeated. ‘I like that name.’
    Sofia helped bring in the main course: a casserole of bubbling
bœuf bourguignon
. The rice steamed in its dish, sprinkled with parsley. There were little murmurs of approval. No one knew about the pan of burnt potatoes in the bin, and the meal looked perfect.
    As we ate, the discussion turned to babies.
    ‘I don’t mind delivering them, but the thought of looking after my own is scary.’ Francesca was skewering chunks of beef with her fork. She gave a small shrug, a little smile. ‘Maybe I just need to be a bit older.’
    ‘Oh, I don’t know. I was younger than you when I had Alice and we managed to survive, despite the occasional scare.’ An expectant silence fell. ‘I was on call one weekend. It was quiet. Alice was a baby and I wheeled her to the corner shop in her pram.’
    ‘Classic Em,’ said Adam. ‘She left her in the shop.’
    ‘The hospital called me for an emergency; I went outside to answer my phone, then rushed straight there.’ Why was I telling this story? It wasn’t funny at all, but women like Francesca, play-acting helplessness, provoked the desire to shock. ‘It wasn’t till I was scrubbed in theatre that I remembered I’d left my baby by the freezer cabinet in the Spar.’
    The silence was broken by another tinkling laugh from Francesca. Megan stared at the tablecloth; I’d upset her. She didn’t know how strangely easy it was to be careless with your own children while you worried about the health of strangers. Or did she? An image came to mind of a child in the white heat of an African morning, watching her mother hurry away down the steps of a veranda, doctor’s bag in hand. I wished I hadn’t been so flippant.
    ‘It was all right, as it happens,’ Adam was telling everyone. ‘Emma phoned me and I went straight round. Luckily the