Free French Kissing by Lynne Shelby

to it.’
    â€˜Good. So am I. These candles have given me an idea for lighting –’ He broke off as Beth and Rob came into the room, and took his hand away from my face.
    â€˜Dinner is served,’ Beth said. ‘The bits of it that haven’t been incinerated.’ She and Rob set down plates of lasagne (unburnt, but miniscule portions), hunks of bread, and a huge bowl of salad, and joined us at the table.
    â€˜Can I fill your glass, Beth?’ Alex said, holding up the wine bottle.’
    Beth shook her head. ‘No wine for me, I’m afraid. I’m still breastfeeding Molly.’
    As if she’d heard her name, Molly started crying, her heart-breaking sobs relayed from her cot to the dining room by a baby alarm.
    Beth shovelled a mouthful of lasagne into her mouth, and stood up.
    â€˜Leave her a few minutes,’ Rob said. ‘She may go off again.’
    â€˜No she won’t. And she’ll wake up Jonah if I don’t go to her. Excuse me, Alex, Anna.’ Beth swallowed another mouthful of lasagne and left the room.
    The baby’s cries continued for a few moments more, and then Beth’s voice came over the alarm, hushing her, and telling her ‘It’s all right, Mummy’s here.’ Molly stopped yelling.
    Alex, Rob and I carried on eating (even if the portions were tiny, the lasagne was delicious). Rob (just like Izzy and Georgina) expressed amazement that Alex and I actually wrote letters to each other. Alex asked Rob what he did for a living, and then asked a lot of intelligent questions about his work as a solicitor, and the differences between the English and French legal systems. Rob opened another bottle of wine. The remains of Beth’s lasagne grew cold and congealed on her plate.
    Rob said, ‘Alex, do you have any recommendations on what might be a good camera for an amateur? I have a very basic model, and I’m thinking of upgrading. I’d really appreciate your advice.’
    â€˜It depends on the sort of pictures you want to take,’ Alex said.
    I sensed the conversation might be about to get very involved. ‘Beth’s been a while. I’m going to go and see if she’d like some company.’
    â€˜Oh. Yes. Right. Good idea,’ Rob said, distractedly.
    I left the two men talking photographic equipment, and went upstairs.
    The door to Molly’s bedroom was open, so I put my head around it. Beth was sitting in a rocking chair, cradling Molly, who was blissfully suckling on her left breast.
    â€˜Want some company?’ I whispered.
    â€˜Oh, yes, please,’ Beth whispered back. ‘The childcare books never tell you this, but breastfeeding is incredibly boring.’
    â€˜Isn’t it supposed to help you bond with your child?’
    â€˜Molly and I are plenty bonded, thank you. I’d like some adult conversation.’
    I sat on the cushioned window-seat.
    â€˜This room is so pretty,’ I whispered, my gaze travelling over the delightful wall mural of fairies, elves, and unicorns, the bluebird mobile, and the white cot with its stencilled pink flowers. ‘I don’t know how you found the time to decorate it so beautifully.’
    â€˜Neither do I.’ Beth looked down at her daughter. ‘She’s asleep again. At last.’
    She shifted Molly onto her shoulder, gently rubbing her back.
    â€˜She’s getting so big,’ I said.
    â€˜She is,’ Beth said. ‘It’s time I gave up feeding her myself.’
    â€˜Is it?’ I said. ‘I mean, I wouldn’t know anything about it.’
    Beth laid Molly down in her cot, and buttoned her shirt. I went and stood next to her, and we both gazed down at the sleeping child.
    â€˜I can’t imagine what it must be like to have kids,’ I said.
    â€˜Do you want children, Anna?’
    â€˜One day,’ I said. ‘Maybe. Not right now.’
    Beth stroked her daughter’s mop of brown