Tom’s eyebrows knitted. “I’ve really hated the thought of you being alone and pregnant, overseas.”

“Mum’s friend Babs and her partner, Diego, were with me some of the time. It wasn’t the same as being with you, though. I’ve missed you a lot.”

She waited for him to say the same thing back, but he only nodded. Don’t push him too much, she told herself. Carla started to chatter, her words running away to fill their silence, about Babs and Diego and how they’d flown here for the wedding. She took a deep breath before telling Tom the story of how she’d discovered Diego was her father.

“Gosh, I’m so pleased for you,” he said, visibly surprised. He moved a little, as if he was going to cross the room, but then he stayed put.

“It’s great, but we’ve missed out on being part of each other’s lives for four decades. We have lots of catching up to do, and Babs looked very upset by the revelation. I hope they can work things out. There’s so much love between them.” Carla hoped he’d get her hint and she worked her jaw until it cracked. She had to at least try to explain her whole overseas quest to Tom. “I told you about Myrtle’s prediction, about how someone important I met during my gap year was waiting for me overseas?”

He sighed and nodded.

“I thought it might be an ex, but it was Diego.”

Tom glanced at her with cool eyes that she couldn’t read. “Carla, I’m really too tired to dissect all this. Marriage is based on trust, and I didn’t expect your ex-husband to answer your phone, in Paris.”

His words stung her. “Sara answered yours...”

“It’s really not the same.”

“Isn’t it? I saw the photos of you both in the bar. She showered in your room and you two had breakfast together. When I called to tell you I was pregnant, she picked up your phone. How do you think that made me feel?”

Tom scratched his collarbone. “Yeah, I can see how that might have looked. But I met her by chance, didn’t plan it. Unlike you, with the people you traced and revisited.”

“You invited her to your room. I’d call that a plan,” Carla fired back. “I was swept along by a prediction, a failure in my business, pregnancy hormones and a shocking revelation from my gran. I felt wounded you found time for work that you couldn’t devote to our honeymoon. I didn’t mean to do anything to hurt you.”

Carla could explain how the superstitious culture of her family had been set in stone, and that fortunes and omens were a way of life she’d tried to eschew, but it felt like she was swimming against a strong tide. She could tell Tom that she’d needed to put ghosts to rest in her previous marriage, and that she really wanted to eat brunch with him again and play Connect Four, as if none of this had ever happened. But Carla was suddenly overcome by a tiredness that made her whole body feel shrink-wrapped.

“What hurts most is that you didn’t tell me the truth about your trip,” Tom said.

“I did try to. Several times. If I’ve learned one thing, it’s that life and love are messy and I can’t control either of them. They’re not something I can navigate with questions and checkboxes. It’s about listening to my instinct and taking chances, even if they don’t work out.” She rested a hand on her stomach.

Tom’s eyes followed it, and his expression softened. “Is everything okay with the baby? How are you feeling? I was totally unprepared for the news.”

“Me, too.”

“At least we have that one thing in common,” he said wryly.

She crumpled the bedsheet beneath her fingertips. “Will you come with me for the scan?”

He blinked at her, his eyebrows raised in the middle. “Yes, of course. I want to be there.” He stood up and moved across the room toward her. “I’ve thought of nothing else since you told me about the baby. I wanted to run out of that factory and jump on the next plane home. It’s been torture, not being able to hold you.”

You could do it now, she thought. Please do it.

Tom looked to the side of her, trying to find something else to focus on. “Perhaps you should open the gift.”

Carla flipped over the tag and scowled when she read the message.

I saw this and thought of you. I wish you a sparkling future. From, Myrtle.

Carla wasn’t sure if it was mischievous or kind. “It’s from the fortune teller,” she told Tom.

“Oh. Great.” He sat down beside her.

The bag wasn’t fastened and Carla plucked away a piece of black tissue paper that covered the gift. She took it out, not expecting to find a rhinestone-encrusted Magic 8 Ball. Carla remembered her friends at school gathering around one in the playground, asking questions and shaking the ball so it “magically” gave them an answer. It Is Certain, Most Likely, My Reply Is No, Outlook Not So Good...

“I haven’t seen one of those things for ages,” Tom said.

“Me neither.” She passed it to him.

“Shall we give it a go?” he asked.

Carla raised an eyebrow at him. “You really want to do that?”

He nodded slightly. “I feel like we need something.”

Carla wanted to tell him she loved him, trusted him, valued him, wanted to be with him and that she wanted to raise their child together, but instead she asked the ball a question. “Will things be okay between me and Tom?” she asked aloud.

Tom shook the ball and they both waited for an answer to appear.

In gray words the window said Cannot Predict Now.

Carla and Tom both found a small laugh.

“It could be worse,” he said.

Carla thought so, too.

Tom stood up and she followed suit. They were only a couple of feet apart and a moment passed between them, an opportunity for them to fall into each other’s arms and to whisper that everything was going be okay.

But they both stepped back, and the chance passed in the blink of an eye.

“I’ll see you at the funeral,” Tom said, and he turned to leave.

“Yes, see you there,” Carla whispered after him.

Thirty-Five

Story

Carla wasn’t sure how she was going to make it through Bertrand’s funeral service. Her special day had been wiped out, a day full of love and happiness obliterated and replaced with one full of loss and sadness. Hordes of her relatives, even more than had gathered at Lucinda’s house, had all showed up to support Evelyn instead of celebrating her and Tom’s wedding.

Carla needed to stuff her head with random thoughts so she didn’t break down and cry. As she stood in the church where her wedding should have taken place, she looked around at the tiny details, like how the roof joists joined together like fingers reaching in a point, and the number of pews (she counted sixty the first time, then sixty-two the next). She tried to remember the names of all her relatives and thought Mimi looked like a jackdaw in her black feathered coat. She focused on her feet, the chilliness of the room, how white the hymn sheets looked lying around and the contrast of Jess’s copper hair against her black dress. She heard the doors at the back of the room swing open and turned to see Aaron walking in. He took a seat on the far left of the back row, followed minutes later by Tom, who ushered his parents to the far right.

Evelyn was seated in the front row and had knitted herself a black sweater for the occasion, with the large initials B & E stitched onto the chest. Bertrand hadn’t officially been family yet, but he’d been on the verge of being indoctrinated. It turned out that he did have a few distant family members, and a couple of his male cousins stood at the front of the church, seemingly overwhelmed by the mass of women in front of them.

The funeral officiant said a few words and invited one of Bertrand’s cousins up to address the room. He sported a similar semicircle of black hair to Bertrand’s, and used a microphone to tell everyone how his cousin hadn’t done anything particularly exciting, adventurous or noteworthy, but he’d been a gentle, caring man who was deeply in love with Evelyn. He’d been excited about becoming part of something bigger and had recently discovered a passion for knitting and candle making.

When he finished, Evelyn stood up shakily.