Semi-Sweet by Roisin Meaney Read Free Book Online Page B

newspaperman’s child.”
    Leah’s knuckles were white around the glass. “Of course it is.”
    Their plates sat between them, the remaining pasta cooling, the sauces just beginning to congeal. Leah’s two twenty-euro notes
     were tucked into the bill wallet, waiting to be collected.
    “And I suppose he’s delighted,” Fiona said.
    Leah met her mother’s eyes steadily. “Yes, of course he is. We both are.”
    Fiona’s smile was bitter. “Well, isn’t that nice? A happy couple, and a baby on the way. Just what I always hoped for my only
     daughter.”
    Leah stood up abruptly, almost knocking over her chair. Forget the fifteen euro in change: nothing was worth this. She grabbed
     her bag and pulled her jacket from the chair back. “I have to go now. I hope you enjoyed your lunch.”
    She didn’t look behind her as she strode toward the door. Once again she’d let her mother get under her skin. She always swore
     it wouldn’t happen, and it always did. It was unfortunate that Fiona played bridge with Hannah’s mother, but it was hardly
     the end of the world. Relationships broke up all the time—Geraldine Robinson knew that as well as anyone—but Leah’s mother
     was determined to make a song and dance about it.
    The pregnancy of course had been a gamble, and Leah had hated lying to Patrick about the Pill not working, but it had paid
     off. He was with her now—and he was happy about the baby. He kept telling her how happy he was. Nothing her mother could say would change that, and in time she’d
     have to come around to the idea of being a grandmother.
    Leah walked quickly through Clongarvin’s busy lunchtime streets until she reached the pretty lavender-painted, window-boxed
     frontage of Indulgence. She let herself in and leaned against the door, breathing in the subtly scented air, her hands coming
     to rest on the stomach that was just beginning to swell.

    At ten minutes to five, Hannah untied her yellow apron and hung it on the blue, star-shaped hook behind the counter. She leaned
     wearily against the display cases and yawned as her mother counted the unsold cupcakes.
    “Twenty-seven,” Geraldine announced. “How many did you say you started with?”
    “A hundred and forty-four. My feet are killing me.”
    “So that’s…a hundred and seventeen gone on the very first day. That’s just wonderful.”
    Hannah smiled tiredly. “Not bad, I suppose.”
    Not all sold, some given away—a fair few given away—but still, not bad for her first day in business. People, quite a few
     people, had actually come into the shop and paid money for her cupcakes.
    Geraldine indicated the leftovers. “What do you want me to do with these?”
    “Bag them in assorted sixes and put them in that basket.”
    “Six times four is twenty-four; there’ll be three left over.”
    “You can bring them home.”
    Hannah emptied the money drawer—a few customers had remarked on it, and there had been lots of comments, too, about the chair
     on the wall—and bundled the cash into her satchel. Geraldine arranged the bags of leftovers in a green basket that announced,
     on another of Adam’s signs, yesterday’s bake— ALMOST AS NICE, HALF THE PRICE: 6 FOR €5.
    They mopped the floor and wiped down the shelves. They unplugged the kettle and switched the door sign back to SORRY, FRESH OUT OF CUPCAKES . They loaded the van with the trays, and they turned off the lights and slid down the security grille before locking the
     front door.
    And as they rounded the corner to get back to the van, they came face-to-face with Patrick Dunne, editor of the Clongarvin Voice .
    It was the first time Hannah had seen him since he’d walked out, just over a week earlier. His pale green tie was new. Her
     heart turned over as she took him in. She looked a mess—she must look a mess after the long day, in her flat black shoes and
     wide gray trousers and black top. The outfit she’d chosen so carefully for her first day in the shop