‘Are you sure? It doesn’t seem right leaving you with Amber.’
‘She’s a grown woman, Fern.’
‘That’s kinda what I’m worried about.’
‘Well, maybe it’s for the best, rather than you feeling like you need to watch out for her.’
‘You will make sure she doesn’t get up to anything silly, won’t you?’
‘Thought you were going to say anything I wouldn’t do…’
‘Oh God, I dread to think what you’re going to get up to.’
‘You need to relax, let your hair down. Might be harder to do on an art retreat than a multi-million-pound yacht though…’ Stella winked.
Fern playfully whacked her arm. She knew which option she preferred. Laughable really when she thought back to her behaviour as a teen and how her parents despaired. That spark and self-assurance she’d once possessed had been snuffed out – through what? Marriage and motherhood? That wasn’t fair. She’d allowed it to happen. Fern was suddenly annoyed with herself for losing her carefree attitude, her enthusiasm, her creativity, her confidence. The list went on and on.
‘And when we’re back home,’ Stella said, dragging her back to the present, ‘you should come out with me and the girls from work. You can’t keep saying no.’
Fern made a face. ‘I’m not sure Paul would particularly like me going out with a bunch of single women.’
‘You shouldn’t give a crap what Paul thinks.’ There was venom in her voice.
Fern looked at her sharply and raised her eyebrows.
‘I’m sorry,’ Stella said, lowering her voice. ‘He goes out with his friends loads and lots of them are single. You don’t say anything to that, do you?’
‘No.’
‘Well then, you shouldn’t worry what he thinks.’
‘It’s not just him. What am I going to do on a night out when you lot cop off with a bloke?’
‘Honestly, Fern, we go out to enjoy ourselves, not to try to pull. I’m hardly going to meet anyone in the places we go to. We just dance and have a laugh.’
‘What about that French guy you’ve been talking about?’
‘That was different. We met him at a restaurant earlier in the evening, then again at a club later, so we got talking properly. It was a one-off thing. If you come out with us, I promise I won’t dump you for a bloke.’
Fern took another mouthful of the seafood pasta. She gazed out over the twinkling bay while mulling over what Stella had said. ‘I sort of feel like I don’t fit in anywhere. I have friends like you who are single and enjoying that lifestyle and friends who are married but with much younger kids. The friends I made when the girls were babies are now in their fifties – I still feel as disconnected from them as I did when I was a teen mum trying to bond with a thirty-something. I don’t know, I’ve lost who I am.’
‘Maybe you’ve never had a chance to find out who you are and what you want from life. You went from being a teenager with hopes and dreams to a teen mum with a load of responsibility and no time to adjust to it. Having one kid young was hard enough, let alone two. You’re bloody amazing, Fern. I mean that. So take this time and do something for yourself.’
Fern didn’t like to admit it, because to do so was an acknowledgement of how she’d let her dreams fade and her passion for art and creativity die, but perhaps Stella was right.