PAUL

True to her word, Sarah was ready to go in fifteen minutes, white-knuckled and gripping onto the banister but then she has always treated stairs as an enemy to be conquered rather than as a means to an end. It didn't matter, as it had been two weeks since she'd ventured further than the corner shop, I counted it a success.

'You look good.' I meant it, classic in dark denim and making full advantage of her height. When I met Sarah, she slouched all the time, towering over all her friends, male and female, had made her self conscious but it never bothered me. She didn't believe me when I told her that I liked a woman to be tall and statuesque, that she looked like a goddess to me (cheesy I know, but we were young). She thought that I'd come over just to wind her up, have a bit of a laugh; it took me a good half hour to convince her otherwise but it was time well spent.

She flashed me a smile, 'Your parents not here yet?'

'Dad rang five minutes ago to say they were just leaving so they should be here any minute.' I was glad that we had to leave as soon as they arrived if we were going to make it to the pub on time. I knew Mum and Sarah had talked on the 'phone and reconciled at least some of their differences but it was going to be awkward for some time and I don't enjoy playing the arbiter in those situations.

We were early in the end, well we weren't early as such, but we arrived before Trish and Johnnie so it all adds up to the same thing in the end. I'm fond of The Horseman, it's what Sarah calls an 'old man' pub by which she means it serves real ale, has a wood-burning fire and, predictably, we lower the average age a lot whenever we enter.

I love the crooked beams that stagger across the ceilings, reminding me that hundreds of others have sat under them doing much the same as us. I could do without the horse brasses that cover every available square inch of wall but I suppose it adds character. It's preferable at any rate to the insipid brand of blandness that our local pub has become, cloned from themother ship of Wetherspoons and grafted onto the end of our road.

A vodka lime and soda for Sarah caused some consternation behind the bar but my pint of guest ale proved an easier proposition. We chose a corner table close to the door and settled against the floral upholstery in companionable silence for a while. The first pint slid down quickly, as it always does. As I finished Sarah arched her eyebrows,

'Needed that did you?'

I grinned sheepishly, 'Maybe. The first one always goes down well. Anyway, you're not doing so badly yourself.'

Her turn to grin, 'It does feel good. You may have been right about coming out, though I hate to admit it.'

'I'm always right. You should know that by now.'

That drew a grin, 'Yeh, yeh, yeh. Why haven't you won the lottery yet then?'

'Because I always let you choose the numbers!'

'Too much of a gentleman for your own good.' I love the way Sarah smiles when she's feeling flippant, all dimples and slightly crooked teeth, I can't do anything apart from smile back, as hopelessly in love as I've always been. She caught me smiling, ' Eyeing up my dimples are you? Wait until I get you home, young man.'

'Do I have to wait?'

'Yes, you do! I think I just saw Johnnie's car pull up outside.'

'About time too, they're always late. What do you think the excuse will be? I reckon Johnnie was doing his hair.' That sent the pair of us into giggles, the amount of time Johnnie can spend in the bathroom without changing what he looks like one iota is a running family joke. We still hadn't pulled ourselves together when they walked in, hand in hand.

Johnnie coughed, 'Hi Dad, Mum. How're you doing?'

Sarah managed to pull herself together enough to talk, I was having trouble just keeping a straight face. 'Hi Johnnie, nice hair. Hi Trish, how are you sweetheart?'

That was it, I offered to get the next round in before I ended up in hysterics and went off to the bar whilst the pair of them got settled down. We ordered food and sat idly chatting for a while. When I say, 'we', I really mean Trish and Sarah chatted whilst Johnnie and I got stuck into our pints. It amazes me how two women who clearly don't like each other can still talk for hours about nothing whilst managing to fill the conversation with venomous subtext. It has me stumped. It's a bit like watching tennis; Sarah to serve,

'You're looking good Trish, very toned. Been exercising much?' My translation - you look a bit butch still that's better than the last time I saw you when you looked like a fat heifer. 15-0

'Yeh, I've been going to the gym a lot recently. I always feel better when I keep in shape.'
At least I do some exercise, unlike some. Weak perhaps but you've got to give her points for effort. 15-15

Sarah was wearing a grin that spelt trouble, twirling her glass between her palms, 'I went to the gym for a while but I always find I put on muscle where I really don't want it. Anyway, keep busy enough and the weight looks after itself.'
Ouch. So you're butch and lazy? That must have hit a raw nerve, Trish didn't look happy and Johnnie was shrinking into his pint. Gotta be 30-15.

' Yeh, I know what you mean. It's the chocolate biscuits that do for me.' An admission of weakness? Now, admittedly I have trouble understanding the female mind but surely that kind of foible is only aired among friends? In my mind 40-15

Sarah paused, finishing her drink before deigning to reply, 'Oh, I just don't buy the things. You can't eat them if they aren't in the house, can you?'  Killer blow, I'm biased I know but game to the wife. Mind you, it's not pretty to watch, I was glad when the food arrived and dulled the conversation for a while. Johnnie and I managed to steer what chat there was onto sport for a while and gardening and cars and the girls had a bit of fun winding us up.

Trish probably knows more about sport than Johnnie does, she'll watch anything that girl. It gives us a bit of common ground because I soon get lost in the female maze without some familiar signposts. When it comes to cars, Johnnie can bore to death with the best of them but as I was thinking of trading in our old deathtrap we managed to stay the right side of boredom. I'm not mad about cars normally, as long as I've got one that gets me to where I want to go without breaking down and doesn't bankrupt meevery time I need petrol I'm fairly happy.

When the food finished, the topic of cars exhausted and she'd finished licking her fingers, Sarah started to quiz Johnnie,

'Did you contact Lucy about getting those tests done in the end, Johnnie?' We had been talking about this for a while. There's a small possibility thatDowns can run in families, a pretty simple genetic test can apparently rule that in or out.

'No. I've been pretty busy recently, not had much of a chance to think about it.'

Sarah wasn't giving up easily, 'You should, you know. Isn't it better to know these things?' I noticed Trish looking a little puzzled and wondered whether she had any idea what we were talking about so I thought I'd better help her out,

'Did Johnnie tell you about the genetic tests Trish?'

'No...what tests?'

'Nothing major. You know that you can inherit an increased risk of having a baby with Downs if it runs in the family don't you?'

She shook her head, 'No, I didn't know that.'

'Well you can. I mean, it's a tiny risk and you'd normally have a pretty good idea - there'd be lots of miscarriages and Downs babies in the family history, which we don't have. But they can do a simple test to find out.'

Johnnie was looking a little sheepish, 'Sorry Trish, I should have mentioned it but you know how things have been lately. I was planning on getting an appointment after Christmas to sort it out.'

Sarah's turn, 'You've been saying that for ages. I don't understand what the problem is, it isn't painful, it doesn't take long and then you know.'

I could almost feel her gaze pinning Johnnie to his seat, 'Yeh, I understand that Mum. But I'm not even sure I want to know. It's a small chance right? And if it does come back positive then it's a crap decision to make isn't it? To have no kids of your own. Anyway, we're not even thinking about that yet.'

Trish drew in a deep lungful, 'Look, maybe Johnnie and I should talk about this? It's important after all and as I've only just found out about it.' She paused, 'Well, maybe we should take some time to get our heads around it together?'

She had a point, Johnnie hadn't done himself any favours there. It's not the way I would have wanted to find out something like that. I guessed he was in for trouble when they had time to think about it alone together. Sarah wasn't done either,

'How is it even a matter for discussion? Do you have any idea how hard raising Danny has been? The worry and the stress and...well I can't even begin to explain it. If I had known more beforehand I would never have got pregnant and you don't even have the excuse of ignorance. It's a necessity I'm afraid, not a choice. And it's not just the risk ofDowns - miscarriages aren't exactly pleasant experiences. Would you put Trish through that?'

Johnnie really was looking wretched now, 'No, of course I wouldn't want to.'

'I think I can make that choice for myself.' Trish, looking shaken, interrupted, 'Of course neither of us would want to have to go through what you have. We know it's been hard but maybe sometimes it's better not to have the choice to make. Anyway, Johnnie isn't saying that he's not going to have the tests done. Are you?'

'No.' Mumbling now and looking at Sarah, Johnnie was rapidly turning crimson. Sarah had gone white and silent. She drained her drink and got to her feet, straightening her jeans. Then she left, without a backward glance, letting the door bang shut behind her and leaving Johnnie, Trish and I staring in silence. It was Johnnie who broke the deadlock,

'Well that went well.'

He's got my talent for inappropriate flippancy that boy, 'Not really. Look, I'd better go after your Mum and ring your Grandmother to get her to come and pick us up. You kids get off home, I'll sort things out. And for God's sake Johnnie decide what you're going to do and explain it properly to Trish. It doesn't matter what you decide, I'll talk your Mother around eventually either way but you have to decide something.' They left then and I rang my Mum, grabbed our coats and wandered outside to find Sarah.