Remember Me? by Sophie Kinsella

eyes are wide. “So, you don’t remember me visiting you before?”
    “No. All I remember is you being twelve. With your ponytail and braces. And those cute hair clips you used to wear.”
    “Don’t remind me.” Amy mimes puking, then frowns in thought. “So…let me get this straight. The whole of the last three years is a total blank.”
    “Like a big black hole. And even before that it’s a bit foggy. Apparently I’m
married
?” I laugh nervously. “I had no idea! Were you a bridesmaid at the wedding or anything?”
    “Yeah,” she says distractedly. “It was cool. Hey, Lexi, I don’t want to bring this up when you’re feeling so ill and everything, but…” She twists a strand of hair, looking awkward.
    “What?” I look at her in surprise. “Tell me.”
    “Well, it’s just that you owe me seventy quid.” She shrugs apologetically. “You borrowed it last week when your cash card wasn’t working and you said you’d pay me back. I don’t suppose you’ll remember…”
    “Oh,” I say, taken aback. “Of course. Just help yourself.” I gesture at the Louis Vuitton bag. “I don’t know if there’s any cash in there…”
    “There will be,” Amy says, swiftly unzipping it with a tiny smile. “Thanks!” She pockets the notes and swings her legs over the arm of the chair again, playing with her collection of silver bangles. Then she looks up, suddenly alert. “Wait a minute. Do you know about—” She stops herself.
    “What?”
    She surveys me with narrowed, disbelieving eyes. “No one’s told you, have they?”
    “Told me what?”
    “
Jesus.
I suppose they’re trying to break things to you gradually, but, I mean…” She shakes her head, nibbling her nails. “Personally, I think you should know sooner rather than later.”
    “Know what?” I feel a beat of alarm. “What, Amy? Tell me!”
    For a moment Amy seems to debate with herself, then she gets up.
    “Wait here.” She disappears for a few moments. Then the door opens again and she reappears, clutching an Asian-looking baby about a year old. He’s wearing overalls and holding a beaker of juice, and he gives me a sunny smile.
    “This is Lennon,” she says, her expression softening. “This is your son.”
    I stare at them both, frozen in terror. What’s she talking about?
    “I guess you don’t remember?” Amy strokes his hair fondly. “You adopted him from Vietnam six months ago. It was quite a story, actually. You had to smuggle him out in your rucksack. You nearly got arrested!”
    I adopted a baby?
    I feel cold to my guts. I can’t be a mum. I’m not ready. I don’t know anything about babies.
    “Say hello to your child!” She carts him over to the bed, clicking in her spiky heels. “He calls you Moo-mah, by the way.”
    Moo-mah?
    “Hi, Lennon,” I say at last, my voice stiff with self-consciousness. “It’s…it’s Moo-mah!” I try to adopt a motherly, cooing voice. “Come to Moo-mah!”
    I look up to see Amy’s lips trembling strangely. Suddenly she gives a snort of laughter and claps a hand over her mouth. “Sorry!”
    “Amy, what’s going on?” I stare at her, suspicion dawning. “Is this really my baby?”
    “I saw him in the corridor before,” she splutters. “I couldn’t resist it. Your face!” She’s in paroxysms of laughter. “‘Come to Moo-mah!’”
    I can hear muffled cries and shouts coming from outside the door.
    “That must be his parents!” I hiss in consternation. “You bloody little…Put him
back
!”
    I collapse on my pillows in relief, my heart pounding. Thank fuck. I don’t have a child.
    And I cannot get over Amy. She used to be so sweet and innocent. She used to watch
Barbie Sleeping Beauty
over and over with her thumb in her mouth. What’s
happened
to her?
    “I nearly had a heart attack,” I say reproachfully as she comes back in, holding a can of diet Coke. “If I died, it would be your fault.”
    “Well, you need to get savvy,” she retorts with an