Keep your friends close

Prologue

Cheryl's pov

I'm out at me favourite Italian restaurant for me twenty-seventh birthday meal with me wife and best friends - Nicola, me producer. Nadine, another singer signed to me label and her girlfriend Sarah.

The sound of cutlery clinking on china and the bustle of chatter and laughter from the other tables rising just slightly over the soft Mediterranean soundtrack.

'Babe, can you call Steve, get him to pick us up?' I say rubbing me bump.

'Already? You okay, sweetheart?' Kimberley asks, that look of concern spreading across her face like it has done every day for the last thirty-six weeks since we found out I was pregnant with our first child.

'The baby's got a foot in me kidney, uncomfortable. I wish she'd move.'

She smiles, sympathetic. 'Alright, I'll call now.' she says kissing me temple and standing up.

'Are you all ready for the baby coming?' Sarah smiles.

'Kimberley is,' I laugh. 'I just do what she tells us to. You know what they say, happy wife, happy life.'

Sarah chuckles, 'same rule with girlfriends, isn't it, baby.' She says, putting an arm around Nadine.

Nadine grins, 'Aye, you're well trained now.'

'Cheeky...' Sarah chuckles, kissing her quickly.

'Have you got your eye on anyone, Nic?' Sarah asks.

'Nah, married to the job me. Producing these two gives me enough headaches.' she laughs.

'Oi... Well, you've got a break from me for a while,' I say stroking me bump again.

Kimberley comes back to the table. 'Steve's outside, babe. I asked him to pull up at the back so we can sneak out. There's a load of paps out the front.' She holds her hand out for us, 'Come on, let's get you home, gorgeous.'

I stand slowly, the girls hugging and kissing us both before we go.

Kimberley guides us to the back entrance of the restaurant, Steve's there holding the door open for us.

'Thanks Steve.'

'Evening, Cheryl,' he smiles. 'Baby giving you grief?'

'Isn't she always.' I smile back, lowering meself in carefully.

Steve's been our driver for the last five years, he knows me and Kimba, our routines, what we like. He's practically family.

Kimberley climbs in the other side. 'Put your seatbelt on, babe.'

I groan, the seatbelt's uncomfortable, but she insists on it.

We buckle in as Steve pulls away from the restaurant, the London streetlights passing in an orange blur, the gentle hum of the tyres against the road. As we leave the city, the buildings fall away giving way to greenery as we speed along the motorway.

Kimberley takes me hand with a squeeze, her thumb brushing me knuckles softly. I close me eyes letting the warmth of her touch radiate through us. Me breath steadying to the baby's rhythmic kicks.

The world feels peaceful. Perfect.

Until... tyres screech, metal crunches. Kimberley's hand slips from mine as the world tilts violently in a flash of headlights and blaring horns.

Then... everything goes black.