Growing Up Twice by Rowan Coleman

Selin the real news.’
    Rosie gazes longingly at the glass of wine in Selin’s hand and then, looking as though she has had the best idea in the world, says brightly, ‘We’re moving back to Stokey to get away from Owen.’
    Selin breaks into a huge smile, leaps up from the chair and hugs us both at once, dripping a bit of wine on to my foot. I wish people would stop hugging me when there are beverages involved.
    ‘That’s fantastic news! It will be so great having you around the corner,
hooray
! And a good idea too, Rosie, well done.’ Rosie smiles and nods in the style of a sensible person, enjoying her last few seconds of Selin’s approval.
    ‘Rosie,’ I say sternly.
    ‘What else?’ asks Selin with a tone of cautious resignation. The three of us are now standing in an uneasy triptych, like guests at an unsuccessful cocktail party.
    ‘Oh well, I’m pregnant too, so that, I suppose.’ Rosie turns and picks up from the mantelpiece a school photo of the three of us aged around sixteen, when were all into U2 and wore tight black jeans, fake biker jackets and lace fingerless gloves. ‘God, we were thin, weren’t we? I’m going to join an aqua-aerobics class for mums-to-be at the sports centre, by the way.’ There is a nano-second of silence.
    ‘
You’re pregnant!
’ Selin roars at the top of her voice and just at that moment her older brother Josh walks in through the living-room door.
    ‘Pregnant? Which?’ He looks astounded.
    ‘Rosie,’ I say quickly, and he breaks into a huge smile and engulfs Rosie in a massive bear-hug. It’s so typical of him to be instantly sweet and non-judgemental.
    ‘Are you OK with it?’ He steps back and looks down at her with concern.
    ‘Yes.’ She smiles up at him. ‘I am pleased and I’m keeping it, aren’t I?’ She looks at me for back-up and I just nod in agreement, knowing that whatever Selin might be about to say now, she will certainly have a whole lot more to say to me about this very soon.
    As Selin stands open-mouthed and for once pretty much speechless, clutching the party pack, her mother comes in and snatches it out of her hand.
    ‘You girls, your teeth will fall out,’ she says. ‘Don’t you ruin your appetite with these things.’ She sees Coşgun standing with his arm around Rosie. ‘Ah, my oldest son, come here, darling.’ She kisses him on both cheeks several times, taking off his coat and pinching his flesh as she does so. ‘It’s not a prerequisite to be starving when you are an artist, you know. Why do you never eat?’
    ‘I eat the entire time, Mum, I’m just lean and I can’t help it. High metabolism – don’t worry about me.’ He kisses the top of her head.
    ‘He lives in a squat,’ she tells us. ‘He works as a gardener all weathers when he’s not inhaling paint fumes, he has had more girlfriends than the Leaning Tower of Pisa.’ None of us understands what she means but we keep quiet. ‘And he tells me “Don’t worry”. Don’t worry? You get a proper job and a nice girl and then I won’t worry. Now, Jennifer, you’ll have wine?’ She goes over to Rosie and kisses her again, breaking into a huge smile. ‘Rosalind, I’d better get you some juice as you’re expecting.’ And then, ‘worse things happen at sea, you know,’ she says to Selin, patting her on the arm as she returns to the kitchen, chuckling quietly and leaving us standing about in an embarrassed silence. So much for keeping it between the three of us for now.
    ‘I don’t have
that
many girlfriends,’ Josh mumbles. ‘None for ages, actually.’ He has had his black hair shaved close to his head. It suits him, funnily enough. His quest to find the inner artist has seen him go through more silly hairstyles and clothing items than your average workaday clown. In fact, half of the fun of having him as my surrogate older brother is teasing him about his latest tortured-artist look. I remember with a smile the time when he used to wear his black hair