I raised my eyebrows. "He knew and you didn't?"
She nodded. "Our doctor showed him the relevant anatomy on the sonogram while I closed my eyes. My husband swore that he wouldn't tell another soul. Not even our mums, who were positively dying to know."
"I can't believe he kept it a secret! That's amazing," I said.
"Her husband is great that way," the brunette said.
"Hmm." The blonde nodded. I had begun to notice that the Brits make that hmm sound often, in lieu of saying yes or uh-huh or yeah. She continued, "Never one slip with the pronouns. He was always very careful to say 'he or she' or just 'the baby.' "
"What about baby names? Wasn't it obvious when you'd discuss names?"
"Not at all. He covered both equally… In fact, he pushed Gavin so hard that if anything, I thought we were having a boy."
"Wow. Your husband sounds like a great guy," I said.
She turned to look at her friend and they both burst into laughter. "We were just tearing him to shreds. He's being a bit of a prat these days."
I wasn't sure what a prat was, but I nodded empathetically and said, "I know how that is!"
A few seconds of silence passed and I could tell that the girls were again wondering about my situation.
"I'm Darcy, by the way," I said, with what I hoped was a disarming, "I won't compete with you" smile.
"I'm Charlotte," the blonde said.
"And I'm Meg," the brunette said.
"It's so great to meet you both. I've been dying to have some female interaction since moving here," I said. It was the truth, although I don't think I consciously realized it until that moment.
"When did you move to London?" Meg asked.
"About a month ago."
"Did you move here alone?" she asked. It was as close as she could come to inquiring about the father of my child.
"Yes, I'm going it alone," I said.
Meg and Charlotte both stared at me, with what I detected as admiration. I gave them a warm, open smile, tacit permission to inquire further, which they did, tentatively. I answered each of their questions, only embellishing occasionally. For example, I told them that I caught Rachel in bed with Dex—and I left out Marcus altogether, thereby implying that Dex was the father. It just seemed easier that way, and frankly, what was the difference at this point? Both men were out of the picture. My audience of two was riveted. Charlotte even ignored Natalie, who was gumming the corner of an Evening Standard. I continued my tale, telling them I had quit my job, and come to London to live with my childhood friend Ethan. "He's straight, but we're just friends," I told them. A gay friend might be more interesting, and certainly more entertaining, but there was something compelling about an aboveboard, straight male—female friendship. Besides, it gave me more credibility as a nice girl. I could hear them saying later, "She's beautiful, but she doesn't go around stalking every available man."
Charlotte asked if I had any interest in Ethan. I shook my head vigorously. "Absolutely not… We're strictly friends. Although we did go out in the fifth grade!"
They laughed.
"So I'm entirely single… if you know anyone?" I said, fleetingly worrying that finding a man shouldn't be important to me. I dismissed the concern; a boyfriend needn't detract from my other, loftier goals.
Meg and Charlotte exchanged a thoughtful glance as if doing a mental inventory of all their male acquaintances.
"Simon?" Charlotte posited to Meg.
Meg made a face.
"You don't like Simon?" Charlotte asked her.
"I like Si well enough…" Meg said with a shrug.
I resisted the temptation to inquire about Simon's looks, but Meg seemed to read my mind because she giggled and said, "I doubt that Darcy is attracted to gingers!"
"Meg!" Charlotte said, reminding me of Rachel. Rachel must have said "Darcy!" in that same tone close to a million times. "Besides, I'd say Si is more of a strawberry blonde."
"He's a ginger and you know it!" Meg said, sipping her tea.
"What's a ginger?" I asked.
"You know, orange hair? I think you call it a 'redhead'?" Meg said.
I laughed. "Oh. Right."
"So? Do you like gingers?" Charlotte asked.
"Probably not my favorite," I said diplomatically, rationalizing that chemistry is beyond one's control. And for a relationship to work, the chemistry has to be there.
"I suppose gingers aren't sought after on either side of the pond," Meg opined.
Charlotte looked disappointed, so I said, "But there are exceptions. Look at cute little Prince Harry. I like his devilish little smile. It depends entirely on personality."
I couldn't help thinking of Marcus. It had been a misguided (to use Ethan's word) decision to start a relationship with him, a decision based largely on intrigue, lust, and competition with Rachel. But at least I wasn't driven by appearances. Marcus was far from perfect looking. So I knew I had it in me to look beyond the mere physical.