I made so many mistakes at work when I finally got there that my boss, Nathan, asked if I’d like to go home early. It struck me then, as he was talking to me, that I hadn’t taken any time off since the fall-out from the wedding. I’d had my usual two days a week off, but I’d declined Nathan’s offer to take a week’s holiday, which should have been the second half of my honeymoon, proclaiming that I was fine and just wanted to get on with it. I busied myself like never before, brushing off the drama of the wedding, and everything else that went with it, as an inconvenient blip. But in that moment, as he looked at me sympathetically, his head tilted to one side, it finally hit me. I needed a break, a rest from the monotony of commuting, from my demanding clients who each thought they were more important than the other thirty I had to deal with, even from the mundane chit-chat with colleagues, and having to keep up the pretence that all was good in my world. It wasn’t, and now I had an added problem. A big one.
‘We can manage,’ said Nathan encouragingly, sensing my hesitation.
I didn’t want him to manage. My ego wanted the entire business to fall apart without me there.
‘Go,’ he ushered. ‘Go take some time out.’
I needed to go, but didn’t want to. ‘You sound like an American life coach,’ I said, smiling.
‘If I have to pick you up and carry you out, I will.’ He laughed. ‘Get out of here.’
I gathered up the lip salve, Oyster card, and packet of chocolate digestives from my desk and slung my bag over my shoulder. ‘You sure?’ I asked him, one last time, as I headed out the door.
‘Go!’ he yelled after me.
It wasn’t yet four o’clock, so I headed over to the City on the Central line, hoping to catch Adam as he was about to leave the office. It somehow felt like it would be easier to tell him about the baby on neutral territory, a busy bar or restaurant, rather than in the solitude of home. I was hoping that the seriousness of the situation would feel less real, less daunting.
‘Hey,’ he said as he picked up the phone.
‘Hey,’ I replied hesitantly. ‘You leaving work soon?’
‘Just tying up one last thing, and then I’ll be on my way. Why? What’s up?’
‘Nothing,’ I said. When did I start lying so easily? ‘I’m at Bank, just wondered if you fancied meeting up for a drink before we go home.’
‘Great, I could do with a bevvy; I’ve had a shit day.’
I recoiled. Maybe if he’d already had a bad day, I should save my news for another time. For when he was more open-minded, relaxed. I immediately chastised myself for making the decision for him, and vowed to tell him regardless. I’d had a shit month, but it hadn’t stopped anyone heaping it on me, all the more.
‘Great,’ I said. ‘Meet you in the King’s Head in ten minutes?’
‘Perfect, see you then.’
I got there with six minutes to spare, enough time to have a drink and calm my nerves.
‘Can I get a large glass of Sauvignon Blanc, please?’ I said to the barman. I watched as he lifted a glass down from the rack above the bar, walked over to the under-counter fridge, and measured out a large vat of amber nectar. It was only when he put it down in front of me, its sweet aroma reaching my nostrils, that I was hit by the thunderous realization that I was carrying a baby.
‘Er, can I also get a tomato juice with that, please?’ I asked, almost apologetically.
He looked around at the space where I stood, correctly deducing that I was on my own.
‘That’s an interesting combo,’ he said.
I smiled and shook my head. God, was this what the next nine months was going to be like? Walking around with a stomach like a washing machine and a brain full of cotton wool?
‘Hi gorgeous,’ said Adam, as he came up behind me, and kissed me on the cheek. ‘You feeling any better?’
I shook my head, but he was already ordering a drink.
‘Pint of Fosters, please, mate.’
I smiled awkwardly while we waited, thankful for a few more minutes before I threw a grenade into Adam’s world. I watched him take three long gulps of his beer, as if it was water. He might need another one sooner than he thinks.
‘I’ve got something to tell you,’ I started.
Adam took one look at me and grabbed my hands. ‘Oh my God, you’re not ill, are you?’ he asked, panic flashing across his face. ‘Because if you are, I really don’t think I can cope.’
Funny how the possibility of me being ill was all about him. I hadn’t really noticed that before.
I shook my head. ‘No, I’m fine, we’re fine.’
‘Of course we are, aren’t we?’
‘Not me and you,’ I said slowly, as I rubbed my tummy. ‘Me and this one.’
‘Sorry, I’m not getting you,’ he frowned.
‘I’m pregnant,’ I said quietly, though it felt as if I’d shouted it across the pub.
‘What?’ he exclaimed.
I watched his expression change from confusion to anger, to joy, and back to confusion again, all in a split second.
‘You’re pregnant? How?’
‘Er . . . do you really need me to explain?’ I asked.
‘But I thought you were . . . I thought we had this covered.’
‘We did, well I did, but I missed a fair few days after the wedding, what with everything going on. I just didn’t keep on top of it.’
‘How many did you miss?’ he asked, as if it mattered.
‘I don’t know . . . maybe ten days, a couple of weeks? I can’t remember. But regardless, one way or another, I’m now pregnant.’
‘But shouldn’t you have thought to be more careful?’
This wasn’t going how I’d thought it would. Or maybe it was exactly what I’d expected, deep down.
‘So, what are we going to do?’ he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
I looked at him, unsure of what he was actually asking. I didn’t feel that we had an option. Obviously, he did.
‘Nothing,’ I said tightly. ‘I’m going to have a baby.’
His eyes narrowed, and he was silent for what seemed like an eternity.
‘Okay,’ he said finally. ‘So this is good news, yes?’
‘I haven’t had a chance to digest it yet, I only found out myself this morning, but it could be good, couldn’t it?’
We both stood there, looking dumbfounded, unsure of what to do or say next. He ran a hand through his hair, and I waited for his next move. I honestly wasn’t sure if he was going to hug me or walk out.
He did neither. ‘So, what are we going to do about the wedding?’
It felt like both of us were walking on eggshells. ‘I don’t want to get married whilst I’m pregnant, so I suppose it will have to wait.’
‘Okay, so that’s decided then,’ he said half-heartedly, before pulling me into an awkward embrace. ‘That’s great.’
His face told a different story to his words, but I had to allow him time to come to terms with what this meant for him, and us as a couple. I’d had close to eight hours to get my head around this life-changing news, he’d not yet had eight minutes, so I allowed him time, to give him the benefit of doubt.
‘Yes,’ I replied hesitantly. ‘It is.’
38
‘How do I look?’ I asked, without taking my eyes off my reflection in the mirror.
Adam came up behind me, put his hands on my burgeoning belly, and kissed my cheek. ‘You look really hot.’
‘Hot’ was not how I felt, but it was obvious that Adam clearly found my changing body appealing, as he hadn’t left me alone for the past few weeks. Whilst I wrestled my huge boobs into something resembling a hammock, I’d often find him just sitting on the edge of the bed, watching in amazement, and lust.
It had taken a while for us to get used to the idea of my pregnancy, and we had alternately fought, and then made love, often all in one night.
Just a few weeks before, we’d had a huge row over what I was wearing. ‘You’re not going out dressed like that,’ Adam had said, as he watched me stepping into a new black dress, ready for a night on the town with Pippa and Seb. I’d loved it when I’d seen it in Whistles, as its body-con shape had hugged my slim hips – my bump wasn’t yet visible.
‘Since when?’ I teased. ‘You know you love me in a tight little number, and the beauty of this one is that it’s going to grow with me.’ I stretched the Lycra material outwards over my tummy, as if to prove the point.
‘That was then, but this is now,’ he said seriously. ‘I don’t want you going out like that.’
I turned to face him. ‘Are you being serious?’
He nodded and looked away. ‘You’re carrying my baby now, you need to dress accordingly.’
‘And what is “accordingly”?’ I laughed. ‘Am I supposed to be wearing a tent, even though I’m not showing yet?’
‘Just show some respect,’ he said. ‘For me and the baby.’