‘No.’ Lisa shivers.
‘Let’s move somewhere warmer.’ I lean over and a whoosh of warm air blasts my fingers as I switch off the fan heater.
As we pass through the hallway, Nick is at the front door saying goodbye to Richard. Their voices are low but urgent. ‘You have to tell her,’ Richard says.
‘It’s too late now,’ Nick whispers, and I turn to Lisa and we share a look.
Richard catches sight of us. ‘We’ll talk properly later.’ He turns and stalks down the driveway.
‘Is everything okay?’ I ask Nick.
‘Fine,’ he mumbles.
‘What do you have to tell me? What’s it too late for?’
‘We’d planned to play golf but I slept in too late.’ His eyes are fixed on a point behind my head. There’s a stretched out beat while I’m aware of Lisa hovering awkwardly next to me.
‘Don’t you like Nick playing golf?’ Lisa asks as we finally head upstairs but I don’t answer. Reluctant to admit Nick rarely plays. I can’t shake the image of the lipstick on his shirt.
At the top of the stairs I pause in front of the nursery.
‘Ready?’ I ask.
‘For what?’
The door is stiff, it catches on the thick carpet, and as it slowly opens, I watch Lisa’s face but I can’t tell what she’s thinking. She steps into the room and spins 360 taking in the shelves crammed with soft toys, the bookshelf full of the old-fashioned Ladybird books. The castle and knights I’d bought for Dewei stand on the floor next to the doll’s house I’d ordered for Mai. I can’t face parting with either of them, and my mind races ahead wondering if after this Lisa would do it again. I might have a boy and a girl, kneeling together, playing with the wooden farmyard I couldn’t resist buying, with its handcrafted animals brightly painted, the smiling pink pig and the almost glow-in-the-dark orange chickens. Lisa stands still as she reads the ‘Together We Make a Family’ picture, the words shaped like a house.
‘You really want this, don’t you?’ Her voice is thick with emotion as she crosses to the window and gazes out at the garden. Nestled under the pergola is the rose bush we had planted for Dewei. In the spring, we will plant one for Mai too.
‘Yes. Even more than the adoptions, if that’s possible. This will be Nick’s baby. Part of him,’ I say. Outside the sky is clear and bright but snow still clings to the branches of the skeletal trees standing like soldiers in front of our fence. ‘If I had one wish, this would be it.’
Lisa turns to me, and I see the anguish in her eyes and I know at once I’ve said the wrong thing and, worse than that, I’m not sure if it is true. If I had one wish it would be for the events of that day never to have happened, and although I haven’t seen Lisa for such a long time, I think she would wish for the same thing too.
‘I hate to ask, Kat but I don’t suppose you can cover the taxi fare home?’
‘Of course.’ The horn beeps again outside and I hurry into the study, open the safe and pull out two hundred pounds. It’s a bank holiday so it should cost the same as last night, I reason. ‘Are you going to get your car looked at again?’
‘Yes. I think it’s the cold. I’ll get it checked out,’ Lisa says, holding out her hand. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve a bit extra, have you? I wouldn’t ask but once the sickness wears off mid-morning I’m ravenous. My food bill has doubled, and December’s payday seemed to disappear over Christmas. I can pay you back end of the month.’
‘Don’t be silly. If it wasn’t for us you wouldn’t be eating more and turning down overtime. You must say if you’re short. It’s important you keep up the relaxation classes.’ I push ￡20 notes into her hand.
At the taxi, we hug tightly.
‘Thanks for coming,’ I say. ‘It means a lot. Everything means such a lot.’
‘I know it does,’ Lisa says. ‘I know exactly how much this means to you.’
15
Now
January passes quickly. I check in with Lisa most days. You can’t be too careful during the first trimester. I’m constantly on edge, worried something will go wrong, but the month passes, and I cross off each day on the calendar. Suddenly we are in February and I allow myself to relax a little as we inch past that magic twelve-week point. Now the baby’s fingers can open and close, their toes can curl, and their mouth can make sucking movements. I read if Lisa prods her belly, the baby will squirm in response, although she can’t feel it yet. It’s all such a miracle.
Today is grey and dull. I feel I’ve made a million phone calls but nobody wants to discuss donating to charity at this time of year. There’s an increase in the demand for counselling too, and I’m already shattered. I sing songs from West Side Story to keep myself alert as I sketch out my ideas for an Easter fundraiser. I can’t decide on a theme and screw up yet another ball of paper, adding it to the others in a pile on the floor.
By late afternoon, the house smells of chilli; the light glows on the slow cooker on the worktop in the kitchen. I snuggle in the armchair by the kitchen window, engrossed in Three Sisters, Three Queens, by Philippa Gregory. It’s sad when women don’t trust each other.
It’s hard to concentrate. I spoke to Lisa earlier and am so excited it will be her first scan next week. I was disappointed they didn’t do it dead on twelve weeks, like I’d been expecting, but apparently, that’s only a guideline. Anyway, babies are more developed at fourteen weeks. The size of an apple. Beanie’s hearing abilities are growing so I’m going to speak to Lisa’s bump at every opportunity so that when he or she is born there is a chance they might recognise my voice. I can’t believe I’ll get to see him or her, and I can’t wait to tell Nick today I’ve learned Beanie has their own fingerprints and impulses from their brain enables them to make facial expressions. I wonder if I’ll be able to see their face clearly on the scan? I do hope so.
Nick is late home and, as I look out of the window into the blackness, it doesn’t seem possible it is only half past six. Rain lashes against the windowpane and thunder rumbles low and menacing. I’ve never liked storms. I pick at a grape from the fruit bowl next to me, biting it hard between my back teeth and letting the juice trickle down my throat. The rice is measured and in a pan; the water has boiled in the kettle. It will only take a few minutes to pull dinner together once Nick is here.
By seven thirty, Nick still hasn’t arrived and I’m worried. The roads are treacherous. I try his mobile, but it goes straight to voicemail, and the office phone rings and rings. In my agitation, I tap my mobile against my leg. Nick definitely didn’t say he was meeting Richard after work, as they sometimes do, but I call Richard anyway.
‘Is Nick with you? He hasn’t come home and I’m worried, it’s so icy out there.’
‘I haven’t seen him today. Listen, Kat, we need to talk about this surrogate thing.’
‘You mean my baby?’ Instantly, I bristle. ‘I can’t talk now. I need to find Nick.’