‘You do, perhaps.’ Her counter is quiet, unsure, and I realise my error in a heartbeat. Fuck. Shut the fuck up, Ward. ‘I can’t remember a thing.’
My face softens. ‘Stop that now,’ I order harshly, hating the sound of this sudden doubt in her, too. ‘When Kate went into labour, you knew just what to do. Like everything, it’s all still inside you.’ I reach for her nose and circle the end with the tip of my finger. ‘Pack it in.’
Softening on my lap, she nods, grabbing all of my reassurance with everything she has. I give myself a swift mental slap, telling myself to never let her see my uncertainty again. It’s full steam ahead.
‘Ava Ward.’
We both look across the doctor’s waiting room to see a white-coated lady with wild purple hair and a few too many piercings in her ears. Her look is harsh, though her smile is friendly. ‘Up you get.’ I put Ava on her feet, patting down my pocket when my phone rings. ‘It’s the school.’ I doubt there is a parent in the land whose heart doesn’t miss a beat or ten when they take a call from their kid’s school. Mine just missed a hundred. I connect the call, working hard to keep my voice stable and my stress level out of heart attack territory. ‘Hello?’
‘Mr Ward, it’s Mrs Chilton.’
‘Is everything okay? The kids?’
‘Everything is fine, Mr Ward. No need to worry.’ Those words are fucking golden, and I nod to Ava’s worried face, silently telling her not to stress.
I’m aware of the sonographer waiting for us and hold up a finger in indication that I’ll be just a moment. ‘Then why the call?’
‘Maddie seems to have developed a bit of a headache.’
I still, staring down the line, my eyes narrowing to suspicious slits. Ava cocks her head in question, so I quickly cover the mouthpiece of my phone to enlighten her. ‘Maddie has a headache.’
‘But she was fine this morning.’
‘Yes, she was. She was also rather put out that she couldn’t come to the scan.’ I raise my eyebrows, telling my lovely wife to catch up.
‘Oh, the little minx.’
She’s got that right. ‘Mrs Chilton, can you put her on the line?’
‘Of course. One second.’ There’s a few crackles down the line, and while I wait for my fraudulent baby to prep herself to speak to her father, I give Ava a little nod. ‘You go. I’ll be there in two secs when I’ve sorted out our girl.’
Ava shakes her head, dismayed, but with a fond smile as she disappears into the room. ‘H . . . ell . . . o,’ Maddie says, sounding like she’s swallowed acid and a pile of rusty nails.
My girl needs to remember there’s not much that gets past me. ‘Hey, baby,’ I coo.
‘H-hey Daddy.’
Daddy? Oh, she’s working it better than any Oscar winner I’ve known. I move to the side of the room, leaning a shoulder against the wall. ‘What’s up, baby girl?’ I play along with her, smiling as I do. ‘Tell Daddy.’
‘My tummy aches.’
My eyebrows jump up. ‘That’s funny. Mrs Chilton said you have a headache.’
‘B . . . b . . . both,’ she croaks.
‘And having a headache and an achy tummy makes your voice poorly, too, does it?’
Silence.
‘Well?’
‘I have a sore throat, too!’ she snaps indignantly, each word perfectly clear.
‘My, my, you are in a pickle.’ Pushing my shoulder off the wall, I make my way to the room where Ava’s waiting for me. ‘Listen here, madam. Ever heard of the boy who cried wolf?’
‘No.’
‘Google it. Don’t think I don’t know your game, missy. I have to go. Your mother’s waiting for me.’
‘I want to see the new baby,’ she whines down the line, fake crying after. ‘It’s not fair.’
‘I’ll get pictures,’ I assure her. ‘I promise.’ Really, I’m just grateful both of them have accepted this news with no major drama. Except, of course, fake illnesses. ‘Baby girl, there’s really not much to see at the moment. It’s a peanut. You can come to the twenty-week scan, okay?’
‘Really?’ The delight in her voice pinches my heart. ‘You promise?’
Smiling as I take the handle of the door, I give her what she wants. ‘Promise.’ I push my way into the room, finding Ava already on the bed with her T-shirt pulled up around her bra. ‘Now get back to class, you little scoundrel.’ I hang up after she’s sung her goodbye and join Ava, standing by the side of the bed. ‘Sorry about that.’
‘No problem, Mr Ward. We were just getting set up.’ The purple-haired sonographer presses a few buttons and squeezes lashings of gel on Ava’s abdomen. ‘Are we ready?’
Good question, I think as I stare at the blank monitor, feeling Ava squeeze my hand. I smile, returning her gesture. ‘Ready,’ I say as a loud swooshing noise fills the room. Ava’s head drops to the side to see the screen, my spare hand joining the one holding hers.
For a long, long while, the sonographer works in silence, moving the scanner around Ava’s stomach while flicking dials and pressing buttons, her attention centred on the screen. I don’t remember it taking this long before. Is there something wrong? Anxiety grows within me, silly thoughts running rampant in my mind. What if Ava misread the test? She’s doing some rather strange things lately. Could she have made a mistake? What will she do if we’re told there is, in fact, no baby in there? She’ll be distraught. This pregnancy has given her new hope. I can’t see that snatched away from her. Fear of the cruellest kind slithers through my veins as I glance from the screen, to the sonographer, to Ava, over and over.
‘There.’ There’s a few clicks of buttons, and the motions of the scanner pause on Ava’s lower stomach. My muscles relax a little, and Ava’s grip tightens around my hand. The sonographer points at the screen, smiling. Or is she frowning? It’s hard to tell from her profile.
‘What? What is it?’ My body goes rigid. Please, God, tell me everything is okay.
‘Is the baby okay?’ I hear Ava ask through my fog of panic.
‘Yes, the baby is fine.’ She looks at us, half-smiling, half-shocked. ‘And so are the other two.’
Someone must have just poked me with high voltage, because I fly back, getting my feet all tangled in the legs of a nearby chair. I throw my hands out as the wall gets closer, only just saving myself from nutting the damn thing. ‘What?’ I barely push the word out through my crippling alarm. The other two? What does she mean, the other two? Two plus one. ‘Three?’ The one-word question is jagged and broken. ‘Thr . . . ee?’
‘Yes, Mr Ward. Three perfect heartbeats.’
What the fuck? I feel dizzy. I need to sit down. But I miss the seat of the chair, landing on the floor with a thud that seems to wake me from my nightmare. I quickly scramble up, but have to grab the wall to steady myself, my legs like jelly. ‘Three?’
‘My baby has three hearts?’ Ava asks, and I look up at her on the bed, finding a dirty smirk on her cheerful face. My brain is clearly on the lag, because all I’m thinking is that’s the stupidest fucking question that has ever been asked. My wide eyes jump from my wife to the sonographer, their faces a picture of amusement. What? What’s so damn well funny?
‘I don’t und . . .’ I fade off as realisation begins to dawn on me, and my face screws up in disgust. They got me.
They’re fucking playing with me. If I weren’t so relieved, I’d be fuming fucking mad. My jaw tight, I feel my round eyes slowly shrink until they’re angry slits. ‘That is the unfunniest joke that’s ever been played.’ I find it in myself to release the wall I’m still clinging to, all but stomping my way to the bed while Ava cackles like the demented witch that she is. ‘Fucking cruel,’ I add, crowding her vibrating body on the bed and smashing my mouth to hers. That soon shuts her up. Yes, I’m mad, but I’m so fucking relieved, too. More relieved than mad. Pulling away, I scowl down at her chirpy face. The satisfaction staring back at me diminishes my slight, so much so, I soon find myself smiling back. ‘Think you’re funny, do you, Mrs Ward?’