Within half an hour I was at the local supermarket, looking at pregnancy tests. I was so familiar with these tests; I’d used them all over the years but for the last few years I hadn’t bothered. I’d never got up my hopes, never bought one on the off-chance it would spark a positive result. I’d learned the hard way not to let myself do that.
That day I bought four different tests, then went back for a fifth. I wasn’t leaving anything to chance. I went through the self-service checkout and flashed them through, holding them carefully, as though they were unexploded bombs.
Of course, they were positive. All of them were.
My first thought was of Harry. Be careful what you wish for, they say.
No kidding.
CHAPTER 30
Emma
When I sat down with my diary and worked out the dates, things were even worse than I’d thought. Harry and I had slept together twice in the week before he went to Paris and then almost every day since he came back. I can’t even tell you how many times Tom and I had had sex. I haven’t been able to bring myself to think about it. There were none of those happy stomach flutters that I used to have after I first got together with Harry. None of those sudden feelings of doubling over with lust. Just a cold dread every time I thought of what I’d done.
And yet I’d still never thought of pregnancy. My mind had been full of shame and betrayal; I’d thought that was the repercussion of sleeping with Tom. And now, looking at the tests, all brightly showing a distinct line or saying Positive or Pregnant, I didn’t know whether to give in to the absolute and utter joy of it or to end it immediately. But I knew that was not an option. No matter what happened, I wouldn’t do that.
After I’d hidden the tests at the back of my office drawer, I decided to work from home that day. Annie was out of the office visiting a new client for an initial consultation and though I longed to talk to her, I knew I shouldn’t. Her husband, Patrick, was great friends with Harry and it just wasn’t fair to bring them into this. Though I’d planned to do some work, I couldn’t focus and called my sister. Jane was the one I’d always turn to when I was stuck. Right from childhood we’d covered each other’s backs, in every possible way. I wanted to confide in her, to ask her what I should do.
I rang her mobile several times that morning, but she didn’t answer, so I sent her a message:
Jane, I need to talk to you. Call when you can x
A few minutes later she replied:
It’s my last day at Sheridan’s. I won’t get the chance to talk until later. Are you OK? x
I sighed. I’d forgotten that she was leaving work that day. I didn’t want to talk to her and be cut off in the middle, so I replied:
Yes, can you call when you’ve time to chat? x
Luckily I had tons to do that day as I was finishing a website before handing it over to Annie to test, but though I tried to distract myself, all I could think was, Who is the father of my child?
* * *
? ? ?
And then I had a breakthrough. In between bouts of work, I’d been trying to find out whether a DNA test could be done on a fetus. Just typing that into Google filled me with horror. Years ago, when I’d thought I might get pregnant, I’d had dreams of how I’d tell Harry. I’d thought of us buying a test together, gripping each other’s hand as we waited for the results. I hadn’t dreamed my baby might not be his. In one night, I’d ruined it. Both of us had ruined it.
At first all I could see were invasive tests. I closed the screen. I couldn’t even think of doing that. I wasn’t going to put my baby at risk. Yet the thought of waiting for months and months until it was born made me feel dizzy with panic. I wasn’t