tightly. ‘But only on the understanding that you sort things out with Kate. Keeping this family together means everything to me, and I will not allow anyone to destroy it.’
16
Kate
‘I don’t think I can order until we know,’ says Matt, sitting opposite Kate in their favourite Italian restaurant in Soho. ‘What time did they say you can call?’
‘Six o’clock.’ Kate battles with her expression, trying hard not to convey that she already has the answer to the question that’s threatening his appetite. But she can’t stop the corners of her mouth from turning upwards and she’s sure that the glint in her eye is undisguisable.
‘What are you going to have?’ he asks, without looking up from his menu.
‘I was going to have the burrata to start,’ she says.
‘Do you think you should?’ he asks, clearly concerned that her favourite cheese might be unpasteurized.
‘Mmm, maybe not, just to be on the safe side.’ She’s quite enjoying playing this game, but she needs to put Matt out of his misery soon. She needs to put herself out of misery, as she can barely keep her bottom on the seat due to her pent-up excitement.
‘So, how’s work been today?’ she asks, forcing herself to sound normal.
‘Well, I’ve offered the Junior Reporter job.’
‘Oh great, which one did you choose?’
Matt screws his face up. ‘Mmm, you’re not going to be happy.’
Kate falls back in her chair in mock outrage. ‘Don’t tell me you went for the uni graduate.’
Matt nods and holds up his hands. ‘But in my defence, when we got them both back in for a second interview, she nailed it.’
Kate shakes her head. ‘Well, don’t come running to me when it all goes wrong.’
‘O ye of little faith,’ Matt laughs.
Unable to contain herself any longer, Kate reaches into her bag and pulls out a wrapped gift box, putting it in front of Matt on the table.
‘What’s this for?’ he asks.
‘Do I need a reason?’
‘Normally, yes,’ he says, eyeing her suspiciously.
‘Just open it,’ she says impatiently.
Her eyes don’t leave him as he unwraps it, far too slowly.
‘Hurry up,’ she urges.
He smiles and rips the paper off impatiently, looking quizzically at the pen-shaped box he’s left with. As he lifts the lid, his face crumples.
‘Are you . . . are you really?’ he cries, holding up the pregnancy test with its two blue lines prominently displayed.
Kate can do no more than nod her head for fear that the pair of them will end up sobbing. They look at each other, alternating between crying and laughing, unable to say anything.
‘When did you find out?’ he asks incredulously.
‘About an hour ago,’ she says, smiling. ‘I couldn’t wait, and I didn’t want to tell you on the phone. I wanted to see your face.’
‘Well, you’re definitely not having the burrata!’
‘I know!’ She laughs. ‘I’m already missing it.’
‘I . . . I don’t even have the words,’ says Matt. ‘I truly don’t know what to say. How do you feel? Do you feel different?’
Kate had spent the past hour wondering that herself. She’d taken herself off to the toilets as soon as she got back into the office, leaning against the locked door, inhaling and exhaling deeply. She’d felt her breasts, checking for signs of tenderness, and questioning whether she could make it to the shop to get some ginger biscuits, because she was sure she felt sick. She’d read enough Mother & Baby magazines to last her a lifetime, so she knew what she was supposed to feel. It was all very well saying she was pregnant, but she doubted that she’d truly believe it until she actually felt it. Though standing there, waiting for all the symptoms to present themselves, was probably a pointless exercise.
‘I think my boobs are bigger,’ she says.
‘Already?’ says Matt, with his eyebrows raised in surprise.
Kate laughs and drops her head onto the table. ‘Oh my God, listen to me. I’m going to be one of those women, aren’t I?’
Matt looks at her expectantly.
‘I’m going to think I’m the only woman in the world to have a baby.’
He laughs. ‘I can’t even begin to imagine how high-maintenance you’re going to be.’
‘You will go and mine for coal if I develop a craving for it, won’t you?’ She can’t keep the mirth from her voice.
‘The best you’re going to get is ice cream at midnight.’
‘Häagen-Dazs?’ she questions playfully. ‘Any flavour?’
‘Within reason,’ he says, smiling. ‘I can’t believe we’ve done it. It just doesn’t feel real. Can we go around to your parents’ house tonight?’
It