Baby Blues and Wedding Shoes (7 page)

A week late, that’s nothing.
Even if I am usually more punctual than the talking clock; I’m on
the Pill and Daniel uses Durex like he has shares in the
company
.

As if it was the season for
them, another horrible thought hopped into her head and smirked.
You took antibiotics my dear, remember, for that ear infection?
The Pill doesn’t work so well then, does it?

I can’t be pregnant!

Helen was aware of a note of
hysteria in her thoughts and she tried to calm her mind.

Even if the Pill failed, no one
is more meticulous than Daniel when it comes to taking precautions.
How unlikely is that – a condom failing at the same time as the
Pill not working? I can’t be pregnant.

Just then her head swam again
with nausea as if her body was mocking the denial of the brain.

I’ve just got a tummy bug,
that’s all. Besides, I can’t be pregnant, Daniel will kill me.

Of course he won’t,
she
countered.
We’re engaged to be married; I’m not some one night
stand.

Telling her warring thoughts to
hush, Helen tried to imagine what Daniel’s reaction would be, if
she was pregnant. He had made it clear that children weren’t on his
current to-do list.

They’re not on mine, either,
if I’m honest. I’ve got a
creation
of a wedding dress to fit
into and a baby-bump doesn’t form part of that plan at all.

Watching the mother wheel her
pram to a nearby bench before tenderly lifting out the swaddled
infant, Helen began to wonder if maybe a baby could be part of a
new plan. Being a third of a PA to Daniel wasn’t really the
meaningful career she’d set her sights on at King’s and even if the
photography took off it wasn’t going to fill her life overnight.
Watching the mother snuggling into the tiny infant Helen felt an
alien pang of envy.

The tricky part, of course,
will be convincing Daniel.

Helen opted to travel halfway
across London to buy a pregnancy test, wanting to make sure she
didn’t bump into anyone that she and Daniel knew. It seemed crazy
to be so furtive about something so exciting, but the emotions
running through her were too tangled to comprehend.

The paper bag containing the
test lurked ominously at the bottom of her rucksack all day,
drawing her thoughts and her gaze more than once. She decided to do
the test the following morning, when it would be most accurate.

After Daniel has left for
work,
she added subconsciously. In her mind Daniel had begun to
take on the role of a disapproving parent that she needed to hide
the truth from.

It was difficult to act
normally around Daniel that evening and she was glad that he, too,
was preoccupied. She gathered from his monologue ramblings at
dinner that he had some big deal at work that he was hoping to
secure. Normally she made every effort to follow his conversation
so she could have a valid opinion and not need to ask stupid
questions when entertaining his colleagues. Tonight, though, she
nodded in what she hoped were the right places and murmured
soothing responses when he seemed most agitated.

When he said to go to bed
without him as he had a report to finish she had to try hard to
mask her relief.

Daniel left early as usual and
Helen lay in bed pretending to be asleep so she didn’t have to
speak to him. She had barely shut her eyes all night, thinking
about the test in the paper bag. As sleep stubbornly refused to
come Helen had stared at the darkness trying to analyse her
emotions, wondering what her reaction to the test result would be
however many lines there were in the window.

It shocked her to discover that
part of her longed for the test to be positive. A need that she
hadn’t realised existed was growing inside her much as a baby
might, even though the concept was still terrifying. Dawn was the
only person she knew with kids and she was such a natural parent,
Helen couldn’t imagine being anything like as calm or in control.
The idea of having a tiny baby to care for at once pleased and
petrified her.

At last the apartment was still
and Helen felt able to get out of bed and retrieve the paper bag
from the hall closet. With trembling hands, Helen tore into the
foil packet. Part of her mind was surprised that they made the
packet so hard to open.
Surely every nearly-mother is nervous at
this point, even for a planned pregnancy?
So much would come
from the next three minutes, her whole life potentially changed
forever.

After following the
instructions carefully Helen sat staring at the bathroom tiles not
daring to look at the little plastic window until the three minutes
was up. It took all her willpower to keep looking away, as if her
attention or inattention might influence the outcome.

When she finally dared to look
she forgot for a heartbeat whether seeing two lines was good or
bad. A quick glance at the instructions confirmed what she already
knew and her limbs became limp and liquid.

“Good god.” Her voice,
unnaturally high, echoed around the immaculately finished
bathroom

She wanted to ring someone,
anyone, with the news, but she knew in her heart that she would
have to tell Daniel first. He didn’t accept personal calls during
the day and it was hardly the subject for a text message.
I’ll
have to tell him this evening,
she thought woodenly, wondering
how on earth she was going to keep herself together until then.

Chapter
Five

Watching the clock tick over
another minute, Helen replayed for the twentieth time the lines she
had rehearsed, their meaning lost with too much repetition. She
stared at her phone, wondering if today would be a day when he
messaged her to say he would be late. Usually it irritated her but
today she thought maybe she wouldn’t mind. The waiting was awful
but some part of her dreaded the event even more. She had thought
and thought until her brain ached, wondering how to tell him, of
the best time, the best way. She’d seen enough bad movies and soap
operas to know that quick was best, like taking off a plaster.
Whatever the outcome, nothing would be worse than the anticipation,
nothing more damaging than concealment.

When the door eventually
opened, Helen would have given anything to be on the outside of a
large glass of chilled Chardonnay. Knowing that alcohol was a
luxury denied to her for at least a year didn’t help the
nervousness. She felt limp, waiting for him to come into the
kitchen where she was sat twisting her fingers at the breakfast
bar. He was a man of routine and always expected to find her in the
kitchen, two wine glasses waiting and dinner simmering.

If Daniel noticed the solo wine
glass, he said nothing; he merely bent over to kiss her
perfunctorily on the cheek. He didn’t ask about her day but that
was nothing new, particularly when things were stressful at
work.

As usual he lifted the pot lid
and inhaled. If he was disappointed at the simple fare on offer
again he said nothing. Part of Helen willed him to notice these
changes to the norm, to give her an opening, a reason to speak.
Usual form was that he would begin his debrief of his day while she
sat supportively and smiled. Helen had spent all day wondering how
she would get her news in first.

“I have something important to
tell you,” she said, in a voice that shook only slightly. “You’d
better sit down.” It was a cliché but it would get his attention,
as would the word
important
. She’d considered
exciting
or
brilliant
but wondered if he would feel
the same way she had come to feel. She had to remember that this
would come completely out of nowhere for him – she at least had had
a week or so of murmuring suspicions.

Daniel turned and looked
properly at Helen for the first time since coming home; his face
was dark and clouded.

“Yes?” he responded without
taking a seat.

She decided to battle on
despite his less than encouraging stance.

“I’m pregnant.”

“You’re what?” Helen jumped at
the sound of his voice but said nothing.

“How? Who?”

Each shouted word made Helen
flinch, while her stomach churned.
Who?
How
dare
he?
Her face, already pale from the beginnings of morning sickness,
turned white.

“I’ll pretend you didn’t say
that.” She bit out the words as slowly and calmly as she could
manage. “As if it would be anyone’s but yours. As to how, I’m sure
you are aware how babies are made.”

Her tone froze the air between
them, sizzling against his red hot rage. She wondered who he was
angry at – her? As if this was her doing. His next words confirmed
it.

“You planned this. You tampered
with the condoms. You
want
this.” He folded his arms
tightly.

Again Helen was speechless with
shock and a burgeoning rage of her own.

“Are you mad?” The words were
out before she could think it through. She never spoke out to
Daniel, no matter how he infuriated her. It was dangerous and
futile. Aware of a sensation of pain she looked down at the
breakfast bar to see her hands clenched, nails digging into the
soft flesh of her palms.

“Am
I
mad? No, Helen, I
am perfectly sane. I know how babies are made, I know how condoms
work, and I know that you are on the pill; if you have managed to
get yourself pregnant you must have done something wrong,
deliberately or otherwise.” He unfolded his arms and reached for
the wine glass, drinking half the contents in a long angry
gulp.

“Condoms aren’t infallible you
know, and I’ve been on antibiotics.” She couldn’t believe she
needed to explain such stupid details, as if she were some employee
discussing who was to blame for a lost deal. “It was an
accident.”

Helen inhaled deeply trying to
control her rising anger. She had known he wasn’t going to be
thrilled, but they were getting
married
for goodness’ sake,
it wasn’t like she was some barmaid he’d slept with who’d turned up
on his doorstep claiming paternity.

The wine seemed to calm him;
his face lost some of the livid hue and his voice returned to its
normal volume.

“Well, however it happened, it
must be dealt with.” He was all practical now, as if someone at
work had presented him with a technical error that needed
fixing.

“I assume you will book into a
clinic, get it sorted. You’d best be quick about it, the wedding
isn’t far away and you need to fit into that dress.”

Helen stared at Daniel
wondering whether he was drunk, though he’d only had half a glass.
His words made no sense to her. They were getting
married.
She didn’t believe in abortion anyway, not if you were over
eighteen and healthy. But she wasn’t some unfortunate teenager; she
was in her twenties, with a home and a husband-to-be.

A baby should be welcome in
this house, not be seen as a problem to be dealt with.

“Daniel we're getting married
in a few weeks. I'm at home all day with nothing to do but manage
your diary and cook for your dinner parties. Having a baby does
seem an obvious next step.” She tried to keep her voice low and
level.

“So that's what this is about.”
His face twisted, marring his handsome features with a sneer. “You
resent me for asking you to leave your banal job to manage my
social functions, which, you know, are an essential part of my
career and for which I pay you a generous salary. Most women would
relish having time to go to the gym, shop, paint their nails.” The
beetroot hue began to seep back into his cheeks. “I have given you
everything
and this is the thanks I get?” He folded his arms
again, tightly, as if restraining himself.

Helen felt glad that the
breakfast bar was between them.

“I keep telling you I didn't
plan to get pregnant, it was an accident. Besides,” she paused,
registering the rest of his words, “it was not a crap job; I was a
very good executive assistant as well you know. And I hate having
nothing to do that's for
me
.” The whining tone in her voice
annoyed her.

Daniel immediately picked up on
it. “It's all about
you
isn't it Helen? I would have thought
you have enough on your hands planning the wedding.”

“What is there to do?” She
stopped, dropped her voice.
There’s no point getting angry with
him or trying to out-argue him,
she thought.
He does it all
day long for a living; for fun.

“I love you,” she said softly
instead and the words calmed her, reminded her of what was
important. “I am carrying your child, doesn’t that mean
anything?”

She could see in his face that
it didn’t. Helen’s thoughts became clear, as if seen through the
lens of her camera. Daniel’s opposition solidified in her own mind
how she felt.

I want this baby. It
terrifies me, but there is no question of not having it, loving
it.
As the idea grew another thought emerged.
I love this
unknown bundle of tiny cells as much as I love him.
She looked
at Daniel, his face implacable but still the face she knew and
loved so dearly.

Still, I think maybe I love
the baby more. What does that mean? Surely it isn’t possible to
love someone more than him? Daniel, who gives my days purpose and
fills my nights with passion.
The thought momentarily
distracted her; the idea that there might be no more her and
Daniel. She felt empty.
How can I choose? Surely he isn’t asking
me to choose?

She focused her green eyes on
Daniel trying to see behind the words, beneath the anger.

“Are you scared?” Her voice
echoed in the silence.

“Scared?” He threw the word
back as if it had no meaning to him.