know. To be on the safe side.’
‘Is everything all right?’ Liam stared at her stomach.
‘Oh yes, as long as I take it easy. Just for the next week or so.’
He was looking stunned. Touched by his concern, Dulcie gave him a reassuring kiss.
‘Don’t worry, everything’s going to be fine. All I need is a bit of ... of cosseting.’
Liam thought for a moment.
‘I’d have said move in with me for a couple of weeks, but I suppose that isn’t really on.’
Dulcie’s eyes widened with excitement. She couldn’t imagine why not.
‘Well—’
‘Not if you’ve got your grandmother staying with you.’ Oh. Bugger.
No.’ Disappointed, Dulcie dredged up a smile. ‘I suppose not. Well, she’ll just have to cosset me instead.’
It was blissful, anyway, being looked after by Liam that evening. While Dulcie lay on the sofa with her feet up, he cooked a rice, fish and vegetable casserole so healthy and bursting with vitamins it could have won a triathlon. After dinner, when Dulcie assured him her doctor had told her she must give in to her cravings, he even jogged down to the petrol station and bought her two packets of crisps and a Bounty ice cream bar.
While Liam washed up, Dulcie embarked on stage two of her plan.
‘Finlay?’ she suggested, holding up the book of babies’ names she had bought yesterday. ‘Look, it’s Gaelic for fair soldier. Is Finlay better than Xavier, do you think?’
Liam wasn’t wild about Xavier. As far as names were concerned, maggot was better than Xavier.
Honestly, pregnant women had some funny ideas, presumably because their hormones were up the creek.
‘Finlay’s not too bad.’ He rejoined Dulcie in the sitting room and leaned his elbows on the back of the sofa, wishing he could summon up more enthusiasm for the task. It was weird trying to choose a name for something currently the size of a centipede.
But Dulcie, it seemed, had enthusiasm to spare.
‘And now, raising the Wimbledon championship trophy proudly above his head, this year’s triumphant winner ...’ she fanfared ‘... Finlay Fackrell!’
‘Jesus Christ.’
‘What?’ Dulcie abruptly twisted round and gazed up at him in concern. The expression on his face was one of utter horror. ‘What’s wrong? Don’t you want him to win Wimbledon?’
‘It’s not that,’ spluttered Liam, ‘it’s ... it’s Fackrell!’
Dulcie looked wounded.
‘That’s my name.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘I’m sorry.’ Dulcie tried hard to ignore the triumphant little voice in her head yelling Bingo! ‘I just kind of assumed, under the circumstances, he’d have my name.’
Liam looked deeply uncomfortable.
‘Yes, but Fackrell. Couldn’t you stick with Ross? Finlay Ross sounds all right.’
‘But it’s my married name! It’s Patrick’s name,’ she protested, ‘and this isn’t anything to do with Patrick.’
Another long silence. Dulcie could feel Liam’s warm breath on her shoulder. She could smell his aftershave. Mentally she willed him on; this was his cue, his big chance to say something impossibly romantic, something along the lines of, ‘I want my son’s name to be McPherson, I want your name to be McPherson, oh, Dulcie, I can’t bear it another minute .. . please divorce Patrick and marry me ...’
She couldn’t understand why it wasn’t happening. Was this a dream opportunity or what?
Liam stood up and ruffled her short hair in an awkward let’s-change-the-subject gesture.
‘Okay, you win. But if it’s going to be Fackrell you can’t have Finlay. Sounds like some character out of Sesame Street. You’d be better off with something plain,’ he concluded offhandedly as he disappeared into the kitchen, ‘like Rob or Tom.’
When Dulcie woke up the next morning, Liam was already out of bed and in the shower. She lay back against the pillows and fantasised pleasurably about him soaping his perfect body. As soon as the week was over, she would make up for this enforced celibacy, big-time.
Reaching across for the phone, Dulcie dialled home. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m not an invalid,’ protested Pru. ‘Actually, I’ve just defrosted your fridge. Do you have any idea how many Bounty ice cream bars there are in your freezer compartment?’
‘I hate running out.’
‘It’s a miracle you can run anywhere, the amount you eat.’
At that moment Liam appeared in the doorway, an odd expression on his face.
‘Anyway,’ said Dulcie, ‘I’ll be home soon, Granny. And don’t worry about the washing-up, I’ll do it when I get back.’ Pru sounded amused. ‘Careful, I might hold you to that.’
‘Are you all right?’ said Liam when she had hung up. ‘Great. Just checking up on Granny.’
Dulcie waved the phone at him. ‘She’s fine.’
