‘I just can’t believe you’ve managed to forgive him. I always thought you were more strong-willed,’ Megan said, ignoring Sam as he gazed into the steaming brown liquid.
‘I haven’t really forgiven him. But I feel like it’s just a blip in the marriage. He’s been under a lot of pressure at work and he hasn’t been himself. Our marriage is strong and James loves me. We can survive this – I can’t just give up on it.’ I glanced at Megan, whose face had fallen. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to suggest you’d given up.’
She shrugged. ‘It’s okay. Nobody ever thought Mike and I were right for each other anyway. Perhaps they were right.’
Sam was still away with it, sat tracing the outline of the Mr Happy motif on Megan’s mug with his finger. If the situation wasn’t so dire, I’d have chuckled at the irony.
‘Could you forgive Samantha like Charlotte has forgiven James?’ Megan asked softly.
‘I haven’t forgiven him,’ I repeated. ‘But would you, if she comes to her senses?’
‘I don’t know. At the moment, I can’t even look at her and she didn’t seem all that bothered.’
I understood how he felt, and Megan nodded in agreement. It was strange how the three of us had just come together and grown close in such a short space of time. Suddenly we were all connected by this invisible bond of pain and emotion that we shared with no other person. We could sit in silence; we could vent our rage, sorrow, and humiliation. There was no pretence about our little group, no high-end fashion or keeping up appearances required. We were truly ourselves, we were enough, and that was just what we needed.
Suddenly, the nauseous feelings re-emerged, and the smell of my tea made me heave. I placed the cup on the table with a clatter, and Megan and Sam looked at me with concern. ‘I’m fine,’ I said, waving it off. ‘I’ve felt a little ropey recently, what with everything that’s been going on. I just haven’t been myself. I even forgot the birthday of the lady who runs one of the charities I work with the other day.’
Megan leant over to look at me and then gasped. ‘You’re pregnant!’
She was lucky I’d placed my tea down and not taken a sip or I’d have sprayed her with it. ‘What? That’s the most absurd thing you could have possibly said.’
‘The sickness, the forgetfulness, even your face is fuller. Think about it! It explains a lot.’
‘Yes, but so does my husband cheating. Plus, don’t you think I’d know if there was a human growing inside my body?’
‘No, people don’t “just know”; if they did Clearblue wouldn’t have their little sticks in every pharmacy going. Would it hurt to do a test?’
I ran a mental calculation, trying desperately to think back to my last period. ‘Ahh, but I had my period, when you came round, just before you found out about Mike.’ And then I remembered.
‘Oh come on. That was the worst acting performance of the century. It definitely wasn’t going to win you an Oscar. I saw right through it, but just assumed you just couldn’t be bothered with the workout.’
I clasped my hand to my mouth. I couldn’t actually remember when my last period was – even the pretend one was well over a month ago. Megan stood up. ‘Come on, get your perky bottom upstairs. We’re doing a test – I’ve got one left over from a two-for-one deal and a careless night.’
‘What? No! That’s a ridiculous idea,’ I protested.
‘Humour me then!’ she said, walking towards the stairs. I followed her, plodding up one stair at a time, not allowing myself to think about the possibility or the what-ifs because it wasn’t going to be positive. I sat on the toilet with the lid closed and sighed dramatically as Megan read the instructions. Sam leant in the doorway silently.
‘Okay, so you unwrap this, wee on the end, and then wait. Easy.’ She handed me the stick, and I stared at it for a moment. Did I really want to do this now? I’d never taken a pregnancy test before and always imagined James by my side when I took my first one. He’d hold my hand and whisper that he loved me as we both waited anxiously for the minutes to pass. Never in a million years did I picture my gardener and personal trainer forcing me to wee on a stick.
‘This is silly. I can’t be pregnant. The timing isn’t right.’
‘I don’t think Mother Nature gives much thought to timing; if she did, Michaela Browne at my school wouldn’t have been in labour instead of sitting her GCSEs,’ Megan replied.
Of course, I didn’t just mean that it was bad timing – which it was; it was terrible – I meant James and I hadn’t been intimate. Then I remembered – that night.
‘But we’ve literally been together once in an eternity, and I’ve barely seen him. Surely these things take a few attempts?’ We’d certainly tried and failed before.
‘The words of every caught-out teenager,’ Sam replied dryly.
‘Indeed, Sam, let me refer you back to Michaela Browne,’ Megan mused.
‘Well I’m glad we’ve piqued your interest, Sam,’ I snapped, ignoring Megan’s one anecdote.
‘Just wee on the stick!’ Megan bounced impatiently next to the sink.
I took a deep breath. ‘Okay. Out. The pair of you.’ I shooed them away and closed the door before unwrapping the stick. It was one of the expensive digital ones. Pregnant. Not pregnant. Foolproof.
I lifted the lid on the toilet and slid down my jeans. It took a second for my body to release anything, despite all the tea. Stage
