“But if I were a man it would be okay?”
Jess rolled her eyes, took the teaspoon from the first mug and stirred the second.
“Forget the genders then. Isn’t it odd for one person to step between two fighting strangers? They might have had knives or guns. They might have turned on you.”
“One of them did.”
Jess chuckled. A dark, humourless chuckle. “Danny. A bad egg. If you’d met in better circumstances, he’d have charmed you. He’s fun, on the surface. But dangerous. Chasing excitement, no matter the cost. Now he’s in trouble again: big surprise. He’s nothing like his brother. Thank God.”
The teaspoon continued to rattle around the cup. Jess seemed to have been stirring for several minutes. At last, she noticed what she was doing and stopped.
“Where was I?”
“You were explaining how you didn’t trust me because I interrupted a fight between two strangers.”
“Right. Then offered one of those strangers your room for the night while accepting an invitation to come home with the other. To sleep in the spare room.”
“I appreciate this is an imposition.”
“That isn’t what I said. I...” Jess stopped, unsure where to take her point. To buy time, she passed one of the mugs of hot chocolate to Abbie, then said, “Should I trust you?”
Abbie could smell the drink in her hand. Sweet enough to make her feel ill, and she hadn’t even sipped yet. Jess clasped her drink in both hands and rested the mug on her bump. Abbie wished she couldn’t see that rounded stomach.
“I’m trustworthy,” she said. “But you have no reason to trust me. I accept that.”
“But you’re in my house. You’re to sleep here. So give me a reason.”
A difficult question. The truth would make Abbie look insane, and what lie could explain her actions in a way that earned Jess’ trust off the bat? There was none. Which meant there was only one answer.
“I can’t.”
“You can’t?”
“Haven’t you said it yourself? My actions are highly suspicious. I could tell you I rushed to intervene in your husband’s fight because I wanted to ensure no one got hurt. I offered Danny my room because he was in danger and needed somewhere to hide. I felt it would not rest easy on my conscience if I let him go home only to read in the paper or see in the news tomorrow that he had been murdered. But why should you believe that? I’m a stranger. And we live in a suspicious, shady world. Your husband doesn’t trust me. He fears I wish his brother ill. That’s why I’m here. He wants to keep an eye on me.”
“I bet he does,” said Jess. The comment was pointed. Abbie ignored it.
“If you want me to leave, I will. No problem. This is your house, and besides, don’t expectant mothers always get their way?”
Jess chuckled again, and there was a little humour this time. She lifted her mug and looked at the bump beneath as if checking it was still there.
“Speaking of,” she said. “I’ve been standing more than thirty seconds, and so long as I’m lugging this kid around, that means my feet are about to drop off. Let’s go back to the living room.”
Abbie led the way. Because she was able to walk rather than waddle, she arrived fifteen seconds earlier than did Jess. She stood beside but did not sit on the sofa. She turned as Jess entered the room, and once more, the bump stole her gaze.
Jess stopped before reaching the sofa, held her bump, and puffed out air. “It really is a nightmare, this pregnancy thing. You’re a mother, right?”
Abbie’s breath caught. The baby’s cries were louder than ever. She closed her eyes and took a breath. When she opened them, Jess was staring.
“No,” Abbie said. “Not a mother. Why’d you ask?”
Nodding to Abbie’s stomach, Jess spoke in a shaky voice. “My mother said she never did that before she fell pregnant. Been a habit ever since.” Her face had fallen. Realisation was settling. “Abbie, I’m so sorry.”
Abbie looked to her stomach and found her hand resting there again. She whipped it away and blinked twice.
Tears. Crap.
“Nothing to be sorry for,” she said. She looked at the full mug of chocolate, still in her hands, and still, it made her want to be sick. Even more so now. “You were right. I shouldn’t have come. I’ll leave.”
“No, please.” Jess outstretched a hand, releasing her bump, then pulled it back. She nodded to the sofa. “Come on. Let’s sit.”
After a few more pained steps, Jess fell into the same seat she’d occupied when Eddie and Abbie had arrived. The furthermost right cushion of the three-seat sofa. She patted the middle cushion, but Abbie took the one on the far left. Light-headed and nauseous already, she was afraid to get any closer to that bump.
After a minute or so, Jess said, “This is mine and Ed’s second.”
Abbie looked over to see Jess massaging her stomach. On the mantlepiece, there were two photographs. Another by the telly and a fourth on the coffee table at Abbie’s end of the sofa. Each photo showed only Eddie and Jess. Happy, smiling faces. Following Jess’ comments, Abbie read plenty into those photos.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“We started trying almost two years ago,” said Jess. “Fell pregnant immediately, and I was over the moon. Couldn’t wait to tell people. But Ed, sensible as ever, begged me to wait. At least until we hit three months, he said. Leave it until then, and we’ll tell the world.”
While she spoke, Jess absent-mindedly massaged her stomach. Her hand moved in small but rapid circles as she stared across the room and relived her story.
“We were three days from three months when it happened,” Jess said. “There was nothing in particular. I didn’t fall down the stairs or anything. I was at my desk, at work, chatting with my colleagues. All of a sudden, there was cramp. I rushed to the toilet, and there was blood. I
