A Winter’s Wish Come True

A Winter’s Wish Come True Lynsey James Tis the season to be . . . pregnant? Catch up with Cleo and Scott in this fabulously feel-good festive readBeing pregnant with her ex-boyfriend’s baby is the last thing on Cleo Jones’s Christmas wish list. Scott might have been the man of her dreams once upon a time, but things change and now Cleo faces a future as a single mum… Or does she?Scott won’t let Cleo go through this alone; whatever their differences he’s vowed to be there, from antenatal classes to night feeds and nappy changing. The two agree to bring up their baby as friends – but as Cleo’s bump grows, so do their feelings for each other.Cleo can’t be sure if it’s her heart of her hormones urging her to give Scott a second chance – but getting back together could be the best Christmas present of all! Tis the season to be … pregnant? Catch up with Cleo and Scott in this fabulously feel-good festive read Being pregnant with her ex-boyfriend’s baby is the last thing on Cleo Jones’s Christmas wish list. Scott might have been the man of her dreams once upon a time, but things change and now Cleo faces a future as a single mum … Or does she? Scott won’t let Cleo go through this alone; whatever their differences he’s vowed to be there, from antenatal classes to night feeds and nappy changing. The two agree to bring up their baby as friends – but as Cleo’s bump grows, so do their feelings for each other. Cleo can’t be sure if it’s her heart or her hormones urging her to give Scott a second chance – but getting back together could be the best Christmas present of all! A Winter’s Wish Come True Lynsey James ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES Contents Cover (#ucf48cb24-5122-5a71-95fa-4de48e21b1ab) Blurb (#ua9f59006-c171-5a9a-94f2-35beacb9efa9) Title Page (#ua91fbeea-56f7-5c06-85cb-2b39e03e346b) Author Bio (#ulink_14328b3d-68a3-50c4-a511-fead405dc338) Acknowledgements (#ulink_ea69568f-3853-552e-9937-dd42b2da3983) Dedication (#u978d1174-6743-54b0-bb73-d81b3a5f2f2b) Prologue (#ulink_ad678ac7-307c-5055-88b6-f3d8853b9143) Chapter One (#ulink_8da60041-e241-5207-a009-22f48f3a907b) Chapter Two (#ulink_d71d8e24-2811-5f24-bf5c-b6d00a06a377) Chapter Three (#ulink_c81fc5bf-6d5a-54d3-8da0-d2d88ac7135a) Chapter Four (#ulink_10bd95cd-c543-5422-be5a-446d381f9bf1) Chapter Five (#ulink_24367015-52a2-50d7-85e7-5d18ab161571) Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo) Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo) Endpages (#litres_trial_promo) Copyright (#litres_trial_promo) LYNSEY JAMES was born in Fife and is an incurable bookworm. A careers adviser at school once told her writing wasn’t a “good option”, so Lynsey has tried a little bit of everything, including make-up artistry, teaching and doing admin for a chocolate fountain company. Now, she finally has fulfilled her dream and is writing full-time. When not writing, eating cake or drinking tea, she’s daydreaming about the day Matthew Gray Gubler finally realises they’re meant to be together. It’ll happen one day… Follow her on Twitter at @Lynsey1991 (https://twitter.com/lynsey1991?lang=en) Acknowledgements (#ulink_fb6f8ab9-0f72-539c-9bbc-5a845aea75a5) I’m lucky enough to have a whole host of brilliant people in my life, who push me to be the best and help me through the ‘what on earth am I doing?’ moments that we all have in life. So, here they are: Mum Dad Kyle Gran Dixie Jodie Aoife Frankie Andi Jen I love each and every one of you; you’re all inspirational and fantastic. I also want to thank my lovely agent Sarah for letting me be part of #TeamManning and everyone at HQ for helping this book come alive. Super Secret Writing Group, you are all kickass at what you do and I’m thrilled to know you all. And finally, it may seem strange to thank fictional characters, but THANK YOU Cleo Jones and Scott Robinson. Thank you for popping into my head and not leaving me alone until I wrote your story down, from beginning to end. I’ll miss giving you guys new adventures to go on, but I’ll certainly never forget either of you. This book is for you, reading this dedication right now and about to dive into one of my books. Maybe it’s your first, maybe it’s not; it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re reading it, and I can’t thank you enough for doing so. Prologue (#ulink_69d9521f-b6ac-54dc-86b9-4a219fd4fcd9) Life is a funny thing, isn’t it? Some days, it carries on as normal: you go to work, do what you have to do, then come home and put your feet up with your favourite box set. And some days, you put on a red jumpsuit and throw yourself out of a plane. Today is definitely one of the latter days for me. I crouch near the edge of the plane, an instructor strapped to my back, and try not to think about how the next few seconds are going to play out. As the nerves begin to take hold, I glance up at my best friend Emma, who’s standing opposite me. She looks almost as scared as I feel, but flashes me a thumbs up nonetheless. ‘Ready?’ she yells, struggling to be heard over the plane’s ear-splitting engines. ‘As I’ll ever be!’ I reply, nodding my head. Emma’s instructor announces that they’ll be going first, which only succeeds in making me feel even more terrified. Going first means getting it over with, whereas I’ll have a few more seconds to panic before launching myself out of a plan at 12,000 feet. As Emma shuffles to the edge, preparing to do her jump, I resist the urge to close my eyes. This is supposed to be a fun, exhilarating experience, but now I’m regretting ever having written it on my bucket list. Emma tumbles away, her whooping and cheering quickly swallowed up by the brisk morning air. Acid rises in my throat; I feel like I’m going to be sick. ‘Are you OK?’ Tommy, my instructor, leans forward to ask the question in my ear. ‘Honestly, there’s nothing to be afraid of. I’ve done hundreds of these jumps and nothing’s ever gone wrong. Well, apart from that one time where I nearly forgot to put my parachute on, but just ignore that.’ I crane my neck round to look at him, feeling my heart drop to my shoes. ‘That’s not really doing wonders for my confidence, Tommy …’ He shakes his head and chuckles. ‘I’m only joking! Are you ready to go?’ ‘Not really,’ I admit with a weak smile. ‘In fact, I’m bloody terrified!’ Tommy gently nudges me closer to the edge and my stomach does a series of somersaults. I can’t imagine throwing myself out into oblivion, not knowing where I’ll land. Why I ever picked this to add to my bucket list is anybody’s guess. ‘Perfect time to do it, then!’ I look back just in time to see him grin before we’re out of the plane and amongst the clouds. * As terrified as I was before the jump, the feeling of actually doing it is incomparable. There’s a small moment where I float through the sky with Tommy strapped to my back, before we prepare to make our descent. I feel utterly euphoric and terrified in equal measure; I’ve never enjoyed not being in control, but there’s something unique about being amongst the clouds. Elation spreads through my body as we come to land. For as much as I enjoyed the sky diving experience, there’s nothing that quite beats being on terra firma. Tommy separates us and helps me out of the ridiculously huge jumpsuit. ‘Thanks for that!’ I say, slipping my helmet off and flashing him a smile. ‘That was … amazing.’ I notice his cheeks pink up and he looks at the ground for a moment before his gaze returns to me. ‘Oh, it was nothing,’ he replies. ‘I do loads of these every week … not usually with someone as pretty as you though.’ The blush on his face deepens to scarlet and he rubs the back of his neck as he awkwardly avoids my gaze. I’m not sure where to look myself; my mouth opens and closes as I try to think of the right thing to say. ‘Um … I … Thanks, I guess!’ Very smooth, Cleo. Tommy smiles, showing off his pearly white teeth. ‘I don’t suppose you’d fancy going for a drink after this? There’s a nice little pub just down the road. Invite your mate too, if you like.’ It’s my turn to blush, as I feel a crimson heat sweep over my cheeks. I run a hand through my hair, which has become a tangled mess thanks to the sky dive, and look up at him. ‘Tommy, I’d love to but … I have a boyfriend. Sorry.’ He nods and I see his smile falter a little. ‘Of course you do. I should’ve known really. He’s a lucky guy, whoever he is.’ He does an awkward little wave and heads off towards the air base. I make my way over to Emma, who’s now been divested of her jumpsuit and untangled from her equally cute sky diving instructor. ‘You and Tommy looked cosy,’ she says with a wink and nudge. I shrug and avoid her gaze as best I can. ‘He asked me out for a drink, but I said no. Told him I have a boyfriend.’ I don’t have to look at her to know her bright smile has faded. The sigh of disappointment is all the confirmation I need. ‘But you don’t,’ she says gently. ‘Not anymore. It’s been a year since Scott left, Cleo. Going out with someone else might be good for you.’ I take a deep breath to keep my emotions in check, hiding them behind a reassuring smile. ‘I’m fine as I am, OK? I don’t need another guy in my life.’ My best friend doesn’t look convinced and fixes me with a knowing stare. ‘Don’t close yourself off completely to the idea. It might not have worked out with Scott, but that doesn’t mean someone else can’t sweep you off your feet.’ I nod and pretend to agree with her as we head back towards the air base. Somewhere deep inside me, an all-too-familiar dull ache makes itself known once again. The ache that’s been here for the last year, since the man I thought was the love of my life walked away for the very last time. * When Emma and I get back to Silverdale, our beautiful hometown nestled in the Lancashire countryside, we make ourselves presentable and head to the Bell and Candle for a well-deserved drink. ‘Well, that’s another item you’ve ticked off your bucket list!’ she says, raising her glass of white wine in a toasting gesture. ‘You’re smashing it.’ I clink my half-empty glass of gin and tonic to her wine glass, unable to resist a grin. ‘I’ve got to admit, I really enjoyed the sky diving today. I mean, I was terrified but it was the good kind of terrified!’ I catch my grin slipping and, judging by the look on her face, so does Emma. She reaches over and touches my hand. ‘I wish Scott could’ve been there to see me do it,’ I say, my voice barely rising above a whisper. ‘He’d have been so proud.’ ‘He would’ve been,’ she agrees. ‘But he’s not here anymore. He made his choice a year ago. I know it’s been hard and horrible and scary at times, but you’ve done amazingly. Look at all the stuff you’ve ticked off your bucket list – you’ve gone zorbing, learnt Italian and now you’ve completed a sky dive! Who’d have thought you’d do all those things a couple of years ago?’ I nod as I use my finger to swirl round the ice cubes in my glass, before drinking the rest of the gin and tonic. ‘I just … I thought everything had fallen into place with Scott, that’s all. We were happy, Emma, really bloody happy. Then that job offer came along and ruined everything.’ I feel an imaginary knife plunge into my heart as I remember the moment that my relationship crumbled around me. I block out the memory as quickly as I can; if I let myself think about it, it’ll consume me. And probably put a dampener on my girls’ night out with Emma. ‘Have you heard from him recently?’ she asks, trying to tread as carefully as possible. ‘I know you were in contact with him for a while.’ I shake my head. ‘Nope, he’s probably too busy enjoying Melbourne life right now. Who can blame him, really? It must be amazing out there. I’ll bet he’s surfing right now with some beautiful Australian woman who looks like Margot Robbie.’ Emma takes my empty glass from me and rises from her seat. ‘You need another drink, Miss Jones! And when I come back, we’re going to talk about how to get that sparkle of yours back. It’s not worth losing it over Scott bloody Robinson.’ She heads off towards the bar, confidence radiating from her every stride. Our entire friendship, she’s been the polar opposite of me. While I’ve struggled with my self-confidence for years, Emma has always been thoroughly comfortable in her own skin. People gravitate towards her, while I was always content with hiding in her shadow. It gave me the shelter I needed to hide myself until I felt confident enough to step into the spotlight again. Then I did, and a beautiful man noticed me. He loved me for who I was, and then he left. I was afraid he would in the beginning; I was scared that he’d find something or someone he loved more than me because I’d never truly be enough for him. He managed to convince me that wouldn’t happen, and I was stupid enough to believe him. Salty tears sting the back of my eyes and I take a deep breath to compose myself. Today’s been wonderful and I don’t want to spoil it by letting my emotions get the better of me. Now that I’m on my own, with only my thoughts for company, I find some familiar dark thoughts circling the periphery of my mind. Mainly, they’re about the day that Scott walked away for good. ‘It’s a great opportunity for us, Cleo! You can’t seriously expect me to turn it down?’ ‘You’re talking about us moving to the other side of the world Scott. We’d be leaving our families, our friends, our jobs, everything we’ve worked for behind.’ He screws his eyes shut and heaves a sigh. ‘You know, for someone who says they want to take on the world, you’re being a bloody coward about this. This is a chance for us to have a brand new start in an amazing country …’ My brain cuts the train of thought off, but I know exactly what happened next. Insults were hurled, feelings were hurt, and doors were slammed. Things were said that we’d never be able to take back and our perfect relationship was shattered forever. In an effort to distract myself, I decide to go and see where Emma is with our next round of drinks. She’s taking longer than normal, and I hope she hasn’t got into yet another spat with Ben the barman. They split up a few months ago and things aren’t exactly amicable between them … I leave the comfort of the pub’s snug, where our secluded little booth is, and venture out into the main bar. I see the back of Emma’s head and notice she’s in deep conversation with someone. The closer I get, the louder her voice rises above the pounding indie music blaring over the pub’s ancient speakers. ‘No, you can’t see her! You want to just swan back in here after a year and expect everything to be just as you left it? I don’t think so!’ My blood freezes. She can’t be talking to …? ‘Scott?’ I round the corner and see him leaning on the bar. He’s slightly more tanned and his hair is a bit lighter, but he’s still the same in every other way. When his eyes lock with mine, a swarm of butterflies release themselves into my stomach. My first instinct is to run to him, throw my arms around him and welcome him back. However, I decide to restrain myself and wait for his reaction first. ‘Hi,’ he says, lifting his hand in a wave. I wait for him to say something, anything else other than ‘hi’, but nothing comes. The butterflies disappear and boiling rage takes their place. ‘That’s all you can say?’ I exclaim. ‘You’ve been away for a whole year, and all you’ve got to say is hi?! You didn’t just pop down to the shops, you moved to bloody Australia!’ He swallows hard and walks over to me, running his hands through his hair. ‘Cleo, I know I messed up and I’m sorry. There hasn’t been a day in the last year where I haven’t thought about you.’ I scoff and fold my arms across my chest, a silent warning to him not to even think about approaching me. ‘Isn’t that nice?’ I bite back. ‘I’m really glad to hear that; it makes all the times I spent wondering what I did wrong, or why I wasn’t enough for you, seem worth it. Thanks for that, Scott!’ Hurt flashes across his face and I’m ashamed to admit how satisfied it makes me feel. His face has always had a habit of betraying how he really feels. Especially those beautiful eyes of his. ‘I never should’ve left you,’ he replies, his voice cracking a little. ‘It was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made and I’ll spend the rest of my life regretting it. I’m back for good now, and I’d really like to make it up to you. If you’ll let me, that is.’ I roll my eyes and let out a hollow laugh that’s laced with venom. ‘There’s no way you can possibly make this up to me, so don’t even bother trying. We’re done. Come on, Emma.’ She walks over to me with our drinks and I spin on my heel to head back to our booth. I feel his eyes burning into me and can’t resist a glance over my shoulder to look at him. To my dismay, the butterflies return as our gazes lock again. There’s a determination in his eyes that suggests he’s not going to give up on winning me back so easily. ‘God, I can’t believe he’s back,’ Emma says with a sigh. ‘Fancy just turning up to the pub like that, as if everything could just fall back into place! Cheeky bastard.’ I pick up my drink and down as much of it as I can. ‘He might’ve given me all that “I’m going to win you back” crap, but I won’t let him near me again. Trust me Emma, I’m completely through with him.’ Liar, liar, pants on fire, a little voice at the back of my mind whispers. Deep down, I know Scott and I will collide again. The magnetic pull between us felt as strong as ever when I saw him standing at the bar. There’s a sense of inevitability surrounding his grand return to Silverdale; fate will find a way to bring us back together. It’s only a matter of time. * It happens, of course. After a series of apparently ‘chance’ encounters around Silverdale, we find our way back to each other. We come together in a moment of pure heat and passion, without a thought for what the consequences might be. ‘God I’ve missed you,’ he murmurs as his lips caress my bare skin. ‘I’ve missed you too,’ I breathe, allowing the moment to sweep me away. As my entire body shivers with delight, all I can think about is right now. I don’t care what’s going to happen in the next minute, hour or day. There’s only me and Scott, right here right now. That is, until the next morning, when I wake up alone. Chapter One (#ulink_acd33698-27b3-58a9-9a22-c7208d9c8e00) Eight Weeks Later As the song goes, guess it’s true I’m not good at a one-night stand. Eight weeks have passed since Scott and I wound up in bed together again, and it’s safe to say things haven’t been easy between us since. Well, they wouldn’t be since he buggered off before I had the chance to make post-coital tea and toast. As I roll over, some part of me still expecting cuddles and a good morning kiss, my heart sinks. Although the other side of the bed has been empty for a good while now, I’m still not quite used to it. I haul myself out of bed and feel a wave of nausea wash over me. It’s been there for a good few weeks now; most likely a virus that I just can’t seem to shift. Fragments of the morning after our one-night stand play in my head; waking up feeling hopeful that things would move forward between us; a dull ache in my stomach when I realised he’d legged it. My head hurts just thinking about it. Suddenly, a cold sweat grips me and I rush off to the bathroom to be violently sick. When it’s over, I splash some cold water over my face and take a few deep, cleansing breaths. Being sick like this brings back some unpleasant memories that I’d rather not think about. When I move back into the bedroom, I see something at the window that makes my heart twist in my chest: Scott passing on his way to work. He stops, looks up at the window and waves. Hot tears well up in my eyes and I bite down on my lip to stop myself from crying. I turn away from the window and screw my eyes shut, knowing that he’ll probably walk away a few seconds later. We’ve been in this routine for nearly two months now and it hasn’t got any easier. He’s tried to tell me how sorry he is for leaving so suddenly. Apparently, he had a job interview to get to and thought I might need some space after our night together to figure things out. I know he wants us to try again, but I can’t let that happen. He’s left me once already, what’s to stop him doing it again? How on earth did my happily-ever-after go so badly wrong? * My mum always says there’s no better cure for a broken heart than throwing yourself into helping other people. I hold that piece of advice entirely responsible for why I turn up an hour early for my Carb Counters meeting. As group leader, it’s my job to get the space ready, which usually only takes about five minutes at most. There really isn’t an exact science to putting chairs in a circle, after all. My two best friends, Emma and Zara, have come along on the pretext of giving me a hand, but I know they want the gossip on Scott, and they know that I know. I’ve deliberately not told them anything, preferring to keep the details to myself. I don’t really want them to know that I woke up to an empty bed that morning eight weeks ago, and I’m not sure if that’s out of embarrassment or because I don’t want them to think badly of Scott. ‘So …’ Emma begins, her voice bright and cheerful. ‘Looking forward to tonight’s session? What workout have you got planned?’ I can’t help but smile as I move some chairs to the centre of the room. My best friend definitely wouldn’t make a good actress. However, I decide to humour her for a minute or two. ‘I’m thinking of doing an aerobics routine. You know, really torch some calories and get everyone’s metabolism going. What do you think?’ Emma’s bright grin becomes a little more pained. She’s absolutely bursting to ask me about Scott, but doesn’t want to dive in right away. The small talk is driving her crazy; she looks like she’ll spontaneously combust any second. ‘Sounds good to me. What do you think, Zara?’ I look up just in time to see Emma shoot Zara a pointed look. There’s clearly been a discussion between them before they arrived to help me tonight. ‘Yeah!’ Her voice is loud and stilted, like she’s acting in an awful straight-to-DVD movie. ‘That sounds brilliant!’ Emma grunts in frustration and throws her hands up in the air. ‘OK, I give up. Cleo, what’s the deal with you and Scott? He came back nearly three months ago, something happened between you two and you haven’t said a word about it. You haven’t had us round to your house to drink wine, eat ice cream and gossip. In fact, you haven’t even told us what happened! Are you OK?’ I feel a lump rise in my throat and my eyes begin to water. One look at the concern on Emma’s face finishes me and I collapse onto one of the chairs, throwing my head into my hands while I sob my heart out. Emma’s arms are around me in seconds. She pulls me in for a comforting hug as strangled wails burst from my chest. ‘Everything’s ruined,’ I sob ‘It all went so wrong.’ ‘I’m sure that’s not true,’ Zara soothes, pulling up a chair next to me. ‘There isn’t much that can’t be fixed. What happened?’ I back away from Emma and wipe my eyes with my sleeve. ‘Guys, it’s really bad. We—’ Before I can tell them the gory details about my night with Scott, the door to the community centre swings open and the rest of my Carb Counters group swarm in. ‘Hiya Cleo, love!’ The group’s administrator Linda gives me a wave as she sits down to set up her moneybox and weighing scales. ‘Sorry guys,’ I murmur. ‘It’ll have to wait till later.’ * The night is a successful one, with over two stone lost between all the group members since the last weigh-in. I beam with pride, as I get ready to do my exercise routine with them. I had some reservations about becoming a group leader at first, but it’s the best thing I’ve ever done. Each of them has their own reasons for why they want to lose a few pounds and to help them do that is a great feeling. I step out onto the stage to greet my audience, feeling a rush of excitement as I see them. This reminds me of my days as a ballet dancer: the thrill of coming out of the wings, greeting your audience and starting your performance. ‘OK let’s get going, shall we?’ I head over to the old-fashioned boom box at the left-hand corner of the stage and switch it on. Pounding dance music blasts out and signals that it’s time to get started. ‘Let’s start with some high knees,’ I suggest. I jog on the spot and bring my knees up as high as I can. The rest of the group follow suit, although with varying degrees of effort. The ones not giving a hundred percent don’t faze me; they’re still participating and that’s the main thing. As I prepare to switch to jumping jacks, I feel my stomach twist itself into knots and a cold sweat wash over me. My skin becomes clammy and the scene in front of me blurs for a split second. I stop for a moment to catch my breath, bending at the knees and putting my hands on my thighs. I’m going to be sick. There are only a few minutes to go until the end, and I’m going to be sick. Great. I will the feeling to pass, for my stomach to stop spinning like a tumble dryer, but it doesn’t. If anything, it gets worse. ‘Everything OK?’ Zara asks, shouting to be heard above the blaring music. ‘You look a bit—’ I don’t hear anything that follows. The world around me goes fuzzy then I fall to the floor. Everything goes black. * When I wake up, I’m lying on a hospital bed. Fear grips me and I sit bolt upright. How on earth did I get here? My head spins and my vision goes in and out of focus. I feel myself sink back onto the pillow and screw my eyes shut. Something feels wrong; the nausea from earlier today has made a very unwelcome return and I’ve obviously not at the hospital for no reason. ‘Hey, you’re awake!’ Emma pops into view, holding a cup of takeaway coffee in her hands. ‘How are you feeling?’ ‘How … how did I get here?’ I ask, slowly pushing myself up. ‘What happened?’ Her face falls and she takes my hand. ‘You fainted, Cleo, right as the workout was getting started. Don’t you remember?’ The memory slowly trickles back into my mind and I can suddenly remember hitting the deck in front of everybody. My cheeks heat up and I cover my face with my hands. ‘Oh god,’ I groan, ‘I remember now. I hope I didn’t frighten everyone too much.’ Emma shakes her head and smiles. ‘Sheila said she felt a bit funny, but that’s about it! Are you feeling better?’ I nod my head. ‘I suppose so. I was sick earlier today and that’s kind of come back now, but I don’t feel like I’m going to pass out again.’ The curtain pulls back a moment later, and a doctor appears holding a clipboard. He has an eager expression on his face and looks like he’s fresh out of medical school. ‘Nice to see you’re awake, Miss Jones,’ he says with a smile. ‘My name’s Doctor Andrews, I’ll be looking after you today. Is this the first time you’ve fainted?’ I nod my head. ‘Yeah, this has never happened before. I’d just started a workout with the slimming group I run when I felt a bit funny. Next minute, everything went black.’ Doctor Andrews nods and looks down at his clipboard for a moment before turning his attention back to me. ‘And have you had any other symptoms?’ ‘Well, I was sick this morning and I’ve been feeling a bit off recently. But that’s probably something to do with the fact that I’ve just split up with my boyfriend.’ I eye him nervously, hoping he’ll agree with me, but he doesn’t reply. Just pushes his glasses up his nose as a crimson blush creeps over his pale skin. ‘When was your last menstrual period, Miss Jones?’ The abrupt nature of the question makes my jaw drop. I’m far from being a prude, but I feel more than a little awkward discussing my monthly visits from Mother Nature with a doctor who looks about twelve years old. ‘Um … I’m not sure,’ I reply. ‘Come to think of it, I don’t think I had one last month. But that’s normal isn’t it? I mean, everyone misses one occasionally don’t they?’ I look to Emma for reassurance, but don’t get any. She tries for a nod, but it doesn’t quite do the job. ‘Of course they do!’ she squeaks. ‘It’s perfectly normal. I think.’ Doctor Andrews nods slowly. ‘Well there could be any number of reasons for a missed period. When I put it together with your other symptoms, I think it would be wise to check your blood pressure and also do blood and urine tests. Just to rule a few things out.’ I feel my heart rate begin to quicken. ‘Rule what out?’ ‘Try not to worry Miss Jones, it’s just routine.’ Easy for you to say, I think, you’re not about to be poked and prodded with a needle. Possibilities of what he could be trying to diagnose run through my head and none of them are good. Of course I know what the obvious diagnosis is, but it can’t be true. It’s definitely not that. ‘Listen …’ Emma trails off, purses her lips then decides to speak again. ‘Why don’t you let me give Scott a call? I know you two aren’t together anymore, but he’d want to know you’re here, don’t you think?’ I shake my head as Doctor Andrews wraps the blood pressure cuff round my arm. ‘No Emma, please don’t call him. We haven’t really been in touch since he got back and I don’t want to worry him over nothing. This is probably just an infection or something; they’ll give me some antibiotics then send me home.’ I can’t quite work out if I’m saying this to reassure Emma or myself. A bit of both, I suspect. As I feel the needle go into my arm, I close my eyes and grit my teeth while Emma squeezes my hand. I’ve always hated needles, but today I’m even more terrified than usual. Doctor Andrews could be screening for a rare tropical disease, for all I know. Call it female intuition or the impending sense of doom I’ve had since my disastrous one-night stand with Scott, but I have a feeling something is very wrong indeed. * After providing Doctor Andrews with a urine sample, there isn’t much I can do except wait. He assured me the results wouldn’t take long to come in. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something told me he already knew what results to expect. ‘Do you mind if I go and get something to eat?’ Emma asks. ‘I’m absolutely starving. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it’s Carb Counters friendly!’ I roll my eyes and smile. ‘You have my permission to go and find the juiciest hamburger in this place and eat every last bit of it. Bugger the Treat Points allowance today!’ My best friend grins back at me and heads off in the direction of the canteen. My stomach gives an ominous growl and I start to feel sick again. When I hear footsteps approaching again, I assume it’s Doctor Andrews coming to give me my test results. Except it isn’t. It’s Scott. ‘What are you doing here?’ I ask, feeling a curious mixture of delight and anger. ‘How did you know I was here?’ As if on cue, Emma turns up carrying some sandwiches and crisps. Her jaw drops when she sees Scott standing in front of my bed. ‘Let me guess,’ I say. ‘Someone told you I was here.’ ‘Yes she did.’ Scott’s face is set into a stern frown. ‘And I’m glad she got in touch with me because I’d have had no idea what was going on otherwise! We’ve barely spoken since I got back, Cleo. I said I was sorry for what happened after we—’ ‘I don’t want to talk about that right now,’ I say, cutting across him. ‘Can we leave it till later?’ ‘We’ve been “leaving it till later” for weeks now,’ he says. ‘I’ve told you time and again why I did what I did, but as usual you won’t bloody listen!’ My blood begins to boil and I could quite happily slap his beautiful face. Instead, I fold my arms across my chest and fix him with my patented Death Stare. ‘Go away, Scott,’ I reply with all the venom I can muster for the man I still love, which isn’t a whole lot. ‘I don’t want you here, OK? Just leave.’ I’m only half telling the truth. Although I can barely stand to look at him right now, there’s something comforting about him being here. He’s always made me feel like everything will be alright. ‘At least tell me why you’re here,’ he says, taking cautious steps towards my bedside. ‘When Emma let me know you’d been taken to hospital, I rushed straight down here to see if you were OK. I still care about you, you know.’ I sigh and decide enough is enough. ‘I fainted at my Carb Counters meeting, OK? I started to feel funny then I passed out.’ I decide not to tell him I’ve been sick and missed at least one period. He’ll only jump to silly conclusions and overreact. ‘Cleo, that’s serious,’ he says, taking a seat next to my bed. His face is the colour of sour milk as he tries to phrase his next question. ‘Have you been …? I mean, you haven’t …?’ ‘No,’ I say, knowing exactly what he’s trying to avoid saying. ‘I haven’t binged or purged for over a year now. It’s definitely not that. Now, please just go. I’m fine, honestly. There’s nothing to worry about, I’ll be out of here in no time.’ We exchange weak smiles, and I see him instinctively reach for my hand before pulling away. I feel marginally better for reassuring him instead of pushing him away. No matter what’s happened between us, it’s incredibly hard to hate him. ‘OK, if that’s what you want.’ Scott heaves a sigh and hauls himself to his feet. ‘If you need me or anything, just give me a call, alright?’ I nod, not meeting his gaze. He mumbles a goodbye then heads off back down the corridor. ‘Thanks for that,’ I say to Emma, my voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘That was just what I needed today!’ ‘I’m sorry – I just thought he should know what’s going on, that’s all! What is going on, Cleo? He waltzed back from Australia three months ago, you two had some sort of reunion, but then … nothing. You haven’t said anything about what happened that night.’ I round on her, ready to fire some ammunition of my own. ‘Oh yeah? You split up with Ben what, six months ago now? All you’ve told us is that it “wasn’t working”, but you won’t say why.’ Her cheeks turn pink and she falls silent for a moment. ‘This isn’t about me, OK? At least I gave you guys an explanation, even if you don’t think it was a good one. And what about this whole fainting thing? It’s never happened before. You told the doctor you’ve missed a period and been sick. You’re not … pregnant, are you?’ I snap my head round to look at her. ‘No way, it’s impossible! I don’t know what’s going on with me right now, but I’m definitely not having a baby. Once I get out of here, I’ll tell you what happened with Scott, I promise.’ Doctor Andrews approaches, a beaming grin lighting up his sallow features. At least he’s not about to tell me I’m dying, I say to myself. ‘I’ve got your test results back,’ he says, flipping to the relevant page on his clipboard. ‘And it looks like congratulations are in order.’ My blood freezes in my veins. Is he about to say what I think he’s going to say? I pray to whatever deity will listen that I’m wrong. ‘W-what do you mean?’ I ask, feeling my entire body begin to tremble. ‘You’re pregnant, Miss Jones. About ten weeks, judging by your hCG levels. Congratulations! I suggest you schedule a booking in appointment with your GP, just to get the ball rolling. In the meantime, drink plenty of fluids, avoid strenuous exercise and get plenty of rest. There’s a tiny little human in there.’ He points to my stomach and his grin widens. ‘Do you have any questions?’ ‘You mean apart from how the fuck did this happen?’ I say. ‘Nope, none.’ Doctor Andrews looks at me, as if he’s not sure whether to explain the mechanics of conception to me or not. I guess he’d draw a diagram with crayons if I asked him to. He gives a little nod then walks off towards the wards, with seemingly no idea that he’s just blown my entire world apart. The facts are irrevocable: I’m ten weeks pregnant. With my ex-boyfriend’s baby. Oh shit. Chapter Two (#ulink_5fbb4927-2535-5d40-b912-459edb966447) Naturally, Emma has a lot of questions. How do I feel? What am I going to do? Does this mean I’ll be giving Scott another chance? What exactly happened between us anyway? I promise to fill her in on everything when we get back to my cottage, and I’m true to my word. Over a plate of peanut butter chicken curry, I tell her absolutely everything. ‘So he just upped and left?’ Emma asks, wide-eyed. ‘Without saying anything to you?’ I nod, the image of waking up to find him gone twisting my stomach into knots. ‘Yup. He didn’t even think to leave me a note or send me a text to tell me where he’d gone. He said he thought I needed some space to figure things out, which is man-speak for “it shouldn’t have happened, but I’m too polite to say so”. I get that he had a job interview to get to, but why not tell me? We haven’t spoken properly since it happened. I don’t really need to hear him say he’s just not that into me.’ Emma heaves a sad sigh as she pushes some chicken round the plate with her fork. ‘You two used to be perfect together. What happened?’ I give a wry smile. ‘Australia happened. I didn’t want to go, he did. He told me I was being a coward and that it’d be a huge adventure for us, but I didn’t want to leave everything we had here. We just seemed to get angrier and angrier at each other, and then he told me he was going with or without me. And he did. I wanted him to stay, but I didn’t want to hold him back so I just let him go. He took his stuff, went back to his own flat and left for Melbourne a little while later.’ If my life were a soap opera right now – which it may as well be – the classic duff duffs would’ve just followed my last words. Although Emma is well-versed in the events that drove Scott and I apart in the first place, she’s still enraptured as I recount them again. ‘I remember when you told me he’d said he was going. I didn’t think for a second he’d actually go through with it. I thought once the two of you had had a chance to calm down, you’d talk it through rationally and come to a decision you were both happy with.’ I shrug, trying my best to look like I don’t care when I do. I care more than she or Scott will ever know. ‘He made his choice, and it was Australia. Can’t say I blame him really; it’s a beautiful country and you can make a really good life for yourself there if you try. I watched him pack his stuff, but some part of me thought he’d change his mind. Stupid, really.’ Emma visibly deflates and drops her gaze to her plate of largely untouched food, shaking her head. ‘So there’s absolutely no chance that you two could fix things now he’s back?’ she asks. ‘You’re pregnant with his baby, Cleo. I know he did a stupid thing leaving you the next morning, but maybe there’s still a chance for you two.’ I bristle and grit my teeth. ‘I know I’m pregnant, I was there when the doctor told me. It doesn’t mean Scott and I have to be together though. I could raise the baby on my own if I wanted to. I might have to if he decides he wants to leave again. God, what am I going to do, Emma? I had no bloody idea I was pregnant and now all of a sudden, there are all these big decisions to make and I don’t know where to start.’ She puts her food on the coffee table, shuffles over to me and gives me a hug. I didn’t realise how much I needed one until I feel her arms around me. ‘The important thing to remember right now is that you’re in control. Yeah, you have a lot of things to decide on, but you don’t have to do it right this second and you definitely don’t have to do it on your own. You do have to tell Scott though. He’s the father and he has a right to know.’ I nod, my head spinning at the thought of telling Scott my life-changing news. I can’t even predict his reaction ‘It’ll be fine, you know that right? You’ll always have me and Zara and your mum … Oh god, what are you going to tell your mum?!’ She puts a hand over her mouth to stop any giggles escaping, but it’s no good. The dam’s already burst and her shoulders are shaking. I join in with her, knowing just how volcanic my mum’s reaction will be. ‘I’ll bet you a tenner that the first words out of her mouth are “nobody’s calling me granny!” She hates the idea of getting older as it is,’ I say with a chuckle. ‘I can just see her face turning white when I tell her.’ A silence slips over the room as the laughter subsides and it’s only then that the reality of today hits me. There’s a human growing inside me, whose future I have to make huge decisions over. For the last ten weeks, this baby has been quietly growing inside me without my knowledge, until they decided to make themselves known. I’ve heard of life throwing curveballs when you least expect it, but this is on a whole other level of crazy. Cleo Jones: baker, dreamer … mother? * For a brief moment when I wake up the next morning, I think I’ve dreamt the whole thing. The fainting, the finding out I’m pregnant, the heart-to-heart with Emma … it all feels like some weird, trippy dream that couldn’t possibly have happened in real life. Except it did. The wave of nausea that hits me as soon as my feet hit the bedroom floor is all the proof I need. I make a mad dash for the bathroom and arrive just in time. Today’s nausea isn’t as worrying as yesterday’s; at least I know there’s a reason for it now. It still brings up unpleasant memories of my bingeing and purging days, but it’s easier to push them aside than it used to be. When I go back to the bedroom, I immediately head over to the window. I hate that Scott and I are stuck in this awkward little routine, but until we can find a way to move forward, this is what we’re left with. Like clockwork, I see his tall wiry frame walking down the road, coming to a dead stop outside my cottage. His hazel eyes flick upwards to my bedroom window and I’m standing there, exactly as I have been for the past eight weeks. Scott lifts his hand in a sort of wave and flashes me a hopeful smile. I feel the corners of my mouth pull upwards and return the wave as best I can. The anger doesn’t feel as strong today, even if the image of waking up to find him gone is still burned on my mind. Instead, I feel sick. Not just morning-sickness sick, but sick to my stomach that I have this huge secret that affects him, but he has no idea about it. No matter what’s gone on between us, Emma was right last night. He’s the father and he has a right to know about the baby. Now I have to find the words to turn his world upside down. * I can barely concentrate at work when I get there. Although mixing up batters and decorating fairy cakes is second nature to me, I keep making mistakes and it doesn’t go unnoticed by my colleague Fred. ‘Cleo, that’s the second time you’ve added too much sugar to the cupcake batter,’ he says, coming over to help me with my third attempt. ‘What’s troubling you?’ I grunt in frustration and step away from the industrial mixer. ‘Everything’s going wrong at the moment Fred, and I’ve got no idea how to fix any of it.’ Once he’s made the cupcake batter with the correct ratios, he turns to me, a kind smile on his face. He might be in his seventies, but he has an unusual knack of knowing exactly how to fix my twenty-something problems. ‘Want to talk about it?’ he asks. ‘I’ll stick the cupcakes in the oven and we could shut up shop for a while?’ I shake my head. ‘We can’t shut the shop; it’s the lunchtime rush soon. I wouldn’t like to see a bunch of hungry schoolkids without their sausage rolls and cakes, would you?’ My colleague gives a knowing nod; the few times we’ve had to close over lunchtime since I’ve worked here, the aftermath hasn’t been pretty. We’ve found out just how good kids are at adopting a mob mentality. ‘You’re right,’ he says, ‘I could be doing without having to scrape rotten eggs off the windows again! There’s something bothering you though, I can tell.’ I sigh. He’s not going to let this go until he knows everything, so stalling tactics are useless here. ‘OK …’ I take a deep breath as I get ready to share my news. ‘… Yesterday, I found out I’m pregnant.’ Fred doesn’t reply right away, so the only sound in the room is the mixer whirring and rattling. For a terrifying second, I worry I’ve caused some sort of heart attack, until his face breaks into a smile. ‘Well, that’s lovely news!’ He pulls me in for a tight hug. ‘Congratulations love, I’m sure you’ll make a brilliant mum.’ I give a nervous chuckle and fiddle with a loose thread on my baker’s jacket. ‘Thanks, but I don’t know about that! I’m an only child and I’ve never really been around babies before. Not sure I’ll know where to start!’ The idea of having a tiny human who’s totally dependent on me for survival makes my head spin. ‘It’ll all come to you when you meet him or her,’ Fred assures me, patting my shoulder. ‘It’s just instinctive, trust me. With my two, the wife and I were clueless at first. But you get to learn what each cry means and what they need. And you get to watch as their personalities develop and they become their own little people. There’s nothing quite like parenthood, believe me. And if you’re worrying about me running the bakery while you’re off having the baby, don’t. We’ll organise some cover well in advance.’ I feel my shoulders relax and the weight in my chest becomes a little lighter. ‘Thanks Fred, you’ve made me feel a lot better. Maybe I won’t be so bad at this motherhood thing after all!’ I think I’m saying this to try and convince myself more than anything else. I know next to nothing about babies and the thought of raising one, especially on my own, is daunting to say the least. However, as Fred pulls me in for a comforting hug, I get the brief feeling that everything will be just fine. * Since today seems to be a day for tackling huge obstacles – telling Fred about the baby wasn’t as easy as one might think – I decide to do the hardest thing I’ve ever done: tell Scott he’s going to be a father. It has to happen sooner or later, and he has decisions of his own to make about whether he wants to be involved or not. I leave for the Silver Spoon caf? just after the lunchtime rush subsides at the bakery. The caf? is pretty much deserted, which doesn’t do much to ease my nerves. There’s no buzz of conversation to divert Scott’s attention, or any tantalising smells to ensnare his senses. The spotlight will be fixed on me and my big news. I check my phone one more time to see that my text to him definitely sent. Knowing my luck, there will have been some area-wide service outage that means he hasn’t got the text. Maybe that means I can leave? Put it off for another day where I feel more ready to drop such an enormous bombshell? No, that wouldn’t be right, I say to myself. I can’t bury my head in the sand about this; the sooner he knows, the sooner he can decide what part he wants to play in the baby’s life. The door swings open and in walks Scott. He looks tired and his gym clothes are crumpled; being back at his own flat has made him regress into dude-dom once again. I can just picture the plates of half-eaten, congealed spaghetti dotted around the place, along with discarded pairs of underwear and socks. Our eyes lock and I feel my heart skip. God, he does the dishevelled look well. Cleo, stop it! ‘Hey,’ he says, taking a seat opposite me. He looks at me for a moment, as though he wants to say something else, but changes his mind a few seconds later. ‘How are you doing?’ I ask, determined not to let any awkward silences develop. If they do, I’m done for. I don’t care that I probably sound like Joey from Friends. ‘I won’t lie, I’ve been better.’ His voice doesn’t have any of its usual warmth of humour, which I can’t say I didn’t expect. ‘Are you finally ready to talk about what happened between us? Is that why you texted, asking me to meet you here?’ Oh boy. This is going to be even harder than I thought. How am I supposed to tell him that I’m not here to rake over the nitty-gritty of our disastrous night together? I’m about to turn his life upside down and he has no idea. ‘No Scott … I … I actually have some news.’ My heart is in my mouth as I prepare to say the words out loud. I drop my gaze to the table, away from his hopeful brown eyes. ‘You know how I passed out yesterday and had to go to hospital? Well … the doctor did a blood test to see what might be causing it and …’ I trail off to collect myself. Any minute now, I’ll be rushing off to the bathroom to be sick or sprinting out the door to hide under my duvet. ‘You’re not … You’re not ill, are you?’ Scott looks genuinely worried. Once again, he goes to reach for my hand and pulls back at the last minute. ‘Cleo, if you are—’ ‘No, I’m not ill.’ I have to cut him off before I can hear him say he’ll be there for me and everything will be OK: basically everything I’d secretly like to hear, though I’d never admit that. ‘Scott, I’m … I’m pregnant.’ Chapter Three (#ulink_3927efa6-2f97-5b93-9824-90d3311902f8) The words fall out of my mouth and pierce the caf?’s silence with an unsettling finality. That’s it now; they’re out there and there’s no taking them back. Scott takes a few seconds to react. At first, he stares ahead of him with his face set in a blank expression. I’m not sure if he’s heard me until he opens his mouth to speak. ‘What … What did you say?’ His voice is hoarse, like everything he wants to say and all the questions he wants to ask are caught in his throat. ‘I’m pregnant,’ I say again. ‘I found out yesterday.’ ‘And is the baby mine?’ he snaps. His eyes are shining with tears and his hands are clenched into fists in his lap. My eyes widen. ‘How can you ask that? Of course the baby’s yours!’ ‘Well I don’t know Cleo, anything’s possible since we split up,’ he yells. ‘I know I made a huge mistake going to Australia, but you won’t even try to let me make things right! Maybe I don’t know you as well as I thought I did.’ Ouch, that hurt. I swallow back tears as I remember the day we decided to call it quits. Both of us were angry and upset that our dreams didn’t marry up as well as we thought they did. But to hear him say he doesn’t know who I am hurts more than anything. I know he doesn’t really mean it – he’s angry that we can’t seem to find a way forward – but a red mist descends over me nonetheless. ‘You left me, Scott! I know Australia was an amazing opportunity for you, and I completely understand why you wanted to go, but there wasn’t even the option of you of doing anything else. You made it pretty clear that you didn’t want to compromise and that you were heading off with or without me.’ I scrape my chair back and get up before I say something we both regret. ‘And to top it all off, you didn’t even stick around after we spent the night together! I’m ten weeks pregnant, the baby’s yours, so make up your mind about whether or not you want to be part of our lives.’ I storm out of the Silver Spoon, stopping to give the father of my baby one final glance. The ball’s in his court now: he knows everything and it’s up to him to come to a decision about his role in things. He catches me looking at him and I hold his gaze for a moment before I hurry away. * ‘How does a vintage tea party sound? Or we could do Hollywood glamour.’ I shake my head and hold in a laugh as Emma wracks her brain to think of more potential themes for my baby shower. As soon as I let her know I’d told Scott about the pregnancy, she insisted on coming over to hear all about it and discuss all things baby. ‘I’m only ten weeks pregnant Emma, we’ve got plenty of time to think about the baby shower!’ I chuckle. ‘But a vintage tea party sounds nice.’ ‘It’s your first big scan in a couple of weeks,’ she points out. ‘Then the rest of the time will fly by! Talking of scans, have you booked an appointment with your GP yet? They have to refer you to the maternity unit at the hospital, and the sooner you do it the better.’ I can’t help but smile. Emma is probably the best person in the world to go through a pregnancy with; she’s organised almost to a fault and knows when everything needs to be done. ‘And have you told Fred you’re pregnant?’ she continues when I don’t offer a reply. ‘You can’t go around lifting huge sacks of flour now, you know.’ ‘Yes, I’ve told him,’ I reply. ‘He told me I’d make a brilliant mum and not to worry about the bakery because he’d organise cover. I know what he’s like though Emma; he’ll try to do everything by himself.’ The thought of Fred trying to run the bakery single-handedly sends a note of dread through me. ‘Don’t worry about him,’ she assures me. ‘He’ll organise some maternity cover for you and everything will be fine. Anyway … how are you feeling? About the baby, I mean.’ The question hits me a little harder than expected, probably because I haven’t really had time to think about how I feel. Ever since I found out, my time has mostly been taken up with worrying about what Scott’s reaction would be. ‘Um …’ I want to come out with some intelligent, well-thought-out comment that shows I’ve considered how having a baby will affect my life emotionally, financially and physically. However, ‘um …’ is all I can manage. Emma giggles and shuffles round to face me. ‘If I’d just been told I was ten weeks pregnant with my ex-boyfriend’s baby, I’d probably say “um” as well! Are you excited or scared or …?’ I puff air out through my cheeks and feel my hands come to a rest on my stomach. I look down at it for a moment and my heart rate quickens. The reality of the situation begins to overwhelm me and I feel a cold sweat rush over my skin. ‘I’m absolutely terrified,’ I admit. ‘I didn’t plan on having kids so soon, and I definitely didn’t plan on being a single mum. Emma, I … What if I mess it all up? What if I can’t do it? The kid could grow up absolutely hating me because I was a terrible mum! I don’t want that to happen.’ Out of nowhere, I burst into tears. Huge, wailing sobs burst from my chest and I throw my head into my hands. I start to realise how utterly ridiculous this whole situation is, and start laughing instead. My sobs mix with my giggles to form strange sort of hiccupping sounds. ‘Are you OK?’ Emma asks, trying to keep her own laughter to herself. ‘You sound like a cat being strangled or something!’ I lift my head up and wipe the tears from my eyes as my breathing returns to normal. ‘I’m not OK, Emma. But I think I will be, eventually; I just need to get my head around the fact I’m having a bloody baby with my ex-boyfriend. This is definitely not how I saw things playing out, that night at the George Hotel. Do you remember when I did that speech at my high school reunion and Scott walked in?’ She nods, a wistful smile playing on her lips. ‘Oh, I remember; I was the one who posted some of it online so he’d see you kicking ass! You two might work things out though, you never know. How did he take the baby news?’ I screw my eyes shut and tell her about our confrontation in the caf?. How he’d asked if the baby was his, how he’d initially thought he’d been invited for a getting back together chat, and how shocked he’d been when the word ‘pregnant’ had been mentioned. ‘Must’ve been quite a shock for him,’ Emma says. ‘He thought you wanted to get back together with him, next minute he finds out he’s going to be a dad! I think he’ll come through for you, you know. He’s not a bad guy, Cleo.’ Her final words sting and make my insides twist into knots, mostly because I know she’s right. ‘You’re right,’ I choke out. ‘He’s not a bad bloke. I just … I can’t get past the fact he left me. Why did he do it, Emma? Was it me, was I not enough? Or did he just make a mistake? If I let him back in, he could decide he wants to leave me again. Only this time, he’d be leaving our baby too.’ Emma reaches over and squeezes my hand. ‘I don’t know why he did it, but I do know this: you are more than enough and you always will be. And no matter what happens between you and Scott, you’ll be an amazing mum. Whether he stays or leaves again, nothing will change that. Think of everything you’ve achieved so far: two years ago, you made a bucket list and now you’ve ticked so many items off! How many people can say they’ve done that? You swam in a tank with sharks, Cleo. Having a baby will just be another huge adventure. And I’ll be the best fairy godmother in the whole world.’ Emma switches the TV on and settles on one of our favourite trashy reality shows. I look down at my stomach again; it’s amazing that there’s so much going on inside me right now, yet no one could visibly tell. I feel like I’m standing at the edge of a dark forest, the path through it shrouded in a thick fog. I have no idea what the next few months are going to bring and I’m petrified. The only thing I can do is take it one day at a time. * I’ve always hated doctors’ surgeries. The smell, the eerie silence and the selection of ten-year-old magazines are bad enough, but what really gets to me is the impending sense of doom as you wait for the doctor. Even if you know you’re just going for a routine check-up, there’s always that niggling worry that you’re about to be told you have some rare disease with no known cure. I’m here on my own today. I was lucky to get a cancellation when I phoned up earlier, and Emma was already at work so she couldn’t come. She offered to tell her boss she was ill, but I said no. She’s already done more than enough for me, after all. I’ve texted Scott to let him know I have a doctor’s appointment, but he hasn’t replied. I’m guessing he’s still angry with me after our argument in the caf?. So here I am, waiting to see the doctor and secretly expecting to be told some devastating news when I go in. Sitting opposite me is a very tired-looking mum, trying to contain her very excited toddler. He seems intent on running around the waiting room making aeroplane noises, while she tries to tempt him to sit down with various books and toys. I chuckle as she tries and fails to lift him onto the squishy brown seat. She looks up and flashes me a weary smile. ‘There’s no tiring him out,’ she says, rubbing her tired eyes. ‘I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in three years!’ A feeling of panic runs through me; is this what motherhood is really like? No sleep and trying to entertain a kid intent on pretending to be various modes of transport? ‘He’s … full of beans!’ I reply with a nervous chuckle. ‘What’s his name?’ ‘Max.’ The woman manages to scoop her son up into her arms as he giggles into her neck. ‘He’s a handful sometimes, but I wouldn’t be without him now. We’re here because I’ve just found out he’s going to have a little brother or sister next year!’ ‘Oh congratulations!’ I say, feeling my anxiety ease off a little. ‘I’ve … actually just found out I’m pregnant too. My first.’ I give my stomach a fond pat and my waiting room buddy smiles, finally succeeding in getting Max interested in a book about giraffes. ‘Congratulations,’ she replies. ‘It’s a huge adventure, although it’s pretty scary to start off with. When I found out I was pregnant with Max, my first thought was “oh my god, how am I going to look after this tiny person?” But after he was born, maternal instinct just kind of kicked in. It was hard at first, but after a while everything becomes second nature. I’m Eve, by the way.’ ‘Nice to meet you, Eve; I’m Cleo.’ I smile and reach over to shake her hand. ‘Is anyone coming to your appointment with you?’ She gazes around the waiting room, looking for anyone I might’ve arrived with. My heart sinks a little as I realise I’m about to do something so huge by myself. It’s definitely not how I saw things happening. ‘Um … no,’ I reply with a sad smile. ‘No, I’m on my own today.’ Eve’s smile fades. ‘Oh no, I’m sorry. It can be a little bit daunting coming to these things by yourself. My partner Paul’s at work today, which is why I’ve got Max tagging along with me!’ I swallow the lump in my throat and do my best to hold myself together. I can’t help but feel a teeny bit envious that Eve has a loving partner to support her through her pregnancy. I have a fantastic support unit of my own of course, but I can’t help wishing I had someone to go on the journey with me. ‘It’s … erm … it’s complicated,’ I say, knowing that’ll probably raise a lot more questions. ‘Everything’s fine though; I’ve got my mum and my best friend. They just can’t be here today.’ A set of footsteps to my right distracts my focus from the conversation. I turn to see who they belong to, and my heart leaps into my mouth within seconds. Scott. ‘I’m not too late, am I?’ he says, running a hand through his hair. I stand up, without really knowing why, and all the other patients turn to look at me. Fab, I say to myself, I’ve turned the doctor’s waiting room into an episode of Days of Our Lives. All we need now is Doctor Drake Ramoray to make an appearance. ‘Um … no, you’re not too late,’ I say, sweeping some hair away from my face. ‘You got my text then?’ He nods and takes a few steps towards me. ‘I was quite surprised to hear from you, to be honest. I didn’t think you’d want me here after what happened when we last saw each other.’ I look into his huge brown eyes and feel my heart skip a beat. I curse myself for still reacting to him – not exactly ideal when we’ve split up. ‘This is your baby too, Scott. I didn’t want you to miss the first doctor’s appointment.’ I pause for a second before continuing. ‘I’m … I’m glad you’re here.’ We exchange weak smiles, before Doctor Maxwell steps into the waiting room. ‘Cleopatra Jones?’ she says, looking around the room for me. I cringe at hearing my full name and hear Scott give a soft chuckle; he knows how much I hate it. ‘That’s me,’ I say, stepping forward. ‘And it’s just Cleo.’ ‘No problem. Are you ready to come through?’ Doctor Maxwell asks. Scott and I look at each other for a moment. We don’t need words to communicate how we’re feeling, our fear is written all over our faces. ‘Yes,’ I reply. ‘We’re ready.’ * The doctor’s appointment goes a lot better than I expected, even if it became a bit intrusive at times. I take the opportunity to ask lots of questions, including whether my previous experience with an eating disorder will affect the baby at all. ‘If you feel like you’d benefit from support and counselling through your pregnancy, we can arrange that for you,’ Doctor Maxwell explains. I feel some tension release from my body when I hear that; one of my biggest fears has just been laid to rest. Scott runs a hand across his face and takes a deep breath. It’s only then that I notice just how tired he is. He looks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders and I feel a pang of sympathy for him. ‘Thanks,’ I say, wanting to break up the awkward silence. ‘I’ll definitely think about it.’ ‘Have you got any idea when the twelve-week scan will be?’ Scott asks, his voice laced with exhaustion. ‘I want to make sure I don’t miss it.’ ‘I’ll get you referred to the maternity unit at the hospital as soon as possible,’ she replies. ‘There’s usually what we call a booking appointment first, where you meet your midwife and have a good chat about the pregnancy. It’s definitely an experience you won’t want to miss!’ From the mildly horrified look on Scott’s face, I can tell he’d rather be eaten alive by a pack of wolves. Still, he’s here, no matter how scared he might be. I try to ignore the butterflies releasing themselves into my stomach. It’s obviously the baby … isn’t it? Chapter Four (#ulink_b15b1ec9-00e9-5ebc-b3eb-854e2294ab1f) As luck would have it, we don’t have to wait long for our first appointment with a midwife. A couple of days after seeing Doctor Maxwell, Scott and I are at the hospital to meet the person who’ll be guiding us through the next six months. ‘Nervous?’ he asks, casting me a sideways glance. I grimace. ‘A little bit, what about you?’ He swallows hard but styles it out with an easy smile. ‘Weirdly yeah, but I don’t know why! I did some reading on the internet and we’re basically just going to be chatting about things like birth plans and prenatal care.’ I stifle a giggle. ‘Well, aren’t you just a big pregnancy encyclopaedia!’ He blushes. ‘Don’t laugh at me, I wanted to be prepared! I’ve got no experience of this stuff, so I didn’t know what to expect.’ ‘Well you know at the twenty-week scan, they beam me up to the mother ship and start the experiments,’ I joke. He gives my arm a playful push. ‘Very funny! Don’t pretend you haven’t been reading up on stuff too.’ It’s my turn to blush. ‘I started looking stuff up online yesterday, but I scared myself too much. Reading articles on pre-eclampsia and placenta praevia isn’t a great idea!’ ‘Reminds me of when you used that online symptom checker and it said you probably had malaria!’ He laughs. ‘I told my mum about the baby. She called me a “silly boy” when I told her we weren’t together anymore, but she’s pretty excited about the whole thing.’ I try not to make my relief too visible. Some people find my mum scary – which, sometimes, she is – but she has nothing on Scott’s mum. Although she’s been nothing but lovely to me the handful of times I’ve met her, I’m petrified of the woman. She’s also married to a very rich man, so I’m fairly sure she has the means to get rid of me if she wants. A door to my right opens and a friendly-looking woman steps into the waiting room. ‘Cleopatra Jones?’ There’s something about the kindness in the woman’s face that doesn’t make me cringe when I hear my full name. Scott and I stand up and she turns to face us. ‘That’s me!’ I say with a wave. ‘My name’s Lisa,’ the woman replies. ‘If you’d like to follow me, we’ll go through and get started.’ We follow her to a bright, sunny consulting room and sit down opposite her at a large desk. On the far wall, there’s a bed surrounded by a curtain that I really hope I don’t need to use today. ‘Don’t look so nervous,’ Lisa says with a reassuring smile. ‘We’re just going to have a chat about your pregnancy today, and things like where you might want to have the baby.’ ‘Hospital is obviously the best choice,’ Scott says almost straight away. ‘There’s access to equipment, pain relief, medical professionals if something goes wrong. It’s a no-brainer.’ I fold my arms and glare at him. This big pregnancy encyclopaedia thing could get annoying very quickly if he keeps this up. ‘Actually,’ I say, trying to keep my voice calm and even. ‘I wouldn’t mind hearing about some of the other options.’ He frowns. ‘Like what, giving birth in a box under the stairs like a cat?’ Luckily for him, Lisa decides to interject. ‘There are lots of other birthing options if you don’t want to be here in the hospital. There’s a birthing centre not too far from here that specialises in water births, for example.’ Scott scoffs, but I cut in before he can voice his objections. ‘I’d like to know more about water births. I’ve heard it’s a really relaxing way to bring the baby into the world.’ Out the corner of my eye, I can see him fold his arms and shake his head. He’s muttering under his breath, but I’m not paying any attention to him. Lisa’s grin broadens. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s enjoying him being so uncomfortable. ‘A lot of women find them really beneficial. The water provides good pain relief and an informal environment to give birth in. I’ve got a leaflet here if you want to look at it?’ Scott decides he can’t help himself anymore and sits forward. ‘An informal environment is all well and good, but what if something goes wrong? Say a problem develops and we need a medical team. What happens then?’ I grit my teeth. ‘We won’t need anything, Scott. I’m the one who’s going to be giving birth, so maybe I should be the one asking the questions.’ He takes note of my tone and frowns. I give him a look that suggests we’ll be having words when this appointment’s over, so he should brace himself. ‘I’ll take that leaflet on water births, thanks,’ I say with a sweet smile. * We leave after a huge discussion on everything baby-related and booking the sixteen and twenty-week appointments. I make Lisa aware of my struggles with bulimia and body dysmorphia and she mentions that there’s counselling available if I want it. She checks my weight and measures my BMI to put it on my file. It’s a pretty special moment to hear I’m in a healthy range for both, but I manage to hold back my tears. Scott, meanwhile, apparently has opinions on breastfeeding (‘it’s the only choice, Cleo!’), antenatal classes (‘we should start them as soon as possible’) and pain relief options (‘the stronger the better’). He apparently didn’t learn his lesson during the water birth discussion. By the time the appointment’s finished, I could quite happily strangle him. ‘You just had to jump in at every opportunity, didn’t you?’ I shout as we head to his car. I’m so angry I almost drop my pregnancy notes in a puddle. ‘I know you’ve been doing a lot of reading Scott, but you need to rein it in! And don’t dismiss water births altogether either, I’m seriously considering one.’ ‘I don’t want my baby to be born in a paddling pool with no medical help!’ he argues. ‘And I’m sorry for getting a bit overexcited, but I’m not sorry for caring about you and the baby. This is a huge deal for me, Cleo, and maybe I went overboard today but it’s only because I want to make sure everything goes smoothly. I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to either of you.’ I take a deep breath and look at him. ‘Nothing’s going to, trust me. Even if I decide to have a water birth, that doesn’t mean something’s going to go wrong. And if it does, the hospital’s really near the birthing centre; they can have me here in five minutes if they need to. I get that this is all new and exciting and a bit scary, but please try and relax. I know you’ve been doing your research, and that’s great, but just try and hold back with the outbursts for a bit, OK?’ Scott nods, digging his hands into his pockets. ‘I can do that. It was a lot to take in today, wasn’t it? I still can’t quite believe this is happening.’ ‘You’re telling me,’ I reply, running my hands through my hair. ‘It still hasn’t quite sunk in yet. Listen, Scott … thanks for being here today. With everything that’s been going on with us, I was scared I’d end up going to these appointments by myself and … well, it meant a lot that you were there.’ We stop and face each other for a moment, forgetting we’re standing in the middle of the hospital car park. ‘I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,’ he says. His eyes are soft and I’m reminded of just how gorgeous they are. ‘Cleo … no matter what happens with us, you’ll never be alone in this. I promise.’ He reaches for my hand and gives it an affectionate squeeze. I feel myself melt a little as I remember how it used to be between us: the intimacy, the friendship, the trust. For a brief second, I can’t remember what drove us apart … Until his phone goes off. He sighs and fishes it out of his jeans pocket. I catch a glimpse of the name on the screen: Kayleigh. ‘Who’s that?’ I ask. ‘Oh, she’s just a new client, that’s all,’ Scott replies. ‘She’s just texting to book her next session with me.’ ‘Your clients don’t usually text you, do they?’ I say, trying not to sound like I’m being nosy even though I am. ‘They usually book their next session with you after they’ve finished their latest one.’ He nods and shrugs. ‘Yeah, usually but Kayleigh and I swapped numbers because her workload can be a bit unpredictable sometimes. She finds it easier to book by text when she knows what day she can do.’ Seconds later, his phone goes off again and he bursts out laughing when he reads his new text. My hackles rise, although I’m not sure why. ‘Something funny?’ I try to keep any trace of annoyance out of my voice. He shakes his head. ‘Nothing, Kayleigh just sent me a funny video of a dog on a skateboard.’ Well, isn’t Kayleigh a hoot? I grit my teeth and consider asking him to let me see it – I need all the laughs I can get right now, after all – but decide not to. Something about Scott’s new gal pal has me riled, although I’m not sure what it is. Maybe it’s the dopey grin currently plastered to his face as he gazes at his phone, or the pregnancy hormones coursing through my veins but, whatever it is, I’m angry. ‘Isn’t that nice?’ I reply, my voice laced with barely concealed venom. ‘Anyway, I’d better get going. Lots to do and all that.’ I start to walk away and hear Scott jogging to catch up with me. ‘Is everything OK?’ he asks. ‘I mean, you’re not … jealous of Kayleigh, are you? She’s just a client.’ I splutter out an incoherent reply and fold my arms across my chest. ‘Of course I’m not jealous! We’re not together Scott, and we haven’t been for a while. You can see who you like whenever you like. It doesn’t affect me.’ ‘Look, I can see you’re clearly upset about it. Plus you’re having my baby, so who I see does affect you, whether you want to admit it or not.’ ‘OK, you’re right about that,’ I admit. ‘But I’m not jealous. I meant what I said, we’ve been broken up for over a year now and it’s not looking likely that we’ll get back together. It’s just …weird for me to think of you with someone else, that’s all.’ ‘Well it won’t be happening any time soon,’ he assures me. His eyes fall away from me and I can see hurt cross his face. ‘Do you really think there’s no chance of us getting back together?’ The words are so quiet I can barely hear them. ‘Scott, you left me. I didn’t want us to break up; you were the one who said you were going, with or without me. You knew I didn’t want to leave everything we had here, and that we’d have to break up if you went by yourself. I’m sorry, but I don’t see a way back for us.’ He sighs and throws his hands up in the air. ‘Cleo, I know I made a mistake. There wasn’t a day I was in Australia that I didn’t think of you and how much I wished I’d stayed. I want to make it up to you, but you won’t let me! You know, sometimes I think you were waiting for something bad to happen with us. You still see yourself as that shy, anxious girl who was afraid to be a part of the world, don’t you? You still don’t believe that anyone could really love you enough to want to stick around.’ Those words stop me in my tracks. I feel as though someone’s slapped me in the face as I turn around to face him, praying the tears don’t decide to come right now. ‘Well you didn’t, did you?’ I whisper. ‘You just keep on leaving me; first to go to Australia, then you did it again after we spent the night together. I let you love me, I trusted you, and you fucked it up twice. Not me, you. So spare me the armchair psychology, Scott. I’ve got bigger things to worry about right now, like having our baby.’ Before we can snipe at each other anymore, I spin on my heel and stalk across the car park. Scott calls after me to come back so he can explain, but I ignore him. There’s nothing he can say that I’ll want to hear. I curse myself for nearly getting lost in the moment when he took my hand. That certainly won’t be happening again. * When I get back to my cottage, I flop onto the couch and burst into tears. Bloody pregnancy hormones. I can’t get the idea of Scott cosying up to his new client out of my mind, no matter how hard I try, and I can’t help feeling like I’m going to be the one holding the baby. He’ll be way too busy gallivanting around with his stunning new girlfriend to bother with me and the baby. And what happens if he decides he wants to leave again? Maybe he’ll want to seek out a new adventure in America or go back to Australia? What will happen with the baby then? I hate the thought of him or her growing up without a dad because he’s too busy chasing dreams round the world. I look down at my stomach and pat it. ‘I’m afraid it’s just you and me, kid. We’ll have to be our own little team since Daddy might not be around much.’ How has it come to this, I wonder. How have I ended up alone in my cottage, talking to my unborn baby who, according to Doctor Maxwell, is barely the size of a kumquat? I let my head flop back against the couch as I try to remember the time where my life made sense. In just a few days, my tidy little world has been turned completely upside down and will never be the same again. I head to the kitchen to see if there’s any chicken paella left in the fridge, but my hand falls away from the handle when I see what’s pinned to the door. My bucket list. My wildest dreams, all in one place. I slip it out of its magnetic holder and can’t resist a smile. Quite a few of the items are ticked off: conquer my body issues, learn a new language, figure out what I really want to do with my life. My eyes drift to the last item – let myself fall in love – and my heart sinks. I ticked it off with unreserved glee when Scott and I finally got together, all the while thinking ‘aren’t I a lucky so-and-so?’ If only I could’ve seen what was around the corner … I neglected my bucket list for a while before my break-up. As I slipped into comfortable domesticity with Scott, my wildest dreams sort of fell by the wayside. Not forgotten exactly, just put on hold in favour of ‘living in the moment’ with my apparently perfect boyfriend. The remaining items – ridiculously exotic holiday, zorbing, getting a tattoo – can’t exactly be tackled right now, since I’ve got the baby to think of. Slipping into a giant plastic sphere and rolling down a hill doesn’t go well with being nearly three months pregnant. Nevertheless, since I became a single lady again, I’ve made a real effort to tick off the remaining items. It might be almost time to make a whole new list, filled with a whole host of other challenges to complete. If I do, will I be able to fit them in around my new and very unexpected adventure? Can I be Cleo the dreamer and Cleo the mum too? ‘Only me!’ A very familiar voice rings through from the hall. Oh great, just what I need: an impromptu visit from my mother. ‘I’m in the kitchen!’ I say, heaving a weary sigh. After the day I’ve had, I really can’t face my mum picking over every decision I’ve ever made. She’s not as bad as she used to be, luckily, but still has her moments. ‘Oh Cleo, you look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards! Please tell me you didn’t go out in public like that,’ she says, throwing her bag on the counter and coming over to fix my hair. ‘It’s a messy bun, Mum! Please, just leave it eh?’ I jerk my head away from her grasp and put my bun back to normal. She fixes me with a suspicious stare, folding her arms and narrowing her eyes. ‘Where were you off to so early this morning anyway? And you’ve got your black blazer on; you usually only wear that when you’ve got an interview.’ My brain makes frantic scrambles as it tries to find a valid excuse. I can’t tell her where I’ve really been; I’m just not ready yet. Think Cleo, think! ‘I was … erm … I was …’ I’m quite literally saved by the bell. As I make a mad dash down the hall to see who’s at the door, I breathe a huge sigh of relief. I’ve never been so grateful for a well-timed distraction. I throw open the door and Scott barges in without so much as a casual hello. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ I ask, not entirely sure I want to know the answer. ‘Well, we didn’t exactly leave things on good terms this morning, did we? Not after you stormed off again!’ he shouts. My eyes dart to the kitchen and I cross my fingers that Mum hasn’t heard the commotion just yet. That’s the last thing I need today. ‘Please Scott, keep your voice down,’ I whisper pleadingly. ‘No, I won’t keep my bloody voice down! For the last eight weeks, you’ve pushed me away and I’ve had enough, Cleo! I’m going to tell you exactly why I left you the morning after we spent the night together and we’re finally going to clear the air about Australia too. Maybe then we can find a way to move forward. If you don’t like what I have to say then I’ll leave, but at least listen to me.’ I can hear some footsteps coming from the kitchen. It’s my very own Jaws theme tune; my mum’s getting closer. ‘Scott, look—’ ‘No Cleo, we have to find some way of clearing the air between us. It’s not just about us anymore, is it? In six months, we’re going to be parents and if we can’t be around each other, it’s the baby who’ll lose out. I don’t want to miss out on being part of my child’s life.’ ‘And what baby would that be, Cleopatra?’ Any hope I had of stopping my mum from finding out about the baby is well and truly gone. I shoot Scott a murderous glare, then turn around to face the music. ‘Mum … I’m pregnant. Ten weeks, and Scott’s the father. We … spent the night together after he got back from Australia, but we aren’t getting back together.’ An eerie silence falls over my cottage as I wait for someone, anyone to react. Mum stares right at me, looking like she’s about to pass out, and Scott doesn’t know where to put himself. ‘I …’ Mum swallows and pauses as she clutches her chest. Her skin is the colour of chalk and she grabs onto the kitchen doorframe. Scott and I exchange worried looks. ‘Mum, are you OK?’ I ask. ‘Scott, run and get her a glass of water please.’ He dashes off towards the kitchen while I try to manoeuvre Mum into the living room to sit down. It’s no mean feat doing it on my own, but I eventually manage it. Her head sinks forward and she covers her face with her hands. A strange noise follows, one that sounds like a cat having its tail stood on. I back away towards the door to give her some space, not wanting to startle her by getting too close. Scott returns a few seconds later with the glass of water. ‘Is she OK?’ he whispers. ‘Has she said anything? That noise doesn’t sound good.’ I shake my head. ‘No, she’s just sort of … sitting there, really. Do you think she needs to see a doctor?’ He shrugs. ‘I don’t know, I’ve never seen her like this before.’ He turns to look at me. ‘You know, it’s kind of funny, isn’t it? It’s taken your mum having a meltdown for us to be civil to one another.’ I chuckle and nod in agreement. ‘Yeah, we were at each other’s throats a minute ago, and now we’re trying to work out if my mum’s been possessed or not! Should I go up to her, maybe give her a hug?’ Scott frowns as he observes her. ‘No, stay back for a minute. She might lash out or something and I don’t want her hurting you.’ ‘I can hear, you know!’ she yells from the sofa. ‘I might be in shock, but I haven’t gone deaf!’ I breathe a sigh of relief. ‘Are you OK, Mum? Do you want a cup of tea or something?’ She looks up at me and I can see tears shining in her eyes. ‘What I want is for you to sit down and tell me how you’ve made such a God-awful mess of your life. But a cup of tea wouldn’t go amiss either, I suppose.’ I look at Scott, who nods and slopes back off to the kitchen. I perch myself on the edge of an armchair and prepare for a medley of ‘how could you? What will people think?’ Maybe there’ll even be a special encore performance of her favourite number, ‘you’re a bitter, crushing disappointment’. ‘So …’ Mum trails off for a moment to collect herself. ‘What’s been going on, Cleopatra?’ That question is a lot harder to answer than it might sound. My mouth opens and closes as I try to work out the best way to tell her everything. Eventually, I decide there’s no way to make it sound better. I’m just going to have to come out with it and hope for the best. ‘Scott and I … we bumped into each other in the pub after he got back to Silverdale.’ I decide to gloss over the finer details for now. ‘And a few days ago, I found out I was pregnant. We’re not getting back together for the baby’s sake; in fact, we haven’t really decided what we’re doing yet. But we’ll figure it out, OK? And you’ll be an awesome grandma!’ Scott comes back, carrying two cups of tea. He hands one to me and puts my mum’s on the coffee table. ‘She’s right,’ he replies. ‘The baby will be lucky to have you as a grandma.’ Mum’s head snaps up and I can see a murderous glare on her face. ‘Under no circumstances will I be called grandma! The baby can call me Nina, since that’s my name.’ Scott and I burst into fits of giggles and as the heavy atmosphere disperses, I finally feel that everything might be alright after all. Chapter Five (#ulink_0de1deed-c5d0-5fb3-9954-4a14b3d4887f) Walking into the community centre to do my first Carb Counters meeting as a pregnant woman is a strange experience. Although nothing is actually different – apart from finding out about the baby, that is – it feels like everything has changed. As I go through the motions of setting the tables and chairs out, I’m all too aware that I’m not strictly alone. Although the baby’s still tiny, I can’t help but notice its presence. The nausea hasn’t let up much in the last few days and, at Scott’s insistence, I’ve enlisted Emma to do tonight’s workout session. ‘Well, what do you think?’ I turn my head just in time to see her burst onto the stage in brightly coloured workout gear. She’s also crimped her hair for the occasion. ‘I think eighties Olivia Newton-John has nothing on you right now,’ I reply with a grin. ‘What have you got planned for the group tonight then?’ Emma picks up her phone and waves it at me. ‘Tonight, we’re going to have a dance workout to the best eighties playlist the internet has to offer! How does that sound?’ ‘It sounds like they’re in for a treat! I’ll be sitting at the side, singing along badly to the music. Scott doesn’t think high-intensity exercise is a good idea right now.’ I heave a sad little sigh. Emma jumps down from the stage and comes over to give me a hug. ‘I know you’d love to join in, but it’s probably best you don’t since you fainted last time. When you’ve had the baby, we’ll get our leg warmers on and strut our stuff together.’ I nod and give her a squeeze. ‘I’ll hold you to that, you know. It won’t be easy taking a back seat to the exercise portion, but at least I can still do everything else. Well, until I get to be the size of a walrus that is!’ Although it’s an offhand comment, it strikes a chord of panic in me. For the first time since discovering I was pregnant, I realise how my body’s going to change. Fear begins to curl its fingers around me, clouding my judgement and filling my head with awful thoughts. ‘Are you OK?’ Emma’s voice pulls me back to the present. ‘You looked like you were a million miles away.’ I nod my head, even though I know I’m lying. ‘Yeah,’ I say, ‘I’m absolutely fine.’ ‘Are you sure? You can tell me if you’re not. I’m going to grab Zara after the group’s finished to ask her about planning your baby shower.’ ‘No!’ I yelp. ‘I … haven’t told her yet. She doesn’t know about the baby.’ Emma’s eyes widen. ‘She’s one of your best friends, how come you haven’t told her?’ I sigh. ‘She had such a hard time last year after Craig left her, and she’s had fertility problems for a long time. I don’t want to rub my news in her face, that’s all.’ My best friend nods slowly. ‘She’d be really happy for you, you know. You should tell her.’ As she slopes off to get ready for her debut, I watch Zara chatting away with some of the other group members. In the last twelve months, I’ve watched her pick herself up, dust herself off and start a new life. She’s a completely different woman to the one I met at Carb Counters. She’s put her struggles with fertility and her marriage split behind her, and is living life to the full. Yet I know she’d kill to have what I do: a baby on the way and a man who cares about her (even if Scott and I aren’t together anymore). She’d embrace every part of pregnancy – including the not-so-nice bits – because she’s wanted it for so long. Then there’s me: I’m terrified of what the next six months will hold, especially my body going through changes I can’t control. Suddenly, I feel unbearably selfish. * The meeting goes well that night, although dark thoughts keep invading my mind. The standout slimmer is Zara, who has lost four pounds. Towards the end of the group’s sharing portion, we all stand up and give her a round of applause. ‘Thanks everyone,’ she says, wiping a couple of tears away. ‘You’re the best!’ She comes over to me as the rest of the group goes to get ready for the workout. ‘How are you?’ she asks with a sheepish grin. ‘I’m really sorry I couldn’t come to the hospital with you, and that I’ve been terrible at keeping in touch. There’s a really good reason for it, I promise.’ Part of me wants to tell Zara about the baby. She’s one of my best friends and it’s only natural that I want to tell her my news. However, I want to tread carefully; she’s struggled with her fertility for a long time, and I don’t want to come across as insensitive. ‘I’m fine,’ I reply. ‘It’s just a virus. I got some antibiotics and the doctor says I’ll be as right as rain soon.’ My guts wrench as I lie to her, but I don’t like the idea of telling her such important news in the middle of a busy slimming group. Given the turmoil she’s been through trying to have a baby, I’d much rather tell her in private. ‘Glad to hear it.’ A huge, beaming grin spreads across her pretty face and she lets out a little squeal. This is her cue that she has Big News to share. ‘So … Craig got in touch again recently.’ My heart sinks, although I try my best not to show it on my face. ‘Did he now? What did he want?’ ‘He said he misses me and wants to give things another go!’ She jumps up and down on the spot, clapping her hands and looking utterly delighted. ‘Well, that’s great.’ I try to muster up some enthusiasm, but that’s easier said than done. ‘He’s said that quite a few times over the last year or so though …’ The smile falls from Zara’s face and her jumping comes to an abrupt halt. ‘Yeah, but he means it this time. He says he’s had time to think things through and he wants a future with me, with or without kids.’ My heart aches for her; it hurts to see her swallow his lies for the umpteenth time. All I want to do is put an arm round her and make her see sense, but that strategy hasn’t had a high success rate so far. ‘Well, that’s great,’ I say, swallowing the words I really want to say. ‘I hope everything works out for you two.’ I know it probably won’t and deep down, so does Zara. But she flashes me a grateful smile and goes off to join the others for Emma’s workout, which is just about to begin. I take a seat at the side, the urge to get up and join in gnawing away at me. I’ve become so used to leading the workouts that it feels odd to hand over the reins to someone else. But as Emma takes to the stage, clad in neon pink leg warmers and a leotard, I can see she’s in her element. I know she can’t do it every week and that I’ll have to talk to my boss Claudine about my pregnancy, but for this week I’m content to watch Emma light up the stage. As Waiting for a Star to Fall by Boy Meets Girl starts up, I can’t resist a smile. I really am lucky to have a best friend like her. * The dark thoughts strike again when I’m back at home. I’m waiting for my peanut butter chicken curry to heat up in the microwave when I look down at my stomach. Although nobody else would notice it since I’m wearing a loose black vest top, I’m pretty sure I can see a tiny bump starting to form. I press a hand to it, hoping I’m wrong, and breathe a sigh of relief when it turns out to be bunched up vest material. There’s still that awful, dark fear lurking at the back of my mind, like when you think you’re about to miss a step in the dark. It’s only a matter of time before you go back to your old self, a voice in my head teases, you’ll be Chunky Monkey again in no time. I hold back tears as the cruel nickname from my teenage years resurfaces. I haven’t thought about it in so long, but now the memories seem to have returned with a vengeance. Sooner or later, my body will start to change. Everything will get bigger: my bump will grow, my ankles will swell beyond belief, and even my fingers will balloon up. I’ll be unrecognisable; what if I can’t lose the weight this time? I swat these thoughts from my mind and take my dinner through to the living room. As I sit down, I catch sight of a photo of Scott and me on the side table. We’re standing in the middle of a beautiful forest, looking like we’re in our own little bubble of bliss. He’s behind me with his arms draped lazily round my shoulders, while I’m laughing at something funny he said moments before. It’s an off-guard shot, but it’s my favourite photo of us. And just like that, a memory from that day floats to the front of my mind. A year and a half earlier … ‘Do you ever imagine what it’d be like, having a mini-me or mini-you running around?’ Scott asks, looking down at me with a dopey grin. ‘Not now obviously, but in the future.’ The question catches me off-guard in a pleasant way, but for a second I’m not sure how to answer. Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». 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