She washed her face and patted it dry. She couldn’t be pregnant. It wasn’t possible. These were perimenopausal symptoms, weren’t they? She read somewhere they started at about forty-five. Except there was that night a few weeks ago, when they ended their dinner party with shots of Sambuca. She’d vomited at least twice in the night. And then… oh God, she’d forgotten to take extra precautions. Shit, shit, shit. She lifted the toilet seat and took the test out of the packet. Moments later she sat on the side of the bath and watched one, then two pink lines appear. She stood up and flicked the stick back and forth. It must be wrong. How could a stupid piece of plastic be accurate? She took the test again with the second stick. Seriously? This could not be happening. She sat on the laundry box staring at the two pink lines. James would be furious. She leaned back against the cold slab of tiles. A pain pierced between her legs. She doubled over. This didn’t feel right. She needed to see a doctor as soon as possible.
* * *
That afternoon, Kate parked at Hemel Hempstead Hospital. Her mobile phone rang, making her jump. She checked the screen before she answered.
‘Where are you?’ James asked.
‘I’m… out.’ Kate picked up a bottle of water from the passenger seat. Her appointment at the clinic was in five minutes and she still needed to work out where she was going. Her GP had sent her straight over for an early pregnancy scan because she was still bleeding. She ought to be pleased. It probably meant she was miscarrying. Babies didn’t feature anywhere in their life plan.
‘Look, I’m already on my way back—’ James said.
‘I wasn’t expecting you until this evening.’ She regretted the tone it came out in.
‘They loved our pitch and booked two events straight away, so we left early.’
Kate headed for the building across the car park.
‘Are you still there?’
‘Yes.’ Kate took a large swig of water then wished she hadn’t because it felt like it might come back up.
‘I thought we could meet for a late lunch, say three o’clock?’
Kate turned back, realising she hadn’t bought a parking ticket.
‘Where are you?’ James sounded like a sullen child.
A man stood in front of her, feeding in a pile of ten pence coins as if it were a fruit machine. James evidently thought the same.
‘Sounds like you’re in the pub already.’
‘Very funny, I’m in a car park.’ If she didn’t drink enough water, they wouldn’t see the scan clearly.
‘I can come and meet you.’
The man grinned at Kate, waving his ticket as if he’d won the jackpot. She dug into her purse for coins.
‘Look, I didn’t want to worry you, but I’m at the hospital; they’re doing a scan to check if the fibroids have grown. I’ve been bleeding. I probably didn’t say.’ She held the mobile between her shoulder and chin and fed the correct money into the slot. In all their ten years together, she’d never deliberately lied to him. Not about anything important. Except that. He mustn’t find out about any of it.
‘Will you be okay?’ He sounded worried.
‘It’ll be fine, I promise.’ She made her way across to the clinic. ‘Shall we meet at The Fishery Inn? I’ll text you when I get out of here; got to go, I’m already late.’ She switched her phone off and chucked it in her handbag.
Two nurses at the reception desk were deep in conversation. Kate banged her water bottle down in front of them a little louder than she meant to. The older of the two stopped talking, looked at the bottle over her half-moon glasses, then up at Kate. The other woman clicked her nails on the desk. Kate told them her name. The older woman asked her to go and sit in the waiting bay opposite.
Although she was the only person there, Kate still hadn’t been called after twenty minutes. By this time, she’d drunk so much water she thought her bladder would burst. Finally, a midwife with glasses hanging from her neck called her into a dimly lit room. Kate took off her coat and lay on the couch next to a trolley full of equipment and a computer screen. The midwife opened Kate’s notes and asked her to lower her trousers and lift her top up.
‘This your first?’ The midwife squirted gel onto Kate’s stomach.
Kate nodded. The midwife pressed a smooth, cold paddle down on her lower abdomen as she concentrated on the screen. She pursed her lips and pushed deeper, twisting to the left and right. Kate held her breath.
‘You’ve had some spotting?’
‘Quite a lot of blood and really painful cramps like a period.’ Surely this meant if there had been a baby it had gone.
‘Ah, here we are.’ The midwife flicked her glasses off her nose and swivelled the screen towards Kate so she could see the murky image of her womb. ‘Baby’s fine, see the heartbeat there?’
A butterfly came to life in Kate’s chest. Her mouth opened. The tiny, indistinguishable shape, the winking heartbeat at its centre, transfixed her. Her baby. Their baby. A frisson of excitement whipped through her. Not how she expected to feel at all. She never thought this was possible. How could this be happening to her? What was she going to do? This was a miracle she didn’t deserve.
‘Let me measure it for you.’ The midwife pulled the screen to the front and placed her glasses on the end of her nose, tilting her head closer to the image. ‘Seven weeks five days.’ She ripped off a piece of paper towel and wiped the gel off Kate’s stomach.
‘You can get up now,’ she said, standing up herself. She wrote in Kate’s notes on the workbench. ‘I’ll send a report to your GP and community midwife. You need to contact them if you have any further problems.’
Kate manoeuvered her legs off the bed and wondered if she could stand up without wetting herself. She tucked her top back in.
‘Is there any fresh blood when you wipe?’ the midwife asked.
‘Yes, every time.’
‘Do try not to worry.’
‘But why am I bleeding?’
‘Any number of reasons. Some women bleed throughout the pregnancy and the baby is fine.’
Kate put her coat back on. The midwife handed her the notes and showed her out, pointing to the toilet next door.
Walking back through the waiting area, Kate’s head floated in a bubble. People were talking but the sounds were muffled as though none of it was real. How was it even possible at her age? What about her career, the business, the life she’d built up from nothing? She couldn’t give it all up to be a mother. Was it possible to do both? Did she want to? But what about James, what they’d agreed? Oh God, it would be impossible to tell him. She cupped her stomach and imagined the rhythm of the baby’s heartbeat in time with her own.
In the car, her fingers hovered over the mobile. She knew what James’s reaction would be. She might still lose the baby so was there any point in telling him?
A woman pulled up next to her in a BMW soft top. Like Kate, she wore a trouser suit and heels. When she opened one of the rear doors, Kate expected her to pull out a laptop bag, but instead she lifted a toddler into her arms. The woman looked about her own age. Perhaps it was her only child, a fortunate mistake? She wanted to open her window and ask. A doctor once told her that the cut-off age for a healthy pregnancy was thirty-two. She was past that by thirteen years. More women were having them later, but it didn’t mean it was safe. Could she really go through with it? What about their perfect lives, the freedom they had? Was it possible to do it all? James would not be happy. Children had never been on the agenda and he was adamant they never would be. Was she even capable of being a good mother? She switched her mobile on bracing herself for another barrage of nasty texts, but there was nothing, thank God. She texted James to say she was on her way.
Chapter Three
James sat in their usual booth by the window overlooking the Grand Union Canal. He stood up and pulled her into his arms.
‘You’re cold,’ he said and folded his hands over hers. The blustery weather had drawn most of the leaves off the trees leaving
a slippery path up to the door. She’d narrowly avoided falling over.
‘Did it all go well?’
‘The fibroids have grown, but I’ll be fine,’ she lied, looking away as she took her coat off. ‘I’d rather spare you the details.’
‘I’ll order a bottle of white.’ James called the waiter and shifted his empty whisky glass aside.
Kate held up her hand. ‘Orange juice for me.’
‘Don’t be silly.’
‘No really, my stomach is still playing up.’
‘How about a spritzer, might settle it down?’
‘OK, but orange juice with soda, not wine. Tell me about York.’
‘Very productive. Jasmine made a big impression. Did you know she has a twelve-year-old son? Her husband works at Lola, designing racing cars.’
‘She never said.’ Kate stifled a yawn.
‘Doesn’t look old enough, does she? Anyway, I might need to go back up there next week.’
‘So soon?’
‘There are lots of potential clients for us. I can arrange for you to come with me instead? I’m sure Jasmine could fill you in on her next pitch. We could stay on for the weekend if you wanted to?’
‘I don’t know, I’ll have to see how I feel. I’d hate to go all that way and be ill.’ She certainly didn’t need the new girl telling her what to do. ‘If she’s doing a good job, let her finish it.’
James pulled one of his sour faces and went over to the bar. She gazed out of the window at the passers-by being blown along. An old lady with an umbrella was almost lifted off her feet. She hated lying to James. If she was going to have a termination she may as well have a glass of wine. But the image of the tiny heartbeat flitted through her mind. Why not just tell him?
James brought their drinks over. He pulled out two menus from under his arm.
‘Are we eating?’ He sat down.
‘You can, I’m not very hungry.’ A smear of red sauce had stuck to the back of his menu.
‘Will you share some loaded nachos?’
She shook her head.
‘That’s not like you.’
She shrugged.
James put the menu down. He stared at her as if he could read her mind. She swallowed hard and tried not to look away.
‘Seriously, what’s wrong? You’re not yourself.’
Kate let her hair fall over her face. She picked up a beer mat and peeled back the corner. James tilted his head, waiting for her reply.
‘I didn’t want to tell you—’
‘Look, whatever it is.’
She examined his face; the dark-rimmed eyes made him look tired even when he wasn’t.
‘You look upset.’ He reached across the table for her hand. ‘Has something happened?’
She couldn’t let him be executioner when she felt so unsure of what she wanted herself. She tore off the top layer of the beer mat and took a deep breath. ‘The thing is…’
He squeezed her hand gently.
She dipped her head.
‘It’s Mum. She has to go to hospital.’ Unexpected tears pricked her eyes.
‘Why? What’s wrong?’
‘She’s been having chest pains. They think it’s her heart. She’s been in for tests.’
‘She kept that quiet.’
‘Honestly, it’s way too soon after Dad.’ Kate touched her lips.
The waiter came over and asked if they were ready to order.
‘Give us a minute, please.’ James got up and crouched in front of Kate. He took her hands in his. ‘People survive these things a lot longer these days.’
‘Even in their seventies?’
‘She’s still strong.’
‘I’m not sure; she looks so frail.’
‘Hang on, this is Elizabeth we’re talking about. She survived the war and scarlet fever, remember? If anyone can get through this, it’s her.’ He sat back down.
It was true, she didn’t know anyone as resilient.
‘You’ve been getting on so much better since your dad died.’
‘Have we?’ Kate folded the serviette.
‘You don’t think so?’ James stretched his arm across the back of the chair next to him.
‘I am really trying.’ She nodded, as if she needed to convince herself.
‘That’s good then, isn’t it?’
‘I still can’t seem to do anything right.’ Kate rubbed the patches of itchy skin on her hands. ‘It’s like I’ve never been away. She’s still so distant.’
James kissed her hand. ‘It’s been twenty-odd years, give it time. You’re doing your best.’ He called the waiter over. ‘Now please eat something. How about the chicken and bacon salad?’
‘All right, but I won’t be able to eat it all.’
‘Can you do a starter portion?’ James asked.
The waiter nodded and scribbled on his pad.
‘And I’ll have the steak and ale pie.’ The waiter wrote it down and went across to another table.
‘So, everything went well at the event?’ James asked.
‘Better than we expected. They rebooked for next year.’
‘That’s brilliant. You’ve got the golden touch. I told you they’d be blown away with your treasure hunt idea.’
Kate smiled.
‘I have some even better news.’ He slapped the table. ‘Fearsome Events is up for Best Enterprising Business at the Hemel Business Awards.’
‘You’re joking? Have you told the guys in the office?’
‘Not yet, I wanted you to know first. And my darling,’ he reached over and put his hand on top of hers, ‘you are on the longlist for Business Woman of the Year.’
Kate dropped back in her chair, pressing her hand to her chest. She could hardly believe it. The news she’d hoped for.
‘If anyone deserves to win, it’s you.’ He jabbed the table with his finger.
But Kate’s smile slipped as an unexpected hollowness gripped her. So much had changed in the last few months: her dad passing away, her mother becoming ill and now she was pregnant at forty-five.
‘We should celebrate. Have something stronger, it’ll make you feel better.’
‘No, really, not today.’
‘A G&T?’ He stood up.
‘Sparkling water will be fine, thanks.’
‘Suit yourself.’
Kate watched him saunter over to the bar. He was almost indistinguishable lined up next to the other suited drinkers, puffing their chests out, laughing at their own jokes. His confidence had attracted Kate from the moment she met him. It was twelve years ago that he’d been brought into her office in central London as a contractor to shake things up, and he certainly did that. He knew what he wanted in life and he worked hard to get it. They got on immediately and worked well together. He already had ambitions to start his own corporate event business and, not long after they started dating, he invited her on board as an equal partner. She’d been flattered, excited to join him. They’d been married ten years, both happily childless until now.
‘Did you check the diary for the last weekend of the month?’ he asked when he came back with the drinks.
‘I promised to go over to Mum’s. She wants me to finish clearing out the last of Dad’s things.’
‘Does it have to be done then?’
‘You know what she’s like once she’s made her mind up.’
‘We could do some early Christmas shopping, visit a couple of museums.’
‘I’ll speak to her about going over next weekend instead, assuming I feel better.’
‘Okay, don’t worry if you can’t, it can wait.’
‘Mum won’t do any of it herself. It’s just so difficult and she’s bound to find some excuse to start on me.’
‘Elizabeth doesn’t need a reason.’
The waiter arrived with their food. James ordered another glass of wine.
‘Oh, I forgot to tell you, Susie and Harry want to talk to us on Saturday about being Lily’s godparents. It would be rude not to.’
James groaned. ‘Babies, kids – it’s not us though, is it?’
Kate stared at her salad. The edges of the lettuce were brown. She pushed her plate away. He was right, of course, babies didn’t fit in with their image, their lifestyle. They’d been careful about that.
‘But Susie is one of your oldest friends.’
He put his knife and fork down with a clang.
How could she persuade him? An advert for a holiday in Cyprus came up on the screen behind him. It showed a bronzed couple sitting on a beach while their children paddled in the water. Kate tried to picture them doing the same one day, but was it really them? Maybe she was kidding herself.
James scraped his plate clean with a crust of bread while his jaw worked on a mouthful of steak. When he was cross, he looked so much older. He’d be off to bed as soon as they got home.
‘Aren’t you going to touch that?’ James pushed a fork into a fatty chunk of bacon on her plate.
‘It doesn’t look very fresh.’
‘It tastes rank.’ He took the plate with him to the till for a refund.
Kate pulled her coat on and waited for him at the door. She let her hand rest on her invisible bump, feeling oddly protective over the life growing there. Her mobile beeped and a message popped up from the same number as earlier.
I’ve sent you a note with instructions on where to transfer the cash to. Make sure you follow them.
Shit, did he know her home address?
‘Who’s that?’ James pushed the door open as a gust of wind blew an empty plastic bottle rattling down the pavement.
‘No one important.’
But blood pulsed in Kate’s ears. Why was he coming after her now, and what did he really want?
Chapter Four
When Kate arrived the following day, her mother already had her coat on.
‘It’s colder in here than outside. Don’t you ever put the heating on?’ Kate asked.
Elizabeth ignored her and shuffled through a pile of unopened post on the telephone table. ‘This came for you yesterday.’
Kate took the tatty envelope. Her stomach dipped and rose like a bouncing ball. She’d recognise the handwriting anywhere; always in capital letters, shouting at her.
A Mother Like You Page 2