Love is a Four-Legged Word: The romantic comedy about canines, conception and fresh starts

by Michele Gorman

  This felt different.

  ‘Best not kiss,’ Scarlett warned her when they met in front of Shannon’s gallery. ‘I don’t think I’m infectious, but believe me, you don’t want what I’ve got.’

  ‘I’m just glad you’re feeling better!’ Gemma said. ‘Helloo dogs!’

  Fred and Ginger wriggled for their auntie. She was grinning like the cat that got the cream. ‘How do I look?’

  Oh, yes, she was pleased with herself all right. ‘You look fine, why?’ Scarlett examined the wool camel coat over Gemma’s dress. ‘Do you think something’s wrong?’

  Gemma laughed. ‘You and Jacob! It’s very sweet that you want to wrap me in cotton wool. Nothing’s wrong, and you don’t need to fuss over me just because I’m pregnant.’

  ‘I wasn’t,’ Scarlett said. ‘I meant do you think your outfit looks weird or something?’

  ‘No…’ Gemma stared down at herself. ‘Why, do you think my outfit looks weird?’

  Scarlett sighed. ‘I told you, you look fine. Let’s go in. Shannon’s inside already.’

  Gemma grabbed her arm. ‘What is wrong, honeypots? And don’t say nothing. I know you.’

  Scarlett looked into her sister’s worried face. You haven’t got the first idea about me, she thought bitterly. Look at you, with your glowy complexion and list of things you can’t eat now and that little baby inside you, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. You have no idea. ‘There’s nothing wrong, Gemma. I’ve just been in bed for the last week. I’m sorry if I’m not jolly enough for you at this very second.’

  Scarlett’s snarky retort seemed to satisfy her. ‘I’m sorry. Of course.’ She tucked Scarlett’s scarf into her coat collar. Scarlett pulled it out again. She wasn’t six years old. ‘We don’t have to stay out late. I’m exhausted these days anyway. This pregnancy stuff is no fun!’

  Yeah? thought Scarlett. You should try the alternative. It’s not exactly a barrel of laughs from where I’m standing.

  Something had turned sour in her when Gemma dropped the baby bomb. It wasn’t only that she wanted what Gemma had. Who hadn’t felt envy at one time or another? She coveted everything from handbags she’d spotted on the Tube to Scarlett Johansson’s cleavage. And anger, well, that was normal, too. Nobody liked being denied what she wanted.

  But this was much worse than that.

  She didn’t just want to be pregnant like Gemma. She wanted Gemma to be unpregnant. She wanted it so badly that she nearly choked on the bitterness.

  ‘Right, do me a favour,’ Gemma said, oblivious to her sister’s mental sabotage. ‘Don’t mention the pregnancy to Shannon yet. Only our nearest and dearest know.’

  Her words pricked Scarlett’s conscience. She wouldn’t wish herself on her worst enemy, let alone her sister.

  Being bed-bound for Shannon’s opening gave her the perfect excuse to see Gemma now without having to be alone with her. She just hoped she wouldn’t have to avoid her sister for the rest of her life or it might get awkward at birthdays and holidays.

  Shannon turned a deep shade of pink when she saw them. ‘You really didn’t have to come!’ she said, kissing their cheeks. If Gemma noticed that plague-ridden Scarlett let Shannon come within five feet, she didn’t say anything. ‘We could have just met at the restaurant.’

  ‘I want to see your paintings!’ Scarlett said. And she really did. Despite being friends for almost five years, she’d only seen a few of Shannon’s pieces. ‘Rufus raved about them, you know.’

  Shannon flushed deeper. ‘He was just being nice.’

  ‘I’ll be the judge of that. Let’s see them.’

  Shannon led them to the opposite side of the room. ‘They’re not square.’

  ‘Maybe not,’ Gemma said, ‘but they’re beautiful. Really, honeypots, these are so good!’

  Scarlett noticed little blue dots on some of the cards beneath. ‘Have you sold some?’

  ‘Four. Can you believe it?’

  Scarlett didn’t want to ask if they were all friends of hers, or family. Gemma saved her the trouble.

  ‘Two are anonymous!’

  Scarlett’s eyes widened. ‘It’s Mr Darcy! No, wait. Does he know you’re an artist?’

  ‘No, and nor does he know my name or that I’ve got a degree show. I think it’s unlikely to be him.’

  ‘Who, then?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. I’m just glad they’ve sold.’

  Shannon and Gemma were both on good form, but it was no use. Scarlett wasn’t enjoying the night. She was too… what was it? Sad? No. Envious? That wasn’t quite right. Pissed off. That was it.

  They hadn’t even been trying! Gemma and Jacob. Her pregnancy was an accident, like dropping a dish or stubbing a toe. No, those would be bad. As easy as walking into Selfridges just as they’re handing out free Crème de la Mer samples. Scarlett’s niece- or nephew-to-be had required no effort whatsoever.

  So why not for Scarlett? There she was after nearly a year, throwing down enough folic acid to make her baby bionic, and still weeing on sticks in vain every month.

  Shannon didn’t seem to notice Scarlett’s mood and if Gemma did, she didn’t let on. ‘It was great to have Rufus at the opening,’ Shannon said as their main courses arrived. The Italian waiter made a big show of pointing his giant pepper grinder at them. He may as well just have unzipped his flies.

  ‘You know Julian loves him,’ she continued. ‘Everybody did. Well, how could they not?’

  ‘He’s a good guy,’ murmured Scarlett. The dogs shifted under the table at her feet. The restaurant had welcomed them like long-lost friends. They even got their own bowl of spaghetti, though they were cross with Scarlett for having the waiter bring it without sauce or meatballs.

  ‘I practically had to tackle one of my classmates to keep her from taking him home,’ Shannon said.

  ‘What?’

  Her hands flew to her mouth. ‘Oh, no, that came out wrong! I didn’t mean he was flirting. Not at all! She’s the flirt. Shameless. Rufus was perfectly behaved.’

  ‘Who was this woman?’ she asked.

  ‘Honestly, Scarlett, it was nothing, I promise. I shouldn’t have said anything. I guess… I guess I just thought it’s nice to hear that another woman thinks your husband is hot, that’s all.’ She looked beseechingly at Gemma.

  ‘It is nice,’ Gemma said. ‘It’s flattering, right, Scarlett?’

  ‘Well, that depends on the circumstances. I’m not crazy about some woman throwing herself at Rufus when I’m not there. Did she know he was married?’

  Shannon nodded. ‘Oh, yeah, I made sure I told her.’

  Scarlett hesitated. ‘Rufus didn’t tell her himself?’

  ‘Scarlett!’ Gemma said. ‘You’re making a big deal out of absolutely nothing. So what if someone flirts with Rufus? He’s a big boy, right? He can handle himself. You know he’d never let anything happen.’

  Why was she coming under attack all of a sudden when Rufus was the one flirting with strange women? ‘I know he wouldn’t. That’s not the point.’

  ‘Well, what exactly is the point then, do you mind telling us? Because you’re making Shannon uncomfortable. Talk about shooting the messenger.’

  Who did Gemma think she was to tell her how to feel about her own husband? Suddenly she was the expert on marriage just because she’d fertilised an egg?

  ‘The point, Gemma, is that I can hardly get Rufus to look at me anymore, so excuse me if I’m not jumping up and down with excitement when some stranger tries to get off with him in a bar.’ She gulped the last of her wine and poured some more as Gemma and Shannon sat back in their chairs.

  ‘You have no idea what’s going on in my life, so just stop telling me what’s a big deal. You don’t get to advise on marital problems. You can’t be an expert on that and and…’ She pointed to Gemma’s midsection. ‘That.’

  Gemma shot her a warning look. ‘Don’t.’

  ‘Don’t what? Tell Shannon that you’re pregnant? She’s pregnant. Isn’t that
just great? It’s just fucking great.’

  Nobody knew what to do when Scarlett burst into tears. It wasn’t the usual reaction to your sister’s impending motherhood.

  Finally, Gemma scooted round the table to hug her sister. ‘You daft mare, what is wrong with you?’

  ‘That’s just it, I don’t know!’ she wailed. ‘I have no idea what’s wrong with me. I’m supposed to be pregnant by now. I’m supposed to be pregnant, Gemma. Not you!’

  ‘But I didn’t even know– You’ve been trying? Talk to me, Scarlett! How long?’

  Scarlett sniffed. ‘Eleven months last month.’

  ‘I should leave you two,’ Shannon said. She grabbed her scarf and started winding it round her neck. ‘This is family stuff. You’ve got things to… I’ll go.’

  ‘No!’ Scarlett said. ‘Please stay. I need you.’ That had never been truer than at that moment. She took a deep breath. ‘I need you both.’

  She wasn’t sure whether talking would make her feel better or worse, but either way, she suddenly couldn’t stop. All the hope and disappointment and worry poured out of her. She told them every last detail, from the first happy month she and Rufus started trying through to the last wee stick she’d buried in the bin. She knew the time had come to get tested, though the idea horrified her. To know for sure seemed worse. She’d rather hold that tiny sliver of hope, even if it did cut her hand when it slipped away at the end of each month.

  By the time the waiter tentatively slid the pudding menus into their huddled conversation, Scarlett was wrung out.

  ‘Right, I know I shouldn’t be angry with you,’ Gemma began.

  ‘You’re angry with me?!’

  ‘I am! Scarlett, how could you keep something like this to yourself? What on earth were you thinking, trying to go through this alone?’

  ‘I’m not alone. I’m going through it with Rufus.’ But she knew it wasn’t true as she said it. Before they started trying she’d believed he wanted a baby as much as she did. Sure, he was devastated every month when she told him they’d failed again. But he wasn’t thinking about it nearly every minute like she was. He didn’t feel sick with longing every time a woman walked past with a newborn nestled in the sling across her chest. He didn’t avoid his favourite café because the entrance was blocked with prams that he’d probably never need. And he didn’t hate every teen mum he saw with such ferocity that he sometimes had to stop himself from shouting in the stranger’s face that it wasn’t fair.

  He wasn’t the crazy one.

  ‘I think I’m infertile,’ she finally said.

  And in that second she knew it didn’t feel better talking about it. It felt like a terrible confession and there weren’t enough Our Fathers in the world to give her a resolution. Now it was out there, officially, for other people to see, so it must be true.

  Tears filled Gemma’s eyes. ‘I’m sorry I’m pregnant,’ she whispered. ‘When I think what you must have been going through when I told you. I wish I could take it back, or at least tell you in another way. I wish… It’s still early, honeypots. It might come to nothing.’

  Scarlett stared at her sister. She was forcing Gemma to wish for a miscarriage to make her happy. What kind of monster was she?

  ‘Don’t talk like that, Gemma. I want you to be pregnant.’

  She didn’t, though. God help her, she really didn’t.

  Chapter 15

  Gemma and Shannon made sure Scarlett fixed her make-up before going home. Having a breakdown in your spag bol was one thing. Looking like you had was unacceptable. Fake it till you make it, she thought again as she unlocked her front door. What was her alternative?

  ‘Have fun?’ Rufus called as the dogs ran at him. ‘How’s Gemma feeling?’

  ‘She says she’s been sick every day, but she might just be looking for sympathy. She does look tired, though.’ She threw herself down beside him.

  ‘Glass of wine?’ he offered, getting up to fetch her a glass.

  ‘Yes, please. And then I’d like us to book the Australia trip.’

  He glanced back at her, but didn’t say anything. She got her laptop from the dining table.

  The last few hours might have been a total crapfest, but at least now she knew how deep into the well of gloom she’d really sunk. It had to be worth trying anything she could to climb back out. ‘So, when shall we go?’ she asked Rufus. ‘I’ve got eight weeks of class left and then I can be free. I’ll just schedule the next round of classes for after we get back.’

  In other words, Rufus, I’m adjusting my entire business around our holiday because it’s that important.

  ‘Maybe we can go when these classes are finished?’ she prodded.

  To her surprise, he nodded. Maybe this would be easier than she’d expected. But then he said, ‘I’ll have to give the office more notice than that. What about after your next set of classes?’

  ‘But that won’t be for four months.’

  ‘I know, but you can’t go in the middle of your classes and you don’t really want to delay them by months, do you? That would mean a lot of lost income.’

  She knew he was right. She could shift her classes by a few weeks, not a few months. ‘All right, then, after the next set of classes. But we’re booking something tonight. Agreed?’

  ‘Agreed.’ He stuck out his hand to shake hers, though he wasn’t very official-looking in his tartan pyjama bottoms and pink tee shirt with the too-low neckline. ‘I’ll get my laptop so we can both look.’

  They quickly got sucked into the tour operators’ dreamy photos and lush descriptions. She started to feel better just imagining the warmth and the sea and the time away from not making a baby. That’s exactly what they needed.

  ‘There’s one other thing,’ she said later, as their two-week holiday confirmation popped up on the screen. Maybe she was feeling cocky because after months of dithering, they’d booked it in less than an hour. Or maybe she was just tipsy from the wine.

  ‘I don’t know if our credit card can handle any more,’ he said. ‘I think I hear it crying.’

  ‘The credit card is safe. This is absolutely free… well, you don’t have to give up much anyway. Just a bit of sperm.’

  A grin spread across his face. ‘That’s not the most romantic proposition I’ve ever heard, but I like where you’re going with it. Maybe we could drive back to the garage–’

  ‘I’m not talking about sex, Rufus. I mean... I’ve been thinking about the fact that I’m not pregnant yet.’ She took his hand. He always had warm hands.

  ‘I thought we were relaxing about that,’ he said. ‘You said we should stop pressurising ourselves.’

  It’s true, she had. But only because going to bed was starting to feel about as appealing as their annual dental check-ups. She hadn’t stopped worrying. Though clearly he had.

  ‘I know I said that, but the problem hasn’t gone away. Maybe we should get tested. Don’t you think it’s time? There might be something wrong.’

  He gathered her up in his arms. ‘Darlin’, just let me know when we can get an appointment and I’ll take the time off to spunk in a cup.’

  ‘You’ll do it?’

  He pulled back to look at her. ‘What a question! Why wouldn’t I?’

  ‘It’s a lot more invasive for you.’

  ‘You mean a stack of porn in the broom cupboard? I can handle it.’

  ‘Literally. Ba dum bum.’

  ‘I’m sure there’s nothing wrong,’ he whispered into her hair. ‘Sometimes it just takes longer. My boss was telling me his wife took almost three years to get pregnant. But now they’ve got a boy and a girl.’

  It hadn’t occurred to her that Rufus might be talking about it, too. What a prize prat she’d been to assume he wasn’t worried. ‘I didn’t realise that you’ve talked to people about it.’

  ‘Is that a problem?’

  She wondered if Shannon already knew. If so, she deserved a BAFTA for her dinner performance. ‘No, not at all! I’m glad you did.
Did it help? Talking to your boss, I mean?’

  ‘I think so. At least I don’t feel like we’re the only ones going through it, you know? You’re talking to Gemma too, right?’

  She nodded. ‘I told her and Shannon tonight.’

  ‘Please don’t worry, Scarlett. Even if there is some issue, which I don’t think there is, then I’m sure there’s a solution. Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it together, okay?’

  She relaxed a bit. Finally, they felt like a united front again.

  Scarlett rang their GP first thing the next morning and got an appointment for the end of the week. The GP ordered blood tests for Scarlett and a little cup for Rufus. Doing something, anything, was better than doing nothing.

  As instructed she rang the surgery a week after the tests. She steeled herself not to break down weeping over the pen and paper she clutched too tightly, and she rang. By the time she’d listened on hold to Elton John’s ‘Rocket Man' for the fourth time her tummy was in knots.

  The receptionist said the doctor wanted to see them.

  ‘Please sit down,’ the GP said that very afternoon, gesturing to the chairs in front of her desk. Her salt-and-pepper hair was pulled into a loose ponytail and her round wire-framed glasses made her look more like an art teacher than a doctor. She wasn’t their usual GP – she was probably a locum – but she had the same calm air of someone you’d want with you in a lifeboat. ‘Thank you for coming in.’

  Scarlett nearly said ‘Thank you for asking us’ before she remembered that this wasn’t a social call.

  Rufus held her hand so tightly it was cutting off her circulation.

  ‘I’m Doctor Figg. I have your test results and wanted to talk them through with you.’ She didn’t look at her screen, where Scarlett knew all the answers must be. She’d memorised them in preparation for meeting them.

  ‘I’m sorry they told you to ring for the results. I prefer to talk to the couples in person, since they’re usually concerned that there’s a problem. It’s nerve-racking to get even good news over the phone.’