by Kate Hardy
Maybe it was because she’d started her new relationship with Daniel. Even though she was happy and enjoying it, subconsciously she could be worrying and the stress had affected her cycle.
Though the fact that she was mentally going through every single medical reason—except the most likely—was telling in itself, she thought grimly. She and Daniel had been careful about contraception to the point of being paranoid, but there was only one method that was one hundred per cent guaranteed. Abstinence. A method they most definitely hadn’t used.
There was only one way to settle things. And there was no way she could go to Cornwall with Daniel for a long weekend without knowing the truth. She glanced at her watch. She had an hour until he was due to pick her up. Which gave her enough time to nip out to the supermarket, buy a pregnancy test and use it.
She downed a large glass of water, then headed out. Actually going to the shop and buying the test was a blur. But then she was in her bathroom, doing the test. Peeing on the stick. Waiting for the test to work.
The last time she’d done this, she’d waited so hopefully and happily, praying that it would be positive. She’d been thrilled to see the second line on the screen, a nice clear stripe that said she was definitely pregnant. She’d cried with joy when she’d walked out of the bathroom to tell Oliver the news.
This time, she was filled with panic. She couldn’t be pregnant. She and Daniel were still in the early stages of their relationship. Daniel had Iain to think about. And her pregnancy last time had ended in utter heartbreak. Yes, people said that lightning didn’t strike twice, but it did. There were trees on the estate back at Beresford that been hit three times. Supposed it happened again? What if she was involved in another car accident that meant her bump hit the steering wheel and caused an abruption? What if she had a spontaneous abruption? What if? What if?
The panic spiralled tighter in her head.
One line. The test was working.
Please don’t let there be a second. Please.
This was the only test they’d had in the nearest shop. An old-fashioned one. Why hadn’t she gone somewhere else and bought a different one, the sort that actually said the word pregnant in clear letters so there could be no doubt about it, no possibility that the line was so faint she could kid herself it wasn’t there?
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Please let the test be negative. Please.
And what if it was positive? How would Daniel react? Two weeks ago, he’d reacted badly to Jenny’s news, worrying that she would have postnatal depression again and Iain would get hurt. With Beatrice’s own history of mental health, there was a high chance that she would be affected by postnatal depression. Daniel’s worst nightmare, repeated all over again.
He was a good man. She knew he’d try his best to support her.
But if it was a question of supporting her or protecting Iain, there was only one choice he could make. Walk away.
She wrapped her arms round herself, shivering despite the warmth of the day. Right now, she was panicking too much to think clearly. She couldn’t answer any of her own questions; all she could do was worry. Wait. Rinse and repeat.
She opened her eyes and stared at the test.
Two lines.
Positive.
She was pregnant.
What the hell was she going to do?
She couldn’t go to Cornwall with Daniel today, that much was clear. OK, so she knew the truth now, but she needed time to process it. To work out how she felt, what she wanted to do—and how she was going to break the news to Daniel.
She glanced at her watch.
Half an hour until he was due to pick her up.
That wasn’t enough time for her to get her head together. She needed space. And there was only one place she wanted to be right now.
She was already packed for the weekend, so all she had to do was to lock her front door and sling her bag in the back of her car.
And then she sat in the driver’s seat with the engine still turned off and her mobile phone in her hand.
Knowing she was being an utter coward, but unable to think clearly enough to find a better solution, panicking as the seconds ticked by faster and faster, she tapped out a text to Daniel.
Sorry. Can’t make Cornwall. Will call you later.
She pressed ‘send’, then switched off her phone, turned the key in the ignition, and drove away.
CHAPTER NINE
‘BYE, DARLING. HAVE a lovely time at the seaside with Mummy and Jordan,’ Daniel said, kissing his son goodbye.
Even though he knew their son would be perfectly safe with Jenny, that Jordan treated Iain as if he were his own flesh and blood, and Daniel himself had plans for a romantic weekend away with Beatrice, it was still a wrench to say goodbye to Iain. And Daniel lingered for a last glance of his boy as Iain trotted in through his classroom door, chattering away to his friends.
He walked back to his flat to pick up his car, then drove to Beatrice’s. Funny, this weekend had been a last-minute decision, but everything had worked out perfectly. And he was really looking forward to spending time with Beatrice. Walking hand in hand with her at the edge of the sea in starlight.
It felt as if they’d known each other for much longer than two months. And it was years since he’d felt this light of spirit. He liked just being with her; she made the world feel full of sunshine.
Iain adored her, too. A couple of times over half term, Beatrice had met them after an early shift and they’d gone to the park and then out for pizza. And there had been a Sunday morning where Beatrice had refused to tell them where they were going, claiming it was a surprise, and then had presented them with tickets for the children’s show at the Planetarium in Greenwich. Iain had been ecstatic—he loved outer space as much as he loved football—and he’d held Beatrice’s hand all the way through the show and chattered excitedly to her over lunch about the stars and the planets and the big bear in the sky. She’d been patient with him and helped him draw pictures of constellations that he’d taken into school the next day for show and tell. And when Daniel watched them together he was pretty sure that Iain’s feelings towards Beatrice were very much mutual.
They’d insisted that Beatrice was just Dad’s friend from work, including when Susan had joined them for pizza. But Daniel’s mother had said quietly to him afterwards, ‘You don’t look at each other like friends.’
No. If he was honest with himself, Daniel didn’t think of her as just a friend. But he wasn’t ready to declare himself just yet. It was still early days. They were taking things slowly, carefully; they’d both been through a lot in the past, and there was Iain to consider. But he was really looking forward to spending the whole weekend with her.
On the way to Beatrice’s, his phone pinged to signal an incoming text. Probably something last-minute from Jenny or his mother, he thought. He’d pick up the message later.
But, when he got to Beatrice’s, her car wasn’t parked where it usually was. And when he rang her doorbell there was no answer.
Maybe she’d nipped to the shop for something she’d forgotten. Though the woman he worked with in the Emergency Department was incredibly organised, and he couldn’t imagine her forgetting anything or running out of anything. Maybe that text was from her, then, to warn him that she’d had to go out briefly and would be back any second. He took his phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen.
The message was indeed from Beatrice, but it was the last thing he’d expected.
Sorry. Can’t make Cornwall. Will call you later.
What did she mean, she couldn’t make Cornwall? They’d planned the trip together. He’d found a gorgeous hotel situated right next to a beach. They were going to paddle in the sea, walk for miles on the sand, and eat way too many scones with jam and clotted cream.
The only thing he could think of was that th
ere had been an emergency in her family. A sudden illness, perhaps, or an accident. But surely she would’ve called him on her way out, or at least added a couple of words of explanation of her text? Beatrice was a very clear communicator at work; in the emergency room, everyone knew exactly what their role was and what she expected of them. This text raised way more questions than it answered—and it wasn’t like the woman he’d got to know over the last couple of months.
It didn’t make sense.
Frowning, he called her.
‘The number you are calling is not contactable. Please try later or send a text,’ a recorded voice informed him, and he cut the connection.
They were in London, so it was unlikely that she was out of signal range; and, like him, if she was driving she connected her phone to the car’s hands-free system. For that voicemail message to kick in, she must have switched off her phone. Given that she must’ve known he’d call her as soon as he picked up her text, it was looking as if she really didn’t want to talk to him.
Why?
They hadn’t had a fight, and he couldn’t think of anything he might have done that would upset her.
Puzzled and hurt, he called her again, and this time he left a message on her voicemail. ‘Beatrice, it’s Daniel. Are you OK? Whatever’s happened, is there anything I can do? Give me a call when you can.’
* * *
Home.
Seeing the house with its four square turrets and the copper-roofed cupola made Beatrice feel slightly less panicky. When she got to the black iron gates of the rear entrance the family used, she hopped out of the car and punched in the security number. The gate swung open without so much as a creak; she drove through, waited for them to close behind her, then drove down to the house and parked on the gravel next to her sister-in-law Vicky’s four-by-four.
The house wasn’t open to the public until the afternoon, so she didn’t have to worry about visitors. She just let herself in through the side entrance and walked into the family kitchen.
‘Bea! I didn’t know you were coming this weekend or I would’ve made sure your bed was aired. The kettle’s hot,’ Vicky said. ‘Sandy’s out doing farm stuff and Orlando’s somewhere with Pa, and Ma and Flora have gone dress-shopping.’
‘And you thought you were going to have a morning of peace and quiet?’ Beatrice asked.
‘Considering this miscreant ate Henry’s school shoes and then threw them up everywhere,’ Vicky said, gesturing to the black Labrador whose nose was poking out from under the table, ‘I didn’t get the P and Q anyway.’ Vicky gave her a hug. ‘So why didn’t you say you were coming? I could’ve got something nice in for lunch. You’ll have to slum it with a cheese sandwich, or go and sweet-talk them in the café—oh, my days.’ Vicky patted Beatrice’s arm, seeing the fat tear rolling down her face.
‘Sorry. I’ll pull myself together in a second.’
‘What’s happened, Bea? Something at work? I’ll make you that cup of tea.’
Beatrice could see the alarm on her sister-in-law’s face. ‘Vicky, it’s all right. You’re not going to knock on my door later and not get an answer. And you don’t have to lock up all the paracetamol in the medicine cabinet. I’m not going to take another overdose.’
‘Good.’ Vicky blew out a breath of sheer relief. ‘I—Look, you know we’re all useless at wobbly stuff, and I don’t know what to say to make anything better, but if you want to talk...’ She delved in the cupboard. ‘Banana bread. There’s a new boy in Henry’s class who’s dairy intolerant, so I’ve been trying a few things before he comes over for supper. You can be my guinea pig.’
Cake and a cup of tea was Vicky’s standard answer to any problem, Beatrice knew. ‘You,’ she said, ‘are a total sweetie. Cake and a cup of tea sounds perfect.’
The fear went from Vicky’s expression, and she bustled around, organising tea and cake.
When they were sitting at the kitchen table with mugs of tea, and Cerberus had plonked himself on Beatrice’s feet to comfort her, Vicky reached across and squeezed Beatrice’s hand. Beatrice knew this was her sister-in-law’s way of saying she was ready to listen.
There wasn’t any way she could think of to soften the news, so she came straight out with it. ‘I’m pregnant.’
Vicky almost dropped her mug. ‘What? But—how?’
‘You’ve got two children, Vicky. I think you know how babies are made,’ Beatrice said with a smile.
‘Well, of course, What I mean is—I didn’t know you were even dating.’ Vicky’s eyes widened. ‘How far along are you? How long have you been seeing him? And have you told him?’
Beatrice sighed. ‘We’ve been seeing each other for a few weeks, I’m two weeks late and I did the test today. And, no, I haven’t told him. It’s complicated.’
‘Because of Taylor?’
‘Partly. Plus we work together. Daniel’s a single dad.’
‘Ah. Does his child like you?’
‘Iain?’ Beatrice couldn’t help smiling when she thought of him. ‘Yes. He’s four. He wants to be a footballer and an astronaut, he thinks I’m a princess, and he also says I make the best chocolate brownies in the world.’
‘Beresford brownies?’
‘Of course Beresford brownies,’ Beatrice confirmed.
‘So what’s he like?’ Vicky asked. ‘Daniel, I mean.’
‘He’s nice. He’s a good doctor, he’s kind and he’s thorough.’
Vicky rolled her eyes. ‘I don’t mean at work. I mean the man himself.’
‘Tall, dark and handsome. He has the most amazing dark eyes. He’s sweet and he’s funny. He makes me feel like a teenager, holding hands in the back row of the cinema. We talk every night on a video call after Iain’s gone to bed.’ She smiled. ‘And we went to Notting Hill.’
‘So you’d seen him the day you brought me those gorgeous Staffordshire dogs?’ Vicky asked thoughtfully.
Beatrice nodded. ‘Thinking back, that might have been the weekend this happened.’
‘You were glowing, Bea. I haven’t seen you look like that since...’ Vicky let the words tail off.
‘Since before Taylor,’ Beatrice finished. ‘He makes me feel lighter of spirit.’
‘Do you love him?’
Beatrice wrinkled her nose. ‘We’ve been dating for six weeks. How can I be in love?’
‘OK, let’s scale back. Do you like him?’
‘Yes. A lot.’ But love...? She wasn’t sure she was ready to say that.
‘Ignore the baby for now, but imagine life without him. Would there be a hole?’ Vicky asked.
Beatrice didn’t even have to think about it. ‘A big one,’ she admitted.
‘Well, then. There’s your answer. Call it any name you like, but you love him.’ Vicky paused. ‘Does he love you?’
‘We haven’t discussed it.’
Vicky frowned. ‘OK. Does he know about Taylor? And...?’
‘The overdose? Yes.’
‘Then what’s the issue?’ Vicky asked. ‘He knows what happened to you—so you must really trust him to have told him. He’s already a dad so, if he’s got custody, he must be a really good dad. Is he a widower?’
‘Divorced. Iain stays with his mum every other weekend—like this one. Daniel and I were meant to be going away.’
‘As you’re here, clearly you called it off.’
Beatrice winced. ‘By text.’
‘Oh, Bea. You can’t do that to the poor man.’
‘I know.’ Beatrice squirmed. ‘I’m a cow. But I did the test and I panicked. I can’t go away with him, knowing I’m pregnant and knowing that he has no idea.’
‘Then tell him about the baby. He’s a doctor, so he knows how babies are made.’ Vicky threw Beatrice’s words back at her.
‘I don’t know how he’s going to react.’
‘He�
��s close to his little boy, yes?’ At Beatrice’s nod, Vicky continued, ‘Then my guess is he’ll be pleased. Shocked at first, especially as you haven’t been together that long, but when he thinks about it he’ll be pleased.’
Beatrice wasn’t so sure. ‘It’s complicated,’ she said again.
‘It’s not going to be an easy conversation, but you’re better at talking than the rest of us put together,’ Vicky said. ‘And remember the family motto.’
The one carved into the dining room fireplace. Tenacitas per aspera. Strength through adversity.
‘Strictly in confidence—’ and Beatrice knew Vicky wouldn’t say a word to anyone ‘—Iain’s mum had postnatal depression. Badly. She left the baby and disappeared for a couple of days,’ Beatrice said.
‘Ah.’ Vicky grimaced. ‘One step down from what you did.’
Beatrice nodded. ‘And she’s pregnant again now. Daniel’s panicking that Iain’s going to get hurt. And now on top of this there’s me. How can I tell him?’
‘You’re right. It’s complicated,’ Vicky said, ‘but running away here—which isn’t that far from what his ex did—isn’t going to solve anything.’
‘I know.’ She was fast becoming Daniel’s nightmare re-personified. ‘What am I going to do, Vicky?’
‘I guess we start with the tough one. Do you want the baby?’
Which, right now, was a collection of cells. Beatrice rested her hand on her abdomen. ‘I lost Taylor. Pregnancy scares me stupid. The idea of something going wrong and losing another baby...’ She blew out a breath. ‘I don’t want a termination.’
‘So that’s the big decision made,’ Vicky said. ‘If Daniel doesn’t want to be involved, we’ll support you.’
Beatrice felt tears pricking her eyelids. ‘Oh, Vicky.’
‘Of course we’d support you, Bea. I know how hard it was for you when I had George. Every time I took him to postnatal class or toddler group or anything, I kept thinking about how you and Taylor should’ve been there with me. It was miserable for me, so it must have been hell on earth for you.’
