The Pregnancy Bond

by Lucy Gordon

  Not Kelly’s. The fight to keep her stomach settled was becoming the centre of her life. Her fantasies concerned hot, sweet tea and dry biscuits. Sex was the last thing on her mind.

  But for Jake’s female fans it was different. Ever since his handsome face, shaggy, wind-blown hair and hard, lean body had first appeared on screen he’d received a stream of letters from hot-blooded ladies containing explicit invitations. It was a phenomenon Kelly had heard of before, and she knew in her heart that it meant nothing. Yet as a young wife, haunted by her failure to produce a child and uncertain of her husband’s love, she’d hated it. Jake had tried to share the joke with her, and been baffled that she didn’t find it funny.

  ‘It’s not the real me,’ he’d tried to explain. ‘I’m a disembodied face and they project their imaginations on it. I don’t meet them and I don’t want to. Darling, you’re creating a storm in a teacup.’

  ‘I suppose I am,’ she’d said, anxious to not bore him by making a fuss.

  He’d smiled and patted her on the shoulder, evidently relieved that she was starting to be reasonable. But then he’d been unwise enough to add, ‘Anyway, mine are pretty restrained. You should see some of the-’ He broke off belatedly realising that this wasn’t the cleverest thing to say.

  ‘So you all sit around swapping notes,’ she’d accused.

  ‘Don’t make a big deal of something that doesn’t matter.’ Trying to be funny, he’d managed to miss his footing again. ‘Look, why don’t you answer them for me? Tell them I’m not available because you keep me on a ball and chain.’

  That little gem had sparked a row that lasted half the night. As he’d grown exasperated, she’d grown scared. At last he’d said, ‘I’d better go out for a while, because everything I say just seems to make it worse.’

  They’d never discussed it again. She’d suppressed her feelings for fear of irritating him, as she’d done so often over the years.

  Now he was passing the time trying to answer some of the correspondence that had flooded him ever since the shooting. Kelly sensed that it was causing him problems, but didn’t particularly think about it until one evening when Jake was in the kitchen and she happened to notice a black lace bra falling out of an envelope on the table.

  There was no jolt of anguish, such as she would once have known. Instead she felt only intrigued as she held it up. That was when he appeared in the doorway.

  ‘She’s a big girl, isn’t she?’ she said, considering the size.

  ‘I suppose so.’ He was regarding her cautiously.

  Kelly glanced over the letter. ‘She wants you to do what?’ she asked, wide-eyed. ‘Oh, my, my! You are going to have a heavy schedule!’

  ‘Cut it out, will you? And who said you could read that?’

  ‘I just wondered why you were making such heavy weather of your fan mail. You’ve always taken fans in your stride. You smile and make jokes, and they go away thinking how charming and unspoilt you are.’

  ‘I’ll thank you to keep your sarcasm to yourself, ma’am. This kind of fan I couldn’t cope with.’

  ‘If you’ve made the tea why don’t you pour me a nice big cup while I get reading?’

  ‘No way! I remember the grief you used to give me about them.’

  ‘I used to make a fuss about a lot of silly things.’

  He returned with two mugs of tea to find her sitting at the table, deep in pink scented pages. His sense of humour was reviving as it dawned on him that she wasn’t upset.

  ‘You’d hardly believe what turns that lady on,’ he said, indicating the pink letter.

  ‘Evidently you turn her on,’ Kelly mused.

  ‘But only in certain circumstances.’ He pointed to some lines on the page. ‘I don’t think we even have any peanut butter, do we?’

  Kelly’s lips twitched. ‘She was probably planning to supply her own. Mind you, I’ll buy some straight away if it’ll help your recovery.’

  ‘Nothing these women want of me would help my recovery,’ he said, sounding harassed. ‘More likely to lay me flat on my back-’

  ‘Not “Passionate of Kensington,”’ she said, riveted by another letter. ‘The last place she wants you is on your back. In fact-’

  ‘Yes, I’ve read that one, thank you,’ he said, hastily snatching it from her. ‘She has a vivid imagination. I don’t think what she suggests is even physically possible.’

  ‘Not in your present condition, but after a few months’ weight training I should think you could accommodate her,’ Kelly said wickedly.

  ‘Get lost!’ He ran his hand distractedly through his hair. ‘It’s worse than last time.’

  ‘I suppose the fantasy is more exciting with a hero,’ she mused. ‘How do you answer them?’

  ‘With great difficulty,’ he growled.

  ‘Yes, I can see the problem. “Dear Madam, in reply to yours of the thirteenth inst. I have to report your suggestion impractical, owing to high price of peanut butter.”’

  ‘You’re finding this very funny, aren’t you?’ he said coldly.

  ‘I think it’s hilarious. You, a sex god!’

  ‘You won’t think it’s so funny when hundreds of rampaging women turn up here demanding my body.’

  ‘No problem. I’ll just tell them about your knock knees.’

  ‘I do not have knock knees.’

  ‘Ho, ho, ho!’

  ‘What do you mean, “ho, ho, ho!”? I do not have knock knees.’

  ‘They’re like a pair of castanets, your knees.’

  ‘May you be forgiven!’

  This was better, she thought, remembering his silent despair when she’d first been to the hospital. Now he was glaring, animated, giving as good as he got. Another turn of the screw wouldn’t hurt.

  ‘All right,’ she said in a tone of concession. ‘I take it back. Your knees aren’t big.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It’s your legs that are skinny.’

  ‘There is nothing the matter with my legs.’

  ‘Oh, yeah? Why do you never appear on camera in shorts when you’re in a hot country? Because you know that the dreadful sight would reduce your fan club to one short-sighted little old lady. With or without fantasies. What does Olympia say?’

  ‘I do not discuss my knees with Olympia,’ he said through gritted teeth.

  ‘Why? Did they put her off?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘But she has seen them?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And she didn’t say anything?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Probably the first kind thing she’s ever done.’

  But he’d caught up with her dancing wits now and was regarding her with wry affection. ‘The hell with you!’ he said with a grin.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Think I can’t see through you?’

  ‘It took you long enough,’ she jeered.

  It was on the tip of his tongue to say he’d never seen her in this mood, but he changed his mind and announced he was going to bed.

  He returned a few minutes later to collect his correspondence with as much dignity as he could manage, and after a brief tussle managed to prise the scented letter from her grasp.

  ‘Actually, Jake, it’s fascinating,’ she said, following him to the door, which he shut in her face.

  ‘I’m glad I’m contributing to your entertainment,’ he yelled through the door.

  ‘No, I mean it’s a sociological phenomenon. Carl’s into sociology, he’d love to investigate this. I don’t think he’s ever met anyone it’s actually happened to before.’

  The door opened.

  ‘If,’ Jake said, speaking emphatically, ‘you repeat a word of this to Carl or anyone else, that day will be your last on earth.’

  ‘But his interest would be purely scientific,’ she said innocently.

  ‘Rubbish! His interest would be in making me a laughing stock. Now, you promise me-’

  ‘All right,’ she sighed. ‘Spoilsport!’ />
  ‘Do you mind leaving?’

  But she had a parting shot. ‘Pity. It would have made a great thesis.’

  ‘Kelly, I’m warning you-’

  ‘Oh, go to bed!’

  That was the end of the matter, for the moment. But the next morning she had the satisfaction of coming across him in a bath robe, studying his legs in the mirror, a frown creasing his forehead.

  ‘Checking your assets?’ she teased.

  ‘Checking the facts. And there is nothing wrong with my knees.’

  ‘Of course not. They’re splendid knees. I’ve always liked them.’

  ‘But you said-’

  She gave him her sweetest smile. ‘I’m a liar.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  C ARL had spoken truly when he called himself an expert on pregnancy and babies. At college he would often join Kelly for lunch and observe her intake with an experienced eye, sometimes advising her to ‘eat more fibre’. They had long talks about her condition, heads close together in their enthusiasm, and Kelly realised that the college was speculating about them, for Carl had devastating film-star looks. But he was merely showing her the kindness and support of a brother, and she valued him for that.

  Occasionally he would drive her home, carrying her books up and coming in for tea. Sometimes Jake would join them, but more often he would retreat to his room. And he never, ever mentioned Carl when he and Kelly were alone.

  Another thought that neither of them voiced was that Kelly’s pregnancy was well into its fourth month, nearing the time when she’d lost the last baby. As the weeks passed the silence seemed to grow more deafening. Sometimes, she thought, it was like living with an extra presence that had parked itself in the centre of the apartment. They dodged around it, and otherwise pretended not to know it was there.

  Her first thought, on waking, was to listen to her body, checking for any unusual twinge. Only when she felt nothing wrong could she relax and start the day.

  Jake’s health too was giving cause for cheer. As his strength returned he began to venture out to the local shops, or he would stroll in the little park close to Kelly’s apartment. Now and then she came with him, and they would walk together, arms linked, but saying little. Kelly always thought of herself as supporting Jake, and it amused her one evening to discover that he thought of himself as the support.

  ‘It’s going to be a while before I need propping up,’ she laughed, settling on a park bench.

  ‘Just taking care.’

  ‘I’m feeling very well. And I’m not worried, honestly.’

  After a moment he said, ‘You’re lying. You’re scared.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Because you’re not knitting things. Last time you started knitting from the first day. The place was awash with needles and patterns.’

  She smiled. ‘You used to say you couldn’t move without tangling your feet in white wool.’

  ‘Yes, but I liked it too. And all the soft toys you bought. I’ll never forget the day you finished your first pair of bootees. You were so proud.’

  ‘Until I discovered that I’d gone cross-eyed on the pattern and made the second one two sizes larger than the first.’

  ‘Then you burst into tears and couldn’t stop for hours. I didn’t know what to do.’

  ‘You were very practical,’ she remembered. ‘You said all I had to do was knit two more the same, put the two small ones together as the first pair, and keep the other pair for later. It was a very good suggestion. I don’t know what made me thump you with that toy giraffe.’

  ‘You didn’t.’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘You did not thump me with a toy giraffe,’ Jake said firmly.

  ‘Jake, I clearly remember-’

  ‘It was a toy elephant. His name was Dolph, short for Dolphin.’

  ‘Why did we call him Dolphin?’

  ‘Because he was an elephant,’ Jake explained patiently.

  ‘Well, I guess that figures. But I’m sure a giraffe came into it somewhere.’

  ‘Now you’re just confusing things,’ he said severely. ‘It was definitely Dolph the elephant. I know because I-because its trunk was always wonky after that.’

  She barely registered his verbal stumble as they laughed together. Then Kelly said firmly, ‘It’ll be all right this time. Carl says one of his sisters miscarried the first time, then went on to have three healthy babies.’

  His smile faded. ‘You talk to Carl about this?’

  Something tense in his voice made her bristle. ‘Any reason why not?’

  ‘No, no,’ he said quickly. ‘It just seems odd, talking babies with your professor.’

  She would have explained about Carl’s family and all his baby sitting experience, but Jake suddenly said, ‘Maybe it’s time we went home.’ And the moment was gone.

  One day Kelly arrived home early from college. Jake was in his room, but appeared as soon as he heard her. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked quickly.

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’

  ‘Because you’re not usually home at this time?’

  ‘There were no lectures for the rest of today.’

  ‘And that’s all?’

  The worry on his face touched her. ‘Jake, it’s all right. There’s no sign of a miscarriage.’

  ‘But it would be about now, wouldn’t it? After all-’ Jake’s words ran down. There was no way of asking exactly how pregnant she was. If the baby had been conceived on the night of the party, she was approaching the crucial time. By tortuous argument he’d half convinced himself that the child was his, but she had never confirmed it, and he was too proud to demand a straight answer.

  She might already have been pregnant that night, and now be already past the danger point. But would she have allowed him into her bed if there was another man? He knew she’d changed, but that much? The thought gave him a strange pain over his heart.

  ‘I wouldn’t like you to suffer again,’ he said harshly. ‘That’s all. No need to make a fuss about it.’

  ‘No,’ she agreed. ‘I’m fine. Shall I get you something to eat?’

  ‘I’ll get it. Why don’t you lie down for a while?’

  ‘OK, I’ll lie on the sofa for a few minutes. Thank you.’

  It really was pleasant to stretch out and be waited on, although she was feeling well and strong. She closed her eyes and listened to the little sounds Jake made in the kitchen. She grew dozy, and was barely conscious of his muttered, ‘Damn! No milk!’, followed by the front door opening and closing. She might have completely sunk into sleep but for the shrilling of Jake’s mobile phone. Yawning, she answered it and found herself talking to Olympia.

  ‘I’m afraid Jake isn’t here at the moment,’ she said pleasantly. ‘Can I get him to call you back?’

  ‘No need for that. Just to confirm about tonight, eight-thirty at my apartment. Can you remember that?’

  ‘I’ll try,’ Kelly said humbly. ‘If I have difficulty I could always write it down, couldn’t I?’

  Olympia snorted and hung up.

  When Jake returned with milk a few moments later Kelly was at the table unpacking her books. ‘Don’t forget you have a date with Olympia tonight,’ she said.

  ‘Have I?’

  ‘She called to remind you that it’s eight-thirty at her apartment.’

  Jake stared. ‘I never made any arrangement with her for tonight.’

  ‘Well, you seem to have one now.’

  ‘You had no right to make a date for me,’ he said, outraged.

  ‘From the way she spoke I thought it was all fixed.’ A tiny inspired devil made Kelly add, ‘She was very concerned about your welfare. Kept asking me if you’d recovered all your strength yet.’ She added casually, ‘I told her I thought you probably had, although I couldn’t swear to it.’

  ‘You made that up.’

  She looked at him. ‘Sure of that?’

  �
�Kelly, believe me I’ll wring your neck one of these days.’

  ‘What are you getting worked up about? It doesn’t matter to me any more. We’re both free agents.’

  He resisted the temptation to burst out, You’re having my baby. You ought to mind, not sit there calmly making assignations for me!

  But he stayed silent. What could he say?

  After a while he said grumpily, ‘I’m not going out. Something might happen.’

  ‘Why should it? I’ve been well all day.’

  ‘At college, surrounded by people to watch out for you. I’m not leaving you alone.’

  ‘You just did.’

  ‘That was ten minutes to get some milk. I’m talking about your being alone for hours.’

  ‘You’re being absurd, you know that?’

  ‘I’m not going out!’

  ‘All right, all right. You don’t need to shout.’

  ‘I do need to shout, Kelly, because if I don’t shout you don’t hear.’

  Her temper flared. ‘That’s rich, coming from the man who turned creative deafness into an art.’

  ‘I’m not arguing. I’ll just call Olympia back and put her off, and then the subject’s closed.’

  ‘Who says it’s closed?’ He didn’t answer. ‘Jake!’

  ‘I can’t hear you. I’ve gone creatively deaf. Remember, you’re dealing with the man who turned it into an art.’

  She fumed while he made the call. She wasn’t sure why she’d suddenly got mad. Perhaps she was trying to deny the pleasure that had caught her off guard at his protectiveness. Enough! It was too late for that. Anger was safer.

  Jake made an exasperated sound. ‘She’s turned her mobile off,’ he grunted. ‘Never mind, she’ll be at the studio.’ He called the studio and gave Olympia’s name.

  After an impatient pause he said, ‘Do you know where she went?-all right, if she calls in, ask her to contact me urgently. Say there’s a problem about tonight.’

  ‘I wish you’d go,’ Kelly said, following him into the kitchen. ‘I’ve got an essay about ancient Egypt, and you’ll be in the way.’

  ‘I’ll be as quiet as a mouse. Anyway, I can’t go out now that I’ve cancelled.’

  ‘You haven’t cancelled. You never reached Olympia.’