6
Dr Christian is a smiling, sixty-something woman. She wears a crisp black suit. Her white hair is neatly clipped and her face is wrinkled with laughter lines.
She shakes my hand warmly. ‘A pleasure to meet you Mrs Blackwell. The wedding was just yesterday I hear?’
‘Yes.’ I nod.
‘And you’re happy for Mr Blackwell to stay?’
‘Yes, definitely.’ I slide my hand into Marc’s.
‘Please take a seat.’ Dr Christian gestures to a comfortable-looking leather sofa, and Marc and I sit – me still clutching Marc’s hand.
‘Now. What seems to be the problem?’ Dr Christian asks.
‘Um … well it’s not a problem exactly.’ I feel myself smiling. ‘I think I could be pregnant.’
‘What makes you think that?’
I shrug, feeling silly. ‘I just … it’s a feeling I suppose.’
‘Nothing wrong with feelings. A woman’s intuition is very powerful. Especially where her health is concerned. Okay – so a pregnancy test is pretty simple.’ She opens a drawer and takes out a white stick. ‘If you could just wee on this stick for me and bring it back. We’ll know in a few minutes. There’s a toilet right outside.’
Obediently, I take the stick and head out.
It’s a little bit awkward trying to hold the stick while I pee, but I manage it. Then I have the humiliating job of bringing it back into the room.
‘It’s okay,’ Dr Christian reassures me. ‘I do this all the time. Don’t be embarrassed.’
‘Thanks,’ I mutter, as she places the white stick on a napkin.
I sit down and grab Marc’s hand.
Marc squeezes my fingers.
‘Okay,’ says Dr Christian, watching the white stick. ‘Sophia. The test is telling me you’re not pregnant.’
‘I’m not?’
‘When did you last have your period?’
‘Maybe three weeks ago?’
Dr Christian smiles. ‘Then it’s too soon to tell. The test looks for pregnancy hormones. But they’re only around a few weeks after pregnancy has taken hold. Are you fairly regular? I mean, do you menstruate regularly?’
‘Yes. Pretty regularly. I mean, maybe a day or two here and there …’
‘And may I ask – have there been many times … without contraception?’
Now I feel
really
stupid. ‘Twice,’ I admit.
‘So come back in two weeks and we’ll take the test again.’
‘Two
weeks
? Do we really have to wait that long?’
‘I know it’s frustrating. The not knowing. I’ve been there myself, believe me. But if there’s one thing pregnancy will teach you, it’s patience.’
‘Do you think I’m pregnant?’ I ask. ‘I mean … tests aside and everything. You’re a doctor. You’ve seen lots of women. What do you think? In your medical opinion.’
‘Honestly, I really couldn’t judge,’ says Dr Christian. ‘It would be unprofessional of me to give an opinion either way. I’ll book you in for another appointment in two weeks’ time. Maybe you’re pregnant already. But chances are … if it was just twice you’re probably not. There’s no hurry, okay? You’ve only just got married.’
I know Dr Christian is right. But surprisingly, my insides ache with disappointment.
Even though the timing was all wrong, it felt right thinking I was carrying Marc’s baby.
7
‘You’re disappointed,’ says Marc, as we walk towards the limo.
I nod, feeling tears spring under my eyelashes. ‘Sorry. I don’t know why I’m so upset. We only just got married. It’s too soon to have a baby anyway. This is stupid.’
‘It’s not stupid.’ Marc puts an arm around me.
‘Are you disappointed?’ I ask.
‘Me? How could I be? I’ve just married the most perfect girl in the world.’
‘You know what I mean. Did you like the idea of me being pregnant?’
‘Of course I did.’ Marc squeezes me tighter. ‘But Dr Christian didn’t say you’re not pregnant. She just said it was too soon to tell. And there’s no rush. For me, it was a relief to get you checked over. Especially after how you were feeling in the car.’
‘That was just nerves.’
‘How are those nerves now?’
‘A little better. I just feel deflated, that’s all. When I thought I was pregnant, I had this lovely bubbly excited feeling. But now I just feel sort of empty. Sad. Silly isn’t it? I don’t know why. I mean it’s too soon …’
‘In two weeks you might get that excited feeling back again.’
I manage a smile. ‘I know. I’m sorry about all this. Being so dramatic … it’s just I was so sure before. And now … for the test to come back negative … ’
Marc leans down to kiss me, and I feel my body melt into his.
The kiss is soft and tender, and I feel cold disappointment turn to warmth.
‘Now,’ Marc murmurs. ‘You, Mrs Blackwell, haven’t eaten breakfast yet. And if you do happen to be pregnant it’s important you’re well nourished.’
‘I do feel a tiny bit hungry now,’ I admit.
‘Good. So I’ll buy you breakfast and afterwards I’ll take you shopping. We are in London, after all.’
‘Shopping?’ I ask. ‘What for?’
‘Something very important.’
‘So where are we going exactly?’ I ask, as the limo turns into Covent Garden.
‘A very good restaurant,’ says Marc. ‘There’s in New York. I used to go there all the time. And the London one is just as good.’
‘Am I dressed okay for a restaurant?’ I ask.
I’m wearing a loose, flowery dress and my hair is pulled back into a ponytail.
Marc is impeccably groomed as usual in a black suit jacket, t-shirt and jeans. His soft brown hair flops adorably over his forehead and his blue eyes are as intense and bright as ever.
The corners of Marc’s lips tilt. ‘
Okay
? That’s a word I’d never use to describe you. You’re a million times better than okay. No matter what you’re wearing.’
‘They say love is blind,’ I tease.
Marc’s eyes go hard and serious. ‘Sophia, any restaurant would be lucky to have you as a patron. Never forget that.’
‘We don’t all have your confidence.’
‘I wasn’t always confident. It was something I had to work at.’
‘You? Not confident? I don’t believe it.’
‘Believe it. I was shy as hell as a child. Every audition was a nightmare. All the new faces. But when I started acting—’
‘All your shyness disappeared,’ I finish.
‘How did you know I was going to say that?’
‘Because I feel exactly the same way.’
8
The limo pulls up outside a pretty restaurant with a dark-wood front. Through the huge glass window I see crispy baguettes, loaves and pastries under orange lights.
‘After you, Mrs Blackwell,’ says Marc, opening the door.
I smile. ‘I still can’t get used to that name.’
‘Funny. Because it suits you.’
The restaurant smells of baked bread, vanilla and chocolate.
My stomach rumbles.
‘I really
am
hungry now,’ I tell Marc, taking his hand.
A blonde waitress greets us at the door.
‘Hi. How are you doing today? Let me get you seated. Is by the window okay?’
I can tell she’s doing her best not to stare at Marc.
‘A little further inside would be better,’ says Marc.
‘Of course!’ says the waitress, her voice suddenly all high pitched. ‘Silly me. Of course you don’t want to be near the window. I mean … um … I suppose there are photographers and—’
‘Here will be fine,’ says Marc, pointing to a booth.
‘Certainly!’ the waitress squeaks. ‘I’ll get you some menus.’
I really feel for her. There was a time I tried to stop myself staring at Marc too. I feel a happy shiver as I realise that now I can look at him any time I want.
‘Are you going to tell me about this shopping trip now?’ I ask, sliding into the wooden booth.
Marc takes menus from the waitress. ‘Patience Mrs Blackwell. Isn’t that what the good doctor told you this morning? All good things come to those who wait.’
‘You can be infuriating sometimes. You know that, don’t you?’
‘I aim to please.’
I gaze at the menu.
Scrambled egg with Cornish crab
Hazelnut waffles
Boiled eggs with parmesan soldiers …
‘This menu looks amazing,’ I say. ‘I don’t know what to choose.’
‘Do you want me to order for you?’
‘Yes please.’ I hand him the menu.
I still get a bit freaked out by fancy restaurants. I don’t want to order something and pronounce it wrong.
Marc calls the waitress over. ‘Mrs Blackwell will have a basket of bread and pastries, a full English breakfast, orange juice and hot chocolate.’
‘And for you Mr Blackwell?’ The waitress catches herself as she realises she might have been over familiar. ‘I mean … sir.’ She gives a limp smile.
Marc throws her his dazzling Hollywood grin.
‘Black coffee. And a bacon roll. Plus a loaf of sourdough bread – those last two to go.’
The girl practically swoons on the spot. She grips her pen tight. ‘I’ll be right back with your food.’
‘Why the bacon roll and bread?’ I ask. ‘Are you planning on taking a snack with us when we go shopping?’
Marc smiles. ‘They’re for Keith. He loves the bacon sandwiches here. And the bread is his wife’s favourite.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I take Keith here for breakfast regularly. And he took a loaf home last time and told me his wife loved it.’
‘You’ve taken Keith here to eat?’
‘Many times. I do feed my staff you know.’
‘Not many employers take their staff to restaurants.’
‘I’m not like many employers. And Keith isn’t like many employees. He deserves the very best for serving me so well over the years.’ Marc hesitates. ‘He’s been very loyal.’
‘Keeping your secrets?’ I ask, only half joking.
‘Yes.’
Something about Marc’s tone tells me not to probe any further. At least not right now. But I’m reminded of our wedding day. And his talk with Annabel about family drama.
When the time is right I need to ask about that. We’re man and wife now. There should be no secrets.
By the time our food arrives, I really am ravenous. I tear into the bread basket, trying all the different spreads – homemade jams, marmalade and hazelnut chocolate spread. Then I dig into my full English breakfast of eggs, fried bread, home fries and maple cured bacon.
Marc sips black coffee and watches me eat.
‘I’m glad you’re eating,’ he tells me, as I pause to take a sip of orange juice. ‘Especially if you could be pregnant.’
‘
Could
is the key word in that sentence,’ I say. ‘And I suppose there isn’t any rush. I mean we only just got married. And my acting career is just taking off …’
‘Yes. There’s plenty of time.’
Something occurs to me. ‘Would it bother you? If we couldn’t have kids?’
Marc laughs. ‘Sophia, the doctor said you were perfectly fit and healthy. There’s no reason to think—’
‘I know. I just … wondered. How you’d feel if we couldn’t. Would you mind?’
‘I’d mind because you’d be devastated. You were born to be a mother. From my point of view, I have everything I could ever want. Children would be an added bonus.’
‘An added
bonus
?’
‘Poor choice of phrasing.’
‘I
would
be devastated if we couldn’t have children.’
‘I know.’
‘And I think you’d be an amazing father.’
‘I’m not so sure about that. But this I do know. You’ll be an amazing mother. So you can guide me.’
‘Me guiding you?’
‘You guide me all the time.’
‘I do? How?’
Marc smiles. ‘Into the light.’
‘Oh, so you’re all light and shiny now, Mr Marc Blackwell?’
‘Not quite. But certainly you’ve made me better than I ever imagined I could be.’
We gaze at each other for a moment.
‘So where are we going after this?’ I ask, my voice a little husky.
‘Shopping.’
‘Yes but where?’
‘A short walk from here. Keith will wait for us.’
‘What
exactly
will we be buying?’
Marc smiles. ‘You can’t guess?’
‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘I can’t guess.’
Marc smiles. ‘We’ll be buying things for our baby.’
‘
What?
’
Marc pays the bill and leads me out of the restaurant.
‘Marc?
Baby
things? That’s what we’re going shopping for?’
‘Correct.’
‘Are you sure about this? I don’t even know if I’m pregnant yet. Or if I
should
be pregnant so soon …’
‘A minor detail.’
‘But Marc.’ I tug at his hand and bring him to a stop on the pavement. ‘What if the end of the month comes and I’m not pregnant. But we’ve bought baby clothes.’
‘Then you’ll be ready for when you
are
pregnant.’ Marc takes my hands. ‘Sophia. I don’t want you to waste two weeks feeling stressed and anxious, waiting for the next pregnancy test. For now, I want you to act as though you’re pregnant. Because then you’ll feel happy.’
‘I’m not so sure …’
‘When I was younger, I went to a lot of auditions. Hundreds. And many I failed. I certainly failed more than I won. But I taught myself to believe the best. That the next role was just around the corner. I learned not to waste time being disappointed. It got me nowhere.’
‘But you’re an amazing actor,’ I say. ‘You were always going to win roles.’
Marc shakes his head. ‘You’re wrong. I was good, but I got better with experience. I’d never have got that experience if I hadn’t stayed positive.’
‘Easy to say when it’s something you’re in control of. Like acting.’
‘I’ve seen enough brilliant actors get pulled down by the game. Life, more often than not, is more about your drive than your talent. Nature helps. But drive and determination are what takes you to the top.’
‘I’m not sure pregnancy works that way,’ I tell him. ‘I don’t think you can be determined to be pregnant and then it just happens. Nature has her own plans. Anyway, is it a good idea to get pregnant so soon? We only just got married?’
Marc raises an eyebrow. ‘Who are you fooling? Not me.’
‘Fooling?’
‘You felt disappointed when the pregnancy test was negative.’
‘True, but—’
‘So you want to be pregnant. If not right now then soon. That’s how you truly feel, no matter what your head has to say about it. So if you’re not pregnant already, we’ll keep trying until you are.’
I feel a grin spread across my face. ‘You say all the right things.’
‘Happy?’
‘Yes. You, Marc Blackwell, are too clever for your own good.’
‘I know you well, don’t I?’
‘Maybe even better than I know myself.’