Olivia and I are doing our Christmas shopping, hoping that Sunday will be less busy than Saturday, except by the look of things, everyone else has had the same idea. I’m excited, though. Only recently I never thought I’d get this opportunity. I have a long list of silly presents to buy, a celebration in itself.
It’s slightly overshadowed by the fact that I need to tell Olivia the news that I’m pregnant. The whole truth. I have to own up to sex on the heath. It all feels a bit tawdry and ridiculous now. I’m going to bide my time. Shopping first.
I get to Selfridges early and gather up a few small gifts, piling them into a basket, ticking the recipients off my list. I’m standing in line waiting to pay, finding my head immersed in my confused thoughts.
“Jingle bells,” says Olivia, right in my ear, making me jump. “Sorry,” she says. “Didn’t mean to frighten you.” We kiss. “How are you?”
Pregnant, I think. “Good,” I say. “Hope you don’t mind. I’ve made a head start.”
“Snap!” she says. “So have I!” She holds up some carrier bags.
The queue moves forward.
“So what are you buying Harry?” says Olivia, peering into my basket.
“Oh, these aren’t for him. I’ll get him something ironic. What are you buying Dan?”
“We’ve agreed not to buy each other anything this year. We’re putting the money we might have spent toward the honeymoon fund.”
“Oh, Liv!” I say. “You can’t do that. Let’s go to Primark. Buy them both a terrible Christmas jumper.”
“Ha!” she says. “I love that idea.”
I pay at the till and we make our way out the store, battling through the crowds, across the road, to fight for a couple of silly jumpers.
“What do you think?” says Olivia, holding up a black sweater with stars.
“Absolutely not,” I say. “That’s almost nice. It misses the point.”
She looks at me as if to say, Seriously?
I pull out another one in vivid green with a cartoonish reindeer’s face and big red nose. “Here!” I say. “Couldn’t be more embarrassing.”
“Brilliant,” she says. “I hate it.”
I grab a red one with a massive Christmas pudding decorated with holly and icing. It’s perfect for Harry.
“Sorted!” I say. “Listen. Have you got time for a coffee?”
“Sure,” she says. “Desperate for one.”
We go to a café she knows along Bond Street, which is noisy and very Italian. “They do the best, strong stuff,” she says as we sit down.
“Good,” I say. “You’re going to need it. Now please don’t scream.”
She looks at me like I’m mad.
“I’m pregnant.”
“You’re WHAT?”
I flap my hands telling her to keep it down. “I’m pregnant,” I say out of the side of my mouth.
“Blimey. Harry’s a fast worker.”
“It’s not Harry’s.”
“Is this conversation happening?”
“Yes. It’s not his, Liv.” I hunch toward her across the table. “I have a confession.”
“Go on.”
My voice drops to a low fast whisper. “I had sex with a guy on the heath when I thought I was dying.”
“You WHAAAAT?” she yells.
“Shhhhushhh. Exactly what I just said. Don’t make me say it again.”
“And you never told me?”
“It didn’t feel necessary.”
A waitress hovers into view.
“Two cappuccinos, please,” Olivia says with a huge smile then turns back to me and gawps. “But now it does?”
“Obviously. I’m pregnant!”
“How many weeks?”
“Not sure. I told the woman who did the scan I didn’t want to know.”
“Why?”
“I wasn’t ready. Anyway, the doctor will no doubt tell me. I have to go back to see him. It’s early though. It may not—you know . . .” There’s no way I can relax. Not even in the knowledge that a fetal heartbeat is a good sign.
“I understand,” she says. She squeezes my hand, biting her lip. “So was it a total shock? Didn’t you have any clues?”
“I wasn’t looking for clues. I thought I was dying. I thought that was why I was being sick.”
She exhales. “Of course. But what the fuck?” she scoffs.
“Sorry. Not funny,” she adds.
Our coffees arrive and we sit there, spooning the froth into our mouths. Olivia is smirking.
“So this secret man on the heath. Are you still in touch?”
“God, no!”
“Who is he then?”
“No idea.”
“SHUT UP! You’re having a laugh.”
“If only.”
“Harry must be thrilled.”
“He doesn’t know yet.”
“Awkward!”
“Just a bit!”
“When are you going to tell him?”
“Soon.”
“You mean before he works it out all by himself.”
“Sooner than that. He’s going to California on a long trip. When he gets back, we’re doing an early Christmas before he goes to his mother’s. If I manage to hold on to this little one, I thought I could make it his Christmas present.”
“He might prefer the sweater,” she says, laughing.
“Don’t laugh. You might be right. Oh, Liv! But I really want this baby.”
“More than you want him?”
“I don’t know. Our relationship is good right now. I mean, he’s thrown himself back into work and he’s away a lot, but that was always how it was, only now he keeps in touch regularly, better than he ever did and I’m hoping. . . .” I intuitively place my hands over my stomach. “Hey! Let’s not talk about him.”
“Fine by me. Let’s talk about the man on the heath. What was he like?”
I roll my eyes. “I can’t really remember.”
“Well, try!”
She’s not going to let this one go. “All I can remember is that he was kind . . . and tender . . . and funny. And he smoked.”
“Jennifer! That’s on everyone’s wish list. Apart from the fag breath. Why on earth did you not stay in touch?”
“Because I had a date with destiny and I didn’t feel it fair to two-time him.”
“Don’t you think you should try to find him?”
“Why? As backup?”
“No. Out of fairness.”
“Are you mad? I don’t know his name and I can’t even remember what he looks like. That’s called needle in a haystack. I’m keeping my hopes pinned on Harry.”
“Oh, right! Because he’s always been so reliable.”
“Olivia!”
“I’ll drink my coffee and shut up,” she says.