THE NEXT WEEK PASSED in a daze. Libby went through the motions around the house – sleeping and eating, looking after Hector – but she felt numb. Was it really possible that she was pregnant? She and Simon had always been so careful. But somehow it had gone horribly wrong, and now she was pregnant by a man who no longer wanted to be with her, a man who was seeing someone else. Plus, she didn’t know the first thing about raising a baby, she was unemployed, soon to be homeless, and her savings were fast running out. Panic gnawed at Libby’s insides and her head spun as the grim reality of the situation hit her again and again.
She avoided Rebecca as much as possible, too scared to tell her yet, and although Libby sent Frank a brief message to reassure him she was home from the hospital, she’d not gone into any details. As for Dylan, Libby had ignored his WhatsApp message on Monday morning, telling her he was waiting for her at the bus stop, and the voicemail he’d left later that day, checking she was OK and informing her he’d finished putting posters up along the route. Once or twice she’d considered calling him back and confessing why she’d failed to meet him as agreed, but every time she bottled out. Dylan was a lovely guy, but any chemistry they might have had would disappear the moment he knew she was pregnant, and Libby couldn’t bear to see him be awkward around her. Now their poster project was finished, it was easiest if Libby ignored his messages and let him forget about her.
And then there was Simon. Libby knew she had to tell him, but the thought made her feel physically sick. Simon had moved on with his new life and girlfriend, so how would he react when she told him she was pregnant? Would he be angry, thinking she was trying to trap him? Would he want her to get rid of the baby? Because as much as this pregnancy was unplanned, it definitely wasn’t unwanted; Libby had dreamt of being a mother since she was a child. But in all those dreams she’d been married, bringing up a baby as part of a family, not raising it alone. Libby had run this over and over in her mind all week, until her head ached and her eyes were sore from crying.
On Saturday morning, once she was sure that the others had left the house, Libby went down to the living room and pulled one of Rebecca’s books off the shelf. She’d spotted it during the week but hadn’t dared look at it. Now, she carried it through to the kitchen and sat down at the counter. The Pregnancy Planner For New Parents it read on the front, with a photo of a woman with a huge, distended belly and a man standing behind her, smiling smugly. Libby opened the book and flicked through until she came to the relevant page.
At fifteen weeks your baby is around 10 cm long and approximately the size of an apple.
Libby put her hand on her stomach. There couldn’t be something the size of an apple in there. Surely her tummy should be properly bulging by now, not this small, slightly soft paunch? She read on.
If this is your first pregnancy, you may not have a visible baby bump yet, although your weight gain is likely to have started speeding up. Every pregnancy is different, so if you feel concerned in any way then speak to your doctor.
Yes, I feel bloody concerned. Libby scanned further down the page.
The baby’s eyes are now sensitive to light and its fingernails are starting to grow.
For some reason, this fact made Libby gasp. She’d been amazed by Hector’s tiny fingers when he’d been born, so small and wrinkled, like a little old man’s.
Around fifteen weeks, your baby will start hearing you, so you can talk to it whenever you like.
Libby put the book down.
‘Hello, little one,’ she said, and then felt self-conscious at hearing her own voice in the empty house. ‘I’m your mummy.’
She pressed her hands more firmly on her tummy, imagining the apple-sized baby underneath.
‘I’m sorry I’ve been a bit crap so far. I realise it’s not a great start, me not even knowing you were there. And sorry for all the crying this week. It’s been a bit of a shock, that’s all.’
There was the muffled sound from a neighbouring garden and Libby paused.
‘Look, this isn’t exactly how I’d hoped it would happen, what with your father and me . . . Well, never mind about that now. But I’ve had a lot of time to think about things this week, and I want you to know that I’m excited about this . . . about you. I apologise now that I have absolutely no idea what to do and I’ll probably make a shit ton of mistakes, like swearing in front of you. And right now I have no idea where we’re going to live or how I’m going to support us. But I’ll work it out, OK? I promise.’
Libby held her breath, waiting to see if she’d feel anything under her hands, the tiniest sign that the baby had heard and was excited too. But instead, all she felt was a sudden, desperate urge to go for a wee.
As she was washing her hands in the bathroom sink, making a mental list of all the things she needed to do, Libby heard the sound of the front door clicking open downstairs. Rebecca, Tom, and Hector were usually out at football practice until lunchtime every Saturday, so she dried her hands and stepped out into the hall.
‘Hello?’
‘Libby, where are you?’ Rebecca’s voice shouted up the stairs.
‘Up here. What are you doing back so early?’
‘Mum’s here for brunch, remember?’
Bugger. Libby absolutely did not remember, and the last thing she needed was a meal with her family right now. Her mum would take one look at her and immediately know something was going on.
‘I hope you’re not still lazing in bed, Elizabeth?’ Pauline’s voice called up.
‘No, Mum,’ Libby replied, looking down at her scruffy pyjamas.
‘Good, well, come down then. I need your help preparing the smoked salmon and scrambled eggs.’
Libby glanced in the bathroom mirror at her tired, pale face, then pulled her hair up into a ponytail, brushed on some mascara and made her way downstairs.
‘Are you ill?’ her mum said, as soon as Libby walked into the kitchen.
‘No.’
‘Well, what’s wrong with you then?’
‘Nothing’s wrong, I’m just tired. Where are the eggs?’
‘In one of those shopping bags.’ Pauline nodded at several large brown paper bags on the counter.
Libby took a step towards the counter and then froze. Poking out from underneath one of the shopping bags was the pregnancy book she’d been looking at earlier, still open at the fifteen weeks page. It seemed neither her mum nor sister had noticed it when they came in, but Libby had to get it out of the kitchen – fast. She glanced across at them, but they both had their backs turned to her, arguing over something in the fridge. As quietly as possible, Libby lifted up the bag and slipped the book out from underneath it.
‘Libby, can you pass me the smoked sa—’
Her mum had turned to face her, and her mouth fell open as she saw Libby clutching the book. For a moment she remained like that, as if someone had pressed pause, and then her whole face lit up.
‘Rebecca!’ she squealed, so loudly that Rebecca almost dropped the carton of orange juice she was lifting out of the fridge. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
Libby could feel a crushing sensation against her ribs as she realised what was going on. She opened her mouth to explain, but Rebecca spoke first.
‘What are you talking about, Mum?’
‘Is that why you invited me today, to make a big announcement? Well then, silly you for leaving the book lying around!’
Rebecca’s face was still blank. She turned to look at Libby for an explanation, and as she did, her eyes dropped to the book. For a moment nobody spoke, and Libby saw colour rising up her sister’s throat.
‘How many weeks?’ Rebecca said, and her voice sounded like something was twisting at her throat.
‘I don’t know, you tell me, darling,’ Pauline said, with a laugh. ‘You’re not showing yet so I’d guess less than twelve.’
Rebecca was still staring at Libby, her expression blank. The only indication of emotion was the bright flush of pink that had now moved up to her cheeks.
‘Fifteen weeks,’ Libby said, quietly. ‘I’m sorry, Bex, I only found out—’
‘Would someone tell me what’s going on?’ The laughter in her mum’s voice had gone, and she was looking between her two daughters. ‘Rebecca?’
‘I’m not pregnant,’ Rebecca said, her voice faltering. ‘We just found out that our last round of IVF failed.’
‘Oh . . . But then I don’t understand. Why are you reading—’
‘It’s Libby. She’s pregnant, not me.’
Another few seconds of agonising silence.
‘Elizabeth?’ Her mum said, her eyes wide. ‘But . . . how?’
‘I got pregnant before Simon and I broke up,’ Libby said.
‘It’s Simon’s then?’ Pauline’s face brightened with relief. ‘Thank God for that! Well, in that case it’s not terrible news at all.’ She walked across the kitchen towards Libby. ‘In fact, I think it’s wonderful. Congratulations, darling!’ She pulled her into a tight hug.
‘Eh, thanks, Mum.’ Libby’s eyes were still on her sister, who hadn’t moved.
Pauline lowered her voice as she stage whispered into Libby’s ear. ‘I have to admit, I’m a little relieved that at least one of my girls can get pregnant without any fuss.’
Rebecca’s face flinched, as if she’d been slapped. She quickly regained her composure, but Libby had seen it, that flash of searing pain.
‘Rebecca, have you got any champagne in the fridge?’ Pauline called, not turning round to look at her. ‘We need to celebrate Libby’s exciting news.’
Rebecca walked silently towards the fridge, her movements stiff as she pulled out a bottle.
‘Simon must be over the moon, he always wanted to be a father. What did you say when you told him?’
Libby realised she was still clinging on to the book and she put it down on the counter. ‘I-I haven’t told him yet.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well, it’s all been a bit of a surprise.’
‘When did you find out?’ Pauline took the champagne bottle off Rebecca and popped the cork.
‘Only last week.’
‘Really? I knew I was pregnant with you girls the night you were conceived,’ Pauline said. ‘Both times I said to your father, “Roger, we just created a baby.”’
Libby winced and tried to catch her sister’s eye, but Rebecca was looking away from her, staring out of the window into the garden.
‘At least this explains the weight gain,’ Pauline said, pouring champagne into a glass. ‘But I have to say, darling, in many ways this is very clever of you. Now Simon will have to forget about his silly little affair and take you back, and all this nonsense will finally be over with.’
‘I’m not so sure about that,’ Libby said.
‘Oh, of course he will. Simon’s an honourable young man, there’s no way he’ll leave you to have a baby on your own.’
‘But he’s with someone else now, Mum. And to be honest, I’m not sure I want him back after everything that’s happened.’
‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous. As soon as you tell him you’re carrying his baby, he’ll forget all about this skinny Olivia woman. Just you wait and see.’
‘You are keeping the baby, aren’t you?’ It was the first time Rebecca had spoken in a while, and when Libby looked up at her, she saw a glint of something dangerous in her sister’s eye.
‘Of course I am.’
‘And you are going to tell Simon?’
Libby hesitated a second too long, and she saw her sister draw breath. ‘You have to tell him, Libby! He’s the baby’s father.’
‘Of course she’s going to tell him,’ Pauline said, tutting at her eldest daughter. ‘Come on, Rebecca, can’t you try and be happy for your sister?’
‘I am happy for her,’ Rebecca said, but her voice was flat.
‘A toast then,’ Pauline said, thrusting a glass of champagne towards each of her daughters. ‘To Libby and her pregnancy.’
‘To Libby and her pregnancy,’ Rebecca said, and then promptly drained her glass in one.