'Come on, Becca,' Martin called up the stairs. 'If we don't go soon we won't get back in time for rehearsal.'
'Just changing.' Becca undid her work trousers and the zip shot down, released from the strain of being done up. Running made Martin slim, but it was making her put on weight which was the most unfair thing she'd ever heard of. Bad enough panting round and round the park, but to then discover you were getting fatter was just unfair. She supposed it was all the extra eating she felt she could get away with now they ran together three times a week. Trousers off and in her bra and pants, she popped into the bathroom and on to the scales to assess the damage.
Becca peered down at her toes, trying to avoid noticing her tummy - a difficult feat since it stuck out so much. Strange. According to the scales she'd lost weight. She stepped off them, and then back on. Still the same result. She patted her tummy. Obviously she was becoming an apple having been a pear shape all her life. It was what happened to middle-aged women unless they were careful.
'Come on, Mum. We're all waiting,' Lily yelled and Ronnie barked in sympathy. Ronnie - the dog formerly known as Oberon - was transforming Lily from a tubby goth into a sleek princess, although she kept the jet-black hair (a teenager had to rebel somehow). Becca had fudged Ronnie's origins to Martin, just saying the previous owners were friends of a colleague. Lily was true to her word; these last two months since Ronnie had joined them she had been most attentive to his every whim. She washed him, fed him, petted him, brushed him, walked him, ran with him and in return Ronnie had given Lily eternal love and shed vast quantities of black hair that collected in corners of the room and needed sweeping by Becca on a daily basis. Other than that, she had to admit that she liked having his hairy black face around the house.
I'll be down in a minute. Martin, can you put the casserole into the oven - it'll have heated up by the time we get back.'
Sucking her tummy in, Becca went back into her bedroom and pulled on her tracksuit bottoms and a running crop top. Even though it was the end of May she toyed with grabbing a sweater. The weather hadn't been that good. On the other hand, she'd be teased mercilessly by Martin and Lily if she took one and didn't wear it. Becca decided against it, then checked her watch. Martin and Lily were just fussing, there was plenty of time. It wasn't that bad, they could always cut back the running by five minutes and that would give plenty of time to shower, eat the casserole and then get to the arts centre in time for rehearsal. Lily was taking her role as assistant stage manager very seriously, getting her homework done the minute she got in from school, and ticking Becca off whenever she was late.
Becca stretched her arms up, easing the tension from her back. Never mind, this was the last play she was going to act in for the foreseeable future, assuming she started the theatre studies degree course. And if she finished the course... goodbye Bill, goodbye Hamilton House and teaching, hello new career as a creative arts administrator. Strange to think that in the future she might not go to drama school, but she could end up running one. She'd already made tentative approaches for work experience to the drama school in Bristol as well as the theatre-in-education department at the Theatre Royal in Bath.
There was the possibility that one day, if she followed that route, her path might cross with Paul's. But that was over and done with, she thought, as she looked for a band to tie her hair back with. The woman Becca had been then wasn't the woman she was now. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror, admiring the new sleeker haircut that had taken off some of the length without losing the weight. A grown-up haircut. She tied her hair back, twisting the caramel strands up and back into a ponytail. Her face looked a little rounder than usual, she thought as she smoothed back some loose strands.
I've put the casserole in,' Martin called. 'Get a move on.'
'All right, all right,' Becca muttered. Martin was coming to rehearsal too, having been co-opted by Lily to be set designer and builder. Lily had also roped in Frank, who trudged around backstage like a Wagnerian dwarf but at least he'd been deflected from DIY coffin-making. Although Becca had to admit, that was mainly Maureen's doing. Maureen took the phrase 'mustn't grumble' literally, and had filled Frank's life with golf, bridge and three square meals a day. Frank looked happier and fitter than Becca could remember. Sam was designing the posters. Becca had seen the prototypes which always featured beautiful young girls with shiny jet-black hair who bore no similarity to any member of the cast.
The only family member Lily hadn't drawn in was June, who had decamped to St Ives the second the house in Bath had gone under offer. They were all going down to see her at half term next week, Martin as well. He was taking a week off before he started his new job within his company. There had been some redundancies but it had meant promotion for Martin. Becca sat on the edge of the bed to put her running socks on. As she leaned forwards her breasts ached, and she wondered if she ought to try a different running bra. She'd never thought of herself as being particularly big up top, but since starting running they'd frequently ached and felt heavy and full, much as they were before a period.
Perhaps that's it, she thought. My period must be due soon. The last time was...ages ago. She couldn't remember having one over the Easter holidays. The last one she could remember was way back was it February sometime? March? Two or three months ago at least - she gasped, hand to mouth, head buzzing with the implication. No. It couldn't... she couldn't... She crossed the landing to the main bathroom.
'Come on, Mum.' Lily's voice floated up the stairs.
'Hang on, I'll be down in five minutes. I've just got to do something...' She sounded quite normal yet when she saw her reflection in the bathroom mirror she looked wild-eyed. It had to be here somewhere... She scrabbled around in the bathroom cabinet, heart pounding. There it was, tucked away at the back, the spare test Lily hadn't used.
Her hands shook as she tipped the second pregnancy-testing kit out of the packet, quickly reading through the instructions. Three minutes, don't touch the tip, keep it upright. She felt sick and had to lean forwards to let the blood rush back to her head. Calm down. This isn't happening. At my age you expect to start missing periods. She stood up, keeping her breathing controlled. I'll do it, just to prove there's nothing to worry about, she thought.
She sat down to pee, trying to get the pointed tip of the test midstream. Mission accomplished she sat back and waited. Three minutes wasn't a very long time. One hundred and eighty seconds, and then she could get on with her life.
The second hand ticked round. Three minutes, and a lifetime. Two minutes fifty-nine, fifty-eight, fifty-seven... As Becca sat staring at the tip of the tester she put her hand on her stomach, feeling its roundness taut, not flabby, as if full of promise and secrets. I'm imagining things, she told herself, it's no different from usual. I can't be. It's impossible. I'm too old. I'm not pregnant. Being pregnant would be ridiculous. Being pregnant would be inconvenient. Being pregnant would be... wonderful? She spread her fingers wide over her stomach. Was there life there? Was there a baby?
Don't think about it. Of course she wasn't pregnant, she was doing the test just to confirm that. If she were pregnant though... Martin had been sleeping in the spare room right up until the marathon at the end of March. Two months ago. They'd come back from the hospital and then... and then... Making love then had been like an affirmation of life; perhaps it had also created a life. She checked her watch. Two minutes thirty-five, thirty-four, thirty-three... The first window was now saturated, the blue line clear. The moisture was creeping up the second window, but there was no sign of any line appearing. It's a false alarm, Becca thought, face in her hands, overwhelmed with - relief? Regret?
The second window was now saturated, and no line showed. One minute forty-eight, forty-seven, forty-six...
No, it wasn't going to happen now. Becca put her hand on her stomach, her eyes filling with tears. One minute twenty-one, twenty, nineteen.
The first line was bleeding slightly, its blueness almost insolent in contrast to the emptiness of the second window. She wiped her face. You silly woman, she thought. Getting upset over nothing. Two minutes were gone. It was over. Look on the bright side, a baby would have been impossible at her age. No, not impossible. They could have worked something out. In some ways it would have been perfect timing, she'd have had the summer holidays and then could have gone on maternity leave from Hamilton House. She could have carried on with her course even with a small baby in tow. A Christmas baby.
Becca shook her head and blew her nose on a bit of loo paper. It was all hypothetical, she told herself, ignoring her aching heart. She was just being silly. She had Lily, her own darling child, and that was enough for her. A baby at her age? Ridiculous. Still, she couldn't help taking one last look at the tester stick.
No. She was imagining it. She wanted to see the line, and her imagination was supplying it. Becca stared at the tester. The line was faint, but there. Both windows. She wasn't imagining it. Becca put her hands to her face and stared at herself in the mirror. The grin stretched across her face and her eyes shone. She couldn't cope. She would cope. It was ridiculous. Fantastical. She laughed, and then stopped.
'Becca? Are you running or not?' Martin downstairs sounded quite cross.
'I don't think I'd better,' she called to him, quickly wiping the tears from her face.
She heard him run up the stairs. 'What's the matter?'
'Nothing's the matter,' Becca said, opening the bathroom door.
'Then why aren't you running? You're not giving up already?'
Becca shook her head and held up the pregnancy-testing kit. 'I think I'm...'
She watched as it took him a few seconds to realise what she was talking about. His eyes flew up to hers, his mouth open in astonishment. 'You're...?'
Becca nodded. 'So it appears.'
A grin spread over Martins face and with a whoop he picked her up and swung her round, and Becca wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his warm shoulder, never ever wanting to let go.
Lily stomped upstairs. 'What's going on? Isn't anyone going running? We'll be late for rehearsal at this rate.'
'We've got some news,' Martin said, setting Becca down but keeping tight hold of her hand. 'Some wonderful news.'
Becca held out her hand to Lily. 'I'm going to have a baby.'
'That's disgusting,' Lily said in the same horrified tones she'd greeted steak when she was a vegetarian. 'That means you've been...you've been... doing it!'
Martin and Becca looked at each other, feeling like naughty children being told off. ' 'Fraid so,' Martin said.
'It's appalling, it's so... so...disgusting, I mean, like, you're old. You ought to know better.' Lily put her hands to her face rather like Munch's The Scream. 'Omigod, that's so embarrassing. No one must know.'
'I think they'll have to,' Becca said, holding out her hand. 'Darling Lily, you don't really mind, do you?'
Lily took her hand. 'I s'pose not,' she said, sniffing. 'Mind you, it had better be a boy. If it's a girl, it's got to go back. And now - can we go running? Pur-leese?'
'In a minute,' Martin said. Lily rolled her eyes and stomped down the stairs. Martin stroked Becca's cheek. 'I'd better go - will you be all right?'
Becca pressed her cheek against his hand. 'Of course.'
Martin's eyes were warm on hers. 'I love you,' he said.
'I love you,' she whispered back, smiling as her eyes filled with tears.
Downstairs they could hear Lily call to the dog, and its nails scratch on the wooden floors as it scampered to join her. 'Guess what, Ron? We're having a baby!'
'Don't cry,' Martin said, gently wiping Becca's face. 'We're having a baby.'
- The End -