Lauren’s revision wear:
Big grey cardigan (Ed’s)
T-shirt (can’t remember)
Jeans (H&M)
Slippers (Christmas)
Pencil in hair (school stationery cupboard)
Total est. cost: £70
‘Don’t talk to me…’
‘So, what is going on in there?’ Connor pointed at the open sitting room door as he followed Annie into the kitchen.
He’d spotted Lauren at a big table set out in the middle of the room. She had her head bent over and was writing so furiously, a heap of schoolbooks in front of her, she hadn’t even noticed Connor at first. But then had hissed: ‘Don’t talk to me, Mum will get mad.’
Annie scowled and when she’d closed the kitchen door she hissed, ‘She is in so much trouble! She’s not going back to school until the exams. I’ve signed her off sick.’
Annie ushered Connor to a seat.
‘She is studying in the sitting room with old-fashioned books, pens and papers. She’s banned from going anywhere near a computer. All those hours and hours and hours I thought she was studying away upstairs… all the things I thought she was busy researching on the internet. All the essays I thought she was writing. Ha!’
‘And? What was she really doing?’ Connor was desperate to know. He handed Annie the bottle of wine he’d brought with him, ‘Open,’ he instructed, ‘So… running an internet porn empire? Surely at least a dating agency?’
‘Shut up!’ Annie told him off, ‘she was running some whole little set-up on eBay! Selling all her friends’ old clothes for them, buying cheap make up and flogging it at school, trading CDs and DVDs – who knows what else. Pointless! All that time wasted! Then she realises how little work she’s done and has a total meltdown,’ Annie ranted.
‘On eBay… hmmm…’ Connor couldn’t resist smiling, ‘remind you of anyone we know? Anyone at all? Anyone who also had a business selling Chinese shoes and second-hand bags and unwanted glad rags? She’s following in her trader mum’s footsteps!’
‘Shut up,’ Annie repeated, ‘those days are all behind me now.’
‘Yes, yes, we’ll come on to that,’ Connor said, accepting the glass of wine Annie had poured out for him, ‘but how has Lauren been sorted?’
‘No computer,’ Annie told him. ‘No internet, no eBay, no pocket money and she has to cram. Good, old-fashioned cramming. Nine hours a day with meal breaks for the next fortnight, and I’m supervising.’
‘Meal breaks? That’s very thoughtful of you,’ Connor teased.
‘Well, it’s too bad. This is how I passed my exams.’
‘This is how I failed mine. I couldn’t do it. Who can be bothered to have their heads stuck inside boring old books for nine hours a day.’
‘Shhh!’ Annie warned him, ‘I don’t want her to hear you. You are a totally bad influence.’
She looked at the glass of wine in front of her. It was one of those heavy, treacly, Australian reds that Connor was so fond of. Just thinking about taking a sip was making Annie’s stomach feel acidic. She poured herself a glass of water without saying anything to Connor.
‘OK, now tell me all about the fabulous you, you, you,’ Connor said. He sat back in his kitchen chair. ‘So, you’ve snubbed Rafie boy…’
‘But I have Jenny Belmont!’ Annie announced, all wide-eyed with enthusiasm, ‘Tamsin told me to try her and she’s brilliant. Honestly, she is so tough and so cool and so sussed, I love her. Connor…’ Annie’s voice dropped almost to a whisper, ‘I think this really could be it. Jenny and Tamsin are talking about the Big Time. One day in the not so distant future, people really might know about Trinny and Susannah, Gok Wan and… me!’
‘You better believe it, baby,’ was Connor’s delighted response. ‘So have you signed the big C?’
‘This morning. That’s why we’re celebrating.’
‘Is this a party?’ he looked round the kitchen sceptically.
‘It will be soon,’ Annie assured him. ‘Ed’s picking Owen up from orchestra, which is why I’m meant to start the cooking…’ she remembered, and headed to the fridge for the onions, ‘Dinah and Bryan will be here in about an hour with Billie.’
‘How are they doing?’ Connor asked.
‘OK-ish,’ Annie told him carefully, setting up the chopping board and peeling an onion, ‘they’re having a big think about whether they really want to go through this all again. They have Billie, maybe Billie is going to be enough… we’ll see. What about you?’ she asked next. ‘Are you and Hector still thinking about…’
‘Might get a dog instead,’ Connor told her with a wink as Dave padded into the kitchen. ‘So how much are you getting then? It better not be more than me.’
‘Ha-ha,’ Annie responded, but then looked up from her onions with a grin and squealed, ‘Jenny’s upped it to £10,000 per episode!’
Connor whistled. ‘Not bad!’
‘And they’re making six this year!’ Annie added gleefully. ‘And if there’s another series—’
‘—You and Jenny hold out and haggle hard,’ Connor finished her sentence, ‘Congratulations. I am very, very proud of you. You are going to be terrific. I just know it.’
‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘Now I must make dinner!’ she reminded herself, after a long, happy moment of smiling delightedly at Connor. She took the packets of chicken legs from the fridge. She was to fry them briefly with the onions then put them in a big casserole dish with chopped tomatoes. By then Ed was supposed to be home to finish the dish off – dabble with herbs and stock and all that stuff she couldn’t be bothered with.
As she took the pale pink legs out of the packet and heaped them up on the chopping board, she suddenly felt a lurch of sickness, the unexplained, low-level sickness which had been bothering her for some time now. There had been no vomiting since the scanning room but now she wasn’t so sure.
She turned back to the table and groped for her glass of water.
‘Whoa, what’s the matter?’ Connor asked with concern.
‘Some kind of bug,’ Annie mumbled. She gulped thankfully at the cool water. Phew, that was better. She ran a hand over her forehead… she was going to be fine.
Dave padded over to her and without any warning lay down right on top of her feet.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’ she exclaimed, bending over to move him out of the way, which was a mistake: right then, with a violent hiccup, she puked the whole glass of water and the watery remains of her lunch right out onto the floor, splattering Dave in the process.
‘Annie!’ Connor was at her side, catching hold of her arms and holding her up just as she thought she was going to crumple, ‘I know you don’t like the dog, but…
‘Sit tight,’ he instructed, moving her onto a chair. ‘Dave!’ he called sharply to the dog, which was shooting across the kitchen floor bound for the sitting room where he was no doubt intending to roll on a sofa and dry off his wet, vomit-soaked fur.
‘He’s deaf,’ Annie reminded Connor.
‘Dave!’ Connor repeated in a loud, low voice, giving a hard thump on the floor with his foot. Amazingly, Dave spun round and looked at Connor. ‘Sit!’ Connor commanded, flicking up his hand.
Dave looked at Connor, then turned and looked at the kitchen door, as if weighing the pros and cons of staying or running. ‘Biscuit?’ Connor wheedled. At this Dave stuck out his pink tongue and lowered his back haunches into the sitting position. ‘Good boy,’ Connor praised him as he caught hold of his collar and made sure he couldn’t get away.
‘Kitchen roll’s over there,’ Annie said in a muffled voice because she was holding her hands over her face.
Once the dog had been rubbed dry and turfed out into the garden to air, and the floor wiped, Connor turned his attention to Annie.
‘If you’re not feeling well, you need to go to bed,’ he instructed. ‘Ed and I can handle dinner, or maybe I should call Dinah and we’ll do the celebrating another night. Hey,’ he put a hand on her shoulder, ‘are you OK?’
Annie, her head still in her hands, shook her head.
‘How long has this been going on for?’
There were tears in her voice. ‘About a week.’
‘A week? That’s ridiculous! You have to get to the doctor,’ Connor urged, ‘I can phone up right now, book you an out-of-hours appointment.’
Annie just shook her head, but then wished she hadn’t because it was making her feel dizzy.
‘Why not?’ Connor asked.
‘Because…’ she began, tears squeezing from the corners of her eyes, ‘because I know what the doctor will say.’
‘What?’ Connor wondered what on earth she was talking about. Then his eye fell on the big glass of wine standing on the table in front of Annie. Now there was something he’d never seen before. Annie leaving a glass of wine untouched.
Oh.
Oh!
‘Annie, are you… um…?’ he paused, wondering how to phrase this question.
‘Yes,’ came the response, again muffled, because her arms were laid across the table now, with her face pressed into them.
‘Yes, what?’ Connor was suddenly unsure about what he’d asked. Or what she’d thought he’d asked.
‘You know,’ came the stubborn response.
‘Annie,’ he took a breath, ‘are you up the duff?’
He thought that the bobbing of her ponytail probably meant yes. He had enough sense not to say anything else just yet. Clearly, as far as Annie was concerned, this was not exactly great news. Well, for a start, she had just signed a contract to present six episodes of a brand new TV show.
‘What will Dinah say?’ came the tearful question from under the arms, ‘Poor, poor Dinah. And Owen and Lauren? What will they think? And what about Tamsin and the show? Will she really not mind, the way she said she wouldn’t? And my mum, she might have to come and live with us, you know.’
‘What does Ed think?’ Connor asked.
‘Ed?’ Annie squawked. ‘This is all Ed’s fault!’
Which was kind of stating the obvious, Connor thought, but maybe he wouldn’t point that out right now.
‘We only had sex once without my diaphragm – no, twice – no, maybe three times. But that is nothing! Three times in one month! I’m in my late thirties, you know,’ Annie blurted out, an outraged note in her voice.
‘Well… what does Ed think? Connor asked again gently.
‘He doesn’t know,’ came the confession.
‘Connor?’ Annie finally raised her red face from the table and fixed her tearful eyes on her friend’s. ‘Please don’t tell him. I don’t know anything yet… no,’ she corrected herself, ‘I do know that I don’t want to do this.’
She thought immediately of a dream she’d had the night before of being pulled underwater, deep, deep down, past the point of no return because tied to her ankle was a baby made of lead.
There was a heavy silence in the kitchen before Connor answered, ‘I won’t tell him Annie, but you have to. There’s no option here. You have to tell him.’
It was 10 the next morning when Annie went upstairs to her bedroom and took out the card she’d tucked into the back pocket of her wallet. For several long moments, she stared at it, not sure whether to go ahead or not. What if Ed found out about this? And what would Tamsin think? But still, she dialled the number on her mobile phone.
The briskly efficient secretary picked up and answered cheerfully, ‘Hello, this is the Yarwood Clinic, how can I help you?’
‘Hello… yes…’ Annie began uncertainly, ‘erm… I’m hoping you’ll be able to give me some advice. Yes, because, well… I seem to be pregnant…’