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Allegro became a one-word mantra during Beth’s return journey. It was the make of a British car, but it certainly wasn’t a vehicle involved in the accident. She knew it was a term for tempo, but Luc had no interest in music beyond Motown.
When she searched for it online back at Jody’s using his tablet, she found a dizzying number of results – it was the name of a Polish-based auction website, a luxury restaurant in Prague, a typeface designed in 1936 and a software library for video game development. It was also a passenger train service between Helsinki and Saint Petersburg, a Mexican airline and, as well as a Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, a 2005 movie directed by Christoffer Boe. At the more obscure end, it was a cryogenic gravitational wave bar indicator – whatever that happened to be – and John Marco Allegro was a Dead Sea Scrolls scholar.
None of it had any relevance to Luc. Had Rae misheard?
But finding any trace of the word became an incentive for Beth to finally open the blue envelope containing Luc’s computer passwords while Jody was still in bed and she could do it alone. Digital legacy. She pulled her robe tight around her, took a sip of her coffee and put the cup down on the table. Sliding the envelope out of the folder, she didn’t give herself pause to think.
Beth messily tore it open, unfolded the first slip of paper and found her own passwords scrawled on it. She only had two. Luc had told her she shouldn’t use the same passwords for all of her accounts, because if one were hacked it would be easy to access the others. She alternated between different234 and different567. If one run of numbers didn’t work then she knew she simply had to enter the other. It wasn’t security-conscious enough for Luc, but then she didn’t have as much sensitive information to protect.
She opened Luc’s to find a list of eight accounts and as many separate passwords. His handwriting was boxy and tiny and pressed through the paper, and she imagined him painstakingly penning the words. He hated writing, said it gave him hand cramps, and didn’t want to scribble anything with a pen other than his signature.
She recognised some – “michaelmas2009” was a reference to their wedding day that fell on October 11th and she knew that nicolaide48131 was an amalgamation of his mother and father’s names and birthdays. “Pogerola” was an Italian village they’d stayed in for their honeymoon in Amalfi and was a password they both used to access their online photo account.
The others were just sequences of what looked like random letters and numbers to her. They were for pensions and private investment funds so obviously had to be more intricate. No mention of Allegro.
She looked at the half-eaten dry bagel on the arm beside her, because its smell suddenly seemed overpowering. Beth felt clammy nausea crawl quickly over her and made a dash for the bathroom. She didn’t make it in time and trailed vomit through its door to the sink.
“Are you all right?”
Beth spat into the plughole but her stomach heaved again. She could hear Jody moving about in his room. He slept naked and she knew he would be hurriedly throwing something on. “Yes,” she managed before her shoulders rose to eject the little she’d recently eaten.
“Can I... get you something?” he said awkwardly from behind her, a few moments later. “There’s mouthwash in the cabinet.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll clean up the carpet.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
She ran the tap and filled her mouth with water, but knew she hadn’t finished. “Honestly, I’m fine. Go back to bed.”
“I’ll make you a cup of your mint tea.” He strode off in the direction of the kitchen.
Beth heard him fill the kettle and blinked the moisture out of her eyes.
When Jody left to do some shopping, he asked her if she needed any specific groceries. Beth said no, even though she did and slipped out of the house soon after him. She was back less than ten minutes later.’
She couldn’t pee on the stick. It was as if her body had locked itself tight against confirming what she already knew. She tried to relax herself, then strained until her temples pounded. Placing her head in her hands and leaning forward, she repeatedly shifted her position on the seat. She hadn’t passed water that morning even though she’d drunk a couple of cups of tea in readiness. After what felt like half an hour, she finally felt the warm liquid flow weakly out of her.
She’d already taken the tester stick from its foil wrapper and followed the instructions, allowing the small trickle to flow for a few seconds before holding it in the stream.
Now she had to wait another three to four minutes.
When the blue line appeared and confirmed she was carrying Luc’s child, Beth felt nothing but cold inertia. What she’d thought was the sickness of expelling the trauma of the crash was the beginnings of something that had been actuated before it. It was what she’d wanted. It was why she’d stopped taking the pill and not told Luc.
