Taking care not to wake Harry, Lucy slipped out of bed and into the bathroom, locking the door quietly behind her. The pale dawn filtered through the small window, turning everything shadowy and a soft grey. Without turning on the overhead light, she felt in the back of the cupboard where she had hidden the kit. Taking a deep breath, she held the leaflet up to the window and rescanned the instructions, although she’d been through them several times the previous night. She removed the wrapper and the cap, squatted over the toilet as instructed, held the tip downwards and let her stream of urine flow over it. Watching as the tip changed colour, she counted slowly to five, before removing the test, shaking the drops off and placing it flat on the edge of the vanity. She checked her watch. In just three short minutes, she would know whether her whole life was about to change.
This hadn’t been in the plan at all. A brief stomach virus had left her in a contraceptive grey-zone and, making love to Harry on his birthday a few weeks before, she had murmured in his ear, 'We should probably use a condom, you know, but I forgot to buy any.'
He had kissed her and said, 'I don’t mind making a baby with you. It would be a lovely birthday present.'
She had never considered that they really might make a baby. At thirty four, with no previous pregnancy scares, she had occasionally wondered about her fertility levels. Yet, here she was, waiting for the fate of her life to be determined by a thin blue line and a small plus sign.
'Harry,' she shook him gently on the shoulder, as she sat down on the edge of the bed, 'I’ve made you a cup of coffee.'
Grunting and rolling over, he smiled up at her and with his grey-blue eyes still hazy with sleep, he turned to bury his head in her lap. 'Mmm, hot coffee and a warm Lucy, my favourite morning wake-up.'
She pulled away, moving a little further down the bed.
'What’s wrong?' he frowned. 'Did I do something bad to you in your dreams again?'
'I’m pregnant.' There it was; no lead up, no softening the blow. All the cute little lines she’d been concocting in the kitchen - 'did you want coffee or a baby?' or 'How about a side order of fatherhood?' - they had disappeared as soon as she spoke. Instead, it was just the basic fact that she, or they as people liked to say nowadays, was pregnant. She looked directly at him, waiting for his response, assessing how honest he would be, whilst wondering how honest could she be. When she had seen the little plus sign next to the blue control line her stomach had turned over and her heart had sunk; she didn’t think she was ready for this. In fact, she knew she wasn’t ready at all. In that single moment, everything had changed; her direction moving forward, the choices she needed to make and her relationship with Harry. The options had felt immediately overwhelming but as soon as the word 'abortion' had popped into her mind she had pushed it away. The practical reasons for not contemplating a termination came thick and fast and anyway, this wasn’t just her choice, it was hers and Harry’s. They were a unit and a tight one at that, didn’t everyone always comment on how good they were together?
Harry barely paused, 'That’s amazing! I told you we were going to make a baby.' Sweeping her into an enormous hug he rocked her from side to side, 'I’m going to be a father!' Sensing her tenseness, he stopped and looked at her intently. 'How do you feel about this? You’re very quiet.'
'I don’t know, I really don’t know,' she shook her head, 'It’s such a shock, I don’t know how I feel… All I can think is how much everything is going to change and I don’t feel like I’ve even started my life yet. How can I start another life when I still don’t know what I’m doing with my own?'
'What do you mean?'
'Don’t you ever feel like life is bigger than this? A job, a flat, a cat? Followed by babies and a house in the suburbs?'
'Now, come on, that’s unfair, you know I said I was never moving to the suburbs.' He was trying to lighten things up, unsure of how he was supposed to respond when Lucy was so clearly distressed. Surprised as he was with the news, he also knew he was delighted at the idea of fatherhood, however much change it would mean.
'I had dreams,' Lucy continued, as though he hadn’t spoken, 'I wanted to travel, to see the world, to do something worthwhile with my life, something creative. I don’t know, write a book or learn to sail or, or…I had a world map on my wall.' She was breathing heavily and gabbling. 'I’m nearly thirty five for fuck’s sake and what have I got to show for it? A shitty job, a cat and you?' She burst into tears and ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.
Sitting on the closed toilet lid, head in hands she sobbed, great heaving waves that came from deep inside. Where had that outburst come from, she wondered. Had she even been aware that she was unhappy or unfulfilled, watching time whizz past whilst unconsciously ticking off all the things she had yet to experience in life. And now, she saw in a flash, the rest of her life disappearing into coffee mornings and inane discussions with other mothers about the state of their children’s health and the contents of their nappies; making choices about good schools and the best universities until her selected pension plan matured, she retired from her sensible part-time job and died. Once she had had one child they were on the slippery slope to at least two, hell, there might even be twins there in the mix. Didn’t Harry have some in his family somewhere? Along the way, he would get bored with her and find himself a younger, thinner, child-free model, leaving her alone with these offspring he clearly so desperately wanted, but could walk away from at a moment’s notice leaving her, quite literally, holding the babies.
Harry was tapping on the bathroom door. 'Sweetheart?… Honey, open the door, let’s just talk, OK?'
Her tears, which had eased as her anger at her envisioned fate had risen, started afresh at his obvious concern. Snot dribbled out of her nose and she viciously wiped her face with her dressing-gown sleeve.
'Hon, we can work this out. Please. Just open the door so we can talk, hey?'
Sighing, she got up and unlocked the door. As soon as she opened it, he pulled her into a hug, kissing her gently on the top of her head. 'We’ll work this out. I promise. This is you and me. Together.'
She gulped down a sob. 'Oh, I’m just being stupid. You know, overreacting, overthinking, like you say I always do. I know we’ll be fine. We always are. It’s just…it’s just…oh shit, I don’t know. It’s a huge surprise, that’s all.' She wiped her nose on her sleeve again.
'Mmm, niiiice, what a classy lady I’m with.'
'All class around here, you know.' She smiled weakly and sniffed.
'Here’s an idea,' Harry stroked the hair out of her eyes. 'How about we head down to the Dog and Duck. It’s a bit fresh outside, but the sun’s out and we can wrap up warm and grab a table in the garden and chat. Or not. It’s up to you. But at least we’ll get out of the flat and get some fresh air.'
'It’ll have to be lemonade for me. Oh shit, a whole summer without wine. Oh my God, a whole year without wine.' She groaned, 'My life really did just end.'
'Come on, you, we’ll find some nice interesting, alcohol-free alternatives. Go and have a shower, I’ll feed Raymond.'
At the pub, over an elderflower cordial, Lucy had admitted to Harry that she had briefly considered termination. Pain and doubt had flashed across his face and she had been quick to reassure him that it had been the shock.
'It was the initial shock. I know plenty of women who’ve been less than excited about impending motherhood who’ve gone on to say it was the best thing that ever happened to them. We’re going to make great parents. Just let me get used to the idea, OK?'