It was about six weeks since my night with Rob and five since that final conversation with Billy. I was heading out the door to meet Shelley when Mum called me back.
‘Come in here and sit down,’ she said. ‘You and me need to talk.’
I grimaced as I put my coat back on the hook. I was pretty certain I knew what this was about.
I’d been kicked off my Alevel courses for non-attendance the previous March, and the deal had been that Mum would refrain from kicking me out of the house if I got a job. At the time she’d generously given me until September to work out what I was going to do. As tomorrow was the end of the month, the subject of our talk was a no-brainer.
She made two cups of tea without asking me if I wanted one (I didn’t) and then sat opposite me at the Formica kitchen table and lit up a menthol cigarette.
‘So,’ she said, speaking in smoke as she pulled the ashtray towards her. ‘I suppose my first question is, have you told him?’
I frowned. ‘Have I told who, what?’ I asked.
‘Or aren’t you going to? Because, of course, you don’t have to. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.’
‘Told who what, Mum?’ I asked again. ‘I’m really not…’
That… you know…’ Mum said. ‘That you’re…’
‘That I’m?’ I asked, wide-eying her and shrugging exaggeratedly.
‘That you’re pregnant, silly.’
I gasped and sat back in my chair, grinning. ‘I’m not,’ I told her.
Mum laughed at that. She actually laughed out loud. ‘Oh, I think you are!’ she said.
‘I’m not!’
‘Look, if you’re going to get rid of it, then that’s fine too. You know me. I’ve no objection to anything, me. But if you are, well, you’re going to need some support. Either way, actually, you’re going to need some support. So it’s best if you just tell me what—’
‘Mother!’ I said. ‘I am not pregnant.’
‘Oh God,’ Mum said. ‘You don’t know, do you?’
‘And now you’re just being silly,’ I said.
‘Look at you.’ Mum laughed. ‘Your tits are huge!’
I glanced down at my chest. ‘Are they?’ I asked, noticing that she was right, that my chest was looking unusually perky. ‘They’ve been a bit weird, actually. You know… sore. Maybe that’s why. Maybe I’ve got an infection or something.’
‘Oh, you silly sausage,’ Mum said, reaching across the table to take my hand in hers. ‘You’re preggers, love. Trust me. I can spot it a mile off.’
‘I…’ I said, chewing my bottom lip as I counted backwards in my head, hoping to prove her wrong. I looked nervously out at the hallway, worried that Wayne might be listening in. A dose of his sarcasm was the last thing I needed.
‘He’s at school,’ Mum said. ‘He’s out all day. It’s just us. When was your last—?’
‘OK, I am actually late,’ I admitted. ‘I hadn’t thought about it, but I am. But only ten days or so. That doesn’t have to mean I’m pregnant! I’ve been late before. You know I have.’
‘Honey,’ Mum said. ‘You’ve been an absolute nightmare lately. You’ve been all over the bloody place.’
‘But that’s just because of Billy,’ I said. ‘AndWayne. Wayne’s been extra-annoying.’
‘He has,’ Mum agreed, softly. ‘But you’ve beenreallyfunny too, sweetheart. Emotional, like. Crying at films and stuff. Look. I can just tell. It’s a woman thing.’
It was then I started to cry.
Mum went into town and came back with a test kit, which, trembling, I peed on. By the time I unlocked the door, I knew.
