When I found out that Chan was expecting, I’d felt both massive excitement and fear. Fear I’d be a shit dad; fear I’d not know what to do and drop the baby on its head; fear my life would never be the same. As it was, I didn’t drop Libbie, although she sometimes came out with things that made me wonder, and I wasn’t a shit dad. I was pretty proud with how I was managing, all things considered. When Zara came along, I’d been ecstatic. Both pregnancies had been smooth, the birth as traumatic as I guess most births were.
I loved being a dad. It was one of the things Chan and I disagreed on – I wanted more children and she didn’t. She was going to win, because it was her body.
This – Amber being pregnant – was something I was going to have to more than get my head around. My first instinct was to be overjoyed. I could afford more kids, I could give him or her a good home. I could love them and care for them, and my family, or certainly the older members, would be thrilled. On the other hand, my daughters would not understand. I wasn’t in a relationship with Amber. She didn’t want a family. It would be complicated and difficult navigating how to work it out if Amber decided to go ahead with the pregnancy.
Neva shrugged. “I think if she didn’t, she’d have told you already and arranged a termination.”
“How long has she known?” Cold anger raised up through me at how long I hadn’t known this for.
“About three weeks. I haven’t talked to her about it much. I wasn’t great when I found out.” She finished the rest of her water. “Only me and Genny know. No one else and it should’ve been her who told you.”
“It should’ve. But I probably would’ve figured it out. Jude mentioned she’d been sick.” I wasn’t stupid. She’d texted me that she had a stomach bug. Maybe she thought she had at that point. “I’d noticed she’d stopped teaching hot yoga.”
“The heat isn’t good for the baby at this stage. She researched it.” Neva stood up. “Nate, Amber and I are going for a meal tomorrow at Twenty Stories. We thought we’d have Valentine’s together as Genny has a mysterious date. Surprise her.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Neva shrugged. “It might not be. But the worst thing that can happen is that she’ll walk out. Amber won’t make a scene. She won’t get cross with you either, because I know she’s feeling bad for not telling you yet. She’ll be cross with me – which I probably deserve.”
“You don’t. I’m glad you told me. If it had come straight from Amber I would’ve reacted wrong.” Which I was pretty sure of. I’d have either been too overjoyed and smothered her, or pissed off that I didn’t know as soon as she did.
“I wasn’t great when I found out. Seriously, Nate, I knew she’d consider a termination and I get why, if motherhood isn’t for her for whatever reason then it’s fine, but I just wished it was me.” She picked up her bags.
“It will be one day.”
She smiled, a sad little smile. “Yeah, well. We’ll see. Reservation is for seven pm. Text me if you’re turning up.”
“I’ll think about it.”
I thought about it all the way home. I thought about it while I had a shower and while I got dry. Then I thought about it over a large glass of whisky.
I was still thinking about it when my sister appeared after a night out with a friend in Manchester.
“You still up? I thought you’d have been long since dead to the world.” Jerrica took her heels off and dropped them on the floor. They’d still be there in the morning, and in the afternoon if I didn’t clear them up.
“Shit to think about.”
She sat down on the sofa opposite me, tucking her feet under her. “Like what? Tell me.”
I stared at the very interesting lines on my hands. I wanted to tell someone, and Jez would keep it to herself. She’d have an opinion, because she was Jez, and she’d take my side because she was my sister.
“Do you want a whisky?” I stood up. “No, I’ll get you a whisky.”
“Fuck. What’ve you done?”
I ignored her, heading into the kitchen area, getting her a glass and sticking some ice in it. The whisky was already on the coffee table, handy for top ups.
“Decide on your own measure.” I gave her the glass.
She took it and picked up the bottle, pouring a good three fingers. “Talk.”
“Amber, the physio at the club.” I took the bottle from her and topped up my own glass.
“The pretty one. Dark hair?”
I nodded. “She’s pregnant. The baby’s mine.” I didn’t need to ask her or Neva if it was. Amber hadn’t been seeing anyone else. I wasn’t going to embarrass her or myself by asking that question.
Jez knocked back a gulp of my finest scotch. There was silence for a minute or so while my sister digested that nugget of information and I choked silently on it, as I’d been doing so for the last few hours.
