‘I didn’t get in until five.’
‘I need your help.’
‘What is it?’ he asks, sounding instantly awake. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m not sure. I’ll tell you better once you’ve made a little trip to the pharmacy for me.’
Two hours later, Mo and I are looking at the remains of three pregnancy tests, all of them positive.
‘No. I wouldn’t know at three and a half weeks.’ Dropping the lid on the toilet, I sit heavily as I look once more at the ovulation chart I’d pulled up on my phone. ‘I was due my period last week. And the dates work. ‘But maybe it’s a false positive.’ I look at Mo as he sits perched on the edge of the bath, his expression absolutely unreadable. ‘Please say something,’ I sort of whine.
‘Well,’ he begins. ‘I’m no expert on the whole vagina thing but three false positives seems a little unlikely. Science and all that, no?’
‘Unlikely but still possible. They might even be a faulty batch?’
‘All three of them? Faulty batches from three different brands?’ His gaze flicks to mine, and I nod.
‘It’s possible.’
‘As possible as a virgin birth around this time of year. When was the last one again? Oh, yes. Two thousand years or so ago.’
‘That’s not helpful, Mo.’
‘It’s not like you to be careless with contraception.’
‘It’s not like me to sleep with a man as quick as I did him.’
‘Scotsmen,’ he says on a sigh. ‘The whole virile manly man thing juxtaposed by a skirt.’
‘Kilt.’ He waves away my correction with his hand. ‘He said he couldn’t have children,’ I mumble, glancing at the tests again.
‘Oh-ho-ho. That old chestnut?’
‘What? It wasn’t like that.’Was it?
‘I may not have personally heardthatone. Again’—he makes a circle motion with his hand in the vicinity of his crotch—‘not my wheelhouse. But the rest of those terrible condom excuses? Believe me, I’ve heard a few. They don’t make condoms big enough for me; I’m allergic to latex; it’ll feel so much better without one; I’ll pull out, I promise.’
‘Okay, okay. But it really wasn’t like that. At least, I don’t think.’
Then why hasn’t he called?’
‘Darling, come here.’ My tears drop onto the tiles as I get up from my throne, making my way over to sit next to him. ‘Whatever you’re going to do,’ he says, sliding his arm around my shoulder. ‘I’ll support you all the way. I have a dozen godchildren, but I always fancied myself as an eccentric uncle.’
‘Youarean eccentric uncle already,’ I remind him wetly.
‘Yes, but this will be your offspring, not one of my dreadfully boring siblings.’
‘Oh, Mo. What am I going to do?’
