His head was aching, and the room was quickly becoming very warm. The clock on the wall said seven and Henry wondered how long Cynthia would stay. Maybe Imogen would be able to see him if there was no one else around. However, Cynthia had no intention of hurrying and began rummaging in cupboards to find something with which to make a sandwich. She pulled out a tin of tuna and began to slice tomatoes.
‘It will do you no good to go without food,’ she said firmly.
Henry shuddered as she sliced the tomato on the kitchen counter.
Imogen dutifully ate the sandwich while Henry wandered around the house anxiously waiting for Cynthia to leave. Finally, at Imogen’s insistence she put on her coat.
‘If you’re sure,’ she asked doubtfully. ‘You can come back to ours, you know. You can stay with us as long as you like.’
‘I know.’
‘Do you want Dad to come round to sort out the insurance?’
‘Insurance?’ cried Henry. ‘Don’t start interfering with that.’
‘No, it’s okay,’ said Imogen rubbing at her eyes.
‘Dad can advise you on investments.’
‘Investments?’ said Henry, shocked.
‘It’s a lot of money,’ said Cynthia.
‘I know,’ Imogen sighed.
‘At least he had the forethought to take care of you should …’
‘Mum please,’ Imogen pleaded.
‘Well, you know where we are. Are you sure you don’t want to come back with me?’
Much to Henry’s relief, Imogen shook her head.
It was all Henry could do not to push Cynthia out of the door, although he rather knew if he attempted to do that the chances were nothing would happen anyway.
Finally, he and Imogen were alone, and Henry tried again. This time he felt more hopeful.
‘Imogen love, we need to talk about what’s going on.’
Imogen tossed what was left of the sandwich into the bin and walked past Henry and up the stairs. Henry followed her into their bedroom where she sat on the edge of the bed, her face in her hands, sobs racking her body.
‘Oh God, oh God,’ she moaned.
A lump formed in Henry’s throat.
‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ he said, sitting beside her. The mattress was firm and inviting. It had been Henry’s idea to get a memory foam mattress.
‘It will need to last us all our life,’ he’d said when Imogen had argued it was too expensive. He now wished he could get into it and hide beneath the duvet.
‘This is all too much. I couldn’t have drowned, Imogen. I’m far too good a swimmer,’ he said.
Imogen suddenly jumped up, startling him. Falling to her knees, she opened the bedside cabinet. Henry couldn’t fathom what she was looking for. As far as he knew that cupboard held tampons and the kind of paraphernalia a woman needed for that time of the month that he didn’t really care to know about.
‘What are you looking for love?’ he asked. She produced a box with colourful flowers painted on it. Henry couldn’t recall having seen the box before but then he never looked inside Imogen’s bedside cabinet. He drew in a sharp breath as from the box Imogen removed a pair of white baby bootees and a matinee jacket, lifting them to her face and breathing in their fragrance. In those few brief seconds Henry had imagined what could be inside the box. Never for one second would he have considered baby clothes.
‘What’s going on Imogen?’ asked Henry, puzzled.
Imogen’s face was blotchy and red with tears.
