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“It’s probably best not to push our luck, eh?”

They took their food and drinks over to the table by the window by unspoken consent, and began to eat.

“How are you feeling about not being behind the counter in the coffee shop for over a week?” Dylan asked, as he took a sip of his coffee.

“It’ll be weird,” Lucy admitted. “I think I’ll be fine for the next couple of days while we’re busy with Christmas things, but after that I’ll probably be going downstairs to make coffees for you from the big machine.”

“Have you thought about how long you want to take off when the baby comes?”

“Not at all. I guess it kind of depends on how well the shop is doing.”

“That will have nothing to do with it,” said Dylan, in a firm voice she’d never heard him use before. “You’ll take as long as you need and want to. We’ll sort it out.”

Lucy nodded. Suddenly she felt like crying. Stupid hormones. She took a couple of breaths to sort herself out.

Dylan reached over and gave her hand a little squeeze, but didn’t say anything.

“We’ve got a couple of hours before we need to head over to Carrie and Michael’s,” Lucy said, checking the time as she finished the last bite of her breakfast.

“You up for getting our walk in early then? It’s dry and the sun looks like it’s threatening to come out.”

“Yeah, good idea. I still can’t believe that you’ve got me hooked on going out for a walk every day in winter.”

“It’s . . .” began Dylan.

“Good for the baby!” they both chorused together and laughed.

“I’m still not convinced that me freezing my bum off in the rain as I stomp around town is doing the baby any good, but I admit I feel better for doing it.”

“Which I think is the best result I could hope for,” said Dylan, picking up their plates and taking them over to the sink.

“I’ll just get ready and we can head straight out,” Lucy said.

“We’re not taking the presents with us, are we?”

“No, Carrie said to bring them tomorrow. But they’re all wrapped and in the hallway.”

“Cool,” Dylan replied.

Lucy went into the bathroom and sat down on the loo. She peed and wiped. Her heart stopped as she saw blood on the toilet paper.

One thought ran through her mind: Dylan. She needed to get to Dylan.

Trying to calm her heart rate, she found a sanitary pad, and then walked slowly back to the kitchen, where Dylan was wiping down the table.

“That was quick,” he said. He looked up. “Luce, what’s the matter?” He gently helped her to a chair. “You’re white as a sheet.”

“I’m bleeding.”

There was silence.

Lucy heard Dylan let out a breath. “OK,” he said, calmly. “Let’s get you checked out.” He found her notes while she sat on the sofa, trying not to cry, and he called the midwife team who told them to come straight to the antenatal department at the hospital.

He gently bundled her into the car, making sure she was warmly wrapped up, and they travelled in silence, his hand occasionally reaching over to give her knee a reassuring squeeze.

She was so grateful to him for taking over when she seemed to have gone into shock. She couldn’t lose this baby, she just couldn’t.

They walked into the hospital hand in hand less than half an hour later, Dylan leading the way to the department, where they were immediately shown into a room where a midwife came in and wrote down details of what had happened and took Lucy’s blood pressure.