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‘When I get back there’ll be a few things I’ll need to sort here, then how would you like a holiday? Somewhere there’s no winter. We could sail the yacht from its Caribbean mooring, go island-hopping and catch some rays.’
The stricken look vanished, and it was like the sun coming out in her eyes.
‘That would be wonderful!’ Vanessa breathed. Her arms came around him and she laid her head on his chest, hugging him tightly. ‘Oh, Markos, you are so good to me. I do so love y—’ Her voice cut off, as if she had pressed a switch, then it resumed. ‘I do so love being on holiday with you. It’s just the best thing ever!’
He lifted her face from his chest and cupped it in his hands.
‘You’re the best thing ever, Vanessa,’ he said, and his voice was a caress.
Then, reluctantly, he put her aside, and went on getting ready to go.
‘…forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty!’ Vanessa breathed out in exhausted triumph and lay back on the exercise mat. Fifty sit-ups: she’d earned a breather. But not for too long. She was only halfway through her workout, and there were the weights machines still to do. Still, the cardiovascular session was over and she was glowing, with a light sheen of sweat over her whole body.
She limbered to her feet. If she had been putting on a few extra pounds, working out was the best way to shed them. With Markos away, exercising in the luxury gym in the apartment block basement was also a much better way to use her time than moping around like she’d done last time, when that bug had been coming on. Still, at least the bug hadn’t developed as badly as the nasty one she’d got when they’d come back from Mauritius in the New Year, when she’d had to take those ghastly antibiotics. But whatever it had been, she felt fine now—totally fine. She took a deep breath, got her body into balance, and went into some floor stretches. Her body was warmed and loose, and her stretching was effortless.
One of the instructors wandered across to her. ‘How’s it going today?’
Vanessa straightened up and smiled. ‘Great. I burned five hundred cals on the CV kit, I’ve just done fifty sit-ups without stopping, and my stretches are really good. I just seem so much more flexible—I must have really warmed my muscles.’
The instructor gave an answering smile. ‘Sounds good—keep going! Unless you’re pregnant, of course. If you are, we’ll need to modify your programme over the coming months.’
Vanessa gave an astonished laugh. ‘Pregnant? No, totally not.’
‘OK,’ the instructor returned easily, though he cast a quick professional glance at her midriff. ‘I just mention it because you said you were feeling so flexible. Pregnancy softens your ligaments—preparing for birth and all that—so, although stretching gets easier, you have to be careful not to overdo it when you’re pregnant.’
Vanessa gave another laugh and resumed her workout, not paying any more attention to the instructor’s comment. She swept down from her waist, hands closing around her ankles, and started to pull her torso in towards her thighs. Yes, she mused, as she exerted increasing pressure on her calves to pull herself in more, she’d definitely gained a few pounds—she could feel a discernible bulge across her middle as she doubled over. Not much, but definitely more than there usually was.
Low-cal lunch today, my girl, she thought to herself. That bulge has got to go.
So, instead of going back up to the apartment after her workout, she went up to the health bar that accompanied the gym. Sipping sparkling water and eking out a small bowl of freshly prepared salad without dressing, she picked up one of the glossy magazines that were stashed on a rack, and started to flick through it.
Ten minutes later she was sitting stock still, salad unfinished, staring down at an article open in front of her. Her eyes were blank with shock.
It was one of those true-life articles, about a woman who had gone into labour in the middle of a department store not even knowing she was pregnant. One of those stories that always seemed so absurd—how could pregnancy be so unnoticeable?
Very easily, it seemed.
Vanessa stared again at the article, re-reading yet again the paragraph that had made the blood stop in her veins.
‘I felt such a fool,’ the woman was quoted as saying. ‘I never knew antibiotics could mess up the Pill, and I assumed that because I went on having periods, even light ones, I obviously wasn’t pregnant. I put my weight gain down to eating more, and when I threw up in the mornings I just thought I had a bug. I missed all the signs and I just couldn’t believe it…’
Cold was snaking down Vanessa’s back. No, this was some other woman entirely. A stranger. Nothing to do with her. Nothing.
I missed all the signs…
The words danced in front of her eyes. Imprinting themselves on her retina.
I just couldn’t believe it…
And I don’t believe it either, she thought urgently. I don’t believe it because it isn’t true. It’s not true, and it can’t be, and it isn’t. I’m not pregnant, I don’t feel pregnant, I don’t look pregnant—
She shut her eyes. Fighting for sanity, for calm.
She would get a test, one of those kits from the chemist, and that would set her mind at rest. No point getting into a tizz over an article about a complete stranger. A test would show her she was being idiotic. She would buy one that afternoon—no, straight away. To prove that of course, of course, she wasn’t pregnant.
But what if you are?
The voice stabbed at her in her head. She crushed it instantly. She was not pregnant and that was all there was to it. She could not be pregnant. She just couldn’t be.
