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There had never been the slightest shadow of doubt in her mind that, should she ever find herself in such a situation, she would be strong enough to make the only logical and appropriate decision.
What need was there after all to discuss anything with Ben? She already knew what his views would be, already knew what action he would want her to take.
She had always prided herself on her strength of mind, on her ability to make her own decisions and to stand by them. She was a modern, independent woman who did not need to cling helplessly and smotheringly to the man in her life.
In fact, of the two of them, she had always thought of Ben as being the less self-assured and confident, the more ‘needy’ one in their relationship, and yet now… She shivered slightly, suddenly aware of feeling very cold and tired—and very alone.
* * *
So that was it, then. Her own diagnosis had been confirmed. She was most definitely pregnant.
They had asked her at the clinic if she would like to talk with one of their counsellors, but she had shaken her head. After all, she knew exactly what course of action must be taken, didn’t she?
Her earlier panic and fear had subsided now. She had had time to think logically and to plan, firmly pushing to the back of her mind the emotional reaction she now saw as a form of self-betrayal.
What, after all, could Ben do for her that she couldn’t do for herself? She already knew what his reaction would be; why burden him with the responsibility of making the decision which she knew must be made?
It had been silly of her to expect him to somehow know intuitively what had happened. He had enough problems of his own to contend with without her adding to them.
She reminded herself of how she had always been the one to take the lead in their relationship, to direct and even in some way to control it. She had been the one to suggest they live together; she had been the one to urge him to give serious consideration to Clive’s offer, and she had also been the one to tell herself privately that she would never treat him as his mother and family did; that she would never place on his shoulders the burden of responsibility for her emotional or physical happiness.
Just as, as a new lover, she had not expected him to know automatically how to arouse and satisfy her sexually, so she had prided herself on not expecting him to ‘know’ her emotional or mental requirements either.
Now, calmly, she sat down to analyse her situation. Not that it needed a great deal of analysis. The facts were simple enough. She was pregnant with a child which was neither planned nor wanted—by either Ben or herself.
She was not maternally inclined and never had been. The sight of ba
bies in prams, no matter how adorable, did not move her to do anything other than smile with relief that they were not her responsibility.
It was just as well that Ben had been too preoccupied to guess that anything was wrong, she told herself firmly. Thank goodness she had come to her senses in time to stop herself from acting like some wimpy idiot.
And what good would crying all over Ben have done, anyway? What could he do for her that she could not do for herself?
It was her decision, her body… Her child?
She got up, wrapping her arms tightly around herself, fiercely pushing away such a dangerously emotive thought. No. Her course of action was simple and clear, and the sooner she got the whole business over and done with, the better.
She squared her shoulders, her chin tilting determinedly. She did not need to drag Ben into this. She was perfectly capable of dealing with it on her own. He already had enough to worry about. Remorsefully she remembered how tired and anxious he had looked as he left, how baffled by her behaviour. How irritated and angered by his mother’s plea for help.
Guiltily Zoe wondered what was wrong with Sharon. She had been rushed into hospital, Ben had said tersely. Because her health was in danger, or because the baby…?
With a start Zoe looked down at her own body, and the left hand was pressed hard against her still flat stomach, the fingers splayed protectively over the space her child would ultimately inhabit.
Only there was not going to be a child.
The phone rang, bringing a welcome interruption to her thoughts. She picked up the receiver, her spirits lifting when she heard Ben’s voice.
‘How’s Sharon?’ she asked him quickly, determined to make up for her earlier moodiness. To assure him that she was not like his sister, clinging, dependent, draining him and forcing him to accept responsibility for her. To assure him… or to assure herself?
‘She’s stable, at the moment. They’re keeping her in for observation.’ He sounded tired and tense. ‘Ma’s in a bit of a state. Apparently she and Sharon had had a row and she feels responsible for what’s happened, although the doctor said that it was a physical problem and nothing at all to do with their quarrel. I’m going to have to stay up here tonight, Zoe. Could you ring the restaurant for me?’
‘Of course I will,’ she assured him. ‘There hasn’t been any news from Clive yet, but I’m sure we’ll hear something soon.’
‘I hope so.’ She caught the sound of tiredness and pessimism in his voice. ‘If it falls through it looks as if I’m going to be out of work. I think Aldo suspects that something’s going on…’
‘It won’t come to that,’ Zoe comforted him. ‘And even if he did fire you, we can live off what I earn for a few weeks…’
She heard the small explosive sound Ben made and gripped the receiver tightly. Some views became so entrenched in the human psyche that nothing would remove them, and she already knew how Ben felt about any suggestion that she should support him financially.
