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“Thanks,” Lucy replied, rolling her eyes.

“You know what I mean,” said Dylan,

“So, was there anything else that you wanted other than to propose to me?”

“No, that was all,” Dylan said. He drained his cup. “Thanks for the tea.”

“No worries,” said Lucy. “I’ll let you know how the midwife appointment goes.”

“Great. I really do want to be part of this,” he said, not quite meeting her eye.

“Yeah, you marching over here to propose to me suggested that.”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“I appreciate the thought,” Lucy said. “But I really don’t think the fact that I’m expecting your baby is a strong enough framework for a marriage.”

“I guess you’re right,” said Dylan.

“You know I’m right,” she said firmly.

Dylan got up. “I’ll speak to you soon then?”

“Yep.”

“And let me know if you and the baby need anything?”

“Sure,” said Lucy, with absolutely no intention of doing so whatsoever. There was nothing they’d need that she couldn’t sort out easily enough for herself.

Dylan’s gaze fell to her stomach as she stood to see him out.

“I can’t believe my child is growing inside you.”

“Pretty weird, huh?”

“Pretty awesome was more what I was thinking,” replied Dylan with a grin.

* * *

Lucy left her first midwife’s appointment on Wednesday gripping all the leaflets she’d been given, and filled with the bizarre realisation that this was actually happening. She hadn’t known pregnancy length was dictated by the first day of your last period, so she was even further along than she’d thought. How had she not realised for so long? Her twelve-week scan would be a little late because of how far along she already was in her pregnancy, but the midwife said that wouldn’t be a problem and she’d get her booked in for an ultrasound as soon as possible. Then she’d get to see her baby. That still seemed crazy.

She’d been worried that she might have done something wrong because she hadn’t known she was pregnant, but the midwife reassured her that she didn’t think there was anything to be concerned about. She took out her mobile to check that there hadn’t been some sort of emergency at the coffee shop, where Ellen had joined Jo to run the place until she got back.

The only message was from Dylan, checking in and hoping the appointment was going well.

He was being sweet, she had to admit, though a large part of her still felt it would be far easier if he was showing no interest, or, better yet, had done a runner. Imagine if he disappeared, but felt so bad for abandoning her and their baby that he gave her his share of the business . . . She’d be able to pay off the loan on the building by herself in maybe ten years.

She shook her head and pulled herself from her ridiculous daydreams and sent him a quick reply: Everything’s looking good. Due date is 27 May. I should have an appointment for an ultrasound soon.

She’d walked to the health centre on the edge of the town, and was glad she had. The weather wasn’t particularly good, but it was at least dry, which was about as much as you could hope for at this time of the year, and the walk had given her time to settle the nerves rapidly developing in her stomach before she went in. The appointment had seemed to take forever, and then she’d had to wait a while for her blood test — which had at least given her time to finish skim reading The Age of Innocence before book club that evening — but Ellen had assured her that there was no need for her to hurry back, and so she decided to take a longer route back to the coffee shop, going through the park and climbing up to the castle remains at the top of the hill where she sat for a moment looking over the town’s bay and little harbour.

Her whole life was going to change in six months. How was she going to manage a baby as well as a business which already took up so much of her time?

Her friends would help, she was sure. Carrie would be a fount of wisdom, and having her best friend with a baby just a couple of months older would be wonderful and a huge support.

She didn’t really know much about babies, or children in general. The only child she’d ever had much to do with was Carrie’s daughter, Poppy. And she’d never looked after her by herself for more than about an hour at a time. Plus, Poppy was the easiest child in the world to keep happy because she was always very vocal in what she liked: you were never in any danger of guessing incorrectly.

She wished her mum and dad were closer, and able to help out on a day-to-day basis. Dorset was hardly the other side of the world, but it was far enough.