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Clearly she’d eaten something that disagreed with her, because she couldn’t face eating anything other than a cheese sandwich and some fruit, and there was an odd metallic taste in her mouth.
If she hadn’t known better, she’d think she was having the same symptoms their mums-to-be described to her or the midwives at their first antenatal appointment.
Crazy. Of course not.
But the idea was insidious. It stayed in her head all day; and although she managed to push it aside during ward rounds and clinic, it nudged itself to the forefront while she was doing her paperwork.
Could she be pregnant?
Surely not. She and Theo had been careful to take precautions.
But his words flickered into her head: No matter how careful we are with contraception, you know as well as I do that the only one hundred per cent guaranteed contraception is abstinence.
She shook herself. This was crazy. How many couples had she seen at clinic who’d confided to her how long it had taken them to get pregnant—months and months of trying and timing their love-making for the tiny window of ovulation each month? So even if the condom had failed, how likely was it that she’d be pregnant?
Then again, it only took one sperm to fertilise an egg.
And the couples she’d talked to were in their mid-thirties. Older than her, with their fertility rate dropping.
She counted back rapidly in her head. Oh, lord. Her cycle wasn’t brilliantly regular; sometimes her period arrived three or four days early and sometimes it arrived three or four days late, so she hadn’t given it a second thought that her period was a bit late.
Maybe it was going to be even later this month.
But all the same, on her way home from work she went to a supermarket she didn’t usually use and bought a pregnancy test. She didn’t bother reading the packaging—after all these years as a doctor specialising in maternity care, she knew exactly how they worked—and did the test.
One blue line: good, the test was working.
And now the other box would be clear and she could stop being so paranoid.
Except, as she watched, it wasn’t clear.
There was a second blue line. Fainter than the other, but still there.
Positive.
So she was pregnant.
Oh, help.
This pregnancy wasn’t planned. Wasn’t expected.
And although part of her was delighted—she’d be proud to have Theo’s baby—she knew he was going to react badly. Given what he’d told her about his past, her pregnancy would be his worst nightmare come true.
Worse, he might think she’d done it on purpose. To force the issue. Break the stalemate they’d had before he’d gone to Greece.
She only hoped that he’d believe she was telling him the truth.
Telling him.
Somehow she was going to have to find the right words. To reassure him that what had happened to his mother wasn’t going to happen to her.
She curved a protective hand over her abdomen, then smiled wryly at herself. Right now she was officially five weeks pregnant, counting back to the first day of her last period. It’d be another week until the baby was officially a foetus, when the spine and nervous system started to form and it would be the size of a baked bean. And another six weeks after that until the threat of a miscarriage was reduced.
It was still early days. Really early days.
But she wasn’t going to lie to him. As soon as he came back from Greece, she’d tell him.
She had a long, warm bath—not too hot, for the baby’s sake—and had just settled back against her pillows, trying to think about how she was going to broach the subject to Theo, when her mobile phone rang.
The screen told her it was Theo.
‘Kalispera, Maddie. How are you?’ he asked.
Pregnant. Worried. Out of sorts. ‘Fine,’ she fibbed. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to ring me.’
‘No? Hmm. I haven’t behaved very well to you, matia mou. I’m sorry. I just…’ He sighed. ‘You know the situation. And my sister Sophronia says I am like all men—I never talk about the important stuff.’
Uh-oh. This didn’t sound good. ‘Such as?’
‘The phone isn’t the place to discuss it, kardoula mou. But I’ll be home the day after tomorrow. We’ll talk then.’
‘Should I be worried?’ she asked, striving to keep her tone light.
‘No. But I’m going to be home long before a postcard would reach you. I’ll bring you back something instead.’
‘Theo, I’m not expecting a present. Really. You’re supposed to be spending time with your family.’
‘I am. And it’s good to be home.’ He paused. ‘Are you OK? You sound a bit…’
‘I’m just a bit tired,’ she said swiftly.
