Page 80 of One Night With You

‘Tea?’ she says, as I stand awkwardly in her new house, just around the corner from where we both lived together. It’s a small semi-detached, opposite the park, with a nice flat garden at the back and an open-plan kitchen/living room. It’s quiet. Safe. Family-friendly.

‘Water?’ she continues. ‘I have sparkling. I know you prefer it.’

Millie must have got that in especially, because I’ve never known her to drink anything other than tap water, and occasionally champagne on special occasions. Millie doesn’t like to lose control, and drinking nearly always leads to losing one’s inhibitions. Millie likes to keep a clear head, and an organised mind, and doesn’t understand the concept of blowing off steam or misstepping or even making the odd mistake. She’s a planner. A type-A. Logical and sensible, and as practical as they come.

Well, actually. Obviously she makes theoddmistake, present condition duly noted. Not that the baby ismistake, but insofar as it was unplanned.

‘Water would be great, thank you,’ I reply. ‘However it comes.’

She grabs a glass and slices a piece of lemon.

‘You don’t have to hover so … strangely,’ she says, as she pulls out a glass bottle from the fridge. ‘You’re welcome here. Don’t stand on ceremony. It’s just me. I won’t bite.’

I perch on a stool at the breakfast bar and she slides my drink across to me.

‘Do you want some toast, or a sandwich?’ she asks. ‘I’ve got some cheese if you want cheese on toast.’

My stomach growls at the prospect.

‘I can tell you need it,’ she pushes, smiling. She’s doingeverything she can to help me relax. I can tell by how accommodating she’s being that she knows I’m still catching up to everything.

‘I’ll make it,’ I say, standing up. ‘You sit.’

‘No, no,’ she insists, waving a hand to signal that I should sit back down. ‘I’ve got it.’

I sup my water and watch her potter about, and she watches me in return as I eat, leaning against the countertop and nursing her peppermint tea. Eventually we make eye contact, and it forces my hand and I speak properly for the first time since I got here.

‘So this is really happening,’ I say, pointing at her belly.

She rubs a hand over where I’m gesticulating and smiles.

‘I’m happy about it, Nic. It’s not the best circumstance, but you know how my mum struggled to conceive and had a stupidly early menopause – I’ve always worried it would be the same for me. That’s why I wanted to settle down and get to it.’

‘I know,’ I say. ‘And I’m sorry for falling off the radar a bit since you told me. It’s been something I needed to get my head around.’

‘I know that,’ she tells me. ‘Like I said the other week – it’s okay. I understand that this isn’t whatyouwanted. Not like this. And that can be true at the same time as the simple fact that … well, it’s happening. It’s all in motion, now.’

‘Can’t fight city hall,’ I say.

‘And I don’t want to,’ she replies, simply. ‘You didn’t seem able to really take in the details before, so sorry if I’m repeating myself … but for what it’s worth obviously I’d miscalculated my cycle. Best I can work out is that for some reason I’d ovulated late? I don’t know. But, like I say … Mum entered the menopause in her early thirties so …’

She doesn’t have to fill in the blanks. I don’t need her to explain why she’s having the baby. There’s a baby, and it is coming, and that’s the end of that.

‘But I am sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place – you’d already left, already moved to London. And I knew whenever I told you it would be a bit of a bomb going off in your life, and so I waited, and then suddenly all this time had gone by and …’

‘It’s okay,’ I say, and it is. I could get mad if I wanted to, but it would be like trying to bite the wind: pointless. ‘I think I might be strangely grateful I got to have my fun,’ I add. ‘In blissful ignorance.’

‘We can paint it as an altruistic move on my part if that makes what else I have to say easier,’ she replies and, as I eat the last part of my food and push the plate away, I frown in question.

‘Is this the bit where you tell me it’s twins?’ I joke.

‘It’s the bit where I tell you I’ve been seeing someone,’ she responds. ‘I mentioned it when you were here last time, but you just seemed so overwhelmed by the pregnancy that I thought that was enough for you to be digesting …’

‘I remember,’ I say. ‘Does he know?’

‘He knows and wants to be involved.’

I blink.

---