Page 145 of The Last Love Song
Helen watched him leave the office, then sat back and took a couple of deep breaths.
She held out little hope for Freddy’s powers of persuasion.
‘Dammit, dammit!’
Sorcha put on her jacket and walked downstairs.
Shehadto know. That meant braving Kensington High Street, the nearest place she was sure would have a chemist.
She tucked the glass jar containing her sample in the front pocket of her handbag, buckled the bag and then set off along the mews and out onto Holland Park Avenue. The storm last night had broken the humidity and today there was a cooling breeze and a touch of autumn in the air.
She was back forty-five minutes later, feeling pleased she’d managed to accomplish her mission without being spotted, but disappointed she wouldn’t know the results of her test until Monday. An entire weekend to agonise. Naturally, she’d given a false name to the pharmacist. She could only imagine the headlines if the media got wind of her possible pregnancy.
Katie had left her some sandwiches. Sorcha nibbled them disconsolately, then, feeling exhausted, went upstairs to her bedroom to lie down.
Of course, now she thought about it, it all made perfect sense. The exhaustion, the nausea – classic symptoms of pregnancy.
All those months of wanting a baby.
What would she do?
Would she tell Con?
These were questions she could not answer.
At half past six, the bell rang. Nervously, Sorcha peeped through the spy-hole.
‘Hello? Sorcha, are you there? I work at Metropolitan Records. Helen asked me to drop by with an urgent envelope for her on my way home. She told me not to disturb you, but the envelope won’t fit through the letter box. Would you open the door?’
Sorcha stood in an agony of indecision.
‘I know you had lobster and salad for supper last night, if it helps,’ said the voice.
‘Okay.’ Sorcha ran back the bolt and turned the lock. She peered round the door to find an extremely pretty girl with big blue eyes and long blonde hair standing on the doorstep. The girl looked somewhat familiar, but Sorcha couldn’t quite place her face.
‘Hi. Thanks for trusting me.’ The girl proffered a large brown envelope. ‘Can you make sure Helen gets this?’
‘Of course. Have we met before? You look ever so familiar.’
‘I’ve been at Metropolitan for a while. Maybe you’ve seen me there.’
‘Yes, maybe.’
‘Oh well, I must go. Bye.’
‘Yes. Bye.’
Helen was late home that night. She flopped onto the sofa, accepting the glass of wine Sorcha handed to her.
‘God, what a day.’ She took a sip. ‘Have you plans for the weekend?’
Sorcha shook her head.
‘Then you can come down to Surrey with me and see my new house. I’m meeting the interior designer there to discuss wallpaper and curtains. If you want, that is.’
Sorcha nodded. ‘Anything to take my mind off the situation.’
Helen took another sip of her wine and eyed Sorcha. ‘So. Do you think youarepregnant?’
