Chapter 16
SHEENA
Sheena wondered how long it was possible to stay in a state of shock before the brain naturally snapped out of it and adjusted to the new normal.
She didn’t have the answer yet, but she knew it definitely wasn’t thirty-two days, because that’s how long she’d known she was pregnant, and she was still waking up every morning completely convinced it was all a dream and normal service would be resumed at any moment.
Just like every other morning, it was only when her hand went down to her stomach and she felt the roundness, the swell, did she believe it was real.
She was forty-four years old and she was going to have a baby.
A month ago, on the day that she’d found out, Dr Diallo had given her a few moments to process the news, and another few moments to regain the power of speech, before she’d very calmly talked her through the next stages.
The first of which was an appointment at the maternity unit to register with a midwife and begin the prenatal care.
Throughout it all, Sheena had nodded vacantly, agreeing to everything and anything because it wasn’t real.
It couldn’t be. How could she be pregnant?
Okay, yes, so technically it was possible, but come on – after only one sexual encounter in months?
There was more chance of her winning the lottery.
Or maybe being struck down by a meteor. While wearing a tiara.
She was pregnant. Pregnant. I’m Sheena Carswell, and I’m pregnant.
Dr Diallo had clearly harboured some concerns about her reaction. ‘Sheena, would you like to sit in the waiting room until you feel ready to drive? I could ask someone to make you a cup of tea?’
Sheena had shaken her head. ‘No, no, it’s fine. Really.’ It wasn’t. ‘I’ll be okay.’ She wouldn’t.
After the appointment, she’d driven straight back into the city centre and hastily abandoned her car in the car park underneath her office, before crossing the road to Chanel’s shop.
Thankfully it was empty and almost closing time when she’d walked in.
‘Hey,’ Chanel had greeted her with a smile, ‘I thought we were meeting at the St Kenti—’
Sheena had slammed the door and leaned back against it, so she didn’t fall down. ‘I’m having a baby.’
‘Are you buying it or stealing it?’ Chanel clearly hadn’t caught the factual tone of Sheena’s words.
‘Chanel, I’m serious. I wasn’t joking when I texted you about the pregnancy test at my menopause appointment. Well, turns out I’m not menopausal. And the reason I’m not menopausal is because I’m pregnant.’
Chanel froze with her chin dropped and veins in her neck popping – and she was a woman who never let herself get caught in an unflattering angle. ‘You’re not.’
‘I am.’
They’d both been aware that this probably wasn’t the most intellectual conversation that they’d ever had, but it was fuelled by sheer astonishment. Sheena had sat down on the bench next to the window and stared straight ahead, while Chanel had locked the door and turned the OPEN sign to CLOSED.
‘This seems like a crazy question, but how do you feel?’ she’d asked, when she’d joined her on the bench. ‘Shit, I can’t even give you a glass of wine for the shock.’
Even the thought of that had made Sheena’s stomach flip with queasiness and another little nugget of realisation had dropped into place. The smells. Chanel’s perfume. The prosecco. How had she missed this?
BECAUSE YOUR FORTY FRICKING FOUR AND YOU HAD SEX ONCE IN A BLUE FRICKING MOON, came an answer from an unhelpful source in the logical part of her brain.
‘Shocked. How can this be true? But yet…’ She’d glanced downwards and the reality was there, right in front of her.
Chanel had followed her gaze. ‘I suppose, on the bright side, at least it’s not chronic bloating after all.’
That’s when Sheena had cracked, and dissolved into slightly unhinged, uncontrollable laughter, that had then somehow blended seamlessly into tears, until she didn’t know if she was laughing or crying, but she was aware that Chanel was hugging her and gently rocking her back and forward until she could breathe again.
When she’d managed to sit up on her own, she’d tried to find the words. ‘It’s just, well, the last time I was pregnant…’
Thankfully, Chanel had known exactly what she meant and she hadn’t needed to recap the very worst time of her life, before her pal had empathised, with, ‘I know, honey.’
‘And then now…’
‘Yep. It’s unbelievable timing.’
‘And… and… it’s just…’ Their lifelong friendship shorthand had been in full flow.
‘I know, babe. It’s just all that. It’s going to take a minute to get used to the idea.’
‘I don’t know what to do, Chanel.’
A deep sigh. ‘Do you think you’ll…?’
Again, their psychic shorthand had relayed the message in full and Sheena’s hand had gone straight to her stomach. ‘Yes. I’m keeping her. Or him. That’s the only thing I know for sure right now.’
‘And the dad is…?’
Sheena hadn’t been sure why that was even up for debate.
‘A male escort I picked up the night I left Gregor.’ She had no idea where that came from, but it had been worth it to see the momentary incredulity on Chanel’s face, before her friend had realised that, somewhere in the midst of all this, Sheena had regained a small tad of her sense of humour.
‘You’re kidding.’ It had been a statement, not a question.
‘I am. It’s Gregor. It can only be Gregor.’
‘Well, hon,’ Chanel had said, tears glistening in her eyes, ‘for what it’s worth, I’m thrilled for you.
And you know we’ve got you. We’ll figure it all out.
And by that, I mean Martha will figure it all out and I’ll just make sure you always look fabulous.
Let’s get you home, send an SOS to Martha, and convene for a board meeting of Forty-Two Long and Pregnant. ’
That had set Sheena off on the weird laughing/crying combo again. It had been the most insane day of her life, and she’d always thought that when she looked back on her time on this earth, that award would be won by the day she’d talked a streaker down from her office roof.
‘Need to say, though, honey,’ Chanel had mused as she’d grabbed her jacket and linked her arm through Sheena’s as they made for the door. ‘So much for you being alone for the first time in your life. You managed a whole two weeks of solo living.’
Now, four weeks later, the tears had stopped, but the shock and awe and laughter and a million other emotions were still showing up on a daily basis.
There was fear too and some moments of terror about what was in front of her.
However, it came with absolute gratitude that she was going to get the chance to find out.
An alarm buzzed on her phone and she picked it up and checked the screen. It was a calendar reminder: GREGOR 10 a.m.
As if she needed to be prompted. Telling Gregor was one of the first things she’d thought about every morning for the last month, and the last thing at night too.
There had been an urge to race round to the flat on the night she’d found out, but thankfully she’d been cocooned in hours of love, support and gobsmacked exclamations from Chanel and Martha, so she’d postponed that idea.
The next morning, she’d decided to give herself a couple of days to get used to the idea on her own.
Then another couple of days. Then a week.
And somehow that had stretched into a month, until it had got to the point a couple of days ago when she’d realised that if she happened to bump into him in the dairy aisle at Waitrose, she was showing enough that he’d get the shock of his life.
There had been a few short, curt texts back and forward over the last month, mainly logistical things about the house, but nothing personal until yesterday, when, with trembling thumbs, she’d typed…
Hey, do you have time for a coffee tomorrow morning? Couple of things I’d like to chat about. X
Then she’d gone back and deleted the X in case he read too much into it.
His response had come in an hour or so later.
Sure. Where and when?
She’d replied with her suggestion, a time and a place, and now she had to get a move on. ‘Come on little one. Time to go meet your daddy,’ she murmured, as she pushed herself out of bed.
An hour later, she was sitting in their usual brunch spot, her top, her jacket and her seat strategically chosen so that hopefully she’d manage to get the words out before he noticed that his estranged wife had gained an extra few inches around the middle.
If Courteney Cox could disguise her pregnancy for the whole of the last series of Friends, then surely she could do it for the first five minutes of a conversation.
Although, he may well notice that the colour had drained from her face and her hands were shaking.
Okay, this kind of tension wasn’t good for the baby. Breathe. Just breathe. Calm down. Regulate. Inhale. Exhale. Count to—
‘Hello.’ She’d been so distracted she hadn’t even noticed him coming in, but now he was here and they were doing a weird, awkward hesitation of a greeting.
She couldn’t stand up, because, well, she’d heard that extreme shock could kill a man, and he clearly didn’t know whether to give her a kiss, a hug, or shake her hand.
In the end, he just slid into the seat across from her and managed a half-hearted smile. ‘I was surprised you wanted to meet.’
She hadn’t been sure what to expect, but at least the brittle anger of the last few conversations before she’d left seemed to have dissipated.
In fact, he appeared to be… she searched for the words.
Lighter. Open. Relaxed. Holy shit, he was happy.
He had a new trendy haircut that clearly didn’t come from the ten-quid barber he normally used.
Also he wasn’t in sportwear. Or Lycra. That suede jacket looked both new and expensive.
‘You look great,’ she told him honestly.
‘You do too,’ he replied, and she wasn’t sure if he meant it or he was just being polite.
Although, clichéd as it was, she did think that she had a bit of a glow about her these days.
The extra few pounds had plumped up the stress lines that had crept around her eyes, cheeks and forehead over the last year and the dark circles under her eyes had been banished now that she was no longer lying in bed awake all night trying to pluck up the courage to leave her husband.
The waiter came over to take their order, and Sheena wondered if he could hear it over the drum beat of her thudding heart.
‘So… How have you been?’ She decided to ease in gently with a bit of general chat, just enough to let her heart rate de-escalate again to a level that supported normal breathing.
Bloody hell, this was every bit as excruciating as she’d anticipated.
Worse, maybe, because now that she was in front of him, he was weirdly relaxed and she was acutely aware that she was about to blow up his life.
‘You know something, I’m really good.’
Not what she’d expected him to say, but fine. She kept listening as he expanded on that.
‘It’s been a strange month, and yeah, for the first few days I was seriously pissed off and not sure what the hell I was doing, but as the days went on, I realised that you were right. We were in a rut. I didn’t see it at the time, but we’d stopped really living, hadn’t we?’
A slight nod was all she could manage.
‘So I decided to get my shit together and make some changes, and honestly, it’s been great. There’s a whole world out there that I was missing.’
Another nod, and a faint awareness that she hadn’t seen him this animated or positive for years.
‘So yeah, it’s been good actually and I really do think that you did me a favour. I’m sorry I was such a dick when you told me you were leaving, but it was the right thing to do. It was time for a new start, for both of us.’
He paused to let the waiter deliver his latte and then ordered a pain au chocolat.
Jesus, carbs at this time in the morning. He really was a new man.
‘Anyway, sorry, I’ve just totally hogged the conversation,’ he went on. ‘Tell me how you are. Are you good too?’
Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Do it. Just say it. Get it out. Do it. Oh shit.
‘Yes, I’m, erm, good.’
SAY THE FRICKING WORDS!
‘But I’m also, erm, pregnant.’