Page 32 of One Day at a Time

He came and sat next to her on the bench. ‘What was he saying?’

‘Nothing much. Just passing the time of day.’

The tightness across Kyle’s mouth told her he wasn’t happy with something surrounding that situation and she almost wanted to laugh again. Was he acting like a jealous husband? He’d never been like that before, but that was sure what this looked like. Maybe that’s what guilt and projection did to him. Urgh, her mum couldn’t come quicky enough so that she had a diversion from this. From her feelings. From her resentments. Her fears. Her aching bloody heart.

The sadness in the silence between them was palpable, until he broke it with a heavy sigh.

‘Orla, I can tell you a million more times that I’m sorry, but I need you to believe it. Please. We need to find a way to move on from this, for our sake and for the baby. You need to let me try to make it up to you and start again.’

‘I know that.’ Of course she did. It was all she’d been thinking about for the last month. ‘The problem is, I don’t know if I can.’

SEPTEMBER

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 waspossible, 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 fuelledby 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.