Page 30 of You Were Always the One

It’s as though I’ve been electric-shocked. ‘But you’re pregnant.’ I pause. ‘How long have you known?’

‘I did a pregnancy test last week,’ she says unhappily. ‘I told myself I’d wait. I’m only seven weeks. Lots of women have early miscarriages.’

‘Miscarriages?’ I stare at her stupidly. ‘Is that what you were hoping was going to happen?’

‘Can you just try and put yourself in my shoes?’ Her eyes glisten with tears. ‘We’ve just broken up, for fuck’s sake. I have my job to think about – and I need to work. If I don’t, it’s not like you can support me. Anyway, I love my life as it is. It isn’t the right time.’

I’m numb, unfeeling of the little needle-pointed barbs her words are. ‘Maybe this book will be the one that breaks through – and you’ll be able to stop working.’

‘You’re not listening, are you?’ Her eyes are filled with angst. ‘I’ve thought so much about this.’ She clasps and unclasps her hands, clearly tortured. ‘I suppose if my life felt more stable, I’d feel different. But it isn’t.’

As I stare at her, I try to make sense of things. Having a baby is life-changing, especially when we’re not together. However, it doesn’t mean we can’t do this. ‘Emma, I’ll support whatever decision you decide to make. But can we please think about this first?’

She doesn’t meet my eyes. ‘I have thought about it. I’ve thought about nothing else.’

‘I wish you’d told me sooner.’ I’m so out of my comfort zone. But if there’s one thing I do know, however untimely, whatever our relationship, it’s that I want us to have this baby. ‘You really would be a great mum,’ I say gently. ‘I can see you doing all the mum-things, like playdates and singing groups and birthday parties.’

‘It’s all very well you saying that, but I’m not ready to give my life up.’ Emma’s voice is tight.

I try to think. ‘What about if I did all that?’ I suggest. ‘You can go back to work, and I’ll be a stay-at-home dad. And when the baby’s sleeping, I can write.’

She gives me a look. ‘You haven’t a clue, have you?’

‘People have babies all the time,’ I say. ‘I’m sure I could do all that. Look, think about it. That’s all I ask.’ I pause. ‘When’s the baby due?’

‘January.’ She pauses. ‘Rigby, you can’t be that surprised at my decision. You know I’ve never been sure about having kids.’

I’m taken aback. ‘Yes – but if I remember right, you said you didn’t want them straight away. That we had plenty of time.’

She has the grace to look embarrassed. ‘It doesn’t change the fact that the timing of this is terrible.’

I fold my arms. ‘So now what?’

‘I need to make an appointment.’ She looks at me awkwardly. ‘I’m sorry. But I’m sure once it’s over, you’ll agree it’s for the best.’

‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘I can tell you now, I will never think that.’ I pause. ‘It’s one thing choosing not to get pregnant. But don’t you think it’s different now that you are? I can’t stop you – and I won’t try to, if you’re sure it’s what you want.’ I feel utterly powerless. ‘But I want you to know it isn’t what I want.’

‘It’s what I thought you’d say.’ Her hand fleetingly rests on her belly. ‘But given we’re not together, we both know this is going to radically change my life.’

It’s going to change both our lives. But before I can say anything, she goes on.

‘It’s all very well saying you want to be involved. But the reality is it won’t work out like that.’ She stares at me. ‘We’re not even living together. There will be breastfeeding for one thing. But also, children need stability.’

‘Children are adaptable.’ I glance at Emma’s breasts, already bigger than they used to be; my eyes goggle slightly as I imagine a baby latched on. Our baby.

‘Stop staring at me,’ she snaps. ‘This is serious.’

She gets up suddenly. ‘I feel sick.’ Then she bolts upstairs to the bathroom.

I sit there listening to retching sounds, feeling a sense of disbelief that this is happening to us. There’s the sound of the loo flushing, then Emma comes downstairs. Her face is white as she sits down.

‘You OK?’ I ask.

‘Morning sickness. I should go.’ Her eyes avoid mine. ‘Don’t think I’m doing any of this without thought. It just isn’t at all what I wanted.’

‘Then don’t do it,’ I say quickly. ‘You have my word. I’ll do everything I can to make this easier for you.’

But it’s as though I haven’t spoken. ‘I’ll let you know when the appointment is.’ Getting up, she hesitates. ‘I’d really like it if you came with me. But I understand if you’d rather not.’