with the news, but she knew in her heart that she would
have to tell Daniel first. He didn’t accept personal calls during
the day and it was hardly the subject for a text message. I’ll
have to tell him this evening, she thought woodenly, wondering
how on earth she was going to keep herself together until then.
Chapter
Five
Watching the clock tick over
another minute, Helen replayed for the twentieth time the lines she
had rehearsed, their meaning lost with too much repetition. She
stared at her phone, wondering if today would be a day when he
messaged her to say he would be late. Usually it irritated her but
today she thought maybe she wouldn’t mind. The waiting was awful
but some part of her dreaded the event even more. She had thought
and thought until her brain ached, wondering how to tell him, of
the best time, the best way. She’d seen enough bad movies and soap
operas to know that quick was best, like taking off a plaster.
Whatever the outcome, nothing would be worse than the anticipation,
nothing more damaging than concealment.
When the door eventually
opened, Helen would have given anything to be on the outside of a
large glass of chilled Chardonnay. Knowing that alcohol was a
luxury denied to her for at least a year didn’t help the
nervousness. She felt limp, waiting for him to come into the
kitchen where she was sat twisting her fingers at the breakfast
bar. He was a man of routine and always expected to find her in the
kitchen, two wine glasses waiting and dinner simmering.
If Daniel noticed the solo wine
glass, he said nothing; he merely bent over to kiss her
perfunctorily on the cheek. He didn’t ask about her day but that
was nothing new, particularly when things were stressful at
work.
As usual he lifted the pot lid
and inhaled. If he was disappointed at the simple fare on offer
again he said nothing. Part of Helen willed him to notice these
changes to the norm, to give her an opening, a reason to speak.
Usual form was that he would begin his debrief of his day while she
sat supportively and smiled. Helen had spent all day wondering how
she would get her news in first.
“I have something important to
tell you,” she said, in a voice that shook only slightly. “You’d
better sit down.” It was a cliché but it would get his attention,
as would the word important . She’d considered exciting or brilliant but wondered if he would feel
the same way she had come to feel. She had to remember that this
would come completely out of nowhere for him – she at least had had
a week or so of murmuring suspicions.
Daniel turned and looked
properly at Helen for the first time since coming home; his face
was dark and clouded.
“Yes?” he responded without
taking a seat.
She decided to battle on
despite his less than encouraging stance.
“I’m pregnant.”
“You’re what?” Helen jumped at
the sound of his voice but said nothing.
“How? Who?”
Each shouted word made Helen
flinch, while her stomach churned. Who? How dare he?
Her face, already pale from the beginnings of morning sickness,
turned white.
“I’ll pretend you didn’t say
that.” She bit out the words as slowly and calmly as she could
manage. “As if it would be anyone’s but yours. As to how, I’m sure
you are aware how babies are made.”
Her tone froze the air between
them, sizzling against his red hot rage. She wondered who he was
angry at – her? As if this was her doing. His next words confirmed
it.
“You planned this. You tampered
with the condoms. You want this.” He folded his arms
tightly.
Again Helen was speechless with
shock and a burgeoning rage of her own.
“Are you mad?” The words were
out before she could think it through. She never spoke out to
Daniel, no matter how he infuriated her. It was dangerous and
futile. Aware of a sensation of pain she looked down at the
breakfast bar to see her hands clenched, nails digging into the
soft flesh of her palms.
“Am I mad? No, Helen, I
am
have to tell Daniel first. He didn’t accept personal calls during
the day and it was hardly the subject for a text message. I’ll
have to tell him this evening, she thought woodenly, wondering
how on earth she was going to keep herself together until then.
Chapter
Five
Watching the clock tick over
another minute, Helen replayed for the twentieth time the lines she
had rehearsed, their meaning lost with too much repetition. She
stared at her phone, wondering if today would be a day when he
messaged her to say he would be late. Usually it irritated her but
today she thought maybe she wouldn’t mind. The waiting was awful
but some part of her dreaded the event even more. She had thought
and thought until her brain ached, wondering how to tell him, of
the best time, the best way. She’d seen enough bad movies and soap
operas to know that quick was best, like taking off a plaster.
Whatever the outcome, nothing would be worse than the anticipation,
nothing more damaging than concealment.
When the door eventually
opened, Helen would have given anything to be on the outside of a
large glass of chilled Chardonnay. Knowing that alcohol was a
luxury denied to her for at least a year didn’t help the
nervousness. She felt limp, waiting for him to come into the
kitchen where she was sat twisting her fingers at the breakfast
bar. He was a man of routine and always expected to find her in the
kitchen, two wine glasses waiting and dinner simmering.
If Daniel noticed the solo wine
glass, he said nothing; he merely bent over to kiss her
perfunctorily on the cheek. He didn’t ask about her day but that
was nothing new, particularly when things were stressful at
work.
As usual he lifted the pot lid
and inhaled. If he was disappointed at the simple fare on offer
again he said nothing. Part of Helen willed him to notice these
changes to the norm, to give her an opening, a reason to speak.
Usual form was that he would begin his debrief of his day while she
sat supportively and smiled. Helen had spent all day wondering how
she would get her news in first.
“I have something important to
tell you,” she said, in a voice that shook only slightly. “You’d
better sit down.” It was a cliché but it would get his attention,
as would the word important . She’d considered exciting or brilliant but wondered if he would feel
the same way she had come to feel. She had to remember that this
would come completely out of nowhere for him – she at least had had
a week or so of murmuring suspicions.
Daniel turned and looked
properly at Helen for the first time since coming home; his face
was dark and clouded.
“Yes?” he responded without
taking a seat.
She decided to battle on
despite his less than encouraging stance.
“I’m pregnant.”
“You’re what?” Helen jumped at
the sound of his voice but said nothing.
“How? Who?”
Each shouted word made Helen
flinch, while her stomach churned. Who? How dare he?
Her face, already pale from the beginnings of morning sickness,
turned white.
“I’ll pretend you didn’t say
that.” She bit out the words as slowly and calmly as she could
manage. “As if it would be anyone’s but yours. As to how, I’m sure
you are aware how babies are made.”
Her tone froze the air between
them, sizzling against his red hot rage. She wondered who he was
angry at – her? As if this was her doing. His next words confirmed
it.
“You planned this. You tampered
with the condoms. You want this.” He folded his arms
tightly.
Again Helen was speechless with
shock and a burgeoning rage of her own.
“Are you mad?” The words were
out before she could think it through. She never spoke out to
Daniel, no matter how he infuriated her. It was dangerous and
futile. Aware of a sensation of pain she looked down at the
breakfast bar to see her hands clenched, nails digging into the
soft flesh of her palms.
“Am I mad? No, Helen, I
am
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