LITMIR.BIZ

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slightly alarmed.

      ‘Right. Why aren’t you hungry?’ he said after a pause.

      Bemused, Laura attempted to stick to the point she was trying to muddle her way through to, without actually saying, ‘I was sick earlier today because I’ve been suspended from work, and this is driving me up the wall.’

      ‘I’m not…it’s just…’ She stumbled a bit, and Dan looked even more apprehensive.

      ‘What?’ he said. ‘Laura, what’s wrong?’

      ‘Nothing. Well, I was a bit sick today, but that’s normal…nothing. Look…’

      Dan’s reaction to this news was unexpected. His jaw dropped and he gaped at her, then gasped several times as if short of breath.

      ‘You were sick?’ he said. ‘Why?’

      Laura wanted to be touched by his concern, but he was looking genuinely horrified. She found it a little off-putting. How could she explain everything to him? Why couldn’t he understand?

      ‘I…well. I haven’t been feeling too good. Lately.’

      ‘Are you…ill?’ Dan said, his jaw muscles clenching. ‘Have you been off work?’

      ‘Well…actually, I have,’ Laura said. ‘Something’s happened. That’s what…’ she swallowed. ‘Things are going to be difficult over the next couple of months, Dan,’ she said softly. ‘That’s why I have to know what’s going on with us. I have to know, I can’t do it any more.’

      She sat back in her seat, shaking with adrenalin, and reached out to take his hand, but Dan put his head in his hands and was silent. Laura watched him, a growing sense of unease welling within her.

      ‘Fuck…’ Dan said eventually. ‘Oh fuck.’ He looked up again, and ran his eyes up and down her body. ‘Just tell me. Tell me the truth. You’re…fuck, you’re pregnant, aren’t you?’

      A waitress had materialised beside them during this sentence. She let out an involuntary gasp.

      ‘Shall I come back?’ she said, glancing from one to the other and looking ultra-curious.

      ‘No,’ said Laura, slightly maliciously, though it was only afterwards she recognised the emotion for what it was. Dan was sitting stock still, staring into space. ‘Fuck,’ he repeated.

      ‘I think we’re ready to go here,’ Laura said calmly. ‘Can I just have the Greek salad, please? And Dan – you want the lamb and mint pie, don’t you?’ No response was forthcoming, so she nodded to the waitress. ‘Yes, he’ll have that, and some broccoli, too, please.’

      ‘Another beer?’ said the waitress, gesturing to Dan’s pint.

      ‘I think so,’ said Laura briskly, ‘and can I have a bottle of house white, too, please?’

      ‘One bottle?’ said the waitress incredulously. ‘For you?’

      ‘Yes, please,’ said Laura airily. ‘I’ve got a bit of a wine head on, you see. When you need a drink, you just need a drink, don’t you!’

      ‘Hm,’ said the waitress, looking appalled, and she strode off towards the bar, beckoning the barman over towards her and instantly engaging him in whispered conversation, which involved staring blatantly at the happy couple and the rolling of eyes.

      Dan awoke from his semi-coma with a start. He stared at Laura, and rubbed his chin. Laura stared back at him, and her heart melted again. He was so gorgeous, with the day or two’s growth of beard, the tanned, chiselled face. Their children would be beautiful, if they took after their father, there was no doubting that. However…

      ‘How…when?’ said Dan hoarsely. ‘Not you…Fuck, this is…Laura, you swore you were on the pill. Have you told…How? When? Why did you…’

      Laura looked at his face again. The questions, the accusations, the problems ahead. And she was glad, glad it wasn’t true, glad she wasn’t giving Dan this news.

      She put her finger on his lips. ‘Why the fuck would you think that?’ she said, half-laughing.

      Dan didn’t smile. He looked even worse, if anything.

      ‘You stupid man,’ she said, laughing a little as the waitress returned with the drinks. ‘I’m not pregnant, did I ever say I was?’

      ‘She’s…not…’ the waitress hissed over their heads, gesturing towards the barman at both of them, her finger waving wildly and shaking her head.

      ‘You’re not?’ Dan said. ‘Really?’

      ‘Really,’ said Laura dryly.

      Dan licked his upper lip, which was dewy with sweat, and said hoarsely, ‘Thank god for that.’ He slumped back into his seat and took his drink, almost sullenly. ‘Thank god. Sorry, Laura love, but you had me there for a moment. The timing…not good.’

      ‘I didn’t say…’ Laura began, then broke off. She patted his arm. ‘Calm down, Dan. I wouldn’t do that, I’m not stupid.’

      Dan took a huge swig of his drink. ‘No, you’re not,’ he said simply. ‘That’s one of the things I’ve always loved best about you, you know.’

      ‘Me?’ Laura said, taken aback. ‘Really?’

      ‘Yeah,’ Dan said, fiddling with a beer mat. ‘You know. You’re so…just smart. You know? You make things better. You’re organised. You do that job, you know. Help all those kids, give them a better start and shit. And the way you organise things, remember everyone’s birthdays, all that stuff. It’s…it’s…’

      He put his pint down and turned to her, and Laura was astounded to see he had tears in his eyes.

      ‘It’s…it’s just always better when you’re in the room.’

      Laura had often wondered, since the fifth day of bumping into each other at the station and chatting away till they missed two trains, when Dan had said, ‘This is ridiculous. Tomorrow let’s meet fifteen minutes earlier. We can have a coffee. Yes?’ and she had trotted down onto the tube platform to find him waiting for her, a smile of welcome on his face, holding a coffee he’d bought from the stall in his hand for her, what exactly it was about her that he apparently liked so much – so much that he was willing to risk such a lot for her, for himself. And now she knew. She was dependable, she was nice. She was organised. She got the job done. A set of more prosaic, no, boring, qualities, she thought, it would be difficult to find, and had she been displaying any of those qualities lately? No, absolutely not.

      She swallowed, trying to look on the bright side, and immediately an image flashed into her head of Amy, stunning, slim Amy, reclining at home, flicking through a magazine, gingerly blowing nail varnish dry on one tiny fingernail. Wearing some exquisite lace and silk nightgown, specifically for lounging around in, probably.

      She looked at him, swallowed again, and gripped the side of the table. She knew the moment was coming, inexorably she could feel it creeping towards the conversation, like a marching beat.

      ‘Thank you,’ she said.

      ‘I mean it,’ Dan replied. ‘When you’re around…I just feel better. You look after me. The way you…you make breakfast, for instance, you remember I like to put the Marmite on myself.’ He ran his hands through his hair. ‘That sounds crap, but you know what I mean. You listen to me if I’ve had a bad day.’

      And how many times have you ever asked me about my day? Laura suddenly thought. It was a straightforward question, but suddenly she couldn’t think why she hadn’t thought it before, six, seven months before. How many times? She wanted him to see her as the unattainable, the alluring woman of mystery, who drove him to the edge of distraction, not…not this. Pleasant. Kind. Ugh.

      ‘…And you…I don’t know. You care about me, I can tell you stuff.

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