My shoulders sank. I hated lying. Hated it. But what else could I say? I wasn’t ready to tell anyone that I didn’t really still have gastric flu because, surprise, surprise, what I actually had was a little more long-term than that.
I flicked back to Michael’s and Stevie’s texts and reality hit me. Michael had just asked me on a date, oblivious to the fact that I was pregnant with his brother’s baby. The brother he hated. The brother who’d impregnated Michael’s fiancée then married her while he was overseas. The brother who’d made her abort her second pregnancy. That all-round nice guy. I certainly didn’t do things by halves.
I stared out at the sea again, twiddling my phone round in my hand, and eventually came to a decision. Gary had effectively strung me along for years. I wasn’t going to do the same to Stevie or Michael. Before my discovery, I’d already been 90 per cent sure I didn’t want another relationship, but now I was 100 per cent sure. I’d arrange to meet them and let them down gently. If it was a date, that was. Stevie’s message could be read either way and, coming to think of it, Michael could just be showing friendly concern after his brother’s infidelity.
✉︎ To Stevie
Thanks for your concern. Still feeling a bit icky today so just want to rest. How about we meet up on Tuesday night?
✉︎ To Michael
Thanks for your concern. Feeling a bit sick today, but hopefully better soon. How about we meet up on Wednesday night?
Switching my phone to silent, I stared at my stomach and shook my head. I’d finally got what I’d desired for years, but this wasn’t the way I’d planned or expected. I recalled telling Gary that, if I had a baby, it would be with a husband who cared about me rather than the sperm-donor situation he’d suggested. That hadn’t happened. Maybe I should have taken him up on his offer after all as I might not have had a husband that way, but at least my baby would have had a devoted father. My current situation brought me neither. There was no way Daniel would want to be involved; just look at his track record with babies. And I certainly wasn’t going to get involved with him again but I couldn’t get involved with anyone else either because that would hardly be fair on them. Well, I’d just got the me-time I wanted and I’d better make the most of it because, in seven or so months’ time, it would be in very short supply!
I drove back to Seashell Cottage where I rummaged in my drawers for an A4 notepad and pen. Sitting on my bed, I wrote ‘THE NEW ELISE’ at the top of a fresh page. Right. What did I want to achieve between now and the birth? What had I always wanted to do that was purely for me? Hmm.
I stared at the blank page as the minutes ticked past. I put the pad down and stared out of the window. I picked it up again. Put it down. Picked it up. I sighed and began doodling in the margin while I willed some sort of plan to present itself. Half an hour later, the page was full… of doodles. Great. I was about to scrumple it up when my eyes were drawn to an image in the centre of the page. An image from the past.
‘The sword of Ellorinia. Oh my goodness. That’s it! I want to write again.’
29
For someone who hates lying, the following week seemed to be one lie after another as I embarked on my two evenings of ‘dates’ with Stevie then Michael, and fed Sarah yet another excuse for not visiting after school on the Wednesday.
I enjoyed both ‘dates’ and, under other circumstances, would have found myself torn as to whom I was most drawn towards. Stevie was great fun and my sides had actually hurt from laughing so much. Michael also had a good sense of humour, but he had an intensity to him so the evening wasn’t quite as light-hearted. That was no bad thing, though. I liked that he could be serious about things when his brother clearly viewed life as a big joke.
Keeping focus and steering the conversation to avoid any sort of acknowledgement that we were on a date had been pretty exhausting. I’d then probably confused them both with a speedy end to the evening, citing fatigue and work the next day.
By Friday night, I was exhausted, confused, and very much looking forward to a relaxing evening while Kay was out taking photos with Philip. A WhatsApp message popped up on my phone from Callie:
✉︎ Hi Elise & Clare
Hen do update: Contacted that adult playground and I’ve managed to negotiate a great deal that I’d like to run by you both.
Clare – I’m assuming you’ll be over in 2 weeks’ time for Sarah’s birthday meal. Can we meet up then? Unless you’re over sooner????
How are you both getting on with your tasks? xx
Damn! I’d been so wrapped up in my own little world that I’d completely forgotten that I had bridesmaid responsibilities. After our aborted meeting, Callie had set up the WhatsApp group so we could agree on the format for Sarah’s hen do. I scrolled back up the messages to shed some light on what I’d been allocated, because I couldn’t for the life of me remember. Oh yes, I was apparently going to look into reasonably priced accommodation and meals for two nights. It wasn’t exactly a difficult task. Best get my act together.
Another message arrived from Clare:
✉︎ Moving into my new flat tomorrow so this weekend’s out and got a work thing the one after. Will deffo be across for Sarah’s birthday meal. I wasn’t planning to drive over till Saturday afternoon but can come across earlier. Done my research.
Clearly I was the weakest link on Team Bridesmaids. I cringed as I typed my response:
✉︎ I’m free that day. Research is going well x
More lies, but I couldn’t face the risk of a lecture from Clare if I confessed I’d forgotten. We needed to maintain that truce. Callie replied:
✉︎ Brilliant! How about 10.30am in The Chocolate Pot two weeks’ tomorrow? Bring all your info and we’ll get it finalised. And I’ll bring red cards in case you two kick off again! xx
I responded with a laughing emoji then put my phone down and rolled my weary shoulders. It was only eight, but my PJs were beckoning. I padded upstairs and changed, then loosened my hair clip, shaking my curls out. That felt good.
As I wiped cotton pads over my eyes to remove my make-up, I reflected on my midwife appointment after school. It had felt so alien actually saying the words, ‘I’m pregnant’ to someone for the first time, especially a complete stranger. I’d always imagined the first time I said those words aloud would be to Gary, having discovered I was expecting his baby. How things had changed.
I headed down to the lounge with a notepad and pen, flicked the TV on, then lit a couple of scented candles before curling up on the sofa. I wrote the dates on the top of the page but my mind kept drifting. I imagined the conversation with Daniel to tell him I was expecting his baby and how he might react. Definitely not very well. I imagined telling Sarah and having her lecture me for stealing the thunder from her wedding. I imagined not being able to fit into the bridesmaid dress we’d ordered and made a mental note to discreetly ask Ginny if she could change mine to a bigger size. That was a point. How pregnant would I be at the wedding?