‘Yes, I know, but that was before we started to have . . . issues,’ said Jessica. She couldn’t have borne to hear him say, ‘Are you kidding? Us?’
‘So this baby isn’t anything to do with me,’ said Ben. ‘You assumed we were breaking up and wanted to have a baby on your own?’
‘Of course it’s to do with you,’ said Jessica. ‘I only wanted your baby.’
She could see him soften, but then, idiotically, without thinking, she said, ‘You’re the father. You can see it whenever you want.’
‘I can see it whenever I want!’ exploded Ben. You would think she’d said the worst thing in the world. ‘Gee. Thanks.’
‘No, I didn’t mean – I just meant, God.’
Their words no longer flowed like water. Now their conversations stopped and started in hard little jabs.
‘It’s probably premature to be sorting out access visits,’ said Lars.
‘I doubt she’s even pregnant,’ said Carmel.
‘I am pregnant,’ insisted Jessica. ‘I just hope these drugs haven’t hurt the baby.’
‘You won’t be the first or the last to have got drunk or high in the very early days of pregnancy,’ said Heather. ‘I’m a midwife, and the things some mothers have admitted to me, especially when the partners have left the room! If you are pregnant, there’s a good chance your baby will be fine.’
‘So much for being the anti-drug crusader, Mum,’ said Zoe.
‘Well, there’s nothing to be done now,’ said Heather under her breath, although Jessica could hear her perfectly well.
‘I’ve been taking folate tablets,’ Jessica told her.
‘That’s great,’ said Heather.
‘Yep, so great: folate, a little LSD and some ecstasy,’ said Ben bitterly. ‘The perfect start to life.’
‘Don’t worry about it, she’s probably not even pregnant,’ said Carmel in a low voice.
‘What is your fucking problem?’ Jessica’s voice rose to an embarrassingly high pitch. She knew she shouldn’t be swearing and showing her emotions like this, but she felt suddenly very upset.
‘Hey now,’ said Napoleon soothingly.
Frances, the romance author, plonked herself down and went bright red in the face, as if she’d never heard the f-word in her life.
‘Sorry,’ said Carmel. She lowered her head. ‘It’s probably just envy.’
‘Envy? You’re, like, jealous of me?’ said Jessica. Wasn’t this woman too old to feel jealous? ‘Why?’
‘Well . . .’ Carmel laughed a little.
The money, thought Jessica. She’s jealous of the money. It had taken her a while to realise that people of any age, people she considered grown-ups, of her parents’ generation, who you would think wouldn’t care that much about money because their lives were virtually done, could still be jealous and weird about it.
‘Well, you’re thin and beautiful,’ said Carmel. ‘I know it’s embarrassing to admit this at my age – I’ve got four beautiful daughters, I should be way beyond this – but my husband left me for a . . .’
‘Bimbo?’ suggested Lars.
‘Sadly not. She’s got a PhD,’ said Carmel.
‘Oh, honey, you can still be a bimbo with a PhD,’ said Lars. ‘Who represented you? I assume you’re still in the family home?’
‘It’s fine. Thank you. I’m not complaining about the settlement.’ She stopped and looked at Jessica. ‘You know what? I’m probably jealous of you being pregnant.’
‘Haven’t you got four children?’ said Lars. ‘That seems like more than enough.’