Page 29 of The Three of Us

‘I don’t know where to start.’

‘The beginning’s usually a pretty good place.’

‘A kitchen drawer, that’s where it began.’ It sounds silly, but it’s true. ‘And a diary with nothing written in it…’

‘Well, now I am intrigued.’

She looks into his eyes and sees real concern there, and she knows this isn’t fair. They deserve to know. If she’s going to tell all, it’s going to need to be with both of them here. Mum and Dad, together. The way married couples are meant to be.

‘Where’s Mum?’

‘Upstairs, changing the beds, I think. Shall I fetch her?’

‘Yes, please. I know you’re both worried and I don’t want you to be. And I’m sick of keeping secrets.’

Her dad looks so relieved now she’s told them. ‘There was me thinking all sorts – divorce, money worries, even cancer, would you believe? And it was a baby all along! My little girl having a child of her own. Wow! We really should be celebrating, Maureen, and a mug of cold tea doesn’t really cut it, does it? Where’s that bottle of champagne we tucked away from our anniversary?’

‘Dad! You do know I’m not supposed to drink?’

‘Oh, it’s not for you, love. This is a special occasion for your mother and me too, you know. Our first grandchild!’

Maureen is dabbing at the corners of her eyes with a screwed-up hankie. ‘Oh, Molly, I’m so pleased. Why ever didn’t you tell us? All this time you’ve known. Three months already! I should be knitting bootees by now, and ordering you a pram. The grandparents always pay for the pram! And your dad and me will be opening a little savings account for him just as soon as he’s born.’

‘Or she!’

‘Well, yes, of course, but it will be a boy. I have a feeling, and you know my feelings are never wrong.’

Molly stands up and moves to behind her mum’s chair, throwing her arms around her neck and kissing the top of her permed head, and in seconds her dad is up on his feet too, sandwiching Molly between them in a really strange kind of group hug.

‘And Jack? Where does he fit into all this?’ her dad asks quietly, as he goes back to his chair, his gaze not leaving her face. Molly can almost hear his thought processes gearing up. ‘Why isn’t he here?’

‘He’s… well, let’s just say it came as a bit of a shock. I don’t think he feels ready. We hadn’t actually planned on this happening just yet.’

‘Babies come when they’re good and ready. A gift from God.’ Maureen doesn’t often bring religion into things but she is a Christian, and family means everything to her. ‘He should be thrilled. Just like your father was when we first found out you were on the way.’

‘Oh, yes, I downed a few pints that night, I can tell you. And bought one for everyone in the pub. It’s not every day…’

‘I’m amazed you can remember,’ Maureen says, cutting his memories off with a shake of her head, but she’s smiling, so no matter how drunk he must have been she’s clearly long since forgiven him.

‘He’ll come round. Your Jack.’ Her dad hesitates for a moment. ‘But it’s not going to happen while you’re miles apart, now, is it? You’re going to be a mummy, and he’s going to be a daddy, in six months, whether he’s ready or not, so it’s time he stepped up. And manned up. I think the sooner we get you on a train back to London the better, my love. If the mountain won’t come to Mohammed…’

‘I think I’m more of a mountain these days than he is. Have you seen the size of my tummy?’ Molly lifts up her baggy jumper and lays her hands – one of them encased in plaster – on the little rounded mound of bare flesh.

‘No, because you’ve been hiding it away, Molly, love.’ Maureen smiles wistfully. ‘But it’s time you showed it off with pride. May I?’ She waits for the nod, then reaches out and touches her daughter’s skin, gently stroking it. ‘Fancy a bit of shopping later? Your first maternity clothes? My treat. We might as well send you home looking the part.’

‘Shopping would be lovely. I just need to rescue this cake from the oven before it burns.’

Her dad produces the champagne from the back of the enormous fridge and pops the cork, showering them all with sticky bubbles.

‘To baby Doherty,’ he says, raising the bottle in the air as if he’s about to swing it at the side of a ship. ‘And all who sail in her.’

‘Him!’ Maureen says, very firmly. ‘I told you, Bill. It’s going to be a boy, I just know it. When it comes to a mother’s intuition, I am never wrong.’

Molly laughs, for the first time in a while.

‘No champers for me,’ she says, shaking her head, her hand still cradling her bump. ‘Booze is off the menu. From now on, this little one comes first.’

Chapter 18