Page 68 of The Three of Us

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Page 68 of The Three of Us

‘So, did you? See if it’s a boy or a girl?’

‘Do you really care one way or the other?’

‘Yes!’ He picks up her hand. It’s cold. She doesn’t pull it away, which has to be a good sign. ‘Tell me, Mol. Please.’

‘I made cakes,’ she says, not answering his question, tipping her head towards the carrier thing on the ground. ‘Pink middles, blue middles, covering both possibilities. Once we knew what we’re having, I was going to get rid of the wrong ones, and take the right ones with us on the train. I thought we could hand them round, to the whole family at dinner tonight, let them all find out together. I hadn’t expected to have to give you one too. That you’d be as much in the dark as the rest of them. What happened to us being a couple, Jack? To sharing moments like these?’

‘I am so, so sorry. What else can I do? And if eating one of your cakes is the only way I have of finding out, then come on, hand one over. I love your cakes. You know I do. So, I’ll eat the whole lot if I have to. So long as there are no lumps of molten glass inside them. Or cyanide!’ He thinks he sees a hint of a smile on her face at the mention of the poison. ‘I just want to know what we’re having.’

He lets go of her hand, leans down and picks up the carrier. ‘Hang on. It’s so light. This thing can’t be full of cake. What did you do? Throw them away in a fit of anger or something?’

‘No. I got rid of them.’

‘What? All of them? What happened to taking some home tonight? How are we going to let the family know if it’s a boy or a girl now?’

‘We’re not.’

He gazes at her, confused. ‘Why not?’

‘Because we can’t tell them something we don’t know ourselves, that’s why.’

‘But…’

‘I don’t know what we’re having, Jack. They did all the measurements and things, and the baby is doing fine. Everything in the right place, the right size, but when they got to the bit where they asked me if I wanted to know the sex… well, I said no.’

‘So you don’t…?’

‘I have no idea, Jack. It’s something I wanted us to find out together. Still do.’

‘But you said they won’t repeat the scan.’

‘They won’t, no. But there are private places that will do it for us. It will cost a bit, but everyone says the scan pictures are fantastic, really detailed, much better than the basic one we would have seen today. Here, look, I was just looking them up on Google when you – finally – turned up.’ She takes her phone out and flicks to the website, places it in his hand.

‘Oh.’ He doesn’t know what else to say. He slips one arm across her shoulders and pulls her in close, kisses her cheek. ‘I thought you’d be so mad at me. You’d have every right.’

‘I know. And I was. I am. But… well, this baby needs a daddy. And, despite everything, I need you too. So, what do you say? Shall we? Book a scan and meet our baby? Together?’

‘Yes. Yes, please.’

‘And you’ll be there this time? No work, no excuses?’

‘I will. I absolutely will. And, thank you.’

‘What for?’

‘For putting up with me being an idiot these last few weeks. Burying myself in work, burying my stupid head in the sand. But there are reasons I was so rattled by it all… well, excuses probably, not reasons. But, you know, a pregnancy I hadn’t expected, hadn’t planned…’

‘It surprised me too.’

‘I know it did. But there are things I’ve never told you, things that happened when I was a kid, but I will. This evening, on the train, I’ll tell you, I promise. Because they don’t mean a thing anymore. And I do love you, Mol. And this baby too. You know that, don’t you?’

‘I suppose so. Fool that I am.’ She shakes her head and snuggles into him. ‘Come on, we’ve got a train to catch.’

He stands up and lifts their bag in one hand, the empty cake carrier in the other. ‘What did happen to the cakes?’

‘I gave them to the hospital. For the nurses to share, or to give to the patients after their scans. And left a few of my business cards too. Angela, that’s the woman who did the scan, said she thought they were a great idea, something so many of their patients would love.’

‘You are becoming a real little businesswoman, aren’t you?’




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