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A Winter’s Wish Come True
Lynsey James
Tis the season to be . . . pregnant? Catch up with Cleo and Scott in this fabulously feel-good festive readBeing pregnant with her ex-boyfriend’s baby is the last thing on Cleo Jones’s Christmas wish list. Scott might have been the man of her dreams once upon a time, but things change and now Cleo faces a future as a single mum… Or does she?Scott won’t let Cleo go through this alone; whatever their differences he’s vowed to be there, from antenatal classes to night feeds and nappy changing. The two agree to bring up their baby as friends – but as Cleo’s bump grows, so do their feelings for each other.Cleo can’t be sure if it’s her heart of her hormones urging her to give Scott a second chance – but getting back together could be the best Christmas present of all!


Tis the season to be … pregnant? Catch up with Cleo and Scott in this fabulously feel-good festive read
Being pregnant with her ex-boyfriend’s baby is the last thing on Cleo Jones’s Christmas wish list. Scott might have been the man of her dreams once upon a time, but things change and now Cleo faces a future as a single mum … Or does she?
Scott won’t let Cleo go through this alone; whatever their differences he’s vowed to be there, from antenatal classes to night feeds and nappy changing. The two agree to bring up their baby as friends – but as Cleo’s bump grows, so do their feelings for each other.
Cleo can’t be sure if it’s her heart or her hormones urging her to give Scott a second chance – but getting back together could be the best Christmas present of all!
A Winter’s Wish Come True
Lynsey James


ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES
Contents
Cover (#ucf48cb24-5122-5a71-95fa-4de48e21b1ab)
Blurb (#ua9f59006-c171-5a9a-94f2-35beacb9efa9)
Title Page (#ua91fbeea-56f7-5c06-85cb-2b39e03e346b)
Author Bio (#ulink_14328b3d-68a3-50c4-a511-fead405dc338)
Acknowledgements (#ulink_ea69568f-3853-552e-9937-dd42b2da3983)
Dedication (#u978d1174-6743-54b0-bb73-d81b3a5f2f2b)
Prologue (#ulink_ad678ac7-307c-5055-88b6-f3d8853b9143)
Chapter One (#ulink_8da60041-e241-5207-a009-22f48f3a907b)
Chapter Two (#ulink_d71d8e24-2811-5f24-bf5c-b6d00a06a377)
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Epilogue
Endpages (#ud6563bcf-098f-5f77-968b-ce0bc51045d0)
Copyright
LYNSEY JAMES was born in Fife and is an incurable bookworm. A careers adviser at school once told her writing wasn’t a “good option”, so Lynsey has tried a little bit of everything, including make-up artistry, teaching and doing admin for a chocolate fountain company. Now, she finally has fulfilled her dream and is writing full-time. When not writing, eating cake or drinking tea, she’s daydreaming about the day Matthew Gray Gubler finally realises they’re meant to be together. It’ll happen one day… Follow her on Twitter at @Lynsey1991 (https://twitter.com/lynsey1991?lang=en)
Acknowledgements (#ulink_fb6f8ab9-0f72-539c-9bbc-5a845aea75a5)
I’m lucky enough to have a whole host of brilliant people in my life, who push me to be the best and help me through the ‘what on earth am I doing?’ moments that we all have in life. So, here they are:
Mum
Dad
Kyle
Gran
Dixie
Jodie
Aoife
Frankie
Andi
Jen
I love each and every one of you; you’re all inspirational and fantastic. I also want to thank my lovely agent Sarah for letting me be part of #TeamManning and everyone at HQ for helping this book come alive. Super Secret Writing Group, you are all kickass at what you do and I’m thrilled to know you all. And finally, it may seem strange to thank fictional characters, but THANK YOU Cleo Jones and Scott Robinson. Thank you for popping into my head and not leaving me alone until I wrote your story down, from beginning to end. I’ll miss giving you guys new adventures to go on, but I’ll certainly never forget either of you.
This book is for you, reading this dedication right now and about to dive into one of my books. Maybe
it’s your first, maybe it’s not; it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re reading it, and I can’t thank
you enough for doing so.
Prologue (#ulink_69d9521f-b6ac-54dc-86b9-4a219fd4fcd9)
Life is a funny thing, isn’t it?
Some days, it carries on as normal: you go to work, do what you have to do, then come home and put your feet up with your favourite box set.
And some days, you put on a red jumpsuit and throw yourself out of a plane.
Today is definitely one of the latter days for me. I crouch near the edge of the plane, an instructor strapped to my back, and try not to think about how the next few seconds are going to play out. As the nerves begin to take hold, I glance up at my best friend Emma, who’s standing opposite me. She looks almost as scared as I feel, but flashes me a thumbs up nonetheless.
‘Ready?’ she yells, struggling to be heard over the plane’s ear-splitting engines.
‘As I’ll ever be!’ I reply, nodding my head.
Emma’s instructor announces that they’ll be going first, which only succeeds in making me feel even more terrified. Going first means getting it over with, whereas I’ll have a few more seconds to panic before launching myself out of a plan at 12,000 feet. As Emma shuffles to the edge, preparing to do her jump, I resist the urge to close my eyes. This is supposed to be a fun, exhilarating experience, but now I’m regretting ever having written it on my bucket list.
Emma tumbles away, her whooping and cheering quickly swallowed up by the brisk morning air. Acid rises in my throat; I feel like I’m going to be sick.
‘Are you OK?’ Tommy, my instructor, leans forward to ask the question in my ear. ‘Honestly, there’s nothing to be afraid of. I’ve done hundreds of these jumps and nothing’s ever gone wrong. Well, apart from that one time where I nearly forgot to put my parachute on, but just ignore that.’
I crane my neck round to look at him, feeling my heart drop to my shoes. ‘That’s not really doing wonders for my confidence, Tommy …’
He shakes his head and chuckles. ‘I’m only joking! Are you ready to go?’
‘Not really,’ I admit with a weak smile. ‘In fact, I’m bloody terrified!’
Tommy gently nudges me closer to the edge and my stomach does a series of somersaults. I can’t imagine throwing myself out into oblivion, not knowing where I’ll land. Why I ever picked this to add to my bucket list is anybody’s guess.
‘Perfect time to do it, then!’
I look back just in time to see him grin before we’re out of the plane and amongst the clouds.
*
As terrified as I was before the jump, the feeling of actually doing it is incomparable. There’s a small moment where I float through the sky with Tommy strapped to my back, before we prepare to make our descent. I feel utterly euphoric and terrified in equal measure; I’ve never enjoyed not being in control, but there’s something unique about being amongst the clouds.
Elation spreads through my body as we come to land. For as much as I enjoyed the sky diving experience, there’s nothing that quite beats being on terra firma. Tommy separates us and helps me out of the ridiculously huge jumpsuit.
‘Thanks for that!’ I say, slipping my helmet off and flashing him a smile. ‘That was … amazing.’
I notice his cheeks pink up and he looks at the ground for a moment before his gaze returns to me.
‘Oh, it was nothing,’ he replies. ‘I do loads of these every week … not usually with someone as pretty as you though.’
The blush on his face deepens to scarlet and he rubs the back of his neck as he awkwardly avoids my gaze. I’m not sure where to look myself; my mouth opens and closes as I try to think of the right thing to say.
‘Um … I … Thanks, I guess!’
Very smooth, Cleo.
Tommy smiles, showing off his pearly white teeth. ‘I don’t suppose you’d fancy going for a drink after this? There’s a nice little pub just down the road. Invite your mate too, if you like.’
It’s my turn to blush, as I feel a crimson heat sweep over my cheeks. I run a hand through my hair, which has become a tangled mess thanks to the sky dive, and look up at him.
‘Tommy, I’d love to but … I have a boyfriend. Sorry.’
He nods and I see his smile falter a little. ‘Of course you do. I should’ve known really. He’s a lucky guy, whoever he is.’
He does an awkward little wave and heads off towards the air base. I make my way over to Emma, who’s now been divested of her jumpsuit and untangled from her equally cute sky diving instructor.
‘You and Tommy looked cosy,’ she says with a wink and nudge.
I shrug and avoid her gaze as best I can. ‘He asked me out for a drink, but I said no. Told him I have a boyfriend.’
I don’t have to look at her to know her bright smile has faded. The sigh of disappointment is all the confirmation I need.
‘But you don’t,’ she says gently. ‘Not anymore. It’s been a year since Scott left, Cleo. Going out with someone else might be good for you.’
I take a deep breath to keep my emotions in check, hiding them behind a reassuring smile. ‘I’m fine as I am, OK? I don’t need another guy in my life.’
My best friend doesn’t look convinced and fixes me with a knowing stare. ‘Don’t close yourself off completely to the idea. It might not have worked out with Scott, but that doesn’t mean someone else can’t sweep you off your feet.’
I nod and pretend to agree with her as we head back towards the air base. Somewhere deep inside me, an all-too-familiar dull ache makes itself known once again. The ache that’s been here for the last year, since the man I thought was the love of my life walked away for the very last time.
*
When Emma and I get back to Silverdale, our beautiful hometown nestled in the Lancashire countryside, we make ourselves presentable and head to the Bell and Candle for a well-deserved drink.
‘Well, that’s another item you’ve ticked off your bucket list!’ she says, raising her glass of white wine in a toasting gesture. ‘You’re smashing it.’
I clink my half-empty glass of gin and tonic to her wine glass, unable to resist a grin. ‘I’ve got to admit, I really enjoyed the sky diving today. I mean, I was terrified but it was the good kind of terrified!’
I catch my grin slipping and, judging by the look on her face, so does Emma. She reaches over and touches my hand.
‘I wish Scott could’ve been there to see me do it,’ I say, my voice barely rising above a whisper. ‘He’d have been so proud.’
‘He would’ve been,’ she agrees. ‘But he’s not here anymore. He made his choice a year ago. I know it’s been hard and horrible and scary at times, but you’ve done amazingly. Look at all the stuff you’ve ticked off your bucket list – you’ve gone zorbing, learnt Italian and now you’ve completed a sky dive! Who’d have thought you’d do all those things a couple of years ago?’
I nod as I use my finger to swirl round the ice cubes in my glass, before drinking the rest of the gin and tonic. ‘I just … I thought everything had fallen into place with Scott, that’s all. We were happy, Emma, really bloody happy. Then that job offer came along and ruined everything.’
I feel an imaginary knife plunge into my heart as I remember the moment that my relationship crumbled around me. I block out the memory as quickly as I can; if I let myself think about it, it’ll consume me. And probably put a dampener on my girls’ night out with Emma.
‘Have you heard from him recently?’ she asks, trying to tread as carefully as possible. ‘I know you were in contact with him for a while.’
I shake my head. ‘Nope, he’s probably too busy enjoying Melbourne life right now. Who can blame him, really? It must be amazing out there. I’ll bet he’s surfing right now with some beautiful Australian woman who looks like Margot Robbie.’
Emma takes my empty glass from me and rises from her seat. ‘You need another drink, Miss Jones! And when I come back, we’re going to talk about how to get that sparkle of yours back. It’s not worth losing it over Scott bloody Robinson.’
She heads off towards the bar, confidence radiating from her every stride. Our entire friendship, she’s been the polar opposite of me. While I’ve struggled with my self-confidence for years, Emma has always been thoroughly comfortable in her own skin. People gravitate towards her, while I was always content with hiding in her shadow. It gave me the shelter I needed to hide myself until I felt confident enough to step into the spotlight again.
Then I did, and a beautiful man noticed me.
He loved me for who I was, and then he left.
I was afraid he would in the beginning; I was scared that he’d find something or someone he loved more than me because I’d never truly be enough for him. He managed to convince me that wouldn’t happen, and I was stupid enough to believe him.
Salty tears sting the back of my eyes and I take a deep breath to compose myself. Today’s been wonderful and I don’t want to spoil it by letting my emotions get the better of me.
Now that I’m on my own, with only my thoughts for company, I find some familiar dark thoughts circling the periphery of my mind. Mainly, they’re about the day that Scott walked away for good.
‘It’s a great opportunity for us, Cleo! You can’t seriously expect me to turn it down?’
‘You’re talking about us moving to the other side of the world Scott. We’d be leaving our families, our friends, our jobs, everything we’ve worked for behind.’
He screws his eyes shut and heaves a sigh. ‘You know, for someone who says they want to take on the world, you’re being a bloody coward about this. This is a chance for us to have a brand new start in an amazing country …’
My brain cuts the train of thought off, but I know exactly what happened next. Insults were hurled, feelings were hurt, and doors were slammed. Things were said that we’d never be able to take back and our perfect relationship was shattered forever.
In an effort to distract myself, I decide to go and see where Emma is with our next round of drinks. She’s taking longer than normal, and I hope she hasn’t got into yet another spat with Ben the barman. They split up a few months ago and things aren’t exactly amicable between them …
I leave the comfort of the pub’s snug, where our secluded little booth is, and venture out into the main bar. I see the back of Emma’s head and notice she’s in deep conversation with someone. The closer I get, the louder her voice rises above the pounding indie music blaring over the pub’s ancient speakers.
‘No, you can’t see her! You want to just swan back in here after a year and expect everything to be just as you left it? I don’t think so!’
My blood freezes. She can’t be talking to …?
‘Scott?’
I round the corner and see him leaning on the bar. He’s slightly more tanned and his hair is a bit lighter, but he’s still the same in every other way. When his eyes lock with mine, a swarm of butterflies release themselves into my stomach. My first instinct is to run to him, throw my arms around him and welcome him back. However, I decide to restrain myself and wait for his reaction first.
‘Hi,’ he says, lifting his hand in a wave.
I wait for him to say something, anything else other than ‘hi’, but nothing comes. The butterflies disappear and boiling rage takes their place.
‘That’s all you can say?’ I exclaim. ‘You’ve been away for a whole year, and all you’ve got to say is hi?! You didn’t just pop down to the shops, you moved to bloody Australia!’
He swallows hard and walks over to me, running his hands through his hair. ‘Cleo, I know I messed up and I’m sorry. There hasn’t been a day in the last year where I haven’t thought about you.’
I scoff and fold my arms across my chest, a silent warning to him not to even think about approaching me.
‘Isn’t that nice?’ I bite back. ‘I’m really glad to hear that; it makes all the times I spent wondering what I did wrong, or why I wasn’t enough for you, seem worth it. Thanks for that, Scott!’
Hurt flashes across his face and I’m ashamed to admit how satisfied it makes me feel. His face has always had a habit of betraying how he really feels. Especially those beautiful eyes of his.
‘I never should’ve left you,’ he replies, his voice cracking a little. ‘It was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made and I’ll spend the rest of my life regretting it. I’m back for good now, and I’d really like to make it up to you. If you’ll let me, that is.’
I roll my eyes and let out a hollow laugh that’s laced with venom. ‘There’s no way you can possibly make this up to me, so don’t even bother trying. We’re done. Come on, Emma.’
She walks over to me with our drinks and I spin on my heel to head back to our booth. I feel his eyes burning into me and can’t resist a glance over my shoulder to look at him. To my dismay, the butterflies return as our gazes lock again. There’s a determination in his eyes that suggests he’s not going to give up on winning me back so easily.
‘God, I can’t believe he’s back,’ Emma says with a sigh. ‘Fancy just turning up to the pub like that, as if everything could just fall back into place! Cheeky bastard.’
I pick up my drink and down as much of it as I can. ‘He might’ve given me all that “I’m going to win you back” crap, but I won’t let him near me again. Trust me Emma, I’m completely through with him.’
Liar, liar, pants on fire, a little voice at the back of my mind whispers. Deep down, I know Scott and I will collide again. The magnetic pull between us felt as strong as ever when I saw him standing at the bar. There’s a sense of inevitability surrounding his grand return to Silverdale; fate will find a way to bring us back together.
It’s only a matter of time.
*
It happens, of course.
After a series of apparently ‘chance’ encounters around Silverdale, we find our way back to each other. We come together in a moment of pure heat and passion, without a thought for what the consequences might be.
‘God I’ve missed you,’ he murmurs as his lips caress my bare skin.
‘I’ve missed you too,’ I breathe, allowing the moment to sweep me away. As my entire body shivers with delight, all I can think about is right now. I don’t care what’s going to happen in the next minute, hour or day. There’s only me and Scott, right here right now.
That is, until the next morning, when I wake up alone.
Chapter One (#ulink_acd33698-27b3-58a9-9a22-c7208d9c8e00)
Eight Weeks Later
As the song goes, guess it’s true I’m not good at a one-night stand.
Eight weeks have passed since Scott and I wound up in bed together again, and it’s safe to say things haven’t been easy between us since. Well, they wouldn’t be since he buggered off before I had the chance to make post-coital tea and toast.
As I roll over, some part of me still expecting cuddles and a good morning kiss, my heart sinks. Although the other side of the bed has been empty for a good while now, I’m still not quite used to it.
I haul myself out of bed and feel a wave of nausea wash over me. It’s been there for a good few weeks now; most likely a virus that I just can’t seem to shift. Fragments of the morning after our one-night stand play in my head; waking up feeling hopeful that things would move forward between us; a dull ache in my stomach when I realised he’d legged it.
My head hurts just thinking about it.
Suddenly, a cold sweat grips me and I rush off to the bathroom to be violently sick. When it’s over, I splash some cold water over my face and take a few deep, cleansing breaths. Being sick like this brings back some unpleasant memories that I’d rather not think about.
When I move back into the bedroom, I see something at the window that makes my heart twist in my chest: Scott passing on his way to work. He stops, looks up at the window and waves. Hot tears well up in my eyes and I bite down on my lip to stop myself from crying. I turn away from the window and screw my eyes shut, knowing that he’ll probably walk away a few seconds later. We’ve been in this routine for nearly two months now and it hasn’t got any easier.
He’s tried to tell me how sorry he is for leaving so suddenly. Apparently, he had a job interview to get to and thought I might need some space after our night together to figure things out. I know he wants us to try again, but I can’t let that happen. He’s left me once already, what’s to stop him doing it again?
How on earth did my happily-ever-after go so badly wrong?
*
My mum always says there’s no better cure for a broken heart than throwing yourself into helping other people.
I hold that piece of advice entirely responsible for why I turn up an hour early for my Carb Counters meeting. As group leader, it’s my job to get the space ready, which usually only takes about five minutes at most. There really isn’t an exact science to putting chairs in a circle, after all.
My two best friends, Emma and Zara, have come along on the pretext of giving me a hand, but I know they want the gossip on Scott, and they know that I know. I’ve deliberately not told them anything, preferring to keep the details to myself. I don’t really want them to know that I woke up to an empty bed that morning eight weeks ago, and I’m not sure if that’s out of embarrassment or because I don’t want them to think badly of Scott.
‘So …’ Emma begins, her voice bright and cheerful. ‘Looking forward to tonight’s session? What workout have you got planned?’
I can’t help but smile as I move some chairs to the centre of the room. My best friend definitely wouldn’t make a good actress.
However, I decide to humour her for a minute or two. ‘I’m thinking of doing an aerobics routine. You know, really torch some calories and get everyone’s metabolism going. What do you think?’
Emma’s bright grin becomes a little more pained. She’s absolutely bursting to ask me about Scott, but doesn’t want to dive in right away. The small talk is driving her crazy; she looks like she’ll spontaneously combust any second.
‘Sounds good to me. What do you think, Zara?’
I look up just in time to see Emma shoot Zara a pointed look. There’s clearly been a discussion between them before they arrived to help me tonight.
‘Yeah!’ Her voice is loud and stilted, like she’s acting in an awful straight-to-DVD movie. ‘That sounds brilliant!’
Emma grunts in frustration and throws her hands up in the air. ‘OK, I give up. Cleo, what’s the deal with you and Scott? He came back nearly three months ago, something happened between you two and you haven’t said a word about it. You haven’t had us round to your house to drink wine, eat ice cream and gossip. In fact, you haven’t even told us what happened! Are you OK?’
I feel a lump rise in my throat and my eyes begin to water. One look at the concern on Emma’s face finishes me and I collapse onto one of the chairs, throwing my head into my hands while I sob my heart out.
Emma’s arms are around me in seconds. She pulls me in for a comforting hug as strangled wails burst from my chest.
‘Everything’s ruined,’ I sob ‘It all went so wrong.’
‘I’m sure that’s not true,’ Zara soothes, pulling up a chair next to me. ‘There isn’t much that can’t be fixed. What happened?’
I back away from Emma and wipe my eyes with my sleeve. ‘Guys, it’s really bad. We—’
Before I can tell them the gory details about my night with Scott, the door to the community centre swings open and the rest of my Carb Counters group swarm in.
‘Hiya Cleo, love!’ The group’s administrator Linda gives me a wave as she sits down to set up her moneybox and weighing scales.
‘Sorry guys,’ I murmur. ‘It’ll have to wait till later.’
*
The night is a successful one, with over two stone lost between all the group members since the last weigh-in. I beam with pride, as I get ready to do my exercise routine with them. I had some reservations about becoming a group leader at first, but it’s the best thing I’ve ever done. Each of them has their own reasons for why they want to lose a few pounds and to help them do that is a great feeling.
I step out onto the stage to greet my audience, feeling a rush of excitement as I see them. This reminds me of my days as a ballet dancer: the thrill of coming out of the wings, greeting your audience and starting your performance.
‘OK let’s get going, shall we?’ I head over to the old-fashioned boom box at the left-hand corner of the stage and switch it on. Pounding dance music blasts out and signals that it’s time to get started.
‘Let’s start with some high knees,’ I suggest.
I jog on the spot and bring my knees up as high as I can. The rest of the group follow suit, although with varying degrees of effort. The ones not giving a hundred percent don’t faze me; they’re still participating and that’s the main thing. As I prepare to switch to jumping jacks, I feel my stomach twist itself into knots and a cold sweat wash over me. My skin becomes clammy and the scene in front of me blurs for a split second. I stop for a moment to catch my breath, bending at the knees and putting my hands on my thighs.
I’m going to be sick. There are only a few minutes to go until the end, and I’m going to be sick. Great.
I will the feeling to pass, for my stomach to stop spinning like a tumble dryer, but it doesn’t. If anything, it gets worse.
‘Everything OK?’ Zara asks, shouting to be heard above the blaring music. ‘You look a bit—’
I don’t hear anything that follows. The world around me goes fuzzy then I fall to the floor. Everything goes black.
*
When I wake up, I’m lying on a hospital bed. Fear grips me and I sit bolt upright. How on earth did I get here? My head spins and my vision goes in and out of focus. I feel myself sink back onto the pillow and screw my eyes shut. Something feels wrong; the nausea from earlier today has made a very unwelcome return and I’ve obviously not at the hospital for no reason.
‘Hey, you’re awake!’ Emma pops into view, holding a cup of takeaway coffee in her hands. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘How … how did I get here?’ I ask, slowly pushing myself up. ‘What happened?’
Her face falls and she takes my hand. ‘You fainted, Cleo, right as the workout was getting started. Don’t you remember?’
The memory slowly trickles back into my mind and I can suddenly remember hitting the deck in front of everybody. My cheeks heat up and I cover my face with my hands.
‘Oh god,’ I groan, ‘I remember now. I hope I didn’t frighten everyone too much.’
Emma shakes her head and smiles. ‘Sheila said she felt a bit funny, but that’s about it! Are you feeling better?’
I nod my head. ‘I suppose so. I was sick earlier today and that’s kind of come back now, but I don’t feel like I’m going to pass out again.’
The curtain pulls back a moment later, and a doctor appears holding a clipboard. He has an eager expression on his face and looks like he’s fresh out of medical school.
‘Nice to see you’re awake, Miss Jones,’ he says with a smile. ‘My name’s Doctor Andrews, I’ll be looking after you today. Is this the first time you’ve fainted?’
I nod my head. ‘Yeah, this has never happened before. I’d just started a workout with the slimming group I run when I felt a bit funny. Next minute, everything went black.’
Doctor Andrews nods and looks down at his clipboard for a moment before turning his attention back to me.
‘And have you had any other symptoms?’
‘Well, I was sick this morning and I’ve been feeling a bit off recently. But that’s probably something to do with the fact that I’ve just split up with my boyfriend.’
I eye him nervously, hoping he’ll agree with me, but he doesn’t reply. Just pushes his glasses up his nose as a crimson blush creeps over his pale skin.
‘When was your last menstrual period, Miss Jones?’
The abrupt nature of the question makes my jaw drop. I’m far from being a prude, but I feel more than a little awkward discussing my monthly visits from Mother Nature with a doctor who looks about twelve years old.
‘Um … I’m not sure,’ I reply. ‘Come to think of it, I don’t think I had one last month. But that’s normal isn’t it? I mean, everyone misses one occasionally don’t they?’
I look to Emma for reassurance, but don’t get any. She tries for a nod, but it doesn’t quite do the job.
‘Of course they do!’ she squeaks. ‘It’s perfectly normal. I think.’
Doctor Andrews nods slowly. ‘Well there could be any number of reasons for a missed period. When I put it together with your other symptoms, I think it would be wise to check your blood pressure and also do blood and urine tests. Just to rule a few things out.’
I feel my heart rate begin to quicken. ‘Rule what out?’
‘Try not to worry Miss Jones, it’s just routine.’
Easy for you to say, I think, you’re not about to be poked and prodded with a needle. Possibilities of what he could be trying to diagnose run through my head and none of them are good. Of course I know what the obvious diagnosis is, but it can’t be true. It’s definitely not that.
‘Listen …’ Emma trails off, purses her lips then decides to speak again. ‘Why don’t you let me give Scott a call? I know you two aren’t together anymore, but he’d want to know you’re here, don’t you think?’
I shake my head as Doctor Andrews wraps the blood pressure cuff round my arm. ‘No Emma, please don’t call him. We haven’t really been in touch since he got back and I don’t want to worry him over nothing. This is probably just an infection or something; they’ll give me some antibiotics then send me home.’
I can’t quite work out if I’m saying this to reassure Emma or myself. A bit of both, I suspect. As I feel the needle go into my arm, I close my eyes and grit my teeth while Emma squeezes my hand. I’ve always hated needles, but today I’m even more terrified than usual. Doctor Andrews could be screening for a rare tropical disease, for all I know.
Call it female intuition or the impending sense of doom I’ve had since my disastrous one-night stand with Scott, but I have a feeling something is very wrong indeed.
*
After providing Doctor Andrews with a urine sample, there isn’t much I can do except wait. He assured me the results wouldn’t take long to come in. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something told me he already knew what results to expect.
‘Do you mind if I go and get something to eat?’ Emma asks. ‘I’m absolutely starving. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it’s Carb Counters friendly!’
I roll my eyes and smile. ‘You have my permission to go and find the juiciest hamburger in this place and eat every last bit of it. Bugger the Treat Points allowance today!’
My best friend grins back at me and heads off in the direction of the canteen. My stomach gives an ominous growl and I start to feel sick again. When I hear footsteps approaching again, I assume it’s Doctor Andrews coming to give me my test results.
Except it isn’t.
It’s Scott.
‘What are you doing here?’ I ask, feeling a curious mixture of delight and anger. ‘How did you know I was here?’
As if on cue, Emma turns up carrying some sandwiches and crisps. Her jaw drops when she sees Scott standing in front of my bed.
‘Let me guess,’ I say. ‘Someone told you I was here.’
‘Yes she did.’ Scott’s face is set into a stern frown. ‘And I’m glad she got in touch with me because I’d have had no idea what was going on otherwise! We’ve barely spoken since I got back, Cleo. I said I was sorry for what happened after we—’
‘I don’t want to talk about that right now,’ I say, cutting across him. ‘Can we leave it till later?’
‘We’ve been “leaving it till later” for weeks now,’ he says. ‘I’ve told you time and again why I did what I did, but as usual you won’t bloody listen!’
My blood begins to boil and I could quite happily slap his beautiful face. Instead, I fold my arms across my chest and fix him with my patented Death Stare.
‘Go away, Scott,’ I reply with all the venom I can muster for the man I still love, which isn’t a whole lot. ‘I don’t want you here, OK? Just leave.’
I’m only half telling the truth. Although I can barely stand to look at him right now, there’s something comforting about him being here. He’s always made me feel like everything will be alright.
‘At least tell me why you’re here,’ he says, taking cautious steps towards my bedside. ‘When Emma let me know you’d been taken to hospital, I rushed straight down here to see if you were OK. I still care about you, you know.’
I sigh and decide enough is enough. ‘I fainted at my Carb Counters meeting, OK? I started to feel funny then I passed out.’
I decide not to tell him I’ve been sick and missed at least one period. He’ll only jump to silly conclusions and overreact.
‘Cleo, that’s serious,’ he says, taking a seat next to my bed. His face is the colour of sour milk as he tries to phrase his next question. ‘Have you been …? I mean, you haven’t …?’
‘No,’ I say, knowing exactly what he’s trying to avoid saying. ‘I haven’t binged or purged for over a year now. It’s definitely not that. Now, please just go. I’m fine, honestly. There’s nothing to worry about, I’ll be out of here in no time.’
We exchange weak smiles, and I see him instinctively reach for my hand before pulling away. I feel marginally better for reassuring him instead of pushing him away. No matter what’s happened between us, it’s incredibly hard to hate him.
‘OK, if that’s what you want.’ Scott heaves a sigh and hauls himself to his feet. ‘If you need me or anything, just give me a call, alright?’
I nod, not meeting his gaze. He mumbles a goodbye then heads off back down the corridor.
‘Thanks for that,’ I say to Emma, my voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘That was just what I needed today!’
‘I’m sorry – I just thought he should know what’s going on, that’s all! What is going on, Cleo? He waltzed back from Australia three months ago, you two had some sort of reunion, but then … nothing. You haven’t said anything about what happened that night.’
I round on her, ready to fire some ammunition of my own. ‘Oh yeah? You split up with Ben what, six months ago now? All you’ve told us is that it “wasn’t working”, but you won’t say why.’
Her cheeks turn pink and she falls silent for a moment. ‘This isn’t about me, OK? At least I gave you guys an explanation, even if you don’t think it was a good one. And what about this whole fainting thing? It’s never happened before. You told the doctor you’ve missed a period and been sick. You’re not … pregnant, are you?’
I snap my head round to look at her. ‘No way, it’s impossible! I don’t know what’s going on with me right now, but I’m definitely not having a baby. Once I get out of here, I’ll tell you what happened with Scott, I promise.’
Doctor Andrews approaches, a beaming grin lighting up his sallow features. At least he’s not about to tell me I’m dying, I say to myself.
‘I’ve got your test results back,’ he says, flipping to the relevant page on his clipboard. ‘And it looks like congratulations are in order.’
My blood freezes in my veins. Is he about to say what I think he’s going to say? I pray to whatever deity will listen that I’m wrong.
‘W-what do you mean?’ I ask, feeling my entire body begin to tremble.
‘You’re pregnant, Miss Jones. About ten weeks, judging by your hCG levels. Congratulations! I suggest you schedule a booking in appointment with your GP, just to get the ball rolling. In the meantime, drink plenty of fluids, avoid strenuous exercise and get plenty of rest. There’s a tiny little human in there.’ He points to my stomach and his grin widens. ‘Do you have any questions?’
‘You mean apart from how the fuck did this happen?’ I say. ‘Nope, none.’
Doctor Andrews looks at me, as if he’s not sure whether to explain the mechanics of conception to me or not. I guess he’d draw a diagram with crayons if I asked him to. He gives a little nod then walks off towards the wards, with seemingly no idea that he’s just blown my entire world apart.
The facts are irrevocable: I’m ten weeks pregnant. With my ex-boyfriend’s baby.
Oh shit.

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