Chapter XII
The phone was ringing as Samantha let herself in after a day at work.
"Stuart?" she called out. No reply. She slammed the door shut and picked up the phone mid-ring, not even pausing to put her bag down.
"Hello?" Samantha said into the receiver.
"Hey, it's Lauren!"
"Hi! How have you been?"
"Oh, fine."
"Look, would you just hold on a sec?" Samantha asked. "I was just coming through the door and I haven't even got my coat off."
Samantha didn't wait for Lauren's response as she put the receiver down on its side and quickly slipped off her coat. She unwrapped her scarf from around her neck and sat herself down on the sofa before picking up the receiver again.
"Hey, sorry!" she said.
"S'okay. I was just calling because we haven't seen each other or spoken since Christmas," Lauren explained.
"Yeah, sorry," Samantha replied. "I've had a lot on my mind lately."
"Wedding plans still being a bother?"
"Yeah, stupid caterers. I have a good mind to just leave the church and buy a batch of pizzas from the corner and take those with me to the reception!"
"What did Pete say about it? It's friends of his parents', isn't it?"
"Yeah. I told him before Christmas and I think he was gonna talk to his parents for me. Or I was gonna but I didn't want to. I don't quite recall the details."
"Have you even spoken to Pete recently?" Lauren asked, sounding suspicious.
"Not since he said he wasn't going to come back for New Year," Samantha replied sadly. "But, to be honest, if he hasn't called it means he's really busy and that also means he might actually be coming home before the contract is supposed to end."
"Is that likely? I mean, it supposed to end in February, isn't it?"
"He said it's likely to extend, but if they're working overtime, then it could end before February, maybe mid February at the latest."
"Well, I hope it's soon for both your sakes really."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Samantha demanded.
"Well it's not good to spend so much time apart just before your wedding, is it?" Lauren said. "I mean, all that time not being with someone, you start seeing other people in a different light."
Samantha started to get suspicious. Did Lauren know about Kevin? It'd only been a fortnight now since she'd slept with him. Was she trying to prise it out of her so she didn't have to say anything outright?
"What do you mean, 'seeing other people in a different light'?" Samantha asked cautiously.
"Well when you're together, you only see each other, right? You're not looking at other people. But when that person goes away, then you start seeing other people and subconsciously, you're checking them out and wondering whether they're a suitable partner."
"No I'm not!" Samantha replied. "Obviously you've never been in love!"
"I wasn't talking about you."
"Then who were you talking about?"
"I was just saying, okay? I'm not saying that anyone is going behind anyone else's back. It's just a passing comment."
"Okay, game's up!" Samantha said, exasperated. "What are you trying to tell me, Lauren? And don't say this is just a social call, okay, because you always have an issue whenever you call me."
"You know me too well, Sam!"
"Yes, I do! So spill before we all die of old age!"
"I think Mum's pregnant."
Samantha's mouth dropped open. She shut her eyes, shook her head quickly, and said, "Excuse me? I'm sorry. I thought you just said that our widowed mother was pregnant."
"Because I just did."
"You have gotta be kidding!"
"Nope. Well, I don't know for sure…"
"But you're gonna call everyone and tell them anyway?!" Samantha said accusingly.
"Look, she was sick every morning for the past week and keeps rubbing her lower abdomen and giving all these sighs. Oh, and whenever I ask her if she's okay, she just gives me these anguished looks."
"And you think that this is what she wanted to tell us at Christmas?"
"Almost certainly."
"Well, I don't know what to say, really. Have you spoken to her about it?"
"I told you. Whenever I ask her, she gives me a weird look of pain."
"So you want me to talk to her?"
"Oh, would you?"
Samantha sighed. "Look, Lauren, you know what? If you're concerned, you should talk to her. I told you at Christmas that you had to talk to her more if you wanted to stay close and air your concerns. She's incredibly stubborn and won't offer information. You have to prise it out of her. And I'm not going to keep doing it for you. You have to do this yourself, okay?"
"But she won't talk to me!" Lauren moaned.
"Yes she will!" Samantha argued. "She said at Christmas that you should talk to her if you have a problem. Shutting her out of things only makes the situation worse. Just ask her general stuff about her day and then broach the subject."
"You think so?"
"I know so. And I'm not gonna be around for ever to keep the connection between you and Mum alive. You need to work on it too."
There was a pause. Samantha rubbed her temple and wiggled her feet out of her shoes.
"Fine then," Lauren cut into the silence.
"You sound tetchy," Samantha said. "Please don't get mad because I won't talk to Mum on your behalf."
"But it's your mum too!"
"I'm not the one who has the problem with her."
"So you're fine with her being pregnant?"
"We don't even know if she is or not! You're just speculating! Besides, who's the father?"
"That's kinda why I'm not looking forward to 'broaching the subject', as you said."
"You know, Lauren, I'm sure she'd tell you if she was pregnant. She'd have no choice but to tell you at some point before having it because you'd be bound to notice the growth!"
"I guess…" Lauren trailed off.
"So, you have two choices," Samantha stated. "You go to Mum and talk to her like we discussed, or you wait for her to tell you about it."
"Okay, I'll think about talking to her," Lauren finally said.
"Well, I guess thinking about it is better than nothing," Samantha said wearily.
"Okay. Well, thanks anyway."
"Sure. I'll see ya, yeah? Take care of you."
"Take care of you."
Lauren hung up the phone and Samantha placed the receiver on to the base unit. It really was too much to cope with right now. She looked at the bathroom door and wondered if it was okay to have a bath in there.
She heaved herself off the sofa and peered around the bathroom door. She had the door wide open so the light from the lounge could creep in. Stuart had taken the day off yesterday to start fixing up the bathroom and it became a bigger job than he had reckoned. He had painted the ceiling but had to remove the main light fitting to do so but hadn't yet refitted it because he had been waiting for the paint to dry properly first. Samantha looked up. The ceiling still had three holes instead of a fitting up there. She surveyed the rest of the area as best as she could. The ladder was still in there but had been folded up and placed by the sink. The wall over the bath had been fully tiled but the far wall had yet to be finished. The bath appeared to have been cleaned since but everything seemed dry enough and it didn't smell too much of paint or plaster.
Samantha wedged the door open with a tin of paint and pulled the folded ladder out of the bathroom and into the cupboard along the hallway. She then ran a finger gently along the sides of the bath and studied the results on her fingertip. Stuart had definitely wiped it down since this morning's tiling job. She eyed the bottom of the bath. Then she looked at the shower head, deciding that she'd rinse the bath off with the semi powerful spray, just to make sure she wouldn't be sitting in a bath full of water with dust particles and bits of plaster and filler floating on the surface.
Having surveyed and clearing the main floor area, Samantha now went into the kitchen and flipped the kettle on to make herself a cup of tea. She then grabbed her coat and scarf off the sofa, and picked her shoes up from the floor, taking them into her bedroom. She rubbed her neck a little and then undressed before pulling on her dressing gown and slippers. She then went into her wardrobe and selected a range of pillar candles off the top shelf. They were unscented white candles, thick and sturdy, and she had always kept them in case of a power cut. She now took these into the bathroom and arranged them along the shelf and the toilet cistern. She then fumbled around in the kitchen for a splint, and lit all the candles so they created a strong glow in the bathroom, and she could see everything a lot better. It also meant that she wouldn't have to keep the door wedged open and worry about Stuart mistakenly walking in!
Candles lit, Samantha grabbed the shower head from the hook above the bath and switched it on. Cold water came gushing out of the tiny holes and Samantha ran the shower head all around the bath to rinse off any remaining residue. Once she was certain it was clean, she replaced the shower head and started to run the bath. She selected her favourite bath scent from the shelf and liberally poured the thick liquid into the bath under the hot water gushing out from the tap. The scent instantly filled the bathroom, a spicy mix of orange, cinnamon, and Ceylonese peppercorns. Inhaling, Samantha instantly felt better and let the bath run as she wandered into the kitchen to pour herself her tea.
She absent-mindedly stirred sugar into the drink, letting her mind wander and just staring into nothing. She was becoming a zombie, no mistaking it. It was the consequence of trying to do too much in not enough time. Could it really get any worse than it was? Her father had died, that was the first thing. Then her mother had gone crazy and was now supposedly pregnant. Her boyfriend had left her to plan a wedding alone and didn't even come home over the Christmas and New Year period. Then her ex-boyfriend made a play for her and she slept with him. To cap it all off, the wedding plans weren't even going all that smoothly and her flat was now an ugly combination of bland magnolia wherever she looked, or half finished paint jobs that looked like the 'before' scenarios of Changing Rooms.
She picked up her cup of tea and wrapped her hands around the porcelain, feeling the warmth soak through her skin. She ambled into the bathroom, got into the bath, and sank right into the hot water. She felt all her back and neck muscles relax as they made contact with the water and she audibly sighed. Sitting up slightly, she picked up her tea from the corner edge of the bath and sipped the hot contents, feeling the double pleasure of being warm inside and out. She pulled a foot out of the water and wriggled her toes, watching the bubbles shimmy their way through the gaps between her toes and glide down the front of her foot to drip off her heel back into the water. Plonking her foot back into the water, she made a mental calculation of how much longer she had before she was to be married. She had exactly four months. With Easter in between and a hen night not yet organised, those four months were going to go fast. Mind you, Pete was due back in a couple more weeks so it wouldn't be so bad once he was back and he was helping her.
Samantha yawned and wondered how long she'd been in the bath. She hadn't heard Stuart come in yet, which was weird because he always came home by at least seven if not before. Had he said something about going to Matt's? Mind you, if he had had the morning off to do the bathroom, he may have gone back to the store to pick up some stuff. She lifted her foot out of the water again. Her toes were decidedly pink and slightly wrinkly along the top. She looked at the palm of her left hand. The skin on her fingers had wrinkled considerably and her palms were beginning to develop stretch marks. She took another deep sink under the water before hauling herself out of the bath and wrapping her dressing gown around her again. She then pushed her feet into her slippers, grabbed her cup, gently blew on the candle flames to extinguish them, and then settled on the sofa to watch the evening news on the television. The newsreader was talking about the lack of healthy foods available in secondary school lunch time cafeterias. Food. The sight made her stomach rumble. She reached out for the phone and dialled the delivery number for her local pizzeria. She placed an order and put the phone down as Stuart walked in, carrying two heavy bags with him.
"Hey!" Samantha called out. "What's in the bags?"
"Tiles," Stuart stated, placing the bags on the bathroom floor and heaving a sigh of relief.
"Heavy (?)"
"Oh, like you wouldn't believe!"
"I ordered pizza. You hungry?"
"Yeah, starving!" Stuart said, running his hand over his stomach. "I was so busy tiling I managed to skip lunch and then I went out and bought more of them, not realising just how late it was."
"Well, it looks okay in there at the moment. I managed to have a bath in the dark and everything."
"Oh, sorry about the light!" Stuart apologised. "I'll refit it tomorrow morning, okay?"
"No problem."
"Has Pete sorted the stag night yet? He said he'd get back to me on that."
"I haven't heard from him in ages. I guess he's trying to rush the contract through so he can get away from there."
Stuart flopped down on to the sofa and kicked his shoes off before resting them on the coffee table.
"D'ya mind if I watch Little Britain?" he asked, grabbing the remote control from Samantha's reach and flipping over to the channel before she could answer.
"Hey!" she exclaimed. "What if I had said 'No'?"
"I knew you wouldn't!" Stuart shrugged. "I know you have a weak spot for Anthony Stewart Head."
"Is there another run of Sebastian lusting after the Prime Minister then?" Samantha asked. "I know that Tony Head said it was nice to play something other than Giles in Buffy."
"Oh yeah!" Stuart grinned. "Apparently there's gonna be this sketch where they go to America and the President's aide is just as overbearing as Sebastian."
"Cool."
They watched the television programme and waited for the pizza to arrive. Suddenly, Samantha felt hot all over and thought she was going to be sick. She got up and rushed into the bathroom where she promptly threw up.
"Great!" she muttered to herself, reaching out for her face flannel to cool herself off.
There was a knock on the door, which was half open anyway, and Stuart popped his head around it.
"You okay?" he asked her.
"Yeah," Samantha sighed, flushing the bowl and still padding her face with her flannel. "That's like the third time this week I've suddenly come over all hot and then thrown up. It's not as if I'm eating anything weird or something."
"Maybe you're pregnant!" Stuart joked.
"How on earth could I be pregnant?" Samantha said indignantly. "I haven't even had sex since…"
She trailed off and looked at Stuart in horror. He saw her face and slowly realised what he'd just implied.
"Oh, no," Stuart said, starting to shake his head. "Don't tell me you're taking it seriously! It was a joke, come on!"
"I'm kinda late though," Samantha said. "I didn't think much of it because I've been so preoccupied with everything and I often skip when I get stressed out, but now you mention it…"
"Okay, you could be sick for a number of reasons," Stuart interrupted her. "Don't even think about sitting here and telling me you're pregnant with Kevin's baby, okay?"
"Think of another reason and I'll be more than happy to drop the accusation."
"You've eaten bad red meat?" Stuart offered. "I hear that it takes about eight days to actually digest so you're ill from it at least a week after eating."
"I haven't ate red meat since I was sixteen."
"Then it's stress. If you usually miss due to stress then it's probably the reason now. Heaven knows, you've had more than enough incidents to keep you fully occupied more than usual in the past two or three months."
"That doesn't explain the sickness."
"It's been more stress as per usual, so you're body is taking it to the extremes because you are. Relax, okay? The likelihood of you actually being pregnant after a one night stand is pretty slim, even more so when you're drunk, 'cause you don't actually… Well, drunkenness doesn't usually equal good sex, right?"
"It's not as if people can remember!"
"Very true."
The intercom buzzed and Stuart leapt out of his seat on the sofa. He grabbed his wallet and said, "Back in a mo. Pizza calls!"
The door shut behind him and Samantha could hear him running down the stairs to the front entrance door. She looked at her stomach and ran her hand over it. Was she pregnant? Could she really be pregnant? It was the weirdest feeling she had ever had. With all the evidence stacked up, it was possible. She hadn't been due until a week after but it was still possible and, with the stress that she'd had lately, it was possible that she was due to start earlier. Her body clock was all over the place and calculations were the last thing she had been worrying about. From the fragments that Samantha could actually remember from New Year's Eve night, she couldn't recall protection being a factor. She felt goosebumps creep over her arms and she shivered. There could actually be a live being growing inside her. It was incredibly sci-fi. She would definitely have to take a test to confirm or deny her fears before she started to get nightmares about it. She couldn't even begin to think how she would explain her sudden mystery pregnancy or even begin to find the words to tell Pete.
Stuart cut through her thoughts as he banged loudly on the apartment door.
"Sam? I forgot my door keys!" Stuart called through the door.
"Yeah, yeah, coming!" Samantha called back, hauling herself up from the sofa. She pulled the latch open and Stuart walked in, laden with a large cardboard box and a large foil bag.
"Thank for that," Samantha said, closing the door and taking the foil bag from him.
"No problems," Stuart replied, setting the cardboard box on the table.
Samantha walked into the kitchen and set about emptying the contents of the bag into a large bowl.
"What did you get?" Stuart asked, lifting the lid of the box and seeing a thin pizza base, heavily laden with various vegetables and three different kinds of meat, moulded together with very yellow looking cheese.
"Italian with everything," Samantha called from the kitchen. "I asked for Gloucester instead of Monterey Jack, so the cheese might look a bit orangey."
"That's why I asked!"
"Drink?"
"Pepsi. What's in the bag?"
"Wings and wedges," Samantha announced, emerging from the kitchen with a glass of Pepsi in one hand and the large bowl filled with chicken wings and potato wedges in the other hand.
"Thanks," Stuart said, taking the glass from her and settling back into the sofa, feet back on the coffee table.
Samantha disappeared back into the kitchen and came back into the lounge holding a large glass of water with a tablet fizzing from the bottom.
"What's with the fizzing?" Stuart asked her as she settled into the sofa next to him.
"It's to combat the sickness," Samantha replied, taking a gulp and wincing from the taste. "Just a shame it tastes like chalk."
“You still hungry even though you‘ve been sick.”
“I thought we had agreed that it probably wasn‘t food related sickness?”
“But still…”
“I‘m just gonna pick at the potato skins, okay?”
The phone started to ring and Stuart, not taking his eyes off the television, reached his hand out to the side table and picked up the receiver.
“’Lo?,” Stuart said into the receiver. “Yeah, she‘s right here.”
He passed the receiver to Samantha and said, “Amy.”
“Hey ya!” Samantha said into the receiver.
“Hi,” Amy replied. “Just got back from the Midlands. Uncle Colin is still as crazy as ever. You know how many times he told us about the day a fish pulled him off Brighton Pier in nineteen fifty six?”
“Well, I‘ve only met him once and I was told three times! He does vary the story though, it‘s not as if it‘s word for word.”
“I wouldn‘t mind but it‘s not even a true story! It happened to this other guy who happened to be named Colin and poor old Uncle thinks it was him!”
“That explains the three different breeds of dog that rescued him in each story!”
Amy laughed and Samantha grinned down the phone.
“So, how was Christmas?” Amy asked. “Did you speak to your mum?”
“It was sort of okay in a weird twisted way,” Samantha replied.
“How do you mean?”
“Well, I tried to broach the subject gently but there‘s only so many ways you can say, ‘Why are you acting like a mad woman?’ Basically, it started off as a civil conversation, turned into an argument, and then there was some tears and unsaid apologies.”
“So everything is okay now?”
“Not entirely sure. I did speak to Lauren earlier and she said that Mum was now going through a phase of rubbing her stomach and moaning, so Lauren‘s jumping right off the deep end and has decided that Mum must be pregnant.”
Stuart looked over at Samantha with a look of amazement.
“And is your mum pregnant?” Amy asked.
“I very much doubt it,” Samantha replied, looking over at Stuart and rolling her eyes. “And just because Mum is being sick and rubbing her stomach? It could be anything. She‘s probably got a stomach bug or something and can‘t embark on her usual night life so she‘s being all moany.”
“True.” Amy paused. “But, you know, you did mention something about a guy staying over there…”
“That was ages ago! And she‘s only just found out?”
“Yeah, I guess that would be a bit silly, not knowing if you were pregnant for like two months.”
“Anyway, away from my Christmas…”
“No! You haven‘t told me about New Year yet!”
“New Year?” Samantha looked over at Stuart, who had now turned down the volume of the television to listen in to the conversation. He was listening intently to Amy and, upon hearing her enquire about New Year, shook his head at Samantha as if to say, ‘Don’t tell her what happened’.
“Yeah, what did you do?” Amy pressed.
“Oh, I just went to a party briefly and then left just after the midnight countdown,” Samantha replied, trying to sound off hand. “It was too loud and a bit boisterous for my liking really. It wasn‘t the greatest time in the world.”
“Who did you go with? Anyone I know?”
Samantha looked over at Stuart. He tipped his head to one side and shrugged. “Up to you,” he said, turning back to the television.
“Uhm, Kevin.”
“You went to a party with Kevin?”
“Yes.”
“Alone, just the two of you?”
“Oh come on! He‘s a friend! How many more times do I have to…”
“Did he kiss you?”
“Uhm… Well, he did at midnight.”
“Anything else I should know about?”
“Not really.” Pause. “Why is this so important to you? Every time I mention Kevin I get the third degree.”
“I just don‘t want to see you hurt.”
“Yeah, well I already got hurt so I guess we can drop the subject now and move on to your Christmas.”
“Look, I understand if you don‘t want to tell me, because you know I‘ll get mad if Kevin even thought about trying it on, but…”
“But there‘s nothing to tell!”
Amy audibly sighed. “Fine.”
“Fine.”
“So, is Pete back yet?”
“Not yet. I reckon he‘s just finishing up the contract as we speak and should be home mid February as planned.”
“Have you not spoken to him since… Hang on, when was the last time you spoke to him?”
“Christmas morning.”
“So you haven‘t spoken to him for four weeks?”
“Yeah, pretty much. But, you know, every time we talk, his work is the only thing we talk about and, quite frankly, his whinging about not being able to leave to see me just upsets me even more because he‘s just confirming that he‘s not here for me.”
“It makes the missing him harder?”
“Exactly!”
“What about the wedding?”
“Everything is sorted except the catering. It‘s Pete‘s first job when he returns! Oh, actually, he has to take me out on an incredibly romantic evening to make up for all the promises he broke about coming home for Christmas and New Year, and then he can sort out the catering!!”
“Nice one! Okay, look I‘ve gotta go and sort out my washing. Got work tomorrow. No rest for the wicked, eh?”
“Okay, well you take care and I‘ll let you know when the hen night is all sorted and in place.”
“Ooh, have you decided what you‘re doing yet?”
“Well, involving strippers is just tired and everyone does that so I‘m moving away from the cliché. We might just have a girly night in or something.”
“No strippers?” Stuart exclaimed. “But I was looking forward to having a nice sailor boy…”
“Oh shut up!” Samantha said, whacking him on the arm.
“Is that Stuart?” Amy asked.
“Yeah,” Samantha replied, “complaining that we‘re not gonna have male strippers!”
“Well, we might be able to get one to do a special dance just for him!“ Amy laughed. “Okay, well I‘ll be there whatever you decide to do and whenever you want to do it!”
“Cool. Okay, well see ya!”
“Yeah, bye!”
Amy hung up the phone and Samantha passed the receiver to Stuart, who obligingly replaced it on to the base unit.
“So you told Amy about Kevin?” Stuart said.
“I told her certain truths,” Samantha said firmly. “There wasn‘t anything in my conversation that was a lie.”
“You said there was nothing to tell.”
“That’s because there isn‘t!”
“You might be pregnant.”
“And then I might not be! I don‘t want to start worrying Amy because I might be pregnant, Kevin‘s baby or not.”
“Fine.”
Stuart continued to munch his way through the pizza, and Samantha started to pull apart one of the chicken wings.
“Hey, did you send the laptop back?” Stuart asked.
“Yeah,” Samantha replied. “I just phoned the courier service number on the delivery note and said that it had been sent in error. The woman on the phone didn‘t seem all that convinced though. She probably thought I had used it to burn CDs and have no use for it any more. I did say the box had only been opened from one side so I could check what was actually inside, and that all the other packaging and the plastic bag around the machine hadn‘t been tampered with and was still intact. The courier checked it all before he took it away anyway.”
“Has Kevin contacted you about the mystery fifteen hundred pounds that has no doubt been credited to his account?”
“I haven‘t checked my email since before Christmas.”
“Maybe you should.”
“For what purpose? To write to Kevin and say, ‘Oh, by the way, I’ve sent back the laptop because we slept together’?”
“No, to say that you‘re sending it back because he can‘t buy your love and because you slept together!”
“Ha ha (!)”
“I‘m serious!”
“Look, if he really wanted to know and I didn‘t reply to his email, then he would have called me already, right? I sent it back the day after New Year‘s. That was two weeks ago.”
“Hmm, I guess.”
“Besides, he probably earns so much he hasn‘t even noticed the tiny amount of fifteen hundred pounds boosting the figures.”
“Is that a note of jealousy I detect there?”
“I don‘t like talking about money.”
“And yet, here we are!”
“Can we drop this?”
“Gladly.”
Back to Chapter XI
Go to Chapter XIII
"Stuart?" she called out. No reply. She slammed the door shut and picked up the phone mid-ring, not even pausing to put her bag down.
"Hello?" Samantha said into the receiver.
"Hey, it's Lauren!"
"Hi! How have you been?"
"Oh, fine."
"Look, would you just hold on a sec?" Samantha asked. "I was just coming through the door and I haven't even got my coat off."
Samantha didn't wait for Lauren's response as she put the receiver down on its side and quickly slipped off her coat. She unwrapped her scarf from around her neck and sat herself down on the sofa before picking up the receiver again.
"Hey, sorry!" she said.
"S'okay. I was just calling because we haven't seen each other or spoken since Christmas," Lauren explained.
"Yeah, sorry," Samantha replied. "I've had a lot on my mind lately."
"Wedding plans still being a bother?"
"Yeah, stupid caterers. I have a good mind to just leave the church and buy a batch of pizzas from the corner and take those with me to the reception!"
"What did Pete say about it? It's friends of his parents', isn't it?"
"Yeah. I told him before Christmas and I think he was gonna talk to his parents for me. Or I was gonna but I didn't want to. I don't quite recall the details."
"Have you even spoken to Pete recently?" Lauren asked, sounding suspicious.
"Not since he said he wasn't going to come back for New Year," Samantha replied sadly. "But, to be honest, if he hasn't called it means he's really busy and that also means he might actually be coming home before the contract is supposed to end."
"Is that likely? I mean, it supposed to end in February, isn't it?"
"He said it's likely to extend, but if they're working overtime, then it could end before February, maybe mid February at the latest."
"Well, I hope it's soon for both your sakes really."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Samantha demanded.
"Well it's not good to spend so much time apart just before your wedding, is it?" Lauren said. "I mean, all that time not being with someone, you start seeing other people in a different light."
Samantha started to get suspicious. Did Lauren know about Kevin? It'd only been a fortnight now since she'd slept with him. Was she trying to prise it out of her so she didn't have to say anything outright?
"What do you mean, 'seeing other people in a different light'?" Samantha asked cautiously.
"Well when you're together, you only see each other, right? You're not looking at other people. But when that person goes away, then you start seeing other people and subconsciously, you're checking them out and wondering whether they're a suitable partner."
"No I'm not!" Samantha replied. "Obviously you've never been in love!"
"I wasn't talking about you."
"Then who were you talking about?"
"I was just saying, okay? I'm not saying that anyone is going behind anyone else's back. It's just a passing comment."
"Okay, game's up!" Samantha said, exasperated. "What are you trying to tell me, Lauren? And don't say this is just a social call, okay, because you always have an issue whenever you call me."
"You know me too well, Sam!"
"Yes, I do! So spill before we all die of old age!"
"I think Mum's pregnant."
Samantha's mouth dropped open. She shut her eyes, shook her head quickly, and said, "Excuse me? I'm sorry. I thought you just said that our widowed mother was pregnant."
"Because I just did."
"You have gotta be kidding!"
"Nope. Well, I don't know for sure…"
"But you're gonna call everyone and tell them anyway?!" Samantha said accusingly.
"Look, she was sick every morning for the past week and keeps rubbing her lower abdomen and giving all these sighs. Oh, and whenever I ask her if she's okay, she just gives me these anguished looks."
"And you think that this is what she wanted to tell us at Christmas?"
"Almost certainly."
"Well, I don't know what to say, really. Have you spoken to her about it?"
"I told you. Whenever I ask her, she gives me a weird look of pain."
"So you want me to talk to her?"
"Oh, would you?"
Samantha sighed. "Look, Lauren, you know what? If you're concerned, you should talk to her. I told you at Christmas that you had to talk to her more if you wanted to stay close and air your concerns. She's incredibly stubborn and won't offer information. You have to prise it out of her. And I'm not going to keep doing it for you. You have to do this yourself, okay?"
"But she won't talk to me!" Lauren moaned.
"Yes she will!" Samantha argued. "She said at Christmas that you should talk to her if you have a problem. Shutting her out of things only makes the situation worse. Just ask her general stuff about her day and then broach the subject."
"You think so?"
"I know so. And I'm not gonna be around for ever to keep the connection between you and Mum alive. You need to work on it too."
There was a pause. Samantha rubbed her temple and wiggled her feet out of her shoes.
"Fine then," Lauren cut into the silence.
"You sound tetchy," Samantha said. "Please don't get mad because I won't talk to Mum on your behalf."
"But it's your mum too!"
"I'm not the one who has the problem with her."
"So you're fine with her being pregnant?"
"We don't even know if she is or not! You're just speculating! Besides, who's the father?"
"That's kinda why I'm not looking forward to 'broaching the subject', as you said."
"You know, Lauren, I'm sure she'd tell you if she was pregnant. She'd have no choice but to tell you at some point before having it because you'd be bound to notice the growth!"
"I guess…" Lauren trailed off.
"So, you have two choices," Samantha stated. "You go to Mum and talk to her like we discussed, or you wait for her to tell you about it."
"Okay, I'll think about talking to her," Lauren finally said.
"Well, I guess thinking about it is better than nothing," Samantha said wearily.
"Okay. Well, thanks anyway."
"Sure. I'll see ya, yeah? Take care of you."
"Take care of you."
Lauren hung up the phone and Samantha placed the receiver on to the base unit. It really was too much to cope with right now. She looked at the bathroom door and wondered if it was okay to have a bath in there.
She heaved herself off the sofa and peered around the bathroom door. She had the door wide open so the light from the lounge could creep in. Stuart had taken the day off yesterday to start fixing up the bathroom and it became a bigger job than he had reckoned. He had painted the ceiling but had to remove the main light fitting to do so but hadn't yet refitted it because he had been waiting for the paint to dry properly first. Samantha looked up. The ceiling still had three holes instead of a fitting up there. She surveyed the rest of the area as best as she could. The ladder was still in there but had been folded up and placed by the sink. The wall over the bath had been fully tiled but the far wall had yet to be finished. The bath appeared to have been cleaned since but everything seemed dry enough and it didn't smell too much of paint or plaster.
Samantha wedged the door open with a tin of paint and pulled the folded ladder out of the bathroom and into the cupboard along the hallway. She then ran a finger gently along the sides of the bath and studied the results on her fingertip. Stuart had definitely wiped it down since this morning's tiling job. She eyed the bottom of the bath. Then she looked at the shower head, deciding that she'd rinse the bath off with the semi powerful spray, just to make sure she wouldn't be sitting in a bath full of water with dust particles and bits of plaster and filler floating on the surface.
Having surveyed and clearing the main floor area, Samantha now went into the kitchen and flipped the kettle on to make herself a cup of tea. She then grabbed her coat and scarf off the sofa, and picked her shoes up from the floor, taking them into her bedroom. She rubbed her neck a little and then undressed before pulling on her dressing gown and slippers. She then went into her wardrobe and selected a range of pillar candles off the top shelf. They were unscented white candles, thick and sturdy, and she had always kept them in case of a power cut. She now took these into the bathroom and arranged them along the shelf and the toilet cistern. She then fumbled around in the kitchen for a splint, and lit all the candles so they created a strong glow in the bathroom, and she could see everything a lot better. It also meant that she wouldn't have to keep the door wedged open and worry about Stuart mistakenly walking in!
Candles lit, Samantha grabbed the shower head from the hook above the bath and switched it on. Cold water came gushing out of the tiny holes and Samantha ran the shower head all around the bath to rinse off any remaining residue. Once she was certain it was clean, she replaced the shower head and started to run the bath. She selected her favourite bath scent from the shelf and liberally poured the thick liquid into the bath under the hot water gushing out from the tap. The scent instantly filled the bathroom, a spicy mix of orange, cinnamon, and Ceylonese peppercorns. Inhaling, Samantha instantly felt better and let the bath run as she wandered into the kitchen to pour herself her tea.
She absent-mindedly stirred sugar into the drink, letting her mind wander and just staring into nothing. She was becoming a zombie, no mistaking it. It was the consequence of trying to do too much in not enough time. Could it really get any worse than it was? Her father had died, that was the first thing. Then her mother had gone crazy and was now supposedly pregnant. Her boyfriend had left her to plan a wedding alone and didn't even come home over the Christmas and New Year period. Then her ex-boyfriend made a play for her and she slept with him. To cap it all off, the wedding plans weren't even going all that smoothly and her flat was now an ugly combination of bland magnolia wherever she looked, or half finished paint jobs that looked like the 'before' scenarios of Changing Rooms.
She picked up her cup of tea and wrapped her hands around the porcelain, feeling the warmth soak through her skin. She ambled into the bathroom, got into the bath, and sank right into the hot water. She felt all her back and neck muscles relax as they made contact with the water and she audibly sighed. Sitting up slightly, she picked up her tea from the corner edge of the bath and sipped the hot contents, feeling the double pleasure of being warm inside and out. She pulled a foot out of the water and wriggled her toes, watching the bubbles shimmy their way through the gaps between her toes and glide down the front of her foot to drip off her heel back into the water. Plonking her foot back into the water, she made a mental calculation of how much longer she had before she was to be married. She had exactly four months. With Easter in between and a hen night not yet organised, those four months were going to go fast. Mind you, Pete was due back in a couple more weeks so it wouldn't be so bad once he was back and he was helping her.
Samantha yawned and wondered how long she'd been in the bath. She hadn't heard Stuart come in yet, which was weird because he always came home by at least seven if not before. Had he said something about going to Matt's? Mind you, if he had had the morning off to do the bathroom, he may have gone back to the store to pick up some stuff. She lifted her foot out of the water again. Her toes were decidedly pink and slightly wrinkly along the top. She looked at the palm of her left hand. The skin on her fingers had wrinkled considerably and her palms were beginning to develop stretch marks. She took another deep sink under the water before hauling herself out of the bath and wrapping her dressing gown around her again. She then pushed her feet into her slippers, grabbed her cup, gently blew on the candle flames to extinguish them, and then settled on the sofa to watch the evening news on the television. The newsreader was talking about the lack of healthy foods available in secondary school lunch time cafeterias. Food. The sight made her stomach rumble. She reached out for the phone and dialled the delivery number for her local pizzeria. She placed an order and put the phone down as Stuart walked in, carrying two heavy bags with him.
"Hey!" Samantha called out. "What's in the bags?"
"Tiles," Stuart stated, placing the bags on the bathroom floor and heaving a sigh of relief.
"Heavy (?)"
"Oh, like you wouldn't believe!"
"I ordered pizza. You hungry?"
"Yeah, starving!" Stuart said, running his hand over his stomach. "I was so busy tiling I managed to skip lunch and then I went out and bought more of them, not realising just how late it was."
"Well, it looks okay in there at the moment. I managed to have a bath in the dark and everything."
"Oh, sorry about the light!" Stuart apologised. "I'll refit it tomorrow morning, okay?"
"No problem."
"Has Pete sorted the stag night yet? He said he'd get back to me on that."
"I haven't heard from him in ages. I guess he's trying to rush the contract through so he can get away from there."
Stuart flopped down on to the sofa and kicked his shoes off before resting them on the coffee table.
"D'ya mind if I watch Little Britain?" he asked, grabbing the remote control from Samantha's reach and flipping over to the channel before she could answer.
"Hey!" she exclaimed. "What if I had said 'No'?"
"I knew you wouldn't!" Stuart shrugged. "I know you have a weak spot for Anthony Stewart Head."
"Is there another run of Sebastian lusting after the Prime Minister then?" Samantha asked. "I know that Tony Head said it was nice to play something other than Giles in Buffy."
"Oh yeah!" Stuart grinned. "Apparently there's gonna be this sketch where they go to America and the President's aide is just as overbearing as Sebastian."
"Cool."
They watched the television programme and waited for the pizza to arrive. Suddenly, Samantha felt hot all over and thought she was going to be sick. She got up and rushed into the bathroom where she promptly threw up.
"Great!" she muttered to herself, reaching out for her face flannel to cool herself off.
There was a knock on the door, which was half open anyway, and Stuart popped his head around it.
"You okay?" he asked her.
"Yeah," Samantha sighed, flushing the bowl and still padding her face with her flannel. "That's like the third time this week I've suddenly come over all hot and then thrown up. It's not as if I'm eating anything weird or something."
"Maybe you're pregnant!" Stuart joked.
"How on earth could I be pregnant?" Samantha said indignantly. "I haven't even had sex since…"
She trailed off and looked at Stuart in horror. He saw her face and slowly realised what he'd just implied.
"Oh, no," Stuart said, starting to shake his head. "Don't tell me you're taking it seriously! It was a joke, come on!"
"I'm kinda late though," Samantha said. "I didn't think much of it because I've been so preoccupied with everything and I often skip when I get stressed out, but now you mention it…"
"Okay, you could be sick for a number of reasons," Stuart interrupted her. "Don't even think about sitting here and telling me you're pregnant with Kevin's baby, okay?"
"Think of another reason and I'll be more than happy to drop the accusation."
"You've eaten bad red meat?" Stuart offered. "I hear that it takes about eight days to actually digest so you're ill from it at least a week after eating."
"I haven't ate red meat since I was sixteen."
"Then it's stress. If you usually miss due to stress then it's probably the reason now. Heaven knows, you've had more than enough incidents to keep you fully occupied more than usual in the past two or three months."
"That doesn't explain the sickness."
"It's been more stress as per usual, so you're body is taking it to the extremes because you are. Relax, okay? The likelihood of you actually being pregnant after a one night stand is pretty slim, even more so when you're drunk, 'cause you don't actually… Well, drunkenness doesn't usually equal good sex, right?"
"It's not as if people can remember!"
"Very true."
The intercom buzzed and Stuart leapt out of his seat on the sofa. He grabbed his wallet and said, "Back in a mo. Pizza calls!"
The door shut behind him and Samantha could hear him running down the stairs to the front entrance door. She looked at her stomach and ran her hand over it. Was she pregnant? Could she really be pregnant? It was the weirdest feeling she had ever had. With all the evidence stacked up, it was possible. She hadn't been due until a week after but it was still possible and, with the stress that she'd had lately, it was possible that she was due to start earlier. Her body clock was all over the place and calculations were the last thing she had been worrying about. From the fragments that Samantha could actually remember from New Year's Eve night, she couldn't recall protection being a factor. She felt goosebumps creep over her arms and she shivered. There could actually be a live being growing inside her. It was incredibly sci-fi. She would definitely have to take a test to confirm or deny her fears before she started to get nightmares about it. She couldn't even begin to think how she would explain her sudden mystery pregnancy or even begin to find the words to tell Pete.
Stuart cut through her thoughts as he banged loudly on the apartment door.
"Sam? I forgot my door keys!" Stuart called through the door.
"Yeah, yeah, coming!" Samantha called back, hauling herself up from the sofa. She pulled the latch open and Stuart walked in, laden with a large cardboard box and a large foil bag.
"Thank for that," Samantha said, closing the door and taking the foil bag from him.
"No problems," Stuart replied, setting the cardboard box on the table.
Samantha walked into the kitchen and set about emptying the contents of the bag into a large bowl.
"What did you get?" Stuart asked, lifting the lid of the box and seeing a thin pizza base, heavily laden with various vegetables and three different kinds of meat, moulded together with very yellow looking cheese.
"Italian with everything," Samantha called from the kitchen. "I asked for Gloucester instead of Monterey Jack, so the cheese might look a bit orangey."
"That's why I asked!"
"Drink?"
"Pepsi. What's in the bag?"
"Wings and wedges," Samantha announced, emerging from the kitchen with a glass of Pepsi in one hand and the large bowl filled with chicken wings and potato wedges in the other hand.
"Thanks," Stuart said, taking the glass from her and settling back into the sofa, feet back on the coffee table.
Samantha disappeared back into the kitchen and came back into the lounge holding a large glass of water with a tablet fizzing from the bottom.
"What's with the fizzing?" Stuart asked her as she settled into the sofa next to him.
"It's to combat the sickness," Samantha replied, taking a gulp and wincing from the taste. "Just a shame it tastes like chalk."
“You still hungry even though you‘ve been sick.”
“I thought we had agreed that it probably wasn‘t food related sickness?”
“But still…”
“I‘m just gonna pick at the potato skins, okay?”
The phone started to ring and Stuart, not taking his eyes off the television, reached his hand out to the side table and picked up the receiver.
“’Lo?,” Stuart said into the receiver. “Yeah, she‘s right here.”
He passed the receiver to Samantha and said, “Amy.”
“Hey ya!” Samantha said into the receiver.
“Hi,” Amy replied. “Just got back from the Midlands. Uncle Colin is still as crazy as ever. You know how many times he told us about the day a fish pulled him off Brighton Pier in nineteen fifty six?”
“Well, I‘ve only met him once and I was told three times! He does vary the story though, it‘s not as if it‘s word for word.”
“I wouldn‘t mind but it‘s not even a true story! It happened to this other guy who happened to be named Colin and poor old Uncle thinks it was him!”
“That explains the three different breeds of dog that rescued him in each story!”
Amy laughed and Samantha grinned down the phone.
“So, how was Christmas?” Amy asked. “Did you speak to your mum?”
“It was sort of okay in a weird twisted way,” Samantha replied.
“How do you mean?”
“Well, I tried to broach the subject gently but there‘s only so many ways you can say, ‘Why are you acting like a mad woman?’ Basically, it started off as a civil conversation, turned into an argument, and then there was some tears and unsaid apologies.”
“So everything is okay now?”
“Not entirely sure. I did speak to Lauren earlier and she said that Mum was now going through a phase of rubbing her stomach and moaning, so Lauren‘s jumping right off the deep end and has decided that Mum must be pregnant.”
Stuart looked over at Samantha with a look of amazement.
“And is your mum pregnant?” Amy asked.
“I very much doubt it,” Samantha replied, looking over at Stuart and rolling her eyes. “And just because Mum is being sick and rubbing her stomach? It could be anything. She‘s probably got a stomach bug or something and can‘t embark on her usual night life so she‘s being all moany.”
“True.” Amy paused. “But, you know, you did mention something about a guy staying over there…”
“That was ages ago! And she‘s only just found out?”
“Yeah, I guess that would be a bit silly, not knowing if you were pregnant for like two months.”
“Anyway, away from my Christmas…”
“No! You haven‘t told me about New Year yet!”
“New Year?” Samantha looked over at Stuart, who had now turned down the volume of the television to listen in to the conversation. He was listening intently to Amy and, upon hearing her enquire about New Year, shook his head at Samantha as if to say, ‘Don’t tell her what happened’.
“Yeah, what did you do?” Amy pressed.
“Oh, I just went to a party briefly and then left just after the midnight countdown,” Samantha replied, trying to sound off hand. “It was too loud and a bit boisterous for my liking really. It wasn‘t the greatest time in the world.”
“Who did you go with? Anyone I know?”
Samantha looked over at Stuart. He tipped his head to one side and shrugged. “Up to you,” he said, turning back to the television.
“Uhm, Kevin.”
“You went to a party with Kevin?”
“Yes.”
“Alone, just the two of you?”
“Oh come on! He‘s a friend! How many more times do I have to…”
“Did he kiss you?”
“Uhm… Well, he did at midnight.”
“Anything else I should know about?”
“Not really.” Pause. “Why is this so important to you? Every time I mention Kevin I get the third degree.”
“I just don‘t want to see you hurt.”
“Yeah, well I already got hurt so I guess we can drop the subject now and move on to your Christmas.”
“Look, I understand if you don‘t want to tell me, because you know I‘ll get mad if Kevin even thought about trying it on, but…”
“But there‘s nothing to tell!”
Amy audibly sighed. “Fine.”
“Fine.”
“So, is Pete back yet?”
“Not yet. I reckon he‘s just finishing up the contract as we speak and should be home mid February as planned.”
“Have you not spoken to him since… Hang on, when was the last time you spoke to him?”
“Christmas morning.”
“So you haven‘t spoken to him for four weeks?”
“Yeah, pretty much. But, you know, every time we talk, his work is the only thing we talk about and, quite frankly, his whinging about not being able to leave to see me just upsets me even more because he‘s just confirming that he‘s not here for me.”
“It makes the missing him harder?”
“Exactly!”
“What about the wedding?”
“Everything is sorted except the catering. It‘s Pete‘s first job when he returns! Oh, actually, he has to take me out on an incredibly romantic evening to make up for all the promises he broke about coming home for Christmas and New Year, and then he can sort out the catering!!”
“Nice one! Okay, look I‘ve gotta go and sort out my washing. Got work tomorrow. No rest for the wicked, eh?”
“Okay, well you take care and I‘ll let you know when the hen night is all sorted and in place.”
“Ooh, have you decided what you‘re doing yet?”
“Well, involving strippers is just tired and everyone does that so I‘m moving away from the cliché. We might just have a girly night in or something.”
“No strippers?” Stuart exclaimed. “But I was looking forward to having a nice sailor boy…”
“Oh shut up!” Samantha said, whacking him on the arm.
“Is that Stuart?” Amy asked.
“Yeah,” Samantha replied, “complaining that we‘re not gonna have male strippers!”
“Well, we might be able to get one to do a special dance just for him!“ Amy laughed. “Okay, well I‘ll be there whatever you decide to do and whenever you want to do it!”
“Cool. Okay, well see ya!”
“Yeah, bye!”
Amy hung up the phone and Samantha passed the receiver to Stuart, who obligingly replaced it on to the base unit.
“So you told Amy about Kevin?” Stuart said.
“I told her certain truths,” Samantha said firmly. “There wasn‘t anything in my conversation that was a lie.”
“You said there was nothing to tell.”
“That’s because there isn‘t!”
“You might be pregnant.”
“And then I might not be! I don‘t want to start worrying Amy because I might be pregnant, Kevin‘s baby or not.”
“Fine.”
Stuart continued to munch his way through the pizza, and Samantha started to pull apart one of the chicken wings.
“Hey, did you send the laptop back?” Stuart asked.
“Yeah,” Samantha replied. “I just phoned the courier service number on the delivery note and said that it had been sent in error. The woman on the phone didn‘t seem all that convinced though. She probably thought I had used it to burn CDs and have no use for it any more. I did say the box had only been opened from one side so I could check what was actually inside, and that all the other packaging and the plastic bag around the machine hadn‘t been tampered with and was still intact. The courier checked it all before he took it away anyway.”
“Has Kevin contacted you about the mystery fifteen hundred pounds that has no doubt been credited to his account?”
“I haven‘t checked my email since before Christmas.”
“Maybe you should.”
“For what purpose? To write to Kevin and say, ‘Oh, by the way, I’ve sent back the laptop because we slept together’?”
“No, to say that you‘re sending it back because he can‘t buy your love and because you slept together!”
“Ha ha (!)”
“I‘m serious!”
“Look, if he really wanted to know and I didn‘t reply to his email, then he would have called me already, right? I sent it back the day after New Year‘s. That was two weeks ago.”
“Hmm, I guess.”
“Besides, he probably earns so much he hasn‘t even noticed the tiny amount of fifteen hundred pounds boosting the figures.”
“Is that a note of jealousy I detect there?”
“I don‘t like talking about money.”
“And yet, here we are!”
“Can we drop this?”
“Gladly.”
Back to Chapter XI
Go to Chapter XIII
© 2004 Clare Benton
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