that Richard wasn’t the easiest of patients.’
She looked out of the window. Although over four years had passed since they’d learned of his tumour, it was almost as if she was back in that dark, dark time.
‘Against the odds, he went into remission. The chemo shrank the tumour and he was well enough to return to work, as I did. But he was still desperate for us to try for a baby. I guess he suspected it was our only chance of having a child together.
‘I went for IVF—not the most pleasant process, as you can imagine—but the first cycle didn’t work. Then Richard got sick again so naturally we put the IVF on hold.’ She sucked in a breath. ‘He died six months later. That was three years ago.’
Something shifted behind David’s eyes but Olivia was too caught up in her story to finish now.
‘A few months ago, I decided it was time to move on with my life.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘We had four frozen embryos left. I didn’t want to wait until I was in my forties to have a baby, so I went ahead with IVF, using one of the embryos we still had stored.’ She tried to keep her voice matter-of–fact, as if she was talking about someone else and not herself. She wasn’t going to share her loneliness since Richard had died, or the empty, crushing disappointment she’d felt when the first attempt at IVF had failed. Neither was she prepared to share her constant yearning to hold a baby in her arms and her fear that the second attempt would fail too—especially not with someone who was, after all, a stranger.
But, strangely, David didn’t feel like a stranger. Nevertheless, she’d already said too much.
‘So voilà! I’m pregnant,’ she finished. ‘Nineteen weeks and counting.’
‘And you’re doing this on your own?’
‘And why not? Thousands of women do.’
‘I don’t envy you. My friend’s baby might weigh only a few pounds, but there’s no mistaking who rules the roost in that house.’
Embarrassed that she’d been talking as if she were a leaky bucket, Olivia changed the subject.
‘What about you? I assume by the way you’re talking that you have no children of your own.’
‘Good God, no!’ He looked so shocked she almost laughed. ‘Children and I don’t quite … go together,’ he said. ‘And if I ever doubted it, after a couple of weeks at my friend’s place, I sure know it now.’
‘But you must have children as patients?’
‘That is entirely different. They’re not mine. I don’t have to deal with their crying and constant demands. Children and I are not for each other. Don’t get me wrong, little Alice is the cutest thing ever, but the best thing about her is that she is not my responsibility.’
‘Perhaps when you meet the right woman?’
He looked bemused. ‘What is it with women? You all seem to think a person can’t be normal if he or she doesn’t want children.’ He pulled out his wallet and when Olivia made to do the same he shook his head. ‘My treat. You were good enough to give me a lift. It is the least I can do.’ He yawned. ‘But you’ll have to forgive me, if I don’t get to bed soon, there’s every chance I’ll be spending the night with my head on this table.’
‘Come on, then, I’ll run you home. And since I have to go in to work for a couple of hours tomorrow morning I’m happy to give you a lift—if you like?’
He smiled. ‘I’d appreciate it. Don’t worry about picking me up, though. I’ll come to you.’
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