the interim I tried to imagine his reaction. He’d be shocked. Not least because he’d said no pressure. I laughed darkly. No pressure? So, no – he was hardly going to be overjoyed. But if he could just be accepting – however grudgingly – that would be more than enough.
But what would I do about my course? I’d wonder, and my new career. The anxiety would make me feel sick. Then my mood would lift and I’d be entertaining a pleasant fantasy in which Xan was putting his arms round me and telling me that although, yes, it was rather soon, it would all be fine and we’d buy a house together a bit further out, with a nice big garden. And I was mentally landscaping said garden with a glorious play area complete with swing and slide, and a tree house – yes, a really great tree house – when the phone rang. My heart surged.
‘Anna …?’
‘Xan …’ I sank on to the chair with relief.
‘I’m back and, well …’ He sounded tired but then he’d been travelling.
‘I missed you, Xan.’
‘I missed you too,’ he said, with a kind of surprised sadness. ‘But … look … I need to see you. Can I come over?’
‘Yes… Yes, I’ll cook. Come at eight.’
He arrived at half past, carrying a huge bunch of pink roses. He kissed me on the cheek, which struck me as oddly formal. He seemed remote, but I put it down to fatigue.
‘You’ve gone to a lot of trouble,’ he said, almost regretfully, as we ate our risotto.
I looked at his plate. ‘But you’ve eaten so little.’
‘Yes …’ he said distractedly. ‘So have you.’
‘Well … that’s because …’ Adrenalin burned through my veins. ‘Xan …’ I put down my fork. ‘There’s something I have to tell you …’
So I did.
Xan froze, as though someone had poured liquid nitrogen over him. In the ensuing silence all I could hear was the hum of my computer.
‘You’re pregnant?’ he whispered. ‘But how?’
‘Well …’ I shrugged. ‘In the … conventional way.’
‘But …’ He was shaking his head. ‘We’ve been so careful.’
‘Not the first time. We weren’t careful then.’ I remembered rummaging in my bedside table, mid-passion, for a stray condom that had been at the back of the drawer for ages.
‘The first time?’
‘I think that’s when it happened. In fact, I’m sure.’
Xan had gone white. ‘Oh. God …’ He was blinking at me uncomprehendingly. ‘Are you saying you got pregnant the night we met?’ He emitted a burst of mirthless laughter. ‘But – we’d known each other two hours!’
‘Yes …’ I nodded nervously. ‘I suppose we had.’
‘So that was …?’
‘Seven weeks ago.’
‘Seven weeks?’
‘That fits with what my GP said. And I had an early scan on Monday. I don’t think there’s much doubt. They date it from two weeks before, which means I’m actually nine weeks.’
Xan’s grey-blue eyes were staring wildly. ‘But … this is … terrible.’ My heart plummeted. ‘It couldn’t be worse.’
‘Well, actually, Xan, it could be – it really could,’ I stuttered, taken aback by his hostility. ‘Because, OK, it’s very serious – I’m not denying that for a minute – but far worse things happen every day, don’t they, really terrible things that people can never get over, like what happened to my mother for example, there’s no getting over that. But with this at least … at least no one’s … dead, are they?’
‘No,’ Xan said grimly. ‘But someone’s alive!’ He got up and walked over to the window. ‘Oh Jesus, Anna …’ He turned and stared at me, his smoke-blue eyes blazing with wounded fury.
‘Look,’ I said, ‘I … understand that you’re … shocked. I was incredibly shocked myself.’
‘Were you?’ He was staring at me with naked scepticism.
‘Yes. I was! I didn’t do it deliberately if that’s what you mean! But’ – I lowered my voice, anxious to keep the conversation as calm as possible – ‘I’ve had five days to think about it all and I believe it’ll be OK. I really do.’
‘No, it won’t! It’ll be a disaster!’
I was taken aback by his vehemence but tried to stay calm. ‘Look, Xan, I’ve thought it all through and of course I don’t expect you to marry me or even live with me if you don’t want to.’
‘Well, that’s big of you,’ he said bitterly. ‘Because I can tell you right now I’m not going to be doing either!’
I felt a stab to the stomach. ‘All right,’ I breathed. ‘If that’s how you feel.’
He threw up his hands. ‘Of course it’s how I feel – I’ve known you for less than two months! And how do I even know that it’s mine?’ At that I felt a pain in my chest, as though Xan had physically injured me. ‘You say it happened the night we met. But how do I know that you hadn’t thrown yourself at some other poor sod the day before?’
I stood up. ‘There’s no need to insult me. Of course it’s yours.’
‘How the hell do I know?’
‘Because for one thing I wouldn’t lie about it.’
‘Why not?’ he spat. ‘Plenty of women do!’
‘And for another I hadn’t slept with anyone for six months before I met you. But we’ll do a DNA test if you don’t believe me.’
Something in Xan’s softening expression told me that he did. He dropped on to the sofa, his head sinking into both hands. I heard him inhale deeply, as if trying to steady himself.
‘An iceberg,’ I heard him murmur. ‘I said you looked like an iceberg, Anna, the night we met. And I wish I’d been more wary. Because now I’ve been holed by you and this will sink me.’ I heard him emit a low groan.
I came and sat on the chair near to him. ‘Please don’t be like this, Xan,’ I tried again, my voice catching. ‘There’s no need. We’re both in our thirties, we both have resources and I repeat that you don’t have to make any kind of commitment to me. But the reason why I feel reasonably optimistic about the situation – although I agree it’s not ideal and I’ve been sick with worry myself – is because we live so near to each other and …’
‘Anna …’ he interjected wearily.
‘Please
