on the drive. Only after she heard the engine of his motorbike dying in the distance, and when the pop and fizzle of the fireworks sounded loud against the newly silent house, did she dare to open the drawer again.
She picked up the test stick and butterflies stirred in her stomach. Would Niall actually like his present? Getting pregnant now was hardly ideal timing. She’d given up her job to start her new business only a few months before and on top of the mortgage on the cottage, and the bills, they had to find the payments on Niall’s new motorbike.
She spread her palm over her stomach. It felt exactly the same as it had for the past year. Not flat, of course – she hadn’t had a flat tummy since she was about ten – but it certainly wasn’t any rounder. She didn’t feel sick, either, unless you counted the butterflies of excitement and apprehension that had been fluttering away for the past half hour. Her body gave no clue whatsoever that it had another person inside it yet someone was there right now, its heart beating because hers did, breathing when she did, and relying on her for its survival.
Niall loved kids and he adored his huge extended family. Sarah would never forget the first time he’d introduced her to them two years before. It had been at a party for his Nana McCafferty’s ninetieth birthday and a bit like being thrown into a pit of friendly lions and their cubs. And now she and Niall were starting their own tiny clan.
Emotion bubbled up in her throat. She picked up her mobile and dialled the second most used number on her phone.
‘Hello, this is Molly, I can’t get to the phone right now …’
Damn. Was Molly still at work at this time of night? It was New Year’s Eve – but then, her little sister had always been the biggest geek on the planet, next to her workaholic boss, of course. To be fair, Molly’s latest crush on Ewan Baxter had lasted well over a year now – far longer than any of the others. Sarah wasn’t terribly hopeful; Ewan had failed to respond to any of Molly’s hints so far. Sarah thought he was mad; Molly was gorgeous and fun and bright – when she wasn’t infuriating and impulsive, of course.
‘Hi, Molly, it’s me,’ Sarah spoke into the answerphone. ‘Are you still at work? If you are, don’t let Professor McDreamy make you miss the party. I’m still coming but I can’t stay over at yours after all so I’ll drive us home and before you ask, I don’t mind staying sober and no, I’m not ill …’
Even hinting about the baby to Molly made Sarah want to laugh out loud and burst into tears at the same time. What would she be like when she told Niall? She imagined breaking her news in front of the embers of the cottage’s log fire. She imagined his gasp of amazement and his gobsmacked face. She wanted to hold the moment forever in her mind.
‘I’ll tell you more when I see you,’ she said when it was obvious Molly wasn’t going to pick up. ‘Now, get the hell out of that lab and put your glad rags on.’
Brushing past a Wookiee who smelled of mould and a rugby player dressed as Hermione Granger, Molly hurried away from the bar with a pint of cider for herself and a Coke for Sarah. It was slightly surreal to see the Biology Faculty staff restaurant decked out in streamers with a large glitter ball suspended from the ceiling above the salad servery. The faculty Entz Committee had obviously spent ages on the superhero-themed decorations, trying to cover the yellowing walls with posters of Marvel heroes but Molly still thought the place looked like exactly like a 1960s canteen. And a Wookiee wasn’t exactly a typical movie hero.
Then again, quite a few people were pushing the boundaries of what qualified as a hero or heroine. Take Pete Garrick, the parasitic worm expert from the next lab to Molly’s, who was also acting as DJ for the evening, fiddling with the knobs on the decks. He was wearing what looked like an Iron Man T-shirt with fake muscles stencilled on the front. He cut the Mid and the vocals dropped out, so you could hear everyone screaming along to “Livin’ on a Prayer”.
Wincing, Molly put the Coke on the table that she and Sarah had bagged in a relatively quiet corner. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind driving tonight?’ she said, leaning in closer so Sarah could hear above the “music”. ‘You can still stay over at mine if you want and we can get a taxi home, if I book one now.’
‘I don’t mind driving,’ said Sarah. ‘Anyway, I want to go home afterwards and give Niall my news.’
‘Ooo. News! Does this news have anything to do with the “tell you more when I see you” message?’
‘Might have.’ Sarah sipped her Coke and her eyes twinkled, reflecting the lights from the disco.
‘Oh my God, you’re pregnant, aren’t you?’
Sarah gasped. ‘Is it that obvious already? I’m only seven weeks at the most.’
Molly grinned in delight. ‘No, but you said you had a secret to tell Niall and you’re obviously desperate to stay sober on the party night of the year. I don’t have to be a rocket scientist, or even a behavioural ecologist to work out what it is.’
Sarah nodded excitedly. ‘Oh, Mol, I know Niall ought to be the first to know but I only found out for sure tonight and he was just about to go out on shift. I didn’t want him driving round the streets of Cambridge at sixty miles an hour with that on his mind.’
Molly hugged her. ‘I’m so happy for you, and for Niall. I know you’re going to make an amazing mum and dad. You deserve it so much.’ She meant every word; she could never wish enough good things to happen to Sarah, after what she’d done for Molly. After their parents had died, it was Sarah who’d kept her on the rails and made sure she went to uni. Sarah who’d encouraged her and supported her through some of the darkest days of her life; of both their lives.
‘We were both there for each other,’ said Sarah but then her smile faded. ‘But it’s not the best timing, with me just starting up the business. Niall only took tonight’s shift for the overtime. I hope he’s not too shocked.’
‘Only in a good way, I’m sure. You two are the most loved-up pair I’ve ever seen. You were made for each other.’
‘“Made for each other” … and you know that’s possible, do you, Dr Havers?’
‘Shh. You really will get me into trouble.’ Molly tapped the side of her nose. ‘And I …’ The words stuck in her throat as she caught sight of what Mrs Choudhry would call a “kerfuffle” happening by the double doors leading into the canteen.
‘On my God, it’s Ewan and he’s wearing a sodding kilt. What the hell am I supposed to do about that?’
Molly sat open-mouthed as Sarah followed her gaze. ‘I don’t know. Ask him what he’s wearing under it?’
‘Arghh. Don’t. It doesn’t even bear thinking about.’
‘And yet, you often have.’
‘Please, no, I think I’m going to self-combust.’
Sarah’s eyes had a glint to rival the rhinestones on her “Princess Anastasia” tiara. ‘I thought you told me spontaneous combustion was an urban myth and that only people on Jeremy Kyle believe it actually happens?’
‘It is – I mean, I thought it was a myth
