Least Said by Pamela Fudge Page B

Jon’s lounger so that he opened his eyes and looked up at me, ‘that I will go and have a shower before lunch.’
    ‘Me, too.’
    Jon was on his feet with gratifying speed, trying to appear ultra - casual as he tied a towel around his waist, arranging it in a way that told me he was already turned on.
    *
    I tried not to, I really did, but when we returned home I found myself counting the days until my next period was due, certain in my own mind that it wouldn’t be making its regular appearance, convinced that all our efforts had created a baby, a brother or sister for William. Were my breasts swollen, my nipples slightly sore? I imagined my belly was bigger, standing in front of the mirror and turning this way and that, and pushing it out in an exaggerated fashion in an effort to convince myself.
    When the day of my cycle came and went I was almost beside myself with excitement, totally convinced that this was it. My body clock was nothing if not regular and it was all I could do not to rush out and buy a pregnancy test or two. I knew that these days they could predict a pregnancy within days of conception, but I didn’t want to tempt fate, holding tight to the possibility that this really was it and we were having another baby.
    A second day passing and the fact that I felt lethargic – just as I had very soon after I’d realised I was pregnant with William – allowed my hopes to soar, to rush forward to choosing the decor for the new baby’s nursery and already anticipating picking out one of those modern prams that made life so easy for a new mother.
    Perhaps I could just take the briefest peek into Mothercare, I tempted myself – but no, Will was still on holiday from school and would be bound to mention such a trip to Jon – and then I remembered that they weren’t the only store to stock everything a baby might need.
    ‘I’m bored, Mummy.’ Will came wandering into the kitchen looking for me right on cue.
    I put aside one of the bridal magazines I perused regularly, looking for ideas for customers making bookings for wedding cakes, and asked him, ‘What would you like to do?’
    William was just as consistent as I had expected him to be, and he said without hesitation, ‘Go to Toys‘r’Us and then McDonalds.’
    It was said with a great deal of hope, but without much expectation of an agreement from me. Such trips were usually quite rare and confined to Will’s birthday or the necessity of buying a present for one of his friends, because of our determination not to spoil our son.
    ‘Ok,’ I agreed, and felt a little flicker of excitement.
    ‘Yesssssss,’ he was off and running around the table, obviously quite unable to believe his luck.
    ‘You can choose some Lego,’ I promised, adding, ‘but just a small box, because it isn’t your birthday yet. This is just a little treat because you’ve been such a good boy through the school holidays. Now, let’s have a look at you.’ Will hopped impatiently from one sandaled foot to the other as I checked the t-shirt and shorts he was wearing for grubbiness.’ I nodded. ‘You’ll do,’ I told him, and then I looked down at the cropped white jeans and blue t-shirt I’d chosen to put on that morning and added, ‘and I look ok, too.’
    Despite our visits to the outlet being fairly infrequent, we still came often enough for me to know the layout of the store like the back of my hand, and I was immediately drawn to the area where I could see an amazing array of prams and cots set temptingly out.
    Will’s gaze followed mine and he tugged my hand impatiently, advising me, ‘That’s just baby’s stuff over there – we don’t want to look at that . The big boy’s toys are over this way.’
    Sometimes I honestly thought my son was far too intelligent for his own good, but I swallowed my impatience and just said mildly, ‘Of course it is. I just thought I saw someone I knew over there.’
    Accepting that explanation without question, Will