Chapter Forty-Five
"Dare I say it, Francesca? Congratulations! You're pregnant." Dr Bryson smiled, then turned to his computer. "You must both be over the moon. How long's it been now? A year?"
"Two actually. Two years of trying." Francesca looked away from him, not wanting to explain that Paul had left her for a twenty-year-old. The embarrassment was almost too much. "And of course, we are. Now we know for definite, we've got choices to make. Colour of bedroom and things like that."
"I bet Paul is delighted," Dr Bryson added, still facing his monitor. "Well, there's no point arranging an ultrasound yet. Let's book you one in week fourteen, shall we?"
"That'll be great, except-"
"You don't want to know your baby's gender, I get it. Let's book it in. It's routine to check everything's
