The Art Of Deception

Chapter 3

Chapter 3'So, how was your day?' John asked as they parted.

'Oh, just run-of-the-mill stuff, really. Might have made two or three sales – we'll see. I'll just get changed, back in five minutes.'

'OK, smart. The dinner's done. I'll dish it out, shall I?'

'Yes,' she said, hoping he hadn't noticed her flushed cheeks.

The plates were on the table when she came back.

'There you are,' he smiled. 'Are you hungry now, after this morning?'

'Not really. But I suppose I'll have to try to eat.'

'You do, now you're having a baby.'

'Thought you might get that in.'

'You must eat for you as well. Please try. I got out early, spent ages cooking this – and let me tell you, even if I do say so myself, it's delicious.'

'I'm sure it is.'

He ate his casserole quickly, trying not to look at how she was getting on. 'Want to go out anywhere afterwards?'

'I think I'll pass on that. My stomach still feels like it's working overtime.'

'OK, no probs. Shall we just drive over to my folks? We could give them the good news.'

'Can't we keep it to ourselves for a while? I don't want everyone fussing over me.'

John felt hurt. He wanted to shout it from the rooftops. 'Sure, if that's what you want. Will you do the same with your dad?'

'Yes – just until I get used to the idea.'

'OK, Angie. Whatever you say.'

John finished his meal while Angie picked at hers, eating tiny mouthfuls very slowly.

'Hey, if you can't eat any more, it's no big deal. It won't hurt my feelings. I can see you're not feeling great.'

'Sorry. Normally I'd have asked for more.'

'Yeah, I know. Have you made your doctor's appointment yet? You need to start the ball rolling with midwives and stuff, don't you? And they'll probably prescribe you something for the morning sickness, too. Why don't you make an appointment tomorrow?'

'Think maybe I'll have to.' She swallowed hard. 'John …'

'Yeah?'

'I was sick today, in a client's flat.'

'Oh God. Was it bad?'

'Could have been worse. Luckily, I managed to get to the bathroom in time, but I can't tell you how embarrassed I was. At least it was a woman. John, what am I going to do? If this keeps happening, I won't be able to do my job.'

'Hey, calm down, Angie, you're panicking. It's very early days. It will pass. Talk to the doctor, get some tablets, then everything will get better.'

'I hope so. Mind if I don't come with you to see your parents? I still feel queasy, and I'm tired. It's been a long day. I'm going to lie down for an hour.'

'They'll wonder why you haven't come too. What shall I tell them? Although, second thoughts, why don't I not go at all? I'd rather spend the evening with you.'

She smiled at him, but he had the feeling she would prefer to be alone.

'No, you go,' she said. 'Say I've got a headache. I'll feel guilty if you didn't, after all you only see them once a week, and they are getting older. Anything might happen to them.'

'Mid-sixties isn't old! And they're still pretty fit for their age. OK – I'll go, but only for an hour. Be home in no time.'

'And not a word about the baby – promise?'

'I promise.'

John put on his coat, kissed her, and drove off to his parents' house, five miles away in the village of Gladbury.

They lived in a detached bungalow, having moved when they both retired five years ago. His dad, George, had worked as a solicitor, while his mum, Susan, had been a legal secretary in the same firm. He often wondered how they'd got on so well, living in each other's pockets like that.

Arriving outside, he saw the lights strung up all around their house, something his dad took pride in every Christmas.

John rang the bell, and the slight grey-haired figure of his dad appeared.

'Hallo, son, great to see you. Come on in. No Angie?'

'No, she says sorry, but she has a migraine.'

'Oh dear, my mum used to get those and by God, when you get one, it certainly knocks you off your feet,' George said as they went through to the spacious living room.

Susan, a plump woman with dyed brown hair, smiled at her son and got to her feet to give him a kiss and a hug. 'How are you?'

'Yeah, not bad, thanks, Mum. Yourselves?'

'We're off to the Bahamas in the new year.'

'Oh, to be retired,' John said, wondering whether they really ought to be going on two holidays abroad this year with Angie being pregnant.

'Don't wish your life away, son. It'll come around soon enough,' George said.

'Drink?' Susan asked.

'A squash please, this is only a flying visit.'

She gave him a drink, which he sipped hurriedly.

'Didn't know Angie was prone to migraines,' George said.

'Yes … well, she doesn't get them often … but when she does, it's a stinker. And I can't understand why.' John hated lying to his parents.

'How long do they last?'

'Could be all day. So, are you still coming to us for Christmas dinner?'

'Of course, if you'll have us.'

'Great. See your Christmas lights are up already.'

'Yeah, it took me a while, but it's worth the trouble when I switch them on at night. There's only a few more final touches needed. You'll see them for yourself when you come over Boxing Day evening.'

'Looking forward to it.'

'Shame we haven't any children in the family. Kids love the lights,' Susan said.

'Yeah, Christmas isn't the same without children, is it, love?' George said.

She smiled at John fondly. 'I remember when you and Sheryl were young, we had such fun, especially with the elves. It would be so nice to have those times again …'

His heart beat faster, but a little voice told him to hold fire with his news; Angie was too emotional right now. It would have been a great Christmas present for them too – especially as Sheryl, his sister, couldn't have children – but he'd promised her.

He was glad to leave.

Angie lay on the bed and closed her eyes, hoping this sickness would leave her. She wanted to take something but didn't know what. If it affected the baby, she'd never forgive herself.

She tried to relax.

In fact, she did sleep, then woke with a start, sat up, rubbed her eyes and looked at her watch: two-fifteen. She'd been asleep for forty-five minutes but was still sick and frightened. Not wanting to worry John meant she had no alternative but to confide in her dad. He lived alone, a widower since her mum's death fifteen years ago at the early age of forty. He had never remarried.

She took out her phone and tapped his number. It rang and rang and she was almost ready to hang up when he answered.

'Dad?'

'Hallo, Angie. How are you? Great to hear from you.'

'I'm OK.' There was a pause. 'Actually, that's not quite true. I've got something to tell you.'

'Oh yes? What's that?'

'I'm pregnant.'

Silence. Had he heard what she said?

'Dad? You still there?'

'Yes, of course.' She heard him sigh. 'Pregnant, you say. Are you sure that's a good idea?'

'That's exactly it – I'm not sure it is. It was an accident, Dad – I've no idea how it happened.'

'So what are you going to do? You know what happened to your mum … Does John know yet?'

'Yes. I had to tell him, Dad. I've been sick a lot and he'd have noticed soon enough. And now he's obviously thrilled to bits, but I can't stop thinking about Mum, her bipolar and everything – what if I'm the same? What if the baby inherits it? I know I should think about getting rid of it. But I'm not sure I can.'

'You'll be taking a big risk if you don't.'

'Yes, but if the baby is normal, and I'm fine, then I'll have aborted it for my own selfish reasons.'

'But if there's a problem with you, that will be much worse. Don't get me wrong, Angie – no one wants a grandchild more than me. And if your mum was here, she'd be over the moon. But you remember what she went through. What if the same thing happened to you? That'd be horrible.'

'Oh, Dad, I don't know what to do. I worry over the baby too, that there might be something wrong, but surely the doctors could do tests or something. They might spot something in the womb.'

'I don't think so, love. You're clutching at straws there. But I'm not the one you should be discussing this with. John's your husband, and he has the right to know.'

'I can't, Dad – he'd be devastated. He wants a child so much, it'd destroy him to know what having a kid might do to me. And there may be no need.'

'OK. I'm not going to interfere, love, but don't say I didn't warn you.'

Angie was silent for a moment. The front door opened and John shouted, 'I'm back.'

'Dad, I must go. John's come home.'

'All right. Remember I'm always here if you need to talk. Love you.'

'Love you too.'

She got out of bed and ran to greet John with a warm kiss.

'Hey, what's that for? I think I'll go out more often if this is the reception I get!'

'I missed you.'

'I've only been away an hour. How are you?'

'Been lying down. I think I slept a little.'

'Are you feeling any better?'

'A little. Want a drink?'

'Sure, if you're OK.'

They sat on the sofa.

John sipped his coffee. 'Come with me the next time I go; I hate telling them lies. Mum even me gave me some tablets for you to take for that “migraine” of yours. And they kept dropping hints about the patter of tiny feet. I felt so guilty.'

'I'm sorry. I'll tell them in my own time, though, not by them seeing me throw up. Don't worry – it won't be long and everyone will know, I promise.'

'How about when they come over for Christmas Day? Wouldn't that be the perfect time?'

'Please don't put pressure on me.'

'Or New Year's Eve?'

'John, give it a rest.'

She got up and walked upstairs, where she lay on her stomach, crying her eyes out.

John came up a few minutes later, sat on the bed and took her hand. 'Look, I'm sorry if I keep going on. I always wanted kids and now you've made me the happiest man in the world. That's all.'

Angie looked up with tear-stained eyes. 'I'm sorry. It must be my hormones playing havoc with my brain. Once I've seen the doctor, I'll be better.'

'Let's hope so. Listen, will you be all right for Christmas Day? With Mum and Dad coming over for dinner, I mean. I can take over if you supervise me.'

'No, they'll know something's up if we do that. I'll get through it, but if I'm sick, we'll have to cancel.'

'Yeah, I suppose.'

'Look, I can't help how I feel. There's always next year – the baby will be a few months old then. Sure they'll enjoy that much more.'

He squeezed her arm. 'It will be a big change for all of us – and hard work, too. But well worth it. Still can't believe I'm going to be a father. Wow, the guys at work will pull my leg something rotten.'

'Yes, they will.' She smiled, but she wished he'd shut up. It got on her nerves. Please change the record, she thought.