Page 92 of (Not) The One
‘You buy a test from the pharmacy?’ Will’s tone is unconcerned.
‘Yeah.’
‘And did it indicate that you’re pregnant?’
‘Yeah. It said pregnant. It wasn’t one of the ones with the lines or anything.’
‘Then congratulations. Home tests are so accurate these days, there’s little point in repeating it. And as for the scan, when you go private over your choice of the NHS, you can pretty much get what you want. Especially if he’s paying.’ Will nods his head in my direction.
‘Oh. Well, okay.’ Miranda stands as a nurse, presumably Jenny, makes herself known to the room.
As Will continues to sit on his desk, his eyes boring into my head, I feel compelled to speak.
‘Do you have something you feel you need to say?’
‘Not a fuckin’ thing.’
‘Are you quite sure?’
‘She seems like a nice girl.’
‘Woman.’ She’s not a girl, and I’m not some pervert. ‘And yes, she’s quite lovely,’ I reply, playing down what I really think about her, which is quite a lot. She’s one of a kind. Brave and capable, despite the hand she’s been dealt.
‘Quite lovely and quite young.’
‘Your point?’
‘You’re about to become a father.’ I incline my head, my cool response at odds with the tightening in my stomach. ‘Following a one-night stand. Heat of the moment or a condom malfunction?’
‘How strange. I thought you were an obstetrician, not an interrogator.’
‘I have the best job ever,’ he says after a pause. ‘I get to bring life into the world. And then I hand these little treasures over.’ He holds his hands in such a way that it leaves me in no doubt that he means what he says. ‘I hand them over to parents who have waited nine long months for that day. But that’s just the beginning. Parenthood is the only job you’ll keep until you make your grave.’
‘I think you must have a very poor opinion of me, Will.’
‘I make it my business never to have opinions about my patients.’
‘Good,’ I find myself grating out, annoyed now. He knows nothing about this. Nothing about how I feel about Miranda or our child, even if these feelings are only beginning to be formed into thoughts I can quantify. Didn’t I miss my flight to Berlin because I couldn’t bear to see her be so ill?
‘But you’re not my patient. And I know you.’
‘You might think you do. Jesus, Will, the way you’re looking at me, anyone would think I’d brought her to a backstreet clinic with a few pennies and a quart of gin. But I haven’t; I’ve brought her to the best private clinic in fucking England.’
‘The best in Europe,’ he corrects. ‘In fact, women from all over the world come to me for treatment.’
‘And do you cross-examine all the men accompanying these women?’
‘Miranda is the first to bring along her one-night stand.’
‘I somehow doubt that. And if you’ll recall, I brought her. And she is more to me than just some girl I’ve fucked.’
‘So you’re going to raise this child together?’
‘We haven’t ironed out the details.’ Sitting straighter in my chair, I pull on the cuffs of my shirt. ‘But I’ll be there in whatever capacity she’ll have me. I intend to be a part of my child’s life. Hers too, if I can.’
‘Interesting,’ he replies.
‘I’m glad you think so.’ Though my tone indicates the opposite because I don’t care to examine the expression he’s currently wearing, or what he appears to have garnered from my words. ‘I’ll endure your company because you’re the best.’
