Chapter 9

The following Saturday morning, Joanna and Catherine were home alone. Fiona was with a friend and Dave had taken Liam shopping, so they were able to a have a mother-and-daughter morning in the kitchen. The night before Thomas had finally worked up the courage to phone Joanna about seeing Catherine and a 'date' had been arranged for the coming Tuesday afternoon at the local aquatic centre. Joanna would be there - discretely in the background, she promised, to supervise things. That was OK with Catherine. There is a limit to how frolicsome you can be in a public swimming pool anyway; her main concern was if they would have time to buy the promised new swim-suit and if her period would be over by Tuesday.

Something about her period struck her as odd. And suddenly it dawned on her what it was. Ever since her period started it had been completely regular and completely in sync with her mother's, as is often the case. So under normal circumstances they should both have been writhing in agony, yet only Catherine seemed so afflicted. She remembered the unusually frequent noises from her parents' bedroom in recent weeks and the implication seemed inevitable. "Mom! Are you pregnant?" she blurted out.

Joanna nearly choked on her coffee sending it spluttering in all directions. It was indeed possible, but she was only just late and she had not expected Catherine to know. "Why do you ask?"

"Because we always have our period at the same time," Catherine replied. "Besides you and Dad have been busy in the bed recently..." she added with an impish grin.

Joanna turned scarlet. "I'm sorry honey; I didn't know you could hear us. I am so sorry!"

Her daughter stopped her. "I'm not," she said. "It's nice to know your parents love each other."

Joanna smiled. "You don't mind yet another sibling?"

"Not at all - I love babies," Catherine gushed.

"And better me than you?" Joanna teased.

It was Catherine's turn to blush. "Mum!" she exclaimed. "As if!"

"Sorry honey, just teasing," Joanna said. "But I'm glad you're not adverse to the idea."

"No, it's cool," Catherine said. "It's not like you and Dad are ancient."

"Exactly," her mother replied - relived that her oldest had taken it so well. Teenagers can be funny about their parents being sexually active.

"Anyway, are you pregnant?" Catherine asked again.

"I don't know yet," her mother replied. "I haven't even told Dad yet that I'm late."

"How soon can you, you know, test?" Catherine asked.

"In principle already now. The tests you buy these days can be used from the day you period is due," Joanna said.

"Have you got one?" Catherine asked.

"As a matter of fact I do," Joanna replied, "but..." she trailed off. Her daughter looked so eager and truth be told, she was curious herself. "All right then," she relented. "But on two conditions: If it is positive you are not to tell your siblings. Early pregnancies are fragile. It will be another 10 to 12 weeks before we can be fairly certain there will actually be a baby. OK?"

"OK," Catherine said. "What is the other condition?"

"That I get to tell Dad!" Joanna stated firmly.

Catherine vigorously nodded her acceptance and a few minutes later they were both peering intently at the small window on the pregnancy test. As if by magic two clear blue lines appeared. Catherine squealed in excitement and hugged her mother.

"That is so cool," she exclaimed. "I hope it's a boy - it would be good for Liam to get a playmate."

Her mother smiled, feeling elated, happy, worried and all those other emotions that all women experience when faced with a pregnancy, however desired. "Just remember what you promised," she said.

"Sure," Catherine replied, "Mum's the word!" - her impish grin spreading from ear to ear.

While no longer having to volunteer for night and weekend shifts in order to circumvent the loathsome advances of Dr. Hamilton-Smythe, Hannah evidently couldn't avoid such shifts altogether and this Saturday morning, which saw so much jubilation in her friends' home half a dozen suburbs away, Hannah was dragging herself home from London Bridge station. She was feeling miserable from her period and wholeheartedly wished she could avoid that for the next five or six years while turning out a flock of babies of her own. She bought fresh bread from the baker in Shade Thames, made herself a cup of divine coffee on the Italian Marvel and sat down with a grunt on her balcony.

OK, the coffee was fantastic and the bread was superb and the view was second to none. And she had to admit that even the weather was much better than she would have expected from November. OK, that all helped. But she felt lonely. She missed her parents. Only yesterday her Mum had told her they couldn't come for Christmas anyway - something about her Dad's work and her Gran being ill, but it was a blow. And George wouldn't be there for Christmas either, of course - he would be in Norway with his kids and while Hannah had been invited, she had initially declined because she thought her parents would be in London, and besides she couldn't go away due to her shifts. Anyway, Christmas was over a month in the future. Now was now and she missed George so much it hurt.

Just as she had managed to find a sitting position that reduced the pain, her phone started to ring. She realized she had left it in the kitchen. She let it ring. It finally stopped, but a few moments later it started again. With a curse, a grunt and a jabbing pain from her abdomen, she got up and went to answer it. It was George.

"Hannah! Oh I'm so glad you're there anyway. How are you?" came his familiar cheerful voice.

"George!" Hannah sobbed and then broke down completely and just cried.