CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Ainsley

When I woke up the next morning I was in an empty bed. I sat up in a hurry. Where was Drake?

The instant I sat up my stomach churned and I ran to the bathroom, heaving dryly.

“For pity's sake,” I murmured weakly, letting the water sluice my face as I stood at the sink, still feeling nauseous. “What's wrong with me?”

A quick inspection of the bedroom told me that Drake wasn't in there. I looked around at the space, which was decorated in white and pale lemon. A window looked out onto slate gray clouds and a scene of fields and broad-leafed trees that made me feel like I'd wondered into a Regency romance.

I felt my spirits lift as I changed out of my sleeping things and into a new dress. Then, yawning and running a brush through my hair, I headed downstairs to make coffee.

“Hello dear,” a voice said as I entered the kitchen. I blinked and smiled.

“Hello, um, Aunt Jay,” I said shyly. The brown eyes crinkled at the corners as I shook her hand.

“Hello,” she said again. “Right. Now, your man's just gone down to the corner-shop to buy us some groceries. I did insist he didn't, but he insisted he did. And you know there's no arguing with him. I've put on some water. Coffee? Tea?”

“Coffee, please,” I said gratefully. She chuckled.

“You'll be wanting a strong one after that flight,” she commented.

I nodded. When we both had coffee steaming in front of us, I found she was watching me shrewdly across the wooden kitchen table.

“My nephew says you've been sick,” she said.

I sighed. “Silly Drake,” I chided fondly. “He's been worried about me. But I'm fine...” I trailed off as the room lurched about me. I put my hand flat on the table, holding myself up. “Really. I'm okay.”

“You've been vomiting?” she asked forthrightly.

I blinked. “Yes,” I admitted hesitantly. She nodded.

“Worse in the morning and at night. Yes?”

“Yes...” I frowned. What was this about.

She chuckled. “How long have you been feeling like this?”

“A few days,” I said, frowning. “Why?”

“Lass,” she said, shaking her head and then looking up at me. “Have you considered you might be expecting a child?”

I put my coffee on the table slowly. Folded my hands in my lap. My heart was thumping in my chest, and I touched a hand there for reassurance. “What?”

She laughed. “Morning sickness, dear. Doesn't just happen in the mornings. It could be that you're carrying a baby.”

I shook my head, gaping at her. This was all just a bit too much to take in.

“No,” I said dully. “I can't be. I...” I'm on contraceptive pills. Or at least, I was. Until that one night – the first night Drake visited. When I forgot to take one in the morning.

No way.

“It's worth considering,” she said.

“But that was only two weeks ago,” I said dully.

She chuckled. “It doesn't take longer than that to start showing it,” she said. “The morning sickness can start a week after. It was like that for me when I was carrying Amelia,” she said with a chuckle.

“Oh?” I frowned, curious despite myself. “That's your daughter?”

“Uh huh,” she said. “I have two. Daughter and son. Arthur. There they are in that picture.”

“Oh.” I looked at the photo – a shot from the late Eighties of a little girl and a boy, dressed in shorts and pullovers, hand in hand in a field.

Drake's cousins. How weird. The boy looked nothing like Drake, though the girl had a longer, narrower face that could have been more like his side of the family.

“They're beautiful,” I said. She chuckled.

“They were a handful. Wonderful children, though. I miss them. Amelia's up north. Arthur visits every two weeks. He's a fine boy.”

“He must be,” I commented.

We sat silently a while.

“Aunt?” I asked.

“Yes, dear?”

“Is there a drugstore in this neighborhood?”

“A chemist?” she translated to British English. “Yes, of course.”

“Good.”

I should get a pregnancy test. Just to check.

“If you go out of the door and go left, then head up Astwell street and walk about...um...fifty meters, you'll be facing it.”

“I'll go there after breakfast,” I said.

“Good. If there's something you need...? I have a spare toothbrush, toothpaste, headache pills...”

“It's okay,” I said quickly. “I'll go later.”

I finished my coffee in the silence of her kitchen.

“Hello?” Someone called out from the hallway.

“Ah. That'll be breakfast,” Aunt smiled at me. I felt my cheeks flame with color as Drake walked in.

“Sweetie.” He kissed my hair and I blushed at showing intimacy in front of his aunt, but she had got up from the table and had her back to us, rummaging round in the cupboards over the sink.

“Hi,” I said, standing and kissing him.

He smiled and squeezed my hand, eyes shining in a way that promised a good time later if we were on our own. I smiled, heart thumping in my chest.

“I brought the milk, Aunt. And eggs. And beans in tomato paste.”

“Perfect,” she sang out. “Put them there on the counter.” As she turned to face us, she tied on a smart linen apron. She put her hands on her hips and surveyed us a moment. “I'll start cooking. Who fancies a full English breakfast?”

We both laughed.

“We have to try one,” Drake said. “We are in England now, after all.”

“Yes,” his aunt said firmly. “You are.”

We were all laughing as we set about preparing a proper English breakfast.

The morning passed by with pleasantries and planning and it was afternoon by the time I slipped away to the drugstore. I found it easily enough and found the pregnancy test.

“That's all, love?” the lady behind the counter asked sweetly.

“Yes. Thank you,” I murmured.

“Right. Two pounds.”

I shook my head, realizing with some embarrassment that I hadn't even thought about drawing cash – I had twenty dollars in my wallet, but that wasn't much use here!

“Uh...do you take cards?”

“Of course. If you'll just pop it in that slot there?” she said, pointing to the card-machine on the counter.

I did so and waited anxiously while the transaction went through.

“There we are, love,” she said, handing me the paper bag.

“Thank you,” I said softly. I left clutching the thing in my fist, my whole body tense with nerves.

At home, I excused myself from the kitchen – aunt and Drake were engaged in making a cake for teatime – and headed up to the room. I opened the test with trembling fingers and used it.

I waited the ten minutes for the result, pacing the room in an agony of tension.

What am I going to do? What will I do if I am? How can I tell Drake..?

I looked at the clock and closed my eyes. Ten past three. Time to check.

It was positive.

I sat down heavily on the bed and closed my eyes. What was I going to do?

Relief – I wasn't dying after all – competed with wonder and horror. They all mixed into a cocktail of indecision that left me sitting on the bed, biting my nails with tension.

I must have sat there for about half an hour, staring emptily at the window, my mind racing. Someone came up the stairs. The door shook slightly with a tentative knocking.

“Ainsley?”

“Drake,” I said.

He came in. I had hidden the test in the trash-can under the dressing-table. I had no idea what to say.

“Sweetie!” he said. He looked at my face in horror. “What is it?”

He sat down on the bed and covered my face with kisses, cupping it gently in his hand.

I shook my head. Abruptly, I burst into tears.

I had no idea what to do. I was here all alone. We were fugitives. How could I burden Drake with this crazy news – the news that he was going to be a father? I let him hold me and I cried onto his shoulder.

“Ainsley,” he was murmuring into my hair. “My sweetheart. What is it? What's the matter? Tell me. It can't be that bad. Nothing's so bad if we face it together.”

I sniffed. “Truly?”

“Yes,” he said, squeezing my hand tenderly. “Trust me?”

I wanted to tell him. I just had no idea how. Trust, Ainsley.

I leaned against his shoulder and whispered in his ear.

“Drake?”

“Uh huh?”

“I'm carrying your baby.”