Annabel’s hands stung and, with her fingers glowing red from all the bleaching she’d done, she made a mental note to pick up a pair of marigolds the next time she went to the supermarket. Maybe a face mask as well, she considered, thanks to the ammonia gathering in her nostrils. She glanced around the room, and told herself it was worth the hardship. She could eat her dinner off the kitchen counter it was so clean. The floor shone and even the inside of her cupboards smelt fresh. And now they were organised to the point that anyone taking a peek would be forced to question her OCD status.

Finally, she picked up the shopping bag that leaned against the back door and left the room. As she made her way down the hall she paused to pop her head into the lounge, nipping in to straighten an already straight cushion. After a quick scan around, she breathed in the aroma and smiled. There was something quite satisfying about the smell of freshly polished furniture.

Annabel headed up to the bathroom and felt a spring in her step. When she entered the bathroom, she caught sight of herself in the mirror and finally took a moment to acknowledge the reason behind all her efforts. Her stomach did a little somersault and she let out a nervous giggle. If all went to plan, this evening could be the start of something big.

She stared at her reflection and tucked her hair behind her ears. Making a point of taking in every detail, Annabel wondered if she’d see a change in the face staring back at her once she’d achieved her goal. She turned side on and looking at her profile, tried to imagine herself with a heavily pregnant belly. Would she be one of those women who bloomed during pregnancy? She certainly hoped so.

‘Tonight’s the night,’ she said.

Annabel felt a mix of excitement and anxiety; she took a long, deep breath, slowly exhaling in an attempt to calm down. She knew the odds were against her succeeding first time round and, in not wanting her donor to think she was bringing a baby into a pigsty, that she’d probably be scrubbing the house clean for the foreseeable future. Still, as far as anyone knew there was nothing to prevent her from having a baby. The doctor had said so himself. Annabel hadn’t been on the pill for years, so there was no chemical reason to stop her getting pregnant. She just had to hope that all the chemicals in the numerous cleaning products she’d just immersed herself in weren’t about to have their own adverse effect.

‘That’s something else I need to do,’ she said, making another mental note; this time to research the dangers of household cleaning products when it came to a woman’s reproductive system.

The evening ahead felt daunting; Annabel wished Tom would suddenly appear to offer some words of wisdom. He always knew exactly what to do, and say, when it came to difficult situations; when to hold her hand and when to tell her to simply get on with it. She wondered if he was looking down on her, full of support. Or if he felt betrayed somehow? She hoped not. But while her head insisted on the first, her heart didn’t feel quite so sure.

‘Why did you have to leave me?’ she asked.

Her mind drifted back to that awful night, recalling how Tom had nipped out to collect their Chinese take-away, while she busied herself laying the table. A fifteen-minute return journey at best, she hadn’t been surprised to find it taking longer. Tom had always been a people person. He had a habit of getting into conversation with complete strangers and was no doubt chatting to a fellow customer. As the minutes continued to tick by, Annabel decided to give him a call. However, the sound of his mobile filtered into the kitchen and following its direction, she headed out into the hallway only to find he’d forgotten to take it with him. Typical, she thought, abruptly ending the call. Annabel began to feel uneasy. Minutes had turned into hours, but insisting Tom was fine, she told herself she was worrying about nothing. The car must have broken down and he had no way of letting her know. Or, maybe someone else’s vehicle had failed and he’d stopped to help them fix it ... . She felt relief when she finally heard a knock at the door, and realising Tom had obviously forgotten his key too, she raced out to let him in. ‘Thank goodness,’ she said, flinging the door open. ‘I was starting to panic.’

‘Mrs. Woods?’ said the police officer, who was standing there.

Annabel quickly wiped the tears away. There was no point in crying. After all, if there was one thing she’d learned over the years it was that tears didn’t bring him back. Besides, as much as she missed Tom, tonight was about moving forward, getting on with the future, not languishing in the past. ‘A future you’re meant to be embracing, remember.’

Annabel took another deep breath and, tried free her mind of all things sad.

Ready to get back to the task at hand, she pulled a pack of scented candles out of the shopping bag and opening up the packaging, began dotting them about the room. Of course, Dan might not want to use them, she considered; he might even find her mood inducing touches a bit silly under the circumstances. Yet, creating the right ambience felt important to her, even it is proved less so to him.

Annabel reached into the bag again and took out a little glass measuring jar. She hadn’t paid it much attention when she’d bought it, but looking at it now, it reminded her of the ones she’d used way back when during Science class. Its technical appearance certainly contrasted with the candles, but she refused to see her baby as some scientific project, no matter how its conception occurred. She decided to dismiss the jar altogether and simply put it to one side before moving onto her next purchase.

Annabel emptied the bag of its final contents; she could still feel her embarrassment at having to buy a couple of porn magazines. While loitering in the aisle for at least twenty minutes, she thought the young chap browsing through Biker’s Weekly would never move on. Eventually, plucking up the courage, she quickly reached up and grabbed the nearest two, hiding them in her trolley under the potatoes. With nobody able to see them, she quite happily got on with the rest of her shopping, adding a box of cereal, a cooked chicken, and a jar of coffee along the way.

But then she reached the till.

She began to cringe and realised that she had no choice but to place the magazines on the conveyor belt along with all of her other purchases. A conveyor belt, she noted, that seemed particularly slow on this occasion. Annabel tried not to put them too close to the glass jar, but could swear the giggling from behind meant that someone had made the connection. Despite flushing red, she did her best to ignore them.

The till operator smirked as she swiped the magazines over the bar code sensor and, while looking Annabel directly in the eyes, seemed to purposefully place them on top of the food mound for all to see. ‘That will be forty-eight pounds and twenty,’ she said.

Desperate to get out of there, the last thing Annabel wanted was to have to wait for change and, fumbling in her purse, she tried to come up with the right amount of cash. While counting it out to the last penny, she almost had to stop herself from throwing the money at the woman, doing her best to hold her head high. Finally, she could make her exit, and raced to the doors. At last, out in the fresh air, she just thanked goodness there were other supermarkets she could go to from now on.

Annabel couldn’t help but feel a little disheartened as she took in her purchases. Not only did they look pitiful, but this certainly wasn’t how she’d envisaged her inauguration into motherhood. Even so, she supposed needs must; after all, getting pregnant wasn’t exactly something she could do on her own.

She let out a long, hard sigh and checked her watch. ‘Thirty minutes and counting,’ she said.

* * *

Dan shook the deodorant can, trying to get at the last dregs of spray. Despite almost covering himself in the stuff, he still felt hot and bothered. He’d never slept with a complete stranger before and the strain of knowing that’s what he was about to do was clearly taking its toll. He felt nervous as hell, worried he wouldn’t be able to perform. Yes, Annabel was gorgeous; he’d have to be blind not to see that. But stress could play cruel games when it came to a man’s anatomy; especially when the pressure was on.

He wished he could be more like his mate Richard, a man who’d bed a different woman every night of the week given half the chance. Unlike him though, Dan more often than not preferred to get to know someone before sleeping with them. No wonder he felt nervous. Apart from their initial meeting in the pub and bumping into her in the street that day, he hadn’t clapped eyes on Annabel since. They’d spoken on the phone, of course, and to be fair, Annabel had seemed just as nervy as him about the whole thing; as well as being surprised that he’d actually agreed to do this. Now he began to ask himself why?

He grabbed his jeans and while pulling them on, he suddenly paused, as an unwanted thought entered his head. ‘What if she doesn’t want to sleep with me?’ he asked. Unwelcome images of being shown to the bathroom appeared in his mind; he being forced to do the business solo as while she watched TV in another room, turkey-baster at the ready. A situation he considered way more embarrassing than the both of them jumping into bed together. ‘No,’ he said. ‘She wouldn’t. Would she?’ He shook the very idea away, telling himself he was just being daft. They might not have talked about the actual practicalities of getting Annabel pregnant, but he couldn’t see her putting him through that.

He continued to dress, wondering what his baby might look like; whether he, or she, would inherit his pale blue eyes and unruly blonde hair. Annabel had made it clear that Dan would be the father in DNA terms only; that once the deed was done he’d be out of the picture. But that didn’t stop him secretly hoping she’d change her mind once the baby was born. Or that there’d be something a bit more visual to indicate paternity, something obvious to back up the science. He almost laughed, forced to ask where this desire for a mini me had come from. He found it pathetic; he’d always viewed himself as more of a forward thinker.

Then again, he supposed becoming a donor was bound to raise issues. It could even explain why he’d been thinking about his own dad a lot more recently. Questioning how different his life would have been had his father lived?

My father, Dan thought. A man, who to all intents and purposes had taken good care of himself, yet had still only managed a relatively short innings. Thinking about it, his dad hadn’t been much older than he was now when he’d passed away and surely if it could happen to him, it could happen to anyone.

Dan knew such a fear was irrational, but he had to wonder if his dad’s mortality had somehow informed his decision to go ahead with Annabel’s request. It would certainly explain his sudden need to let the world know his seed had what it takes. After all, without this opportunity, there might never be any living proof he’d ever personally existed. He thought about his dad’s death again, knowing that if he remained childless there’d be no one left to continue the family name.

‘That’s a point,’ he said. ‘Will this baby even have my name?’

After acknowledging there was more to this agreement than he’d fully appreciated, Dan couldn’t help but sigh. It was as if he had an angel sitting on each of his shoulders. One cheering him on, insisting he was doing the right thing, even if the finer details did still need ironing out; the other frowning and shaking its head, telling him that becoming a father was best left until he found the right woman.

‘The right woman,’ Dan scoffed. Picturing his mother with her long list of demands on the daughter-in-law front, he couldn’t even be sure there was a strong enough candidate out there.

He checked his reflection in the mirror and, refusing to be swayed, once again told himself that he was just being silly. Going for casual yet smart, he wanted to create the right impression without being too formal. ‘Not bad,’ he said, liking what he saw. He turned his attention to the bedside cabinet and grabbed an envelope out of the drawer. Not the nicest of documents, he had to admit, but thanks to Annabel’s insistence on a test at least he knew for certain that he was clean, that he wasn’t carrying any STDs. He stuffed it into his pocket and took a deep breath in anticipation of the evening ahead. Now all he had to do was get past his over inquisitive mum without giving the game away, a task that could prove harder than having sex on demand.

Making his way downstairs, he found her at the kitchen table pawing over some fancy travel magazine. ‘Planning on going somewhere?’ he asked.

She looked up. ‘No, not really, but a girl can dream.’

Her response surprised Dan. His mum was always organising a trip to somewhere or another. In fact, aside of himself, her travelling expeditions were what she lived for.

He clocked her taking in his attire and she suddenly perked up.

‘Unlike you, by the looks of things. Anyone I know?’

‘Yes, as a matter of fact,’ said Dan. Obviously keen to know more, Dan saw her eyes widen and he couldn’t help but smile. The woman could be so predictable. ‘I’m meeting up with Richard, if you must know.’

‘Oh,’ she said.

Her eagerness turned to flat out disappointment, leaving Dan doing his best to hide his amusement. ‘I’ll pass on your regards, shall I?’ he asked.

He knew he shouldn’t tease, but lately she’d gone from being interested in his love life to bordering on obsessive, something he was sure nobody else’s son had to put up with.

‘Apparently Maeve and her new man have broken up,’ she ventured. ‘I could give Missy a call if you like?’

‘No thanks,’ he replied. ‘A few beers with Richard will do me fine.’

Regardless of any entertainment value, Dan hated lying to her. Although, under the circumstances he didn’t think he had a choice. Not that the baby issue on its own concerned him. His mum had always had a live and let live approach to life. However, this live and let live theory might be alright when it came to other people’s children, but would she really extend the courtesy when it came to her own offspring? He took in her expression; the look of blighted hope was enough to answer the question in itself. Of course she wouldn’t.

He decided to move the conversation on. ‘What about you? No belly dancing, didgeridoo practice or whatever else it is you get up to tonight?’

His mum chuckled. ‘You know full well I don’t play the didgeridoo.’

Glad to see his mum smile, he leaned down and kissed her on the forehead ready to make his exit. ‘Don’t wait up,’ he said, heading for the door.

‘Maeve’s a very nice girl, you know.’ his mum suddenly called after him. ‘You could do worse.’

Despite trying to hide it, the desperation in his mother’s voice caused Dan to stop in his tracks. Feeling suspicious, she either had a good idea he was up to something and this was a last ditch attempt at stopping him; or, she was up to something herself. Whichever of the two, neither option boded well.

He quickly recalled his numerous phone calls with Annabel, mentally double checking that each and every one of them had taken place out of his mother’s earshot. And knowing that, short of him talking in his sleep, there was no way she could be on to him, Dan realised this could only mean one thing. The woman had plans afoot of her own.

‘Mum,’ he said, turning to face her. ‘What’s going on?’

She didn’t reply, her sudden silence on the matter increased his curiosity.

‘Mum?’ he repeated.

Whatever was on her mind, he could see she didn’t want to tell him. Dan just hoped she hadn’t taken her need to match-make one step further and organised some sort of blind date. Or worse still, booked the church for a wedding, something he wouldn’t have put past her of late.

She patted the seat next to her, indicating he should sit down and wondering what this was all about, he accepted the invitation.

‘Just promise me,’ she said. ‘That you’ll be married, or at least settled, before I pop my clogs.’

Dan laughed. At least this meant she hadn’t ordered a hat. But still, talk like this was way over the top, even for his mother.

His mum failed to share in his amusement and maintained her air of solemnity as she placed a hand on his. ‘Promise me,’ she said.

He decided to play along. The woman might be a tad eccentric, but they both knew she had years left in her; therefore, it was a vow he could easily make. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I promise.’

He rose to his feet but she reached up to stop him.

‘Come on, Dan. I’m being serious.’

The sincerity in her face began to worry him and he found himself sitting back down again. ‘I know, Mum,’ he said. ‘And so am I.’

She took his hand once more and Dan felt her grip tighten. Confused, he watched her take a deep breath, as if gathering her thoughts.

‘Mum, what’s wrong?’ he asked.

‘There’s something I need to tell you,’ she replied. ‘Something I should have told you before now, but every time I tried I couldn’t find the right words.’ She paused, bringing a hand up to her mouth. ‘God, this is so hard.’

Dan suddenly felt frightened. ‘What’s so hard? You should have told me what?’

As his mother looked at him, he saw tears beginning to form in her eyes.

‘I’m sick, Dan,’ she said. ‘Very sick.’