There was a second of intense quiet before my father started clapping like a recent convert to classical music who is not sure if you are meant to between movements. The others began to join in except Ingrid who just glared back and forth between me and Jonathan, until my mother – beside her – shouted, ‘Whoop de doo, Martha’s pregnant’ over the gathering applause. Ingrid turned to her sharply and said, ‘What? No she isn’t,’ and then to me, ‘You’re not, are you?’
I said no and Ingrid reached for the neck of the bottle my mother was trying to open and wrested it from her. She made Hamish take it as she got off his lap, coming up to where Jonathan and I were standing and somehow compelling him to move so she could hug me without also acknowledging him.
Seeing us like that, everyone seated would have assumed it to be a congratulatory embrace between two sisters. Not the effort of one to comfort the other, speaking quietly into her ear, saying, ‘Don’t worry, she’s drunk, she’s an idiot,’ the effort of the other to stay where she was and not run out of the room because her humiliation was so profound. But the source of it was not my mother. There was no way to tell Ingrid just then that it was Jonathan who had responded to my mother’s pronouncement with mock horror then turned to my father and said, ‘She better not be!’ through gritted teeth. When my father didn’t laugh, Jonathan repeated himself to Rowland who did, and from there it spread along the table.
It was only a half moment, but I did not know where to look as the laughter rose so I kept looking at Jonathan, who was also laughing, although real sweat had formed on his brow.
He did not want children. He told me at the sushi restaurant. I told him I didn’t either and he picked up his glass and said, ‘Wow, the perfect woman.’ It felt decided from the beginning, there had been no need to revisit it. And I was glad, but not happy. The idea of being pregnant was not funny but people were laughing. I did not want to be a mother but the thought that I might, or the image of me becoming one shortly, they appeared to find hilarious.
Except for Patrick, solemn in his place. While the laughter went on, I had met his eye and he smiled, sympathetically – for which bit, I didn’t know – but my mortification was complete. The school friend felt sorry for me.
Before Ingrid and I separated, I said thank you, ‘I love you,’ and lifted my face, a brilliant smile already on it for anyone who might be looking at me.
They were all up from the table. Jonathan and I were brought back together, enveloped in their congratulations. He said, ‘Thanks guys. Full disclosure, I don’t think I’ve been happier in my life. Look at her for God’s sake.’ He picked up my hand and kissed it.
I went into Jonathan’s en suite as soon as I could and was shocked by the unfamiliar version of myself in the mirror. Huge-eyed, with a smile on my face that looked like it had been there when I died and had been hardened by rigor mortis. I put my hands on my cheeks and opened and closed my mouth until it went away. By the time I went back out, Ingrid had gone home.
*
Late that night I took a taxi back to Goldhawk Road. Jonathan apologised for having to go to bed instead of helping me clean up. He hadn’t expected a grand romantic gesture to be so knackering.
As I was being driven over Vauxhall Bridge, Ingrid called and told me to please listen to the reasons she didn’t think I should marry him. ‘This isn’t even all of them, but he never says yes. Always a hundred per cent. Listed among his chief likes, coffee and music. Always says full disclosure before revealing information about himself – usually boring, e.g. I love coffee. Most shots in that slideshow were just of him. Asked you – you of all people – to marry him, in public.’
I said that was enough.
‘He does not know you.’
I asked her to please stop.
‘You do not love him – deep down. You are just a bit lost.’
I said, ‘Ingrid, shut up. I know what I’m doing and anyway, Oliver beat you to it. I don’t need your reasons as well.’
‘But the baby thing, him saying ha ha ha, she better not be.’
I said he was being funny. ‘That’s just what he is like. Underneath he’s incredibly loving. Did you hear what he said immediately afterwards, for God’s sake look at her?’
That one charming thing said or done by Jonathan was sufficient for me to forgive him, Ingrid said, was incredible.
‘I know.’ I hung up, choosing to believe that by incredible, she meant amazing.