She turns. They come face-to-face, almost slamming into each other, and he steadies her with his hands.
“Will!”
“Surprise!” he says, beaming. “Thought I’d pick you up. Though bloody hell, you’re a hard woman to stop. You were charging up that ramp like a cricketer going in to bowl. Didn’t you hear me bellowing?”
“I’m sorry—” She feels winded, as if they really had collided. “I didn’t—I was thinking about something—I—It’s nice to see you!”
Nice to see you? She feels like kicking herself. Nice to see you is what you say to a colleague you bump into at an art gallery, not your husband after a trip away.
“I missed you,” Will says, and he bends and kisses her, his stubble prickling her lips. Hannah feels something twist inside her—not just the baby, but something else, a confusing, contradictory maelstrom of emotions. She wants to return Will’s kiss, burrow into his arms—and she wants to pull away until she figures out how she feels about all this. How can both be true? How can she both love this man and be seriously considering that he may have been lying to her for ten years?
She should trust him. He’s her husband.
She does trust him.
So why isn’t she telling him about the bay window and the drainpipe?
Meanwhile, Will is talking—asking about her trip, asking about Emily, November, Dr. Myers.
“Sounds like it was something you needed to do for your own peace of mind, but it’s all wrapped up now?” he’s saying, and her voice is saying Yes, while her mind is screaming Why are you so keen for me to put a lid on this? Is it because you’re afraid of what I might find?
“You’re very quiet,” he says at last, as she fails to reply to yet another remark. “Are you okay?”
“I’m sorry.” Hannah passes a hand over her forehead. “I—I—yes, I’m fine. I’m just really tired. I don’t know what it is, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck the last few days.”
“Well, you’re, what, nearly twenty-five weeks?” Will says. He kisses the top of her head affectionately. “Six months. Nearly third trimester!”
“Third trimester.” Hannah weighs the words in her mouth, momentarily diverted from her round-and-round about April, into a realization that Will’s right. “Third trimester, bloody hell. We’re nearly there, Will.”
“We nearly are.” He beams down at her, and as he does, the baby gives a great kick, the strongest she’s felt yet, so hard that she stops in her tracks. “What is it? Did you forget something?”
“No, the baby—” She puts her hand to the side of the bump, and to her astonishment, there it is. A long, distinct push against her palm, for all the world as if the baby is trying to force its way out through her skin, like the scene from Alien. “Oh my God, Will, quick.”
Will looks bewildered, uncomprehending, until she grabs his hand and holds it flat against the side of her distended belly, waiting, waiting—and there it comes again. She feels it at the same time as his face lights up.
“Holy mother of God.” Will’s voice is awed. “Was that it? Was that him?”
“It was. It was our baby.” She is beaming, the smile so wide it feels like it’s splitting her face, she can’t help herself. They are standing in the middle of the ramp up from the concourse, people streaming past, banging her case with their suitcases and tutting at the obstacle she and Will are forming, but she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care about anything in that moment, anything apart from the feel of Will’s palm, hot against her taut skin, and the movement of their child inside her.
“Oh my God,” Will says again, very slowly, and his expression is a mixture of shock and delight. “Will he do it again?”
“Excuse me,” a woman in a business suit says acidly, pushing past with unnecessary force. “Could you move aside?”
“I don’t know.” Hannah picks up the case, Will drops his palm from where it was pressed against her stomach and takes the handle from her, and the two of them start moving again, up the ramp. “I think he’s stopped now. But it’s not going to be the last time. I can’t believe you felt it!”
“You can’t believe it? I can’t believe it.” He’s smiling, a great huge smile that crinkles the skin of his cheeks with pure elation. “Our baby. Our baby, Hannah! We’re having a baby!”