“No,” April said coolly. “Hannah and I are going to the bar. Are you coming?”
Hannah had expected Ryan to give April the brush-off, but instead, somewhat to her surprise, he nodded.
“All right. I need a pint. And you—” He pointed a finger at April. “Fifty quid or no fifty quid, you’re buying. Got it?”
“Got it,” April said. She linked arms with Ryan and gave him a little squeeze, and then said in her plummy fake professor voice, “You love me really, Mr. Coates, you know you do.”
“I do fucking not,” Ryan said. But the edge was gone from his voice, and when April dug him in the ribs, he tickled her back, making her laugh and squeal and writhe away, and then chased her all the way down the stairs and across the quad, the rest of them following in their wake.
“Assault!” April shrieked as they rounded the corner of the library. “Bad touch!”
“Oh my God,” Will groaned as the two disappeared through the dark shapes of the rose garden. “I swear, she’ll be the death of me. She’ll kill me, Hannah. She really will.”
“But you love her,” Hannah said lightly. “Don’t you?”
Afterwards she wondered if it was her imagination, the way Will paused and then looked away before answering, not meeting her eyes.
“I do,” he said at last, and then gave a laugh. “Of course I do. You know what they say—can’t live with her, can’t live without her. Right?”
“Right,” Hannah echoed. Hugh and Emily had outpaced them, and she and Will were alone in the winter-clipped rose garden, and the college was silent and empty in the way only a sprawling building full of several hundred students and dons could sometimes inexplicably be. “Of course you do.”
AFTER
It’s closer to fifteen minutes later that Hannah climbs the stairs, sweating profusely, to the waiting room at the midwifery clinic, clutching her maternity notes in one hand and her bag in the other. Her face is scarlet and her heart is hammering. How could she have forgotten the appointment?
As she enters, a doorway on the far side of the waiting room opens and a woman’s head pops out.
“Are you Hannah de Chasting?”
“Yes! I’m so sorry.” She is trying not to pant too obviously.
“It’s fine, come on through.”
Hannah follows her into the little office and sits on the hard plastic chair, shrugging off her coat for what she already knows is coming. She feels a bead of sweat run down the hollow of her spine and squirms against the chair back to stop the tickle.
“Got your notes?” the midwife asks.
Hannah nods and passes over the folder.
“And your sample?”
“Oh God.” Hannah puts her hand to her forehead. “I’m so sorry—in all the kerfuffle I totally forgot—”
“It’s okay, you can do one after. So we are…” She looks at a calendar by her desk. “Twenty-two plus four, is that right? Okay. Let’s get you up on the couch and we’ll measure the bump.”
Nodding again, Hannah moves across to the couch and lies down, trying not to ruck up the giant roll of toilet paper stretched across the slippery cover. Her dress is stretchy jersey, and lying like this she can see the still faintly surprising bulge of her stomach, smooth and round beneath the fabric. The midwife takes out a tape measure and measures from her ribs to her pubic bone, then she slips a stethoscope up under Hannah’s dress with a deft movement and listens for a moment before nodding and writing some figures down on Hannah’s notes.
“All good. You’re measuring right on track for twenty-two weeks, and baby’s heartbeat is nice and strong too. Right, sit up.” She helps Hannah upright with a strong, pale arm, and waits while Hannah swings her legs round and off the couch. “Let’s do your blood pressure now.”
She wraps the plastic cuff around Hannah’s arm, chilly against Hannah’s still hot skin, and pumps it up. She presses the stethoscope against Hannah’s inner arm and deflates… counting. Then a little frown creases her brow.
“Hmm, give that a minute and we’ll have another go. Why don’t you try for that sample while we’re waiting. There’s a loo in the hall.”
She hands Hannah a clear vial and nods towards the door, and Hannah obediently slides off the couch and makes her way across the corridor, feeling a little disquieted. In the loo she shuts her eyes, trying to drive out all thoughts of April and Ryan and Geraint, but she can’t seem to banish them and they crowd round her, intruding on her thoughts, pushing into this time that should be about her and her baby.