Page 12 of Christmas Spirits at Honeywell House (Ghosts of Rowan Vale #3)

It was a long wait until Thursday morning, when I’d finally managed to wangle an appointment with the doctor. I’d somehow managed to keep my secret from Jack, still dazed enough with my own thoughts. The last thing I needed was him chipping in with his, confusing me even more.

Callie had promised to come with me, and, in fact, she drove me to Kingsford Wold, where the surgery was, insisting that, if her suspicions were confirmed, I’d be in no fit state to drive myself home.

I felt pretty bad about it, as I knew she had enough on her plate. The village was being decorated with fairy lights even as we left, and she’d no doubt want to be on hand to make sure everything was going to plan.

‘Mia and Brodie are on it,’ she reassured me as I voiced my concern. ‘They’ll manage just fine. This is more important.’

‘I’m not pregnant,’ I told her for probably the hundredth time, as we parked up in the health centre car park. ‘It’s not possible.’

As soon as I’d got home from Much Melton, I’d dug out one of the pregnancy tests I’d bought after missing a period when the perimenopause started. It was negative. And so was the one I did the following day. Whatever this was, it wasn’t a baby, and the alternatives scared me to death.

‘Have you really had no symptoms?’ she asked, turning off the engine and facing me, a puzzled look in her eyes. ‘I mean, you’ve had three kids. You must have realised…’

‘No! I’ve told you, I’m not pregnant. It’s something else.’

‘Like what?’ she asked doubtfully.

‘I don’t know.’ Truthfully, I had my own thoughts on the matter, but it was too terrifying to put into words. Let’s just say I’d googled Mary Tudor a lot over the last few days. ‘Wind?’ I suggested faintly. Hadn’t Mary died not long after her second phantom pregnancy?

‘Well,’ she said, opening the door, ‘if it is wind, I hope I’m standing far, far away when it finally blows. You look like you’ve swallowed a beach ball.’

‘Cheers.’

But it was true, and the thing I couldn’t understand was how I hadn’t noticed. I’d just assumed I was getting fat. Overeating junk food, I’d thought. That and the middle-aged spread that seemed inevitable when women hit the perimenopause.

I’d read loads of articles about it over the last year.

A thickening of the waist was par for the course, according to the women’s magazines.

I’d just bought trousers with elasticated waists and tried not to think about it.

I shouldn’t have avoided the mirrors at home.

What if I’d left it too late? What if this huge lump was something…

‘I feel sick,’ I groaned, on the verge of tears.

‘Morning sickness?’

‘Hardly! How many times? I’m not pregnant. It’s got to be something else. I just hope they can sort it out.’

Callie said nothing, but she hooked her arm through mine as we headed towards the surgery. ‘Well, we’ll soon find out.’

Dr Allam was brisk and no-nonsense. He listened to my tale of woe and my assertions that, however large my stomach looked in the mirror, I couldn’t possibly be growing a baby in there because the pregnancy tests said so, and anyway, I’d know , then said, ‘Well, let’s see, shall we?’

I climbed onto the examination table and pulled my jogging bottoms down under my stomach. Dr Allam gently prodded and pushed, his face kept carefully neutral so I couldn’t read his expression.

‘Mm.’ Was all he said. Then, ‘Okay, you can come and sit down now.’

He washed his hands and sat at his desk as I shakily took the seat opposite him, bracing myself for bad news.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘despite your earlier diagnosis, it’s not wind.’

‘Okay,’ I said jokily. ‘Relief all round, right?’

‘I hope so,’ he said. His expression softened and he said kindly, ‘You are most definitely pregnant, Mrs Milsom. Did you really have no idea?’

I gaped at him. ‘But – but you said I was experiencing the perimenopause!’

‘It’s perfectly possible to get pregnant during the perimenopause,’ he said. ‘Not as likely, but certainly possible.’

‘But…’ I couldn’t take it in. ‘But the pregnancy tests…’

‘When exactly did you buy them?’

‘When I first skipped a period.’ I thought about it. It was hard to remember. My menstrual cycle had been all over the place for so long now. ‘About eighteen months ago, maybe.’

‘There are expiry dates on these things, you know. A year from the manufacturing date, some of them. Three years at best. If yours was out of date it wouldn’t be accurate.’

I rubbed my forehead, finding it hard to process. ‘How far along am I, exactly?’

‘Prepare yourself for a shock. You’re well into the third trimester.

What I need to do is to book you in for an ultrasound,’ he said, reaching for his pen.

‘That must be a priority. You’ve missed out on antenatal care so far, so we need to get this sorted as soon as possible.

That will tell you your due date, and make sure that everything’s progressing as it should, given that you claim not to have felt the baby moving.

Now, while you’re here, I’ll do a quick blood pressure check, and do you think you’d be able to fill a sample bottle? I’d like to check your urine.’

I just couldn’t take it in. How could I have had three babies and not recognised that I was carrying this one? And – hang on! Had he just said third trimester ?

Bloody hell!

How on earth was I going to explain this to Jack?

* * *

‘I still think you should have told him,’ Callie muttered as we headed into the ultrasound department at the nearest hospital the following Tuesday. ‘Jack’s your husband. He’s the baby’s father. He has a right to know.’

‘And he will,’ I said. ‘Once I’m sure there’s a baby in there.’

Callie stared at me. ‘Clara! The doctor did a physical examination and confirmed it. You did two new pregnancy tests when you got home – both positive. You look like you’re about to pop at any moment. What more proof do you need?’

‘An ultrasound,’ I said firmly. ‘I want to see an actual baby in there and then I’ll believe it.’

Because I still couldn’t. I knew I’d been a bit absent-minded in recent months, but even I couldn’t be so ditsy that I wouldn’t notice I was pregnant. I just couldn’t.

‘Do you want me to come in with you?’ Callie asked gently. She must have seen the sheer bewilderment on my face. ‘I’d be happy to if it would help.’

I shook my head. ‘It’s okay. It wouldn’t be fair if you saw the baby before Jack.’ Or anything else they might discover, for that matter. ‘If,’ I added quickly, ‘there really is a baby in there.’

‘Fair enough, but I’ll be right out here if you need me,’ she assured me, taking a seat as I was led into the dimly lit ultrasound room by the sonographer, a tiny woman with dark hair and a beaming smile.

As instructed, I lay down and lifted my jumper, pushing my leggings down a little so the sonographer could prepare me for the procedure. I was desperate for the loo, having been warned to drink plenty of fluid before the scan. I just hoped this wouldn’t take too long.

‘Is no one with you?’ she enquired.

‘My husband’s at work,’ I explained. ‘My friend’s waiting outside but I wanted to do this alone.’

‘It’s your first scan, is that right?’ She raised an eyebrow as she tucked tissue paper into my turned-down waistband. ‘Well, for this pregnancy at any rate. Looks like you’re quite far along.’

‘I think it’s all been a terrible mistake,’ I said shakily.

‘When I had my other children, you could see I was pregnant. No mistaking it. I looked like I had a rugby ball stuffed under my T-shirt. But this,’ I said, glancing down at the hillock she was currently spreading cold gel on, ‘is just big and round…’

I mean, I was a few pounds heavier than I had been the last time I was pregnant. Well, more than a few. But surely it didn’t make that much difference?

Now that the moment of truth was here, I felt as if my heart was about to burst out of my chest. What if the scan did reveal something sinister, as I feared?

She smiled kindly as she sat down in front of a monitor and picked up the probe. ‘Let’s see, shall we?’

I barely heard her. My mind was running away with me.

I’d heard of false positive pregnancy tests before, caused by some sort of fatal illness.

Hadn’t I? I was sure I’d seen it on a soap once.

If I was honest, it was why I hadn’t wanted Jack to come with me.

I had to know what I was dealing with before I broke it to him in the gentlest way possible.

The sonographer gently passed the probe over my stomach, peering intently at the monitor as she did so.

It was facing away from me so I couldn’t see anything, and it seemed like forever as she glided the probe up and down, backwards and forwards, repeatedly checking the monitor and adjusting the images.

I turned away and gazed up at the ceiling, blinking away tears of fear.

It was taking far longer than I remembered.

I waited for her to tell me she was going to have to speak to a doctor.

I imagined the doctor arriving back with her, his face grave with sorrow.

I imagined him gently telling me that my GP had been mistaken.

I wasn’t pregnant, and they were really very sorry but there was nothing they could do…

The Christmas tree had arrived in the village that morning.

It would be decorated soon. On Friday there was to be the big switch-on.

The boys were so excited about it. Would I be able to go with them to see the lights go on?

Or would I be in hospital, facing goodness knows what? Would I even make Christmas?

How, I wondered tearfully, would they cope without me?

‘Well,’ said a cheerful voice beside me, ‘everything looks absolutely fine here.’

I blinked, my attention snapping back to the sonographer. ‘I’m sorry?’

She beamed at me. ‘Baby’s doing really well, by the looks of things. I’ll turn the monitor round so you can see.’

Before I could catch my breath, she turned the thing round and, there on the screen was…

‘It’s a baby,’ I breathed.

She laughed. ‘Sure is. Listen.’

The room was flooded with the most reassuring sound in the world. A baby’s heartbeat, tootling along like a miniature steam train. It reminded me of the times I’d first heard my boys’ hearts beating inside of me. I burst into tears.

‘Aw, bless you,’ she said sympathetically. ‘Have you been very worried?’

‘I didn’t believe it,’ I said, wiping my eyes with the sleeve of my jumper.

‘I don’t understand any of this. How can I be pregnant and not know it?

I’ve had three healthy boys. I knew I was pregnant with Freddie – my youngest – before I’d even missed a period, because I just felt it.

I was so sick, too. I’ve had no symptoms with this one. Nothing.’

‘Hmm.’ She tilted her head, thinking. ‘It’s what we call a cryptic pregnancy. They’re rare but they do happen. Are you sure you’ve had no symptoms? Nothing at all?’

‘Well…’ I tried desperately to think. ‘Obviously my periods were erratic and light. But I did have them,’ I added, as if defending myself from accusations of sheer stupidity.

‘I mean, I missed a few, but that was just part of the perimenopause. And yes, I felt tired, and my moods have been all over the place, but I thought it was the same thing. You know.’

She nodded. ‘I take it you were using contraception?’

‘Always,’ I said fiercely. ‘Like I said, we’ve got three boys, so we were very careful about that, believe me. I just can’t understand it.’

‘Well,’ she said cheerfully, ‘however it happened, it definitely happened. I see you can’t be certain about the date of your last period, but I would say baby’s due date is around the eleventh of January.’ She whistled. ‘You’d better start shopping for a pram.’

‘Just for starters,’ I said weakly. And how were we going to afford all that?

What was Jack going to say about this? What would the boys think? What about the model village? We didn’t even have a spare room so two of the boys would have to share a bedroom. Oh, they’d hate that…

I gasped suddenly as her words sank in. ‘The eleventh of January ? You mean, I’m already eight months’ pregnant?’

‘Would you like me to fetch your friend?’ she asked gently. ‘You look like you’ve had a shock.’

‘That’s one way of putting it,’ I said, feeling utterly dazed. ‘I just can’t take this in. Oh no!’

I gave her an anguished look as guilt kicked in. ‘I’ve been drinking! I mean, once a week, every week, just about. A couple of glasses of wine at the pub quiz. What if I’ve done something to him? Or her?’

‘Like I said, everything looks fine. Now we know baby is here we’ll make sure you get regular antenatal care. I really wouldn’t worry, although maybe say no to the wine from now on.’ She lifted an eyebrow. ‘Would you like to know the baby’s sex?’

‘Can you tell?’

She glanced back at the monitor and nodded. ‘Oh yes. I can tell.’

I was almost bursting to know, but I knew it wouldn’t be fair on Jack. I’d already kept him in the dark enough. Regretfully, I shook my head. ‘No. It can be a surprise.’

‘Seems like it’s the day for it,’ she said, wiping the gel off my stomach with the tissue paper. ‘Would you like a scan photograph?’

‘Oh, yes please,’ I said gratefully. ‘At least that way I’ll really believe it. And to be honest, I think I’m going to need photographic evidence to convince my husband.’

‘He had his doubts, too, then?’

I gave her a sheepish look. ‘I haven’t told him. I wanted to make sure that everything was okay first.’

‘Ah, well.’ She nodded at me as I sat up and pulled down my jumper. ‘If I were you, I’d make sure he’s sitting down before you break it to him. My word, I’d like to be a fly on the wall in your house tonight!’