Great, she thought, wondering if he had legged it out of the country.
Determined not to sit in the house moping, she called the doctor’s, who could only see her at 5 p.m. anyway. Throwing on a tracksuit, she went to the grocery store on Macrossan Street, filling up her basket with healthy things. At the chemist she bought another pregnancy test, running through the process the second she returned home, chewing her nails on the edge of the bath as she waited for the pink line to appear. ‘No question now,’ she said as she buried it at the bottom of the trash can.
When Gabriel got back to the cottage at midday, Grace was busy in the kitchen making a chicken salad. He came up behind her and embraced her awkwardly.
‘How are you feeling?’
She forced a smile. ‘I’m pregnant, not ill, Gabe.’
She brought two plates across to the table and sat down.
‘So what did the producer want?’ she asked as they began to eat.
His face became animated. ‘Apparently the studio want to green-light Beachcombers. They bought the options a couple of years ago but the studio head loves the rushes to Cast No Shadows and want to get something else into production.’
Grace put down her fork. ‘Oh Gabe, that’s fantastic.’
They smiled at each other, both pretending that this strained normality was real, that they were just a couple discussing Gabriel’s day at work. Finally Gabriel cracked, pushing his plate away and burying his head in his hands.
‘I’m sorry, Grace,’ he said, rubbing his palms into his eyes. ‘I’ve been terrible, haven’t I? I just don’t know how to ... it’s all just such a surprise.’
She reached out and touched his hand gently. ‘I understand,’ she said. ‘I’m a twenty-two-year-old Brit on a gap year in Australia. This time yesterday my biggest concern was whether Caro would ever buy a pint of milk for the house. And now I’m having a baby.’
He nodded, looking up at her. ‘Do you want to keep it?’
She had expected it of course, but still she didn’t want to answer the question. She wanted him to come around the table and hold her, reassure her, tell her it was all OK, whatever happened. She didn’t want to make life-changing choices sitting at her kitchen table, looking down at chicken wings.
‘Well, what do you think?’ she said. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer, but she still needed to ask.
His dark eyes darted away. ‘You might not be pregnant. Let’s discuss it after the doctor’s.’
‘I’ve done two tests, Gabe . . .’
‘This is the biggest decision we will make in our lives,’ he said irritably. ‘We can’t just discuss it like we’re deciding where to go out for dinner.’
‘And the one thing we can’t do is pretend it’s not happening.’
She broke off as the phone began to ring in the next room.
‘Are you going to answer that?’ he asked flatly.
Glaring at him, she walked through to pick up the receiver, then put her head round the door to call Gabe.
‘It’s for you,’ she said, holding it out to him.
He looked as puzzled as she was. Gabriel lived in a luxurious hotel suite; that was where he did his business and he’d never received a call at Grace’s before.
Grace retreated back into the kitchen, but she could hear Gabriel speaking rapidly in his native tongue, too fast to keep up with her schoolgirl Spanish, but she could tell it was serious. For several minutes he was silent, then he marched back into the kitchen and snatched up the keys to his jeep.
‘Gabe, what is it?’ she asked. ‘Where are you going?’
‘Out!’ he shouted. ‘I need to . . . I’ve got to . . .’
He paced around the room, his fist gripping the car keys so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. She went across and wrapped her arms around him, but he wriggled from her grip.
&nb
sp; ‘Please, Grace, don’t,’ he said.