Part 11 (1/2)

Gabby is trying very hard to pretend her night with Matt never happened. Immediately afterwards, when they had consummated their l.u.s.t, when the full impact of what she had done was already hitting, Gabby found it hard to even look at Matt.

All of a sudden they were moving around each other awkwardly, until Gabby dropped the pretence that they would be spending the rest of the evening together; she even invented a headache so she could drive him back to the hotel.

Matt was puzzled. Hurt. He could see that she deeply regretted what they'd done and he tried to talk to her, to reach out to her, but she'd retreated so far within herself that, in the end, he gave up trying. He understood she was doing what she had to do.

She went home and stood under scalding water in the shower for twenty-five minutes, attempting to wash away the stain of her betrayal. She put on her fluffiest, most comforting pyjamas, and curled up in bed, phoning Elliott, wanting to be enveloped in the safety of his voice.

Every morning since that night, after she awakes, the shame and guilt of her betrayal come flooding back. Some days she feels so disgusted with herself, so filled with remorse, she can't look Elliott in the eye, and she screams at him over nothing, not because she is angry with him, but because she is so angry with herself.

Other days, overwhelmed with love, or with fear that he will leave, she is s.e.xually voracious, pus.h.i.+ng him onto the bed, taking him in her mouth, desperate to prove to him how much she loves him, how much she still wants him. She is terrified that this is the only way she can keep him.

Never has she wanted Elliott as much as she has since she betrayed him. Never has she been more aware of the fragility of marriage, of a relations.h.i.+p that once seemed so unbreakable, so strong.

And now that it is over she cannot believe she has spent months of her life obsessing over another man. The minute it was over, everything was over. She never wanted to see him again.

A week later Matt emailed her. He thanked her for a lovely time, said he hoped she was okay, that they would still be friends. There was nothing flirtatious in the email, nothing leading, but Gabby, sick with shame when she saw his name in her inbox, wrote back to say it was better if they didn't speak for a while.

She had tremendous affection for him, she said, but it should never have happened and she needed to refocus on her family. Matt didn't write again after that, and Gabby didn't expect him to.

She sensed that the email exchange a brief but warm a was closure for both of them. There was nothing further that needed to be said, and she was able to walk away without hating him, or blaming him, or wanting anything more from him than he had already given.

He had already given too much.

Or perhaps she had taken too much. Either way, Gabby knew, even before it was over, that it would never happen again. Not just with Matt, but she never again will she jeopardize everything she cares about, never again will she be unfaithful, no matter how great the temptation.

She would do anything to go back in time and change what happened, and is hopeful that every pa.s.sing day that brings normality with it will help her transgression feel more and more like a dream.

It still burns, that nugget of guilt, each time she and Elliott make love. At times it feels as if she is play-acting at being herself, at being the kind of woman who is loyal, faithful, who would never betray her husband.

She cannot change it, but she can hope to learn from it and protect those around her from being hurt by it.

She wasn't caught. No one knows. She does not have to live in fear of Elliott waking up and asking who she is typing to at three o'clock in the morning. It is something of a relief to look at her inbox now and not see an email from Matt. It is something of a relief to sleep through the night, not waking up several times in the early hours, reaching over for her iPhone to see if he has been in touch. It is something of a relief to not have to lie, or deceive, or withhold, any more.

Gabby did a terrible thing, but it was one time only. She did a terrible thing but she has to try to forgive herself and move on. The terrible thing served only to prove how much she loves her husband; how lucky she is. She will never make that mistake again.

Three months later, however, she is still feeling sick with shame, although she is convinced her hormones have something to do with her sickness, her crazy mood swings.

Finally, thank heavens, she has a doctor's appointment.

Please G.o.d, she thinks, let the doctor put me on something that will make this all better. Please let them have a pill that will make me feel normal once more.

Please let me have my life back, and I'll never do anything wrong again.

The gynaecologist comes back in the room with a large smile on his face. As he walks over and sits behind his desk he asks, *Do you want the good news or the good news?'

Gabby stares at her OB/GYN, mystified. *What's the good news?'

*The good news is you're not going through menopause.'

She breathes a sigh of relief. As mentally prepared as Gabby thought she was, menopause would mean she had crossed to the other side, and she isn't old enough for that. Not yet. *Great. So what's the good news?'

*Congratulations, Gabby! You're pregnant!'

PART TWO.

Chapter Sixteen.

It is three days since Gabby's visit to the doctor. Three days since everything in her life was destroyed. Three days of acting as if everything is normal, trying to put off the pain she knows is inevitable, unavoidable.

Each morning she wakes up with a sense of something not being right, then the full force of what it is shocks her into consciousness.

*Mom? What's going on?' Even Olivia, usually so wrapped up in herself, has noticed. *You don't seem like yourself.'

Gabby forces a tight smile. *I'm fine,' she says.

But she isn't fine. How can she be fine?

For three days Gabby has been replaying in her mind the scene in the OB/GYN office. She is aware that even as the doctor's p.r.o.nouncement reverberated in her head, the horror of his words was mixed with immediate, but secret, elation at carrying a new life, at having the one thing she has always wanted. Just not in this way.

*You're pregnant ... You're pregnant ... You're pregnant ...'

Gabby could only stare at her doctor as the static built in her head.

*What?' Her voice was barely a whisper.

*I know,' he said, with a laugh. *A lot of my older mothers are surprised, particularly when they're convinced their lack of menstruation is due to menopause, but I'd say a' he looked down at his notes as she fought a wave of nausea a *judging from the date of your last period, you're about fourteen weeks. Obviously we can be more specific when we do the scan, which we'd like to do today, plus the blood work. You can talk to Jacqui outside about making an appointment with the genetics counsellor before you go. Given how late you are, we need to get you in as soon as possible. This afternoon would be best.' He looked at Gabby kindly. *I can see this is a shock. Do you have any questions you'd like to ask me?'

Gabby's voice was low and quiet. *What are the chances of getting pregnant after a vasectomy?'

The doctor stared at her, the smile sliding off his face as comprehension dawned. *Oh dear,' he said, with no idea what to say next.

She went straight in for the nuchal scan, lying on the table, still numb, still unable to believe this was happening. The baby couldn't be Elliott's, and no further lies would change that or give her an opportunity to spin it in any way other than the awful, shattering truth. She stared at the ceiling, blinking back her tears, as the sonographer put the warm gel on her belly. She didn't want to look at the screen, didn't want any of this to be real, but it was. Burying her head in the sand wasn't an option any more, but still she couldn't look at the screen; she wasn't willing to see the tangible evidence of what she had done.

Naive enough to think she had got away with it, as she lay there Gabby knew, with sudden clarity, that this was her penance. You do not get to betray a man such as Elliott and walk away scot-free. You do not get to play around with your marriage, your future, and expect to get away with it.

*There you are,' the sonographer said, and Gabby was aware of the worried glance she gave as she tried to draw Gabby's attention to the screen. Gabby supposed most new mothers, particularly the older ones, do not lie staring at the ceiling, tears streaming down their cheeks, during their first scan. *What a perfect picture!' the sonographer continued, and Gabby slowly, reluctantly, turned her head, not wanting to look, but unable not to.

There it was. On the screen, in a hazy blur of greys, an unmistakable life: a perfect curled-up baby, thumb brought up to his mouth, tiny legs furled inwards. No amount of guilt and shame could prevent the magic of that moment stealing up and catching Gabby in its grasp.

*A good, strong, healthy heartbeat.' The sonographer stopped moving the wand for a few seconds and Gabby's eyes widened with wonder. A baby! Her baby. The life she had wanted for so long, a life she thought she would never be privileged enough to create. Not again, not after Olivia and Alanna.

She caught her breath, taking in every curve, wanting to stop time, wanting to lie there, on that table, and drink in the marvel of the moment for ever.