So, Elliot is the father of my baby, I tell myself. I try to recall the colour of his eyes. Is he taller than average? Does he drink or smoke? I slept with the guy and saw him at work nearly every day and yet he’s a stranger. What does he like to eat? What does he do in his spare time? Oh, God, what kind of family is he from? What if he has parents who want to be doting grandparents to this child? My child, I think, placing a protective hand on my stomach. If only I didn’t have to tell Elliot. Why can’t this baby have a mum and no dad? Obviously it has to have a dad, biologically speaking, but maybe I keep that information to myself – tell my child when the time is right, or maybe never.

I lower my forehead until it’s resting on the table. Scott was right – I wanted Pete to be the father. Worse, I’d let myself believe he was. And Pete… I’m pretty sure he’s convinced he’s the father, too. A loud groan vibrates in my chest. My head pounds and I need to figure out a way to move on from here, or at least get up out of my chair. I thought I wanted to be on my own, but I don’t. Snatching up my phone, I send an SOS.

29

“I have to run a check on this Elliot guy,” exclaims Lily. “It’s crazy, Trish. None of us have even met him.”

“Yeah.” Mags sits next to me on the couch, her arm around my shoulder. “At least with Pete we knew he was just a prick not some psycho.”

“Mags,” says Emma, frowning. “That’s not helping.”

I didn’t have to wait long for my friends to turn up. Lily and Mags were banging on my door within fifteen minutes of sending the message, and Emma arrived not long after. The fact that they came running on Christmas Eve shows just how amazing my friends are.

I’m still numb, apart from a throbbing headache, but there’s a tingling in my arms and legs, like the numbness might be wearing off.

“This is where you get to say I told you so, Em,” I say, wriggling my fingers to try to get some feeling back.

“How do you mean?”

“Yesterday you were saying I shouldn’t assume Pete was the dad.”

Emma is silent for a few seconds. “I’m sorry, Trish. I know you really wanted it to be him.”

“What?” Lily practically shouts. “He’s an arsehole.”

“Not recently,” replies Emma, her voice carrying a warning. “He’s been incredibly supportive. Even went to an antenatal class with Trish.”

I moan, remembering Pete’s enthusiasm.

“Hold up.” Lily raises a hand. “What have I missed?”

I let Emma fill her in.

“He sounds like a changed man,” says Mags.