“Jesus,” I breathe. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.”

He looks calmer now – less like he’s about to turn into the Hulk.

“Can I talk to you?” he asks.

I hesitate. “I’d like to… It’s just”

“You’re going somewhere?”

I nod. “Antenatal class started five minutes ago.”

Elliot nods slowly.

“I can skip”

“I’ll come,” Elliot interrupts, giving a half-hearted smile. “Better start understanding this whole baby thing a bit better.”

I stare at him, my mouth open. “But…”

Elliot rubs a hand across his mouth. “Look, Trish, I’m still getting to grips with the news. And I’m trying to figure things out, but I’m the dad like you said.” He pauses and stares at my swollen belly as if it’s appeared out of nowhere. “I have to step up.”

“I’m not expecting you to. I mean, this is… Why don’t you come in and we can talk some more? I don’t need to go to the class.”

Elliot shakes his head. “No, Trish. Let’s go. It’ll be good for me.”

I don’t want Elliot to go to the bloody antenatal class. It’s the last thing I want to happen. But how can I say no?

“OK,” I say, stepping out and closing the front door.

Already I’m picturing the other members of the group. What will their reaction be when I turn up with dad number two?

32

Margot looks up as I push the door open.

“Trish. Glad you could make it.”

“Sorry I’m late,” I say, my cheeks on fire.

Elliot pushes the door open further and steps beside me.

“Hi,” he says to the room. “I’m Elliot, the baby’s father.”

He speaks so loud and proud I want to punch his smug face and run away screaming. Elliot’s obviously warmed to the idea that he’s planted his seed.

The entire group is staring at us like we’re going to perform a spectacular magic trick. If one of them mentions Pete, I’ll bloody throttle them.

Margot stands up and walks over. “Lovely to meet you, Elliot.” She shakes his hand. “Come and join us.”

Everyone leaps up and crowds around to say hello. They’re clearly overcompensating owing to the awkwardness of the situation. Finally, Elliot and I are able to sit in the circle of chairs and Margot resumes her talk on ways to induce labour. I try to listen, but Elliot won’t stop shuffling in his chair, raising his hand to ask an endless stream of unbelievably dumb questions – does he even know where babies come out? To make it all so much worse, I keep receiving sneaky looks of sympathy from the sea of perfect-looking couples.