I nodded but even in my numb state, with a million thoughts running through my brain, I knew my options were limited. Despite this being Harvey’s baby and unplanned and all the obstacles which I’d no doubt have to overcome, I couldn’t have a termination. It might be practical and right for other people, but for me it would seem too cruel when my sister so longed for a baby. It would seem like flaunting not only my fertility but my ability to choose whether to have a baby or not in her face. Then again, how would she cope with seeing me getting a bigger and bigger bump over the coming weeks?

What a dilemma. I groaned with the shock of it all and dabbed at my tears.

Unless I didn’t tell her, of course … But I couldn’t think about this now, there was too much to take in, my head ached and all I really wanted to do was sleep.

Toby was waving a hand in front of my face. ‘Lottie?’

Jensen squeezed my fingers. ‘The doctor asked who your GP is.’

‘I’m registered with one in London. But I’ll go to the surgery in Fernfield.’

Jensen glanced sideways at me. ‘Is that where the father is, London?’

I shuddered. ‘Yes. Please, I don’t want to think about him now.’

‘You’ll have to tell him; he has a right to know.’

‘I’m aware of that,’ I snapped.

He held his hands up. ‘Sorry, none of my business.’

Harvey. I’d hoped he was out of my life for ever, but if I was to go ahead and have this baby, he and I would be eternally linked. What a depressing thought.

‘I’m so sorry you’ve got dragged into this.’ I shut my eyes.

‘You’ve got nothing to apologize for.’ Jensen put his arms around me and rocked me from side to side, resting his chin on my head. I’d never been so glad of human contact in my life and leaned into him, soaking up the feeling of comfort.

‘I’d like to go home now please, Doctor,’ I said firmly, peeling myself away from Jensen. ‘Apart from being pregnant and having a very sore head, I’m fine and I feel awful for leaving the clearing up to everyone else at the vineyard.’

‘Fine. But no clearing up for you.’ Toby looked at Jensen. ‘Make sure she does nothing but rest and drink plenty of fluids.’

‘You hear that, Lottie? Doctor’s orders,’ said Jensen sternly.

‘I’ve drunk more fluids in the last month than in my entire life,’ I told the doctor. ‘Unfortunately, a lot of it was sparkling wine. The poor baby is probably pickled.’

I pointed to the logo on my polo shirt.

‘Ah. You’ll need to cut down your alcohol intake immediately,’ said the doctor, ‘and please get yourself booked in for a scan as soon as possible.’