Trish Elliott ran her hand across her stomach for the hundredth time since she’d left the doctor’s surgery. It didn’t feel as if there was a new life growing inside her – it was far too early for any movement or kicks, for the baby to make its presence felt. But Trish had known straight away this time, after years of trying, she was pregnant. The third pregnancy test had confirmed what her body had been telling her.

She hadn’t said anything to her husband and she’d left it another month before seeing her doctor, but now there was no doubt. ‘Pregnant’. She whispered the word to herself as she parked the car at the side of the road, relishing the sound of it. ‘I’m pregnant,’ she said softly. ‘I am having a baby.’ She wanted to run down the street and tell everybody, shout it to the sky, phone every friend and relative she had. But she also enjoyed having such a delicious secret. She knew. The doctor knew. And that was all. For a while, at least, the baby belonged solely to her.

She switched off the engine and shuffled across to sit in the passenger seat. Her husband loved to drive. It wasn’t a macho thing, or that he didn’t trust her at the wheel, it was just that he enjoyed it so much that she was happy to let him do it. Trish thought that she was probably the better driver. She took more care, followed the Highway Code religiously, checked her mirrors constantly, and was always happy to let other motorists get ahead of her. Jonathon – well, Jonathon drove like a man, there was no getting away from it. She sat in the passenger seat and waited for him to leave the office.

That was something else that would change, she thought, with a smile. Jonathon had promised that when they had a family he’d get a desk job. No more late nights, no more weeks away from home, no more putting his life on the line. He’d take a regular job, with regular hours, and he’d be there for her when she needed him. Someone else could take the risks and have the glory. He’d be a husband and father. A family man. He’d promised, and she would keep him to it.

She saw her husband walking along the pavement towards the car and waved. Jonathon got in and kissed her cheek. Trish slipped her hand round his neck and pressed her lips to his, kissing him deeply. He kissed her back, with passion, and slid his hand down to cup her breast. ‘That was nice,’ he said, as she released him.

You deserve it,’ she said.

‘For what?’ He started the engine and revved the accelerator, as he always did, boy-racer style.