‘Anything else going on with you?’ Emma asks. ‘You seeing anyone or are you becoming one of those women married to their work?’

Yvonne shirks away. ‘No, I’m not seeing anyone.’

‘Don’t blame you. Most men are pigs. I’m going to make sure I bring my son up right.’

The idea of a son hits Yvonne, it humanises the pregnancy. ‘Your son?’

‘Yeah. I thought I told you it’s a boy.’

‘No. You never told me. Wow. A son. Do you have a name in mind?’

Emma laughs, ‘Finally, you ask?’

‘What’s that meant to mean?’

‘Let’s be honest, you haven’t taken that much interest in this pregnancy.’

‘Didn’t I just ask you about pushchair wheels?’

Emma smiles and shakes her head. ‘You never ask me anything about the actual baby though.’

‘Because it’s not here yet. I’ll get interested when it, sorry, he arrives.’

‘Kiama,’ Emma says.

‘What?’

‘Kiama. That’s my son’s name.’

Yvonne looks at her and squints, ‘I’m sorry, what?’

‘Key-ah-ma,’ she says again slowly and loudly.

‘Get used to repeating it.’

‘Cheeky bitch. It’s Kenyan. It means, light of life.’

Yvonne bites her bottom lip, ‘Hmm, not sure about it.’

‘Good job you don’t have to be. Look,’ Emma points to her stomach, at a bulge of movement under the stretched skin, ‘he loves it.’

‘Isn’t it a bit weird that he’ll have a Kenyan name, but isn’t Kenyan?’

‘I don’t think so. He’s going to spend time there. I can’t wait to take him.’

‘Yeah, I can imagine you, baby strapped to your back, boarding a plane to Kenya.’

‘And why not?’

Yvonne looks again at the massive stomach. ‘You really are huge. Is this going to be an unusually big baby?’

‘I fucking hope not. Though, I think he’s going to be really long. All knees and elbows. Like a baby giraffe. Can’t believe I’ve got another four weeks, as if my stomach can stretch anymore.’

‘Is Geoff tall? I can’t remember.’

Emma rubs at the corners of her mouth and starts fussing with the empty chocolate box.

Why won’t she just say it? Why won’t she tell Yvonne that she called Lewis? That there’s a chance, a small one, that he’s the dad.

‘Geoff’s not been very supportive, has he?’ Yvonne asks. This is it, Emma’s cue, but she says nothing. ‘Em?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but how comes you’re so sure it’s Geoff’s? I mean, he wasn’t the only one you were sleeping with in May. Was he?’

‘I never slept with Two Minute Terry, if that’s what you’re insinuating.’

‘I’m not talking about Terry.’

‘Yeah, well of course there was Sweetboy too. But he can’t stand me. I can’t have a baby with someone like him.’