At first all I could see were invasive tests. I closed the screen. I couldn’t even think of doing that. I wasn’t going to put my baby at risk. Yet the thought of waiting for months and months until it was born made me feel dizzy with panic. I wasn’t sure I’d survive the wait. And how could I tell Harry he wasn’t the father when he was holding the baby in his arms?

I started a different search. And then I discovered that there was another test I could take. It was much more expensive than the last, but I had my own savings account so that wasn’t a problem. If I waited until I was eight weeks pregnant, I could have a blood test that would test the baby’s DNA against a possible father’s. It would take five business days before the results came back and then I would know for certain who the father was.

At the thought of that discovery I had to put my head in my hands and take deep breaths. I realized I had no proof that Harry had actually slept with Ruby. What if he denied it? He might say they were just good friends, that they liked to flirt, but that he would never be unfaithful. I was pregnant; all the proof of infidelity was against me, not him. I was the one with no excuse whatsoever.

When I calmed down, I read further. Not only would I need to give a sample of my own blood, I’d need to supply the DNA of one of the potential fathers for comparison purposes. They talked about mouth swabs. Four were needed. How on earth was I meant to do that? I felt like screaming. Would I have to go round to Tom’s house to ask him to do it? I couldn’t do that; what if Ruby was there? And on the website it was really clear that a signature was required from each party. How could I ask Harry to do it? I couldn’t think of one reason on this earth that would convince him to do that. My marriage would be over immediately. I decided I would sign for Harry. I’d have to.