Mum grabs the phone again. “What does your doctor say? Will you have to come off your AEDs?”

“I’m fine, Mum. You mustn’t worry.”

“It’s just that they’ve been working so well for you.”

Why does she always have to state the obvious? Dad’s talking in the background again, only now I can hear every word. “Sue, don’t start quizzing her on all that. I’m sure Ross is keeping an eye on things. He is a GP, after all.”

Mum’s laugh comes trilling down the line. I’m not fooled by it for one second. She’s frightened for me. All the excitement I wanted to share with her fizzles out in my throat. I should never have told them over the phone. It was a stupid idea. Stupid. What was I thinking?

Because it’s not just her worrying about my epilepsy, it’s all the baggage surrounding her own experience of being pregnant. She almost miscarried when she was carrying me. Tripped over a child who darted in front of her on the street and had to be on bed rest for weeks on end. It’s a miracle I was born at all. No wonder she’s anxious.

I take a deep breath. I was going to bite the bullet and tell them about Catherine Dawson as well, but they’re already freaking out over the pregnancy. I need to let them deal with that first before throwing them another curveball.

“You are pleased for me, aren’t you, Mum?”

“Of course I’m pleased. I’m delighted. We both are, aren’t we, Nigel? When are you coming to stay for a weekend? We can’t wait to see you.”

“Soon. I promise. It’s just that Ross is always so tired at the weekends. He works such long hours.”

“I suppose you’ll be bringing the wedding forward now.”

“Erm, I don’t think so.”

There’s a noticeable pause. “But surely if you’re going to have a baby…”

I press my lips together. I might have known she’d bring this up. Ever since Ross and I got engaged, she’s been asking us about our plans. The thing is, having a baby makes it even more likely we’ll hold off for longer. I don’t want to walk down the aisle with a big belly sticking out the front of my dress. How’s that going to look in the photos?

Dad says something in the background and Mum says, “Okay, okay.”

“I’m being told to stop interfering,” she says.

Dad always knows when to step in.

—

After we’ve said goodbye, my mind keeps playing back the early part of our conversation. I imagine them in their sitting room, analyzing the risks. Or rather, Mum will be analyzing the risks and Dad will be telling her not to, but doing it all the same.