She’d been sitting in Tom’s garden, watching him lose his wrestling match with his shiny gas barbecue, and trying not to giggle, when she first noticed the tiny kick. It felt a little like indigestion, though she hadn’t eaten anything, despite her overwhelming hunger. Her friend Natalie had taken one look at the way Hanna clasped her stomach with over protective hands, before pronouncing, “You’re pregnant.” A long discussion about the ability to have periods whilst being pregnant ensued, followed by a mad dash to find a pharmacy that was open on a Sunday. Natalie had eventually returned with three tests—all different brands, a bag loaded with prenatal vitamins, and a bumper box of tissues for the tears she knew would ensure. Now they were in Tom’s car, heading for the prestigious Portland Hospital, where he’d arranged for an ultrasound. Despite Hanna’s protests, he’d argued she deserved the best care, and he’d pay for the initial consultation. “Have you told him yet?”
