‘Brandon speaking. How may I help you?’ ‘I was actually after Darren,’ said Gemma. ‘Darren isn’t here,’ said Brandon. ‘Can I take a message?’ ‘Please,’ said Gemma, giving him her number. ‘Tell him I really need to talk to him.’ Back home, Gemma resisted the temptation to make herself a strong coffee and instead settled for a pot of green tea and an apple. There was no sign of Hugo. She pulled out the phone book, searching for Family Planning, squared her shoulders and called. ‘I want to talk to someone,’ she said when a woman answered. ‘I’m nearly three months pregnant and . . . and I’m not sure if I can have this baby. I need to talk to someone . . . about the best thing to do.’ She made an appointment to speak with a counsellor early the next week, noting down the time in her diary. She’d say nothing to anyone about this; she didn’t want to discuss it at all. It was purely her decision now.
