Babies in Waiting Read Free Page B

what would happen then? She didn’t want to take three months’ maternity leave and then go back to work, leaving a tiny baby in some overpriced crèche. She had savings, that was true. Quite a nice little nest egg, but if she spent that . . . well, what financial cushion would she and the baby have?
    She got up slowly and went through to the kitchen. From experience she knew Simon would have left a pot of coffee warming, and she was starving. She seemed to have escaped morning sickness – her nausea came on in the late afternoon.
    Simon had left her coffee, and a little platter with a fresh croissant, butter and a selection of jams. Louise thought, not for the first time, that if he weren’t her brother, she would marry him. At the very least, he should run a hotel. He knew how to make guests feel totally pampered. She sat nibbling on the buttery pastry and wondering how to go about her day. She’d imagined that she would be off to the clinic first thing, but Simon had taken the wind out of her sails. She wasn’t at all convinced by his argument, but she did feel she had to give the whole subject more thought. At that moment, her mobile bleeped. Simon had sent an email.
    Hello, lovely.
Hope you slept okay. Please take today to think about what I said. I know money will be your firstconcern. Please use my computer to do any sums you need to do and remember that my offer to be a part of this is serious. I will contribute financially and I will always be there.
Love you lots.
S.
    It seemed like as good a thing to do as any, so Louise fired up Simon’s MacBook and crunched some numbers. Her house in Yorkshire was mortgage-free: what would happen if she let it out? What could she reasonably expect to get? What if she sold it? She looked up a couple of estate agents in her area on the internet, then rang them. She told them where her house was and asked them to estimate both rental income and a possible sale price. They dithered and iffed and butted, but in the end she had the numbers she needed. Next, where would she live? She loved Simon and knew that his offer to help was genuine, but she didn’t see a place for a baby in his spotless bachelor home. Even if he said it was okay, she wanted to believe that at some point he would meet someone and fall in love, and a resident sister and squawking infant would make that very difficult indeed. Also, they were in their late thirties, both set in their ways. Far too late to set up home together. She knew she wouldn’t be able to live as centrally as he did, so she used a property website to look at the rental cost of two-bedroomed apartments in the outer suburbs of London. Coming from up north, she was horrified at the cost, but she entered the numbersin her spreadsheet, and added costs for council tax, food and other regular expenses.
    Once she had finished, she left the flat and took a long walk along the Thames. She stopped for coffee, then walked some more. She stopped somewhere else on the river for lunch. By then she was tired and her feet hurt. She found a nearby cinema and sat through an afternoon showing of a really soppy romantic comedy. She was one of three people in the cinema, and the only one under sixty. It was exactly the brain popcorn she needed, and she switched off totally for the two hours of the film. Leaving the cinema, she decided to pamper herself and hailed a black cab. The cost was eye-watering, but the trip back to Simon’s flat was painless and speedy.
    When she got upstairs, Simon was already there, stirring a pasta sauce that smelt of basil, tomato and luxury, and listening to classical music. He kissed her absentmindedly on the cheek and directed her to the fridge to get a drink.
    She loved it that they didn’t need to talk. She poured herself a fruit juice and sat on a stool at the kitchen counter, vaguely paging through the newspaper. Simon put a saucepan of water on to boil and took some beautifully yellow fresh pasta out of the fridge. Yes,