The Dr Pepper Prophecies Read Free Page B

I.
    'There’s one tiny thing you don’t know,' I say into his shirt.
    'What?'
    'I think I’m pregnant,' I whisper.
    Will stops hugging me.  Then he slowly exhales. 'Oh,' he says. 'Oh dear.'
    'Can we just go home?' I ask.  I suddenly start feeling scared again.  Somehow, now I’ve told Will, it’s real.
    Will doesn’t answer right away.  I think he’s a little shell-shocked.  This has to be the biggest bombshell I’ve ever dropped on him and he’s been through pretty much every crisis I’ve ever had.
    'Right,' he says slowly. 'Yes.  We’ll go home.  On the way, we’ll stop at a chemist and we’ll find out for sure.  Okay?'
    I nod.
    'It’ll be fine,' he continues, in a softer tone. 'I’m here.  You’re not alone.'
    Tears start pricking my eyes.  I can’t believe I’m going to cry again.
    'I know,' I whisper, as Will hands me a tissue.
     
    **
     
    It’s a long drive home.  Will and I both live in Surrey, just south of London.  Technically in the London suburbs.  It’s expensive here, to say the l east.  Will can afford a decent-sized place, but the flat I share with Beth is tiny. Not really a shoebox, more of a matchbox.  I grew up here though and I can’t imagine leaving.  Just like I can’t imagine not living near Will.
    I spend the first twenty minutes silent, looking out of the window.  It’s a perfect example of a n English spring day, i.e. wet and grey.  The existence of the sun has once again descended into mythology.
    Then I start to cry.  For ten minutes I can’t stop.  Will pulls onto the hard shoulder and feeds me Belgian chocolates until I calm down.
    Then the sugar high kicks in.  I go back into denial and start bitching about Martin instead.
    'He wouldn’t buy anything that wasn’t organic,' I say, once we’re cruising along the motorway again. 'He ironed his y-fronts.  He invited me round for dinner and then he insisted we wash up right after instead of just leaving it until tomorrow.  He was always quoting his self-help books.  He wouldn’t let me watch Friends .  He kept trying to get me to give up dairy.'
    Will’s nodding, encouraging me.  This is our post break-up ritual.  I’ve done this for every guy I’ve ever dated.  It really does help.
    'When I got my hair done last time, he told me I looked like a poodle,' I continue, warming up to the task. 'He asked me to help him pick out new glasses and it took him three hours to figure out that he wanted contact lenses instead.  He tried to seduce me half an hour after my smear test and then got pissed off when I said no.  He always picked the radio station in the car.  Every time I ordered dessert he mentioned the calorie content.  And finally,' I pause for dramatic effect, 'it was the size of a button mushroom.'
    There’s a short silence.  Will clears his throat. 'I thought size wasn’t supposed to matter,' he says, glancing briefly away from the road to raise an eyebrow at me.
    'Lies,' I say, now feeling much better. 'All lies.  Size matters.  It matters when you’re seeing a guy and it matters even more when he dumps you.'
    'So, do you feel better now?' Will asks, laughing.
    'Absolutely,' I say, with a cheerleader smile.  I’m completely hyper. 'In fact, I have no idea why I went out with him in the first place.  Good riddance.  I’m going to embrace the single life.  You know what, I’m going to give up men.'
    'Really?' Will says dryly.
    He could be more supportive.  Admittedly I have said this a couple of times before.
    Okay, more than a couple.
    'Really,' I say. 'For good this time.  I might as well face facts.  I repel all decent men and attract losers like a magnet.'
    'You don’t repel men,' Will says comfortingly. 'You’ve just had bad luck.'
    I stare at him. 'Bad luck?' I ask. 'One is bad luck.  Two maximum.  This is a curse.'
    Will just shakes his head, laughing at me.
    'You’ve been here,' I say. 'I’ll run through the evidence to jog your memory.  Pete – told my