Pedigree Mum. Fiona Gibson
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else had left.
‘Not like you to work late,’ Rob had remarked, which had come out sounding ruder than he’d intended.
‘Are you implying I’m a slacker?’ she’d responded with an arch of her brow.
‘Of course not,’ he’d replied quickly, before adding, ‘You okay, Nadine? You seem a bit fed-up today.’ She didn’t seem to be working, at least not on anything obvious. She was just sitting at her desk, rearranging her novelty pens with the fluorescent gonks on their ends and flicking idly through the latest issue of Mr Jones. Then she’d closed the magazine, and her eyes had met his across the office.
‘Um, actually I’m not okay, Rob,’ she’d said. ‘D’you have time for a quick drink?’
So here they are – even Nadine is a member of Jack’s, it transpires – with Rob waiting to be served in the basement bar. At a quarter to seven, they are the only customers in the place. Apart from Theresa with her clipboard on the door, there’s no sign of any staff either.
Standing at the elegant, curved bar, Rob glances back at their table and wills someone to materialise and serve him. He’s only planning to stay for a quick one, just to be nice; he’ll hear her woes (she really does look miserable now, all pale and hunched in the corner) then get home sharpish. In fact he isn’t entirely comfortable about being in a drinking establishment with Nadine at all, not after last time. He’s managed to smooth things over with Kerry by the skin of his teeth. He’s accepted the Ramsays’ offer on the house and, after making an utter arse of himself, now feels ready to embrace that new life on the coast.
Ah, there are signs of life from the nether regions of Jack’s. From a back room emerges the stunning red-head who’d presented him with his birthday cake, and he waits for her to recognise him.
‘Yeah?’ she says blankly.
‘Er, a Kronenbourg and a tomato juice please.’ Weird drink, a tomato juice. No pleasure in it as far as he can work out. It probably has negligible calories, though, which is clearly high on Nadine’s agenda. Come to think of it, he isn’t entirely sure she actually eats. Maybe she gleans her nutrition from the garnishes in drinks.
‘Here you go.’ The red-head places the drinks on the bar – Nadine’s has a sliver of celery stuck in it – and takes his money without thanks or any hint of being human. Perhaps she’s an android, Rob reflects as he carries the drinks back to the table. Or maybe there’s a secret rule that over-thirties aren’t supposed to be in here.
‘So,’ he says, taking the seat opposite Nadine.
She pulls a tight smile.
‘Everything all right?’
‘Like I said, not really.’ She twizzles the straw in her drink.
‘Er … is it something to do with Eddy?’
‘What?’ She looks aghast.
‘I mean …’ Rob scratches his chin, relieved that the red-head has disappeared into the back room again. ‘I just wondered if it was something to do with work, if you were worried about—’
‘I’m not worried, Rob,’ she says sharply.
‘Oh! Well, that’s good. You shouldn’t be. I know you’re only the editorial assistant but—’
‘Only the editorial assistant?’ she repeats.
Shit, this is hard work. He’d give anything to be down in Shorling now, snuggled up with Kerry and the kids, watching a movie together.
‘What I mean is,’ he explains, ‘you’re just starting out and I know things are a bit shaky in the company at the moment. But Eddy’s obviously really happy with you and I’m sure your job’s secure …’
Nadine purses her lips and shifts in the plush red seat. ‘Well, I am worried but it’s not about work.’
‘So what’s—’
‘I’m pregnant, Rob.’
‘Are you? God!’ He emits a strange combination of gasp and laugh and glances down briefly at her stomach, which appears to be frying pan flat, then back up at her face. Her expression has settled into one of extreme distaste, as if a terrible odour is drifting up from her glass. ‘That’s er … amazing,’ he adds. ‘That’s really incredible news. Wow!’
Nadine blinks slowly. ‘Yes, that’s what I thought too.’
Rob bites his lip, wondering why she’s selected him, alone, to share her news. ‘I didn’t even know you had a boyfriend,’ he adds, regretting it instantly: since when was Nadine’s love life any of his business?
‘I don’t,’ she says.
‘Well,’ he says with a stilted laugh, ‘I might be ancient but as far as I remember it does take two people to make a baby.’ Nadine looks down at her drink and stirs it unnecessarily. Poor girl, he muses. It was obviously a one-night stand, and maybe the heartless git has left her in the lurch. ‘Um,’ he goes on, ‘are you sure you really are pregnant and it’s not just a false alarm?’
I did the test at the end of last week,’ she replies flatly, ‘and I’ve thought of nothing else all weekend.’
‘Of course,’ he says, relaxing a little and quickly deciding that the role of sympathetic older, wiser colleague is the one to adopt. ‘It’s a huge thing, Nadine. I mean … you’re only twenty, aren’t you? It’s a big, big change. If you ever want to talk, or grab a coffee or something …’
She raises her brows in mock amusement. ‘To talk about what, Rob?’
‘Uh, the pregnancy, having a baby …’ He shrugs lamely.
‘You’ve had a lot of experience of that, have you?’
Jesus, he thinks, there’s no need to be like that, to keep arching those brows in such a, such an … arched manner. He’s only trying to be a friend, when he could be at home packing up the last bits and pieces.
‘I know my kids are older now,’ he says huffily, ‘but I can just about remember the baby stage.’
‘Oh, right.’ Her voice wavers and her eyes mist, causing Rob to place a hand over hers on the table without even thinking about it. ‘You mean,’ she croaks, ‘you can give me some tips on nappies and feeding and burping and all that. Yeah, that’d be great, Rob. Cheers …’
‘Nadine,’ he murmurs, shaking his head, ‘are you sure you actually want to go ahead with this?’
‘Of course I do, Rob. It’s my baby. God.’
I only bloody asked, he thinks bitterly. ‘It’ll be okay,’ he adds quietly.
‘Will it? How d’you know?’
‘I … I’m sure you’ll be fine. It’s just the shock, that’s all. Like you said, you’ve only just found out …’ He keeps his hand on hers, feeling strangely protective of this poor, accidentally pregnant girl. Imagine, though, having a baby at twenty years old. It doesn’t bear thinking about …
Nadine slides her hand out from under his. ‘That depends,’ she says.
He frowns. ‘On what?’
‘On you.’
‘I don’t understand …’ Something shifts in him then, and he senses the lighter, happier mood of the past four weeks dispersing into the slightly stale air of Jack’s basement bar.
Nadine gives her tomato juice another stir and looks up at him. ‘It’s yours, Rob,’ she says. ‘It’s your baby.’
Chapter Fourteen
James lifts a tray of unsold rare breed