“No.”
“I wish that were the truth, but no. Simon doesn’t know what really happened. That was only the beginning of it.”
EIGHTY-TWO
“Karen and Simon planned to escape from justice, in the yacht.” Gregory Duncan resumes his story, looking at me out of the tops of his eyes. “Karen returned to her room to gather her things. I doubt she even remembered how she had left poor Imogen there feeling poorly that morning.”
I wait, but he doesn’t go on.
“What happened next?” My mouth is dry.
“It is not a common thing, but there are instances…” Gregory pauses, glancing at Sophia as if he wonders whether she should hear this. “When a woman who has conceived is unaware of the fact, right up until very late.”
He stops, then shoots a glance at me, like he wants to know my reaction before he goes on. I don’t see the relevance, don’t understand what he’s talking about suddenly.
“It’s known as a cryptic pregnancy. One in four hundred and seventy-five women do not realise they are pregnant until after twenty weeks.” He pauses. “One in two thousand women don’t realise it until labour begins…” He stops, moves his face like he’s biting his cheeks from the inside. “Imogen was such a woman.”
“What?” I ask, because it’s all I can think to say.
“When Karen returned to her room that day, she walked in tofind Imogen deep in labour. She was having a baby. A baby she had no idea she was pregnant with.”
“What? That’s impossible?”
Duncan shakes his head. “No. It is rare, but I assure you it happens. Some babies grow backwards towards the spine rather than pushed outward. And Imogen wasn’t fat, not by any means, but she had a rounder figure. Generous.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I hear Sophia ask, but I talk over her.
“I still don’t understand.”
He sighs, rubs the side of his head like he’s developed a headache.
“When Karen returned from the yacht, having just committed the manslaughter of a baby, she found her roommate Imogen in the midst of labour, literally giving birth to a child that neither of them had any idea existed. A complete and overwhelming surprise. And not a good one.”
He breaks off and finishes the water in front of him. Then he turns and holds the glass out to Sophia. She stares at him in bewilderment, but finally slips down again and fills it up. This time she gets a second glass and gives it to me.
“Thank you,” Duncan says to her.
“What happened then?” I hear myself ask. My head is ringing like a bell.
He drinks half the glass, then sets it down again. “On this point at least, Karen’s role is due some merit. She had – I believe – some medical training before she arrived in Greece, and she didn’t panic. She understood what was happening, although I don’t suppose that was terribly difficult to diagnose, with a baby’s head emerging from between poor Imogen’s thighs…” He stops, re-centres himself again, then carries on.
“But she helped. She leapt into action and she delivered the baby. Imogen was adamant that she saved both the baby’s life and her own.” He stops again.
“Then what?” Sophia asks.
“Then…” He hesitates, he takes another pair of huffing, deeper breaths. “Then I’m afraid, things took a much darker turn.”
EIGHTY-THREE
I already know. I don’t want to know, but I do. And I can see that Duncan knows I know. He can see it in my eyes. But he doesn’t spare me.
“Both women were left in an almost impossible position. Imogen’s family situation was difficult, her parents – I’m not sure if you’re aware, but they were from the Mormon faith. They hadn’t approved of her prolonged stay in Greece, but the idea of her returning with a baby? Unthinkable. Impossible. She would have been disowned, cut off. And as for Karen, she’d just murdered Mandy and Jason’s baby. She was facing years in jail.”
I don’t know if Sophia doesn’t see it yet, or if she’s just braver than me.
“What did they do?” she asks, her face white.
He eyes her a moment, then he fixes his gaze on me. “I suppose there was a certain elegance to the idea,” he scoffs suddenly. “Perhaps in fiction at least.” At once he’s serious again.