Page 89 of The Story of Us
“Who with?” I look at him and chuckle.
“Does it matter, if I was to tell you his name, would it make any difference?”
“Yes, I only want you to see Richard Curtis.” What. The. Fuck?
“How do you know who Richard Curtis is?” He looks exactly like the thirteen year old boy I fell in love with when he smiles at me.
“Because I did some research and he’s the best around and I want you and the baby to see the best.” I’m actually amazed, Richard Curtis is exactly who I have an appointment to see tomorrow.
“But I only just told you I was pregnant.”
“Yeah… but I knew you would be pregnant again sometime and I wanted to make sure that you and the baby were all set to be looked after by the best.” His eyebrows are pulled in together; he’s worried that he’s said something wrong.
“Baby, it’s fine, you don’t need to explain, I’m, I’m just…” I start crying, I really am the luckiest woman in existence. “I couldn’t love you any more than I do right now.”
He looks over my face and reaches out and strokes his thumb over my cheek and across my lips, he raises his eyebrows and smiles as he whispers, “We’re having a baby Mrs McCarthy.”
I grin stupidly, because I just can’t help myself. “We are Mr McCarthy.”
“Let’s fuck.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
* * *
By midday Monday, my pregnancy had been confirmed and I was laying on my back waiting for an ultrasound to be carried out. I feel sick with nerves. Sean and I have not discussed the possibility of anything being wrong, it couldn’t happen again, surely? I have just missed my second period and from all the research I have done, I should be feeling the effects if this is another ectopic pregnancy, but I feel well, really well in fact; thinking back now, I didn’t feel right from the very beginning with Baby M but this time, apart from feeling a little sick in the mornings, I feel great.
I notice that the ultrasound machine they have wheeled in is the trans-vaginal kind, the same as they used on me when I was in the hospital before.
“Is this one of them ones they put inside ya?” Sean asks as he sits in a chair next to the bed holding my hand. I nod.
“You okay with that?” he asks while I shrug my shoulders.
“It’s what needs to be done, are you okay with it?” He shakes his head.
“Not really, I hate the thought of another bloke, knowing what you’ve got going on down there.” I can’t help but smile, Sean McCarthy, Rock God, lead singer of Carnage, his face and body have graced the covers of so many magazines, often with near naked women draped around him and he doesn’t like the idea of a doctor examining his pregnant Wife.
“It’s his job Sean, all in a day’s work, my Mildred is just like any other woman’s as far as he’s concerned.” Now Sean smiles.
“No way G, your Mildred is fucking special, it’s small and neat and tight and perfect and it’s fucking mine and he better remember that.” I shake my head and sigh.
“Sean, the man’s in his fifties, he’s not interested in my Mildred and stop saying sexy things, or I’ll get all turned on.”
“You better fucking not.”
The door opens and Professor Curtis walks in, with his curly grey hair and bright yellow bow tie, any desire I might have been feeling evaporates and the nerves kick back in. I have a sheet over me from the waist down and thankfully nothing on show. We both watch at first, as the doctor slides a condom on the wand and then noisily squirts lube over it. I suddenly want to giggle and my eyes swing across to Sean’s as he makes a small sound, his lips are pursed together as he tries to contain a laugh, I narrow my eyes on him.
“Okay, let’s find out when this little one is likely to make an appearance, relax now Georgia and just let your knees fall apart.” I suddenly want to cry, I’m absolutely terrified that we are about to have all our dreams ripped away again. Sean squeezes my hand tight and I look right at him, there’s not a trace of a smile on either of our faces, we don’t look at the doctor or the nurse, we don’t look at the screen or around the room, we just look at each other.
“I love you G, so fucking much,” Sean whispers to me and a tear rolls down the side of my face and lands in my ear, there’s a whooshing noise, then the room is filled with the sound of our baby’s heartbeat, loud and strong and I let out a sob.
“There you go, right… there.” We both turn to look at the screen, where there appears to be a whole load of nothing going on, apart from a tiny pulsating pea, thrumming away.
Our eyes are back on each other’s and we both cry and laugh at the same time.
“Perfect,” the doctor says and after calling out some measurements to the nurse, tells us that our baby is due on New Year’s Eve, the same day as I told Sean that he was going to be a Daddy before. We’re reassured everything is as it should be and that I’m about eight weeks pregnant. I’m given another appointment for four weeks’ time but told to call if I have any concerns at all. Sean and I practically skip along Harley Street and back to our car.
“I’m starving,” I complain as we jump in.
