and gradually, making its way across the greyish white, a horizontal blue line appeared. The line began to extend across the window, closely followed by another blue line that moved vertically down the centre of the window. That startlingly blue cross confirmed the inevitable. I was pregnant.
I looked at Anthony then back at the indicator stick, squinting at the small window. I was half wondering if the last few hours had just been a dream, a dream from which I still hadn’t awoken; I hadn’t been a suspected drug dealer and neither was I pregnant.
I reached for Anthony’s arm and squeezed it. He was real and he was there, not a dream at all. Anthony stared at me, wide-eyed, his lips trembling into a half-smile.
‘You-you look happy,’ I said. ‘Or are you about to lose it?’ I got to my feet. ‘Because I am, big time.’ I leaned my hands on the sink. Anthony got up and began to massage my shoulders. I looked up at him in the mirror above the sink. The weird grin had left his face. ‘Say something,’ I said.
‘I’m not really sure what to say,’ he said. ‘I’m kind of happy, though. Are you?’
I turned around. ‘What do you mean “kind of”?’ I asked him.
‘Well it isn’t something we talked about so I’m a little … shocked, I suppose. I mean today was just … I mean, are you happy?’ He held my shoulders.
‘I-I don’t know. I do want to have children, I just wasn’t thinking about having a baby right this minute. But …’
‘What?’
I couldn’t stop the smile beaming across my face. ‘I am happy, Anthony. I really, really am.’ And that’s how I genuinely felt once the initial shock had subsided. ‘I know we never even talked about having a baby but it’s-it’s wonderful.’ I hugged him around the waist and rested my head against his chest.
It was very late now and as exhausted and beaten up as I felt, I was well and truly, completely excited.
‘We won’t say anything to anyone – not just yet,’ Anthony said while I was still hugging him. I looked up, a little taken aback.
‘Obviously,’ I said with a crease forming in my brow. ‘I mean, I didn’t plan to, not just yet anyway.’
‘Just until we know for sure,’ said Anthony.
‘Well these kits are very accurate, you know? But you’re right – I will have to go the doctor.’
‘Yes,’ he said, pulling away. ‘We need to be sure about this. About everything.’
‘I don’t understand, Anthony.’ All of a sudden Anthony wasn’t sounding so positive. His mood had changed.
‘No, no it’s all right,’ he said with a weak kind of laugh. ‘It’s just I thought you shouldn’t tell people until the first scan.’
‘You seem to be very knowledgeable about these thing, Anthony.’ I picked up the kit and placed everything in the bin under the sink. ‘But you’re right. The right time will present itself. Until then, I won’t say a word. It’ll be our little, wonderful and brilliant secret.’
Anthony pulled me towards him. His smile had returned. I let out a sigh of relief. Half a second ago he’d looked like a bunny trapped in the headlights. He squeezed me tighter, gently rocking me and rubbing my back as if he want to burp me. I looked up at him.
‘You all right?’ I asked.
‘Yes, yes of course.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘A little shell-shocked, that’s all,’ he said.
‘Anyway, I’m exhausted. We should get some sleep. The flight is first thing.’
Anthony took my hand. We went back to the bedroom and got ready for bed. In the darkness of the hotel room, with just street lights glowing through the blinds I’d forgotten to close, Anthony lay on his side and faced away from me. I looked up into the shadowy room, just about able to make out the lampshade above me. I realized I had a huge smile on my face and that I was going through a list of children’s names. How crazy.
I finally closed my eyes. It really was happening.
The Epiphany
At arrivals Riley was at the barrier wearing a yellow bobble hat and holding what looked like yards and yards of yellow ribbon. I spotted Mother and Father and ran to them.
‘I’m okay, I’m fine,’ I told them. Mother had tears in her eyes.
‘Thank goodness you’re home.’ She hugged me as did Father, making a Magenta sandwich out of me. Joining the group hug was Riley, wrapping us all in yellow ribbon and sobbing.
‘Free at last, thank God, you’re free at last,’ she said.
The group untangled itself.
‘Thank you for coming, Dr King,’ I said turning to Riley. ‘And I think yellow ribbon is for people who did time.’
‘I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t sleep all night worrying about you,’ said Riley.
I squeezed her arm. ‘It was lovely of you to come, Riley, but please tell me you were able to cover up for me with the two designers I didn’t get to meet with.’
‘Yes, all taken care of.’ She tapped the side of her nose and I didn’t dare ask what excuses she’d made for me.
‘I hope it wasn’t a completely wasted journey,’ Mother said as we all made our way to the exit.
‘Not at all,’ I said. ‘I did have one very successful meeting. There’s a designer I’m dying to work with but I’ll have to see if I can reschedule with the others.’
‘Have you ever thought of using your own designs?’ Mother said. She linked my arm as we walked.
‘But, Mother –’
‘No, think about it, Magenta. For the past year you’ve done nothing but deal with designers for the man bags. You must have learned a thing or two by now. The same thing happened with me and the lingerie. You know I designed a few of our ranges back in the day? You get a feel for what people want and you, Magenta, are an artist. You know what looks good and you know what sells because you know handbags. Just look at your wardrobe: it speaks volumes. And look at how easily you did that design for my wedding dress.’
We were outside of the airport. Indigo was negotiating a couple of taxis and Riley was looking for a place to dump the yellow ribbon.
‘But that was just a rough drawing,’ I said. ‘I’ve been having to sit with a real dress designer to make it happen.’
‘So why can’t you do the same thing with a design of your own for a handbag?’
‘Mother, are you just saying this to distract me from my recent traumatic experience? You know this is likely to scar me for the rest of my life. I’ll never look at Prada in the same way and I’ll be looking over my shoulder every time I reach for the Aspirins in Boots.’
‘Not a distraction, just something I believe you would have decided to do yourself in time. For an artistic, fashion-conscious person such as you are, it’s a natural progression.’
As our taxis pulled up I stood and pondered the idea for a moment. It had never occurred to me to design a bag myself, not properly. I mean I’d noodled man bag ideas several times without thinking much about it so it wasn’t a completely absurd idea. Only yesterday I’d struggled to find my wallet when I went to pay at the café and at the pharmacy. On the flight out I couldn’t put my hand on my passport quickly enough, either. What if I were to design the perfect handbag, the handbag I would defy anyone to lose anything in again? Lipsticks, pens, Oyster cards, whatever. Maybe I could consult