These were the childish thoughts that crossed Ellen’s mind as she looked longingly at her roast potatoes and the flickering television set.

“You don’t think she’s sick or something?” she said in a sudden panic that she was about to be punished for her selfishness.

“No, no,” said Mel. “How stupid of me to worry you. She’s in perfect health. She flogged me at tennis just the other week. I’m probably imagining the whole thing, or I’m just desperate for gossip. Ignore me. The whole point of this phone call was to tell you that I really liked Patrick. Now I must let you go. Talk to you soon!”

She was gone. Nobody ever finished phone calls more abruptly than Melanie, unlike Phillipa, who spent at least twenty minutes wrapping up each conversation. If it had been Pip saying she’d noticed something strange about her mother, Ellen would have put it straight out of her mind, but Mel wasn’t the type to imagine things. Her mother must be hiding something. Of course, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. People were allowed to have secrets.

“I myself have a secret,” said Ellen out loud. It was an unusual feeling. She couldn’t remember the last time, if ever, she’d had a secret of this magnitude, one that would give people a little shock.

Just you and me, kid. We’re the only ones who know about this.

She would keep it that way for a while longer.

She was halfway through another roast potato when the phone rang again. This time it was Julia.

“I can’t believe you set me up with a guy who comes up to my armpits!” she shrieked.

“Sorry,” said Ellen with her mouth full. “I didn’t know.”

It was so tempting to make Julia shriek even louder with two little words: I’m pregnant.

“And he looked like he stepped straight off the set of Farmer Wants a Wife!”

“I thought he was sort of sexy, actually,” said Ellen. Of course she must resist telling her about the pregnancy. Patrick had to be told first.

“I didn’t say he wasn’t sexy,” said Julia.

Ellen’s eyebrows popped. “I see.”

“After you and Patrick left, he walked me to the car and asked me out for a drink.”

“What did you say?”

“I said yes. Just as friends, obviously.”

“Obviously.” It warmed her heart to hear the change in Julia’s voice. The brittleness was gone. She hadn’t sounded like this in years.

“And I found out his real name. It’s Sam. I knew it wasn’t Bruce. Oh, hey, I forgot to say that I loved Patrick! He’s gorgeous. Don’t mess this one up.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I’m serious, Ellen. He’s a keeper.”

“OK.” Well, that’s handy, seeing as I’m having his baby.

“I mean, Jon was so pleased with himself,” mused Julia.

“Why does the truth always come out later? Everyone behaved as if they adored Jon when I was with him,” said Ellen. “You all used to fall about laughing at his jokes.”

“Yeah, he was sort of witty,” said Julia distractedly. “Are you watching Beauty and the Geek? See the blond girl with the bulgy eyes? Don’t you think she looks sort of homicidal? Speaking of homicidal, you didn’t tell me that Patrick’s stalker breaks into his house!”

“I didn’t know.” Ellen watched the bulgy-eyed girl on the television screen. She’d quite forgotten about that new revelation regarding Saskia. What would she think if she knew Ellen was pregnant? Would that be enough to cure her? Or would it tip her over the edge into insanity? Had she ever wanted to have a baby with Patrick?

“Anyway, I’ve got to go. My mobile is ringing. Might be Sam! I’ll talk to you later!”

She hung up. As soon as Ellen sat down on the couch with her roast potatoes the phone rang again.

“Hello, darlin’.” It was Patrick. For some reason, it had become one of their rituals that he always put on a deep American cowboy voice whenever he said hello. “What are you doing?”

“Watching television and … eating potatoes.” Ellen felt guilty, as if every second she didn’t tell him about the pregnancy was a betrayal. But it would be wrong to tell him over the phone, wouldn’t it? And frankly, she didn’t want to hear what Patrick thought about it just yet. It was already confusing enough working out how she felt about it. His feelings would add a whole new layer of complexity to the situation. If he was thrilled by the news, she would back off: It was too soon, it was all wrong, the sensible thing would be not to let this pregnancy continue. If he was horrified, if he suggested a termination, she would be devastated. She wanted this baby! If he said, “I’ll stand by you whatever you decide,” she would be annoyed. It was their problem, not just his. Basically she couldn’t think of any way the poor man could react that would please her.

“How was your day?” she said, trying to keep her voice natural.

“It was fine, until you-know-who showed up at the office.”

“You know who?” said Ellen. “Oh, of course. I do know who.” Poor Saskia. He always refused to use her name.

“She was even crazier than usual. Crying. Talking about babies.”

“Babies,” said Ellen. Her blood ran cold. Did Patrick already know? Was this some creepy way of letting her know that he knew?

“What did she say about babies?” she asked. She laced her fingers through the curly cord of her grandmother’s phone. (The phone was green, over thirty years old, with the old round rotary dial face that you slowly turned with one fingertip.)