“He asked me before he knew I was pregnant,” said Ellen. “And I know everything I need to know about him.”

“So you think,” said Anne under her breath, and Ellen pretended not to hear. She took a deep breath and rose above it.

It was hard to tell exactly what Julia thought about the news. She screamed and hugged Ellen when she heard about the engagement, and said all the right gushy, girly things about the ring, but a fleeting shadow crossed her lovely face when she heard about the pregnancy.

“What do you mean, it was an accident?” she said. “Teenagers get accidentally pregnant! Were you using mind power as contraception?”

Ellen didn’t tell her that after her first appointment with the very nice obstetrician recommended by her friend Madeline, she’d worked out that she probably got pregnant after that drunken game of gin rummy, when they’d sort of “forgotten” about contraception. It did make them sound like teenagers.

“Have you been out for that drink yet with Stinky, I mean, Sam?” asked Ellen, changing the subject.

“He canceled at the last minute,” said Julia shortly. “He said he had the flu. Couldn’t get out of bed.”

“So he postponed?”

“Whatever,” said Julia. “Don’t put on your soft, soothing voice, it drives me nuts. If he’s not interested, he’s not interested.”

“Julia, he probably really did have the flu.”

“Stop it! You’ve got that condescending, tranquil look on your face.”

Ellen gave up and told her instead about Saskia’s appearance at Noosa, and how it was all Ellen’s fault, which cheered Julia up considerably.

Patrick’s family was lovely. His mother admitted that she’d been praying for an engagement from the very first night she’d met Ellen.

“And did you pray for a new baby too?” asked Patrick innocently.

“Of course,” said Maureen. “Admittedly, I didn’t think it would happen quite so soon, but if you’re thinking I disapprove, Patrick, I’m sorry to disappoint you. I’m not that old-fashioned!” She beamed at Ellen. “Of course, you will get married before the baby is born, won’t you?”

Patrick’s dad gave her a big fatherly hug, enveloping her in the fragrance of some aftershave that reminded her so strongly of her grandfather she had to stop herself from clinging on to his shirtfront. Patrick’s brother, Simon, gave Ellen flowers and cooked them an excellent celebratory dinner (he was a much better cook than Patrick) at his flat. He teased Ellen in a brotherly way she’d never experienced before. She loved it.

Ellen had been worried about how Jack would react to the news that she was going to be his stepmother, especially when he heard about the pregnancy, but he seemed perfectly nonchalant about it all. “I hope that the baby is a boy,” he said. “I’ll teach him stuff. Like how to drive a car. Fly a plane.” He paused and gave Ellen a sidelong look. “Shoot a gun.”

“Shoot a gun!” Ellen put on her most horrified face.

“Just messing with your head,” said Jack, delighted. It was his new favorite phrase.

And it seemed that all the logistics were going to work out fine too.

Both Patrick and Jack said they were happy to move into Ellen’s house. “If you’re happy to have us,” said Patrick, “we’ll keep our house as an investment and rent it out. We’ll be property tycoons!”

“I’ll go to the beach every single day of my whole life!” said Jack. “Even when it’s raining. Even when there is hail! Nah, not really. Just messing with your head.”

Jack would still go to the same primary school. The twenty-minute drive was of no consequence because Patrick’s office was in the same direction.

So that was that.

Ellen was part of a new family and her whole life was about to be transformed. She kept wandering through the house, twisting her new engagement ring around and around on her finger, and imagining it filled with new people and new stuff. A room for Jack. A room for the new baby. She would be a mother of two. There would be newsletters from Jack’s school on her fridge. Patrick’s collection of prints of old surveying equipment would have to go on the walls somewhere. There would be a cot, a change table, a baby’s bath. Jack’s bike would lie on its side in the front yard. There would be a baby’s seat in the car, a stroller and a schoolbag in the hallway.

It was amazing.

It was absolutely terrifying.

“Deborah Vandenberg” was scheduled for an appointment at eleven a.m. Friday morning.

“I assume she won’t come,” said Ellen. “Now that she knows that I know she’s Saskia.” (Although she had said, “See you Friday.”)

“I’ll have to take the day off work,” said Patrick. “I don’t want you alone with her.”

“She won’t come,” said Ellen. “But if she does, I’ll be fine. She’s never been violent.”

She didn’t want Patrick there. If Saskia did turn up, she wanted to talk to her. She longed to have a proper woman-to-woman chat with her. “Why do you do this?” she would say. “Help me understand.”

Obviously Ellen could no longer see her on a professional basis, but she could refer her to someone else who could help her both with her leg pain and her inability to let go of Patrick. She would be kind and firm and put an end to all this nonsense.