ONE DAY(96)

‘Oh, Dexter!’ Once again, her face was against his. ‘Do you know the father? I’m kidding! Congratulations, Dex. God, aren’t you meant to space your bombshells out a bit, not just drop them all at once?’ She held his face in both hands, looked at it. ‘You’re getting married?—’

‘Yes!’

‘—and you’re going to be a father?’

‘I know! Fuck me – a father!’

‘Is that allowed? I mean will they let you?’

‘Apparently.’

‘Don’t suppose you’ve still got that cigarette, have you?’ He reached into his pocket for her. ‘How’s Sylvie about it?’

‘She’s delighted! I mean she’s worried that it’ll make her look fat.’

‘Well I suppose that is a possibility . . .’

He lit her cigarette. ‘. . . but she wants to get on with it, get married, have kids, make a start. She doesn’t want to end up mid-thirties and all alone—’

‘Like ME!!!’

‘Exactly, she doesn’t want to end up like you!’ He took her hand. ‘That’s not what I meant, of course.’

‘I know. I’m kidding. Dexter, congratulations.’

‘Thank you. Thank you.’ A momentary pause. ‘Let me have a go on that, will you?’ he said as he took the last cigarette from her mouth, placing it between his own lips. ‘Here, look at this . . .’ From his wallet, he unfolded a square of smudgy paper, and held it down to the sodium light. ‘It’s the twelve-week scan. Isn’t that incredible?’

Emma took the scrap of paper and peered at it dutifully. The beauty of the ultrasound scan is something that only parents can appreciate, but Emma had seen these things before and knew what was required of her. ‘Beautiful,’ she sighed, though in truth it could have been a Polaroid of the inside of his pocket.

‘See – that’s its spine.’

‘Great spine.’

‘You can even make out the tiny little fingers.’

‘Awww. Boy or girl?’

‘Girl, I hope. Or boy. Don’t care. But you think it’s a good thing?’

‘Absolutely. I think it’s wonderful. Fucking hell, Dexter, I turn my back for one minute . . .!’

She hugged him once again, her arms high round his neck. She felt drunk, full of affection and a certain sadness too, as if something was coming to an end. She wanted to say something along these lines, but thought it best to do this through a joke. ‘Of course you’ve just destroyed any chance I had of future happiness, but I’m delighted for you, really.’

He twisted his head to look at her, and suddenly something was moving between them, something alive and vibrating in his chest.

Emma placed her hand there. ‘Is that your heart?’

‘It’s my mobile.’

She stepped back and allowed him to retrieve his phone from his inside pocket. Glancing at the display, he gave his head a little sobering shake, and guiltily handed Emma the cigarette, as if it were a smoking gun. Quickly he recited, ‘Don’t sound drunk don’t sound drunk,’ assumed a tele-sales smile and answered.

‘Hello, my love!’

Emma could hear Sylvie through the receiver. ‘Where are you?’

‘I’ve sort of got lost.’

‘Lost? How can you get lost?’

‘Well, I’m in a maze, so—’

‘A maze? What are you doing in a maze?’

‘Just . . . you know . . . hanging out. We thought it would be fun.’

‘Well as long as you’re having fun, Dex. I’m stuck here listening to some old dear bang on about New Zealand . . .’

‘I know, and I’ve been trying to get out for ages, it’s just, well you know – it’s like a maze in here!’ He giggled, but there was silence from the phone. ‘Hello? Are you still there? Can you hear me?’

‘Are you with anyone, Dexter?’ said Sylvie, her voice low.

He glanced at Emma, still pretending to be captivated by the ultrasound scan. He thought for a moment, then turned his back to her and lied. ‘Actually there’s a whole gang of us in here. We’re going to give it another fifteen minutes, then we’re going to dig a tunnel, and if that doesn’t work we’re going to eat someone.’

‘Thank God, here’s Callum. I’m going to talk to Callum. Hurry up, will you?’

‘Okay. I’m on my way. Bye, darling, bye!’ He hung up. ‘Did I sound drunk then?’

‘Not in the least.’

‘We’ve got to get out of here right now.’

‘Fine by me.’ She looked in both directions, hopeless. ‘We should have left a trail of breadcrumbs.’ As if in answer, there was a hum, a click, and each of the lights that illuminated the maze clicked off one by one, plunging them into darkness.

‘That’s handy,’ said Dexter. They stood still for a moment as their eyes adjusted to the gloom. The band were playing ‘It’s Raining Men’, and they listened hard to the muffled sound as if it held a clue to their whereabouts.

‘We should get back,’ said Emma. ‘Before it starts raining men.’

‘Good idea.’