Cally sat on the loo, the implement of impending doom gripped tightly in her right hand. It was no use it wasn't going to change. It was positive! How in God's name had that happened? Damn, bugger and sod it to hell, why me, and why now!
She had been on the verge of telling Paul their marriage was over, fifteen years wasted, and wham. Pregnant. That's what the harbinger of doom was showing her, mocking her. Ha, thought you were safe; got you there, didn't I eh, got you good! How could she have been so stupid?
She made her way downstairs still clutching the test, and ran into Paul coming out of the kitchen. He had put on so much weight that it was difficult to see where his chin stopped and his neck started.
He never stopped eating! Hastily shoving the remains of a chocolate digestive into his mouth, spraying crumbs everywhere. She ran to the loo, and just when she thought it would be impossible to throw up again...
"Poor baby, are you ill?"
"No I'm not ill I'm...pregnant!"
"Run that by me again, could you please? Because I could have sworn you said you were pregnant! Oh Cally, that's wonderful. You don't know how long I've waited to hear you say that. I'm going to ring mother."
"Please Paul, don't phone your mother yet. Let's make an appointment to see the doctor first."
She flopped into a chair.
"You just sit there and relax. I'll make you a nice cup of tea and a slice of dry toast. You're eating for two now."
Well, if she was eating for two, he'd been nurturing a baby hippo for years. Maybe if she just went to sleep for a few hours she would wake up and find it had been nothing more than a bad dream.
She could hear Paul on the telephone, no doubt to his mother, despite what she had said. His mother resented Cally, no matter how hard she tried, and she had tried in the beginning. Finding the perfect gift for her birthday, a beautiful Cashmere sweater, which she had simply tossed onto a chair after condescending to the obligatory air kisses.
"Don't want to get too close my dear. Germs, millions of them, they're everywhere you know, and you know how frail I am!"
"Frail my arse." Yes, well, I can just imagine how wonderful it would be to live in a world where mother in laws were outlawed.
It made her determined that she would never become like his mother. In fact, she made a secret vow never to have any children, thereby avoiding the chance of becoming the mother in law from hell and making some poor woman's life a misery, just because she had the temerity to marry her son!
Vows, it would seem, were like New Years' resolutions - a good idea at the time. She opened her eyes. No, she hadn't been transported to Kansas, or anywhere remotely close, and wasn't likely to be, no matter how many times she clicked her Manolo Blahnik-clad feet together.
Paul sauntered back into the room, grin firmly in place - scary actually - reminiscent of the death mask the Egyptian mummies wore. Mummies, why did everything she thought of lead back to her condition?
"I've telephoned the doctors. We have an appointment for this evening. Oh and, mother is delighted. She had almost given up hope of becoming a grandmother. She can't understand why it's taken you so long?"
There you go; my fault. Never Mummy's little precious baby waby boy; diddums do it to you!
He had hit his thumb with the hammer whilst putting up shelves in mother's kitchen. She had nearly wet herself laughing at the pair of them, and his mother had given her the dead eye!
For Christ's sake, he was almost forty years old, so why did she insist on treating him like a three-year-old?
"I'm tired. I think I'm going back to bed for an hour."
Or maybe for the rest of her life, she thought desolately, like the heroine in an old silent movie, clutching her brow, and sighing a lot, as she laid down on the bed and fell fast asleep.........
She had been on the verge of telling Paul their marriage was over, fifteen years wasted, and wham. Pregnant. That's what the harbinger of doom was showing her, mocking her. Ha, thought you were safe; got you there, didn't I eh, got you good! How could she have been so stupid?
She made her way downstairs still clutching the test, and ran into Paul coming out of the kitchen. He had put on so much weight that it was difficult to see where his chin stopped and his neck started.
He never stopped eating! Hastily shoving the remains of a chocolate digestive into his mouth, spraying crumbs everywhere. She ran to the loo, and just when she thought it would be impossible to throw up again...
"Poor baby, are you ill?"
"No I'm not ill I'm...pregnant!"
"Run that by me again, could you please? Because I could have sworn you said you were pregnant! Oh Cally, that's wonderful. You don't know how long I've waited to hear you say that. I'm going to ring mother."
"Please Paul, don't phone your mother yet. Let's make an appointment to see the doctor first."
She flopped into a chair.
"You just sit there and relax. I'll make you a nice cup of tea and a slice of dry toast. You're eating for two now."
Well, if she was eating for two, he'd been nurturing a baby hippo for years. Maybe if she just went to sleep for a few hours she would wake up and find it had been nothing more than a bad dream.
She could hear Paul on the telephone, no doubt to his mother, despite what she had said. His mother resented Cally, no matter how hard she tried, and she had tried in the beginning. Finding the perfect gift for her birthday, a beautiful Cashmere sweater, which she had simply tossed onto a chair after condescending to the obligatory air kisses.
"Don't want to get too close my dear. Germs, millions of them, they're everywhere you know, and you know how frail I am!"
"Frail my arse." Yes, well, I can just imagine how wonderful it would be to live in a world where mother in laws were outlawed.
It made her determined that she would never become like his mother. In fact, she made a secret vow never to have any children, thereby avoiding the chance of becoming the mother in law from hell and making some poor woman's life a misery, just because she had the temerity to marry her son!
Vows, it would seem, were like New Years' resolutions - a good idea at the time. She opened her eyes. No, she hadn't been transported to Kansas, or anywhere remotely close, and wasn't likely to be, no matter how many times she clicked her Manolo Blahnik-clad feet together.
Paul sauntered back into the room, grin firmly in place - scary actually - reminiscent of the death mask the Egyptian mummies wore. Mummies, why did everything she thought of lead back to her condition?
"I've telephoned the doctors. We have an appointment for this evening. Oh and, mother is delighted. She had almost given up hope of becoming a grandmother. She can't understand why it's taken you so long?"
There you go; my fault. Never Mummy's little precious baby waby boy; diddums do it to you!
He had hit his thumb with the hammer whilst putting up shelves in mother's kitchen. She had nearly wet herself laughing at the pair of them, and his mother had given her the dead eye!
For Christ's sake, he was almost forty years old, so why did she insist on treating him like a three-year-old?
"I'm tired. I think I'm going back to bed for an hour."
Or maybe for the rest of her life, she thought desolately, like the heroine in an old silent movie, clutching her brow, and sighing a lot, as she laid down on the bed and fell fast asleep.........