Late afternoon, 28October
I left the obstetrics clinic in a daze, the paper in my hand still warm. Pregnancy78weeks, it read, printed in bold. How could this have happened without my noticing? Had I missed a pill? What am I to do now? Give birth at fortythree? The thought made my stomach churn.
Driving home, my mind kept looping over the same questions. At a traffic light I barely registered the cars moving ahead; I only snapped back to reality when a driver behind me blared his horn.
Back in my flat on Camden Road, I busied myself with the dishes and the laundry, anything to keep the worrying thoughts at bay.
After lunch, Beryl popped in for a quick visit, eager to share her news.
Mum, Ive got a surprise for you! she announced, perching at the kitchen table.
Spill it, love, dont keep me waiting, I replied, curiosity sparking in my eyes.
Sam proposed to me, Mum! And I said yes! she beamed, her grin impossible to miss.
My dear, thats wonderful! I said, tears suddenly springing to my eyes as I pulled her into a hug.
Hes a sensible, ambitious bloke, welleducated and steady, earning a decent salary for a twentyfiveyearold and already independent of his parents. Beryl and Sam have been together for nearly three years, and Ive watched their relationship mature, convincing me of his genuine intentions.
Beryl, whens the wedding? I asked, pouring us both a mug of tea.
We havent set a date yet, she shrugged. Probably next summer, if all goes well.
Will you tell your dad? I probed, eyes fixed on her.
Im not sure, she admitted, frowning. Honestly, I dont even want to
Sweetheart, thats not right, I chastised gently. Hes your father, he loves you. I know youre hurt, but people separate; that doesnt mean you have to cut him out. I forgave him, and I hope you can too. Invite him to the wedding, please.
Her face hardened. Mum, how can you say that? He left you for another woman. He spent a whole year flirting with his secretary right behind your back! How could you forgive him?
We were together for twentytwo years, Beryl, I said quietly. You grew up to be the bright, beautiful woman you are. Those were happy years, and Im grateful to Simon for them. But he fell in love with someone else.
I tried to explain that I couldnt have expected him to stay forever, that I wasnt supposed to throw a tantrum, hoard resentment, or hate him until my dying day. Its foolish to think you must cling to him out of spite, I urged.
No, Mum, I just dont know what Id do if Sam behaved like that, Beryl whispered, eyes glistening. I cant even picture it.
I gave up arguing; shed never see my side. Youth sees things differently, after all.
When she left, I returned to the kitchen, washed the dishes, and pulled a piece of frozen beef from the freezer for dinner. My mind kept circling back to the unexpected pregnancy, wrestling with the prospect of giving birth at my age, alone, and without a partner. Yet a part of me longed to feel that maternal glow again, to care for a tiny life, to walk that arduous yet joyous path once more.
I dug out an old photo album from the high shelf, pages thick with Beryls childhood pictures. I lingered over a shot of her as a baby in a onesie, cradled by her grandmother, smiling the biggest grin possible. Then a later picture: Beryl, a few years older, in a pretty dress at the gates of HydePark, after shed fallen from a swing and had a tiny scar on her kneestill barely visible. Another: firstgrade Beryl clutching a beautiful bouquet beside her parents, with Simon looking solemn as ever.
I remembered my own teenage self, thin and nervous in a light grey suit, bob haircut barely reaching my eyebrowshow ridiculous that looked now. In a fifthgrade school play, Id sewn Beryl a silver dress and rabbitfur coat for the SnowGirl role, spending three sleepless nights at the sewing machine. The result was a hit, and we all posed on a seaside boardwalk in Spain, sunkissed and laughing.
Those memories made me feel a pang of sadness. I had once believed my family was the strongest, most united one around. Simon and I had shared dreams, built a home, bought a car, travelled. I opened my own bridalwear boutique, fulfilling a lifelong ambition. And then the cruel twist: after my first miscarriage, a second pregnancy that reached fourteen weeks was halted by a diagnosis of severe fetal abnormalities. I spent a night sobbing in a hospital ward, and made the heartbreaking decision to stop trying for another child.
Now, in my forties, with all the stability gone, fate tossed me an unexpected pregnancy like a cruel joke.
When Simon announced his departure, it wasnt a shock. Id suspected he had a lover for months, though he denied it, calling my suspicions wild imagination. I panicked, launched a desperate campaign to win him back, even suggesting we see a marriage counsellorhe flatout refused, calling it a waste of time. I tried every trick I could think of, from heartfelt talks to a cheeky striptease in the living room. None worked. A month ago he packed his things and left, filing for divorce shortly after. Our final, painful conversation left me reeling; I could barely comprehend why he had chosen the bubbly, twentysixyearold secretary, Olivia, with her silicone lips and dramatic makeup. I begged him to replace her, but he waved me off: Lara, I dont care what she looks like. Shes efficient, clever, and I cant spare time to hunt for a new hire right now.
It hurt to realise that Olivia wasnt the prized employee Simon pretended she was. There was something far more personal going on, and later I learned Id been right to suspect him all along. The betrayal cut deep, shattering years of shared history in an instant.
Simon left me a modest twobed flat in the city; he moved with Olivia to a country house. The thought of a stranger living in the place where Beryls childhood laughter once echoed infuriated me, even though Id agreed to stay in the city for work and because Beryl and Sam rented nearby. The uneasy feeling lingered, no matter how hard I tried to suppress it.
The next day, a Saturday, I visited my old friend Nora, who Ive known since our children were in the same nursery. She greeted me with a bottle of fine Scotch on the table.
Lets have a wee dram, Lara, she said, pulling out two crystal glasses.
Thanks, Nora, but I cant, I replied. Im pregnant.
She raised an eyebrow. You and Simon already split, right? Or have you taken a lover? she teased.
No, Nora, the baby is Simons, I said, wincing at the memory of that one night two months agocandles, wine, lace nightgown. We were… intimate.
She laughed, shaking her head. Youre a proper trooper, love. What will you do?
I honestly have no idea, I sighed. Its all so sudden.
She warned me, Youre getting on a bit, Lara. Having a baby now, raising it alone, itll be tough. Maybe you should think about maintenance payments but you know how Beryl will soon be getting married, maybe even have grandchildren soon. Its a lot to take on.
Her words echoed my own doubts.
After saying goodbye, I drove back to Beryls flat.
Hey, love, you home? she called. Coffee?
No thanks, Beryl, Im not in the mood. I wanted to speak to her alone.
Sams at his parents place fixing the roof, she replied.
I told her about the pregnancy.
Do you really want this child? she asked.
I do, very much, I whispered, but Im scared.
She encouraged me to see a doctor, not to rely on internet forums that screamed horror stories. She reminded me that many women now give birth after forty, and that medical advances have made it safer.
Maybe its worth a try, I conceded, feeling a sliver of hope.
The doctors confirmed everything was fine, and I decided to keep the baby. I wondered whether to tell Simon, but why bother? He no longer mattered to me, nor would the child. Id only seen him a couple of times since the divorce, each visit to collect a few boxes.
Then, out of the blue, he turned up at my boutique, claiming he needed the deeds to the house wed once owned.
Lara, I cant find the paperwork. Did you change the locks? he asked, eyes flicking to my rounded belly.
I did, I replied calmly. What did you expect, that Id leave the door open for you?
He smirked, Didnt you get married again?
No, Simon, and Im not getting married, I snapped. My life is my own business. I have work to do.
He left, muttering something about his sons gestation period, wondering how old the baby was.
Later that afternoon, Olivia waltzed into his office, demanding to go out for dinner. He brushed her off, telling her to eat alone if she wished. She stormed out, and he returned to his screen, his mind drifting to the image of me with a baby bump.
From the maternity ward, Beryl, Sam, Nora, and a few of my dressmaking apprentices greeted me. Sam cradled our newborn in a soft blue blanket, eyes wide with awe.
My goodness, hes tiny! he whispered, rocking the little one gently.
Hes perfect, isnt he? Beryl cooed, smiling at her brother.
And you look just like Mum, I laughed, tears spilling over.
Back home, I was amazed to find Beryl and Sam had turned one of the spare rooms into a bright nursery, hanging colourful bunting and a banner that read Happy Birthday, James! (thats the name Id chosen for our son).
James arrived healthy, and I felt a rush of vitality I hadnt known in years. Days slipped by in a blur of feeding, changing, and quiet walks in the park with Beryl.
Looks like youre getting a crashcourse in motherhood, love, I teased Beryl one afternoon as she chased James around the playground.
Its brilliant! she replied, eyes shining.
A few weeks later, there was a knock at the front door. Simon stood there, a bouquet of roses in hand.
Hello, Lara, he said, extending the flowers, which I didnt take.
What brings you here? I asked, arms crossed.
I know everything nowJames is my son. Nora told me.
Even if thats true, does it matter now? I replied coolly.
He pleaded, I was a fool, Lara. Ive realized what Ive lost. I want to raise James together. Will you let me back?
For a moment I imagined the world a year ago, when his apologies might have meant something. But a proverb echoed in my mind: He who has once betrayed will betray again.
No, Simon. Its far too late, I said firmly, stepping back and shutting the door, locking it.
He shouted, I have a right to see my son! but I didnt open. He kept returning, trying to corner me in the park when I pushed the pram, begging for forgiveness, for a new life together. I stayed resolute.
At Beryl and Sams wedding, Simon made a brief appearance, handed them a generous envelope of cash, then left. I later learned hed married Olivia, only for the marriage to crumble after a few months when she ran off with someone else.
Life has a way of turning the page, even when the ink is still wet. I may be older, my family reshaped, but Ive found a new rhythm, a new purpose, and a tiny heartbeat that reminds me every day that its never truly too late.
