Beads of water stuck to her cheeks, her eyes were glossy, shiny. It couldn't be true. She didn't want it to be true. It couldn't be. She had to find the right man, a nice man, someone who she knew far more about than just a name. They needed to settle down and move in together and get married and...and then have a baby. The baby part had to come last. That was how it was meant to be. It couldn't come first. It had to come last. Not first...never first. No. They had to be wrong. All 20 of the tests had to be wrong. There was no way she could be...she couldn't even think the word.
She did the only thing she could think of and picked up the phone.
"Have you taken a test?" It was the first thing out of Harry's mouth as he flung open the door of his best friend's flat. The shaking blonde nodded and pointed towards a pile of white sticks next to the bed. The brunette dropped onto the floor and knelt, searching through them. "They're all positive," He muttered to himself disbelievingly. This wasn't meant to happen. She was Nikki. She wasn't meant to get pregnant. She wasn't meant to be a mother. They were meant to be the perpetually single friends, growing old together, laughing at their friends who got woken up at ridiculous hours in the morning and then had to deal with troublesome teens. They were meant to be like that. "Are you keeping it?"
"I haven't even thought about what to do..." Harry was beside her in an instant, hugging her close to his body.
God, how were they going to do this?
He was the second to know. He wasn't quite sure how to react; it felt unnatural, hearing her say the words through tears. Secretly, he'd always wanted her to one day tell him those words, so he could be a grand-parent at last. But he'd wanted her to be smiling and jumping up and down ecstatically as she spoke them, not sat crying in the changing room. The way he'd imagined it, there was meant to be a dependable man by her side, smiling like a Cheshire cat; preferably Harry. She was meant to grow out of her unsuitable boyfriends; it was meant to be a phase, not some stupid lifestyle choice that ended up changing her life forever.
"It will all work out," He reassured the small blonde, wrapping an arm around her and gently rubbing her back, trying to get her to stop shaking.
She rubbed her hands together, her fingers intertwining. What was she meant to say? How do you even begin to talk about it? She noticed the sofa was cold, really cold. She pulled at her dress, trying to cover her bare legs. The door opened, her immediate reaction was to stand up.
"Hey...what are you doing here?" He raised his eyebrows and blinked a bit.
"You're secretary let me in,"
"How did you know I worked here?"
"One of my friends had one of your friends' numbers,"
"Oh, alright," He smiled and walked over to her. "I thought we weren't doing afters?"
"I don't want a date," She didn't need to think about it twice; his sly smile didn't seem attractive like it had done that night, it seemed seedy and evil now.
"What can I do for you then?" He sat down in the chair she had vacated and leant back into it. "Teeth problems?"
"I don't know how to say it,"
"Say what?" She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
"I'm pregnant,"
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"You're just going to get rid of it, right?" He stood up and moved towards her, but she backed away. "I have a fiancée; me and you don't have anything in common. Just get rid of it, right?"
"Yes," She mumbled, before running out the door, making sure he didn't get to see the tears on her face.
"How did it go?" He asked, handing her a glass of water. He knew she would have preferred wine.
"I don't..."
"You can tell me,"
"I don't think you want to know,"
"Tell me," He urged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and rubbing his thumb against her cheek. He could tell she had been crying. Her eyes were still puffy and he could feel the moisture where tears had run down.
"He..." She forced the tears to stay in her eyes. She was not going to cry over it anymore; well, not anymore today, at least. "He's engaged." He sat still, for the first time she had known him he was stuck for words. He was silent. No rambling. No jokes. Nothing.
"Do you...erm...are you hungry?"
"You're thinking about food right now?"
"It was the first thing I was going to ask you before you...I didn't know what else to say so..." He stopped.
"I have to have an abortion. He wants me to have an abortion."
"Are you...do you want to keep it?"
"I don't know." She looked up at him, letting her eyes meet his. She looked so scared, he hated it. He hated it. It wasn't meant to be like this. "It doesn't make sense, does it? Wanting to keep it. Who wants to have a bastard child? Who wants to be a single mum? How the hell am I meant to look after someone else?"
"Don't think about common sense or logic." He pulled her closer to him. "Just think about what you want. It doesn't matter whether it seems the right thing or not."
"Of course it matters, Harry. It's a baby. It's a human being."
"Do you want to keep it?" He asked his question again, softly, playing with her hair as he did. She stayed silent for a long time, before slowly nodding.
"I...think I want to..."
"Then that's what you'll do,"
"What am I meant to tell him?"
"Nothing." He paused. "You tell him nothing, Niks. He didn't want the kid, ok? He didn't want you. Which makes him an idiot. He doesn't deserve to get to be involved in your life or the life of mini you," He put her finger under her chin and lifted it up, making sure she looked him straight in the eyes. "You won't be alone. Ok? Leo and Janet would die to have a grandchild, and he's basically you're adopted dad."
"I know."
"And, I would be the most amazing Uncle in the entire world. I can teach them naughty words and what gets on your nerves the most."
She smiled slightly, through the stubborn tears that had fallen despite her best efforts.
He looked at the elder man and tried to figure out if it was a look of disappointment that was etched across his face, or whether he was just deep in thought.
"She wasn't meant to do this." Leo finally broke the silence that had cloaked the two men for the 10 minutes since Harry had declared that she was keeping it.
"Maybe it's best." He reasoned. "She'll have someone to love."
"She does have someone to love." Leo paused, wondering whether he should say it. "You."
"Me?" Harry tried not to look too happy as he thought of the possibility of her loving him. "As a friend, not proper forever and forever unconditional love."
"I wouldn't be so sure." Harry stayed silent. "I always thought if either of you were ever going to have kids that it would be with each other."
"So did I." It was barely even a whisper, and if the elder man hadn't been focused in so intently, he would have missed it. "She's having a baby, not in the way we expected or meant for it to happen, but she is. We need to help her. She needs us as friends."
"You're too nice for your own good sometimes."
"Harry," She sat down on his sofa, sipping at her glass of tomato juice, with a plate of Limburger cheese and oatcakes next to her. "I got home this morning and it seemed the cleaning fairy had visited,"
"The cleaning fairy?" He poked his head around the kitchen door and pretended to be in awe, going along with her. "Aren't you a lucky girl?" She'd gone up to Manchester to visit a friend for the week, after finding herself bored to death after just a week of maternity leave, and he'd be entrusted with the job of sorting out the post whilst she was away. In the process, he'd realised just how messy she'd let her flat get; there had been instructions for operating a variety of baby items strewn across the floor and a massive pile of cardboard boxes from the cot, pram, changing table and various other bits and pieces.
"Thank you," Her smile was short lived, as when Harry joined her, he placed his plate of pasta on her stomach. "Harry!" She scolded. "I told you, stop using my bump as a table," He wriggled around and got himself comfortable, before taking the plate back.
"I told you," He mimicked her. "To stop eating that disgusting cheese and stinking out my flat."
"It's a craving, I'm allowed," She stuck her tongue out and he returned the gesture.
"Anymore kicks?" He questioned.
"Yes, all Saturday night, I got no sleep,"
"The cheeky git."
"No swearing,"
"Git isn't a swear word." He retorted, smiling smugly.
"You're a cheeky git."
"No swearing," He laughed and she couldn't help joining in.
"Harry."
"Yes?" He said as he chomped through his bacon butty.
"Are you sure you want to be Uncle Harry?"
"Of course I do." He grinned. "Although, Uncle Harry sounds a bit formal, so we might need to think up some cool nicknames for me."
She readied herself. Behind all the smiles and laughing, her life was the worst it had ever been. Being a mother became less appealing by the day, a major cause of this being the repeats of 'Super Nanny' she had found herself watching on daytime TV. She was going to have to deal with all that on her own.
Surely, no matter how bad his reaction was, things couldn't get worse.
"I overheard you talking to Leo,"
"Nosey parker," He smiled, oblivious to her worried state. "What were we talking about?"
"It was the day you told him I was going to keep it."
"Oh." He told himself he should try to act aloof, maybe she hadn't heard his confession; he had said it awfully quietly after all. But if she hadn't heard it, why was she even bringing it up? "Shit."
She waited for him to say something else. Maybe things could get worse after all.
"I...erm..." He pinched his temples and leant forward, hands held together, his elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his thumbs. "I..."
"I always thought the same as Leo." She confessed and closed her eyes, not wanting to see the look on his face when she admitted the next thing. "I wish that it was yours."
"I...shouldn't..." He struggled to find anything to say, nothing seemed to express everything quite right. He grabbed hold of her hand, forcing her to open her eyes and looked straight into them. "I love you," She turned away quickly. What was she doing? It was what she wanted to hear. Why the hell was she crying? It was exactly what she wanted to hear. She cursed herself mentally. "Please don't cry," He begged.
"Harry." She pushed away his hand and tried to compose herself, refusing to look at him. "I need to know what you want."
"What I want?"
"I'm having a baby. It's a lot to ask of you. I don't want you to have to things you don't want to do, just to be with me. You shouldn't make sacrifices because I..." He cut her off.
"I want to spend the rest of my life with you," He's sure of that now. He knows that's how it's meant to be. Whatever else happens he is meant to spend forever by her side. "And over the months, I've kind of warmed to the idea of you pushing a shrivelled prune like thing out of your body and then helping you raise it. What I want is to take pruney to football matches or ballet lessons, or both if that's what they're into. I want to buy a video camera and catch every single moment and then look back at them when pruney's a teenager and remind myself that once upon a time, I did actually enjoy their company." She was hysterical by the end of it, bawling her eyes out, but for the first time in ages, it was good tears. Great tears. Fantastic-over-the-moon-I'm-in-love tears.
"You can't keep calling my child pruney."
"I can call our child whatever I want." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her body into his, and delicately kissed her softly on the lips.
"Noah!" The blonde called upstairs. Her son was 7 now and just as talkative as his father, also, like she imagined Harry had been as a child, he had no problem with spending long periods of time alone in his room, making Airfix models. That was where he was now, where he had been for the past hour. "We're already late," 5 minutes later a small blonde boy trudged down the stairs, his long hair hung over his eyes.
"Oh, I brushed my hair this morning, I forgot today was national no comb day, sorry," Harry teased as he came into the hall, pulling up his tie.
"You're not funny Dad,"
"You know I am," He laughed, handing his son a jacket. "It's cold outside,"
"I don't need it, we're going in the car," Noah hated jackets and coats. Janet had told Nikki it was a phase, Harry's mum said her son had been just the same, but with underwear; something that was still brought up as much as possible to humiliate him.
"Put it on," The boy's mother ordered, giving him a stern look before pulling on her own coat. Her husband wrapped a scarf around his neck and then stopped to do the same for his son.
"I can do it by myself,"
"Sorry, I forget that you're a big boy now," He used his playful, teasing tone again.
"Mum, tell him to stop!" He flashed his big blue eyes at his mother, pleading with her as his Dad picked up the baby carrier that sat on the floor by the door. He gently pulled away some of the blankets, checking she was still safely sleeping.
"Stop it both of you," Nikki held back the urge to laugh at the two of them, before ushering them out the door and locking it behind them. She held the younger male's hand as she waited for Harry to get Poppy in.
"I hate car journeys," The boy moaned.
"Me too," She agreed. "But you like seeing everyone else, don't you?"
"Yeah,"
"Well, you've just got to sit through a bit of a drive if you want to see them,"
"Couldn't we fly?" She laughed, but stopped when she saw his face. He was being deadly serious and he wore the most adorable look of anger in response to his mother's reaction.
"You can't fly a one hour car journey, sweetie," She told him, affectionately tussling his hair, causing him to swat her away, patting down strands of wayward gold.
"All aboard," He'd finally sorted out his daughter's seat and waited for the rest of his small family to get in to the silver Volvo.
"You're lucky, you get to sleep," Noah mumbled and looked towards the seat in which his little sister was laid, tiny breathing noises made their way out of the bundle.
"You can too," Nikki suggested as Harry reversed out of the drive.
"No I can't. It's too noisy,"
"Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed," She teased, looking at her husband, who smiled quickly, before turning his gaze back on the road. She watched her son fold his arms and stare out the window, indicating he was in a strop. She knew it would best to not speak to him when he was like this. Instead she turned the radio on, although keeping it at a low volume, careful not to wake her sleeping daughter, and sung along quietly, occasionally looking over to her husband and laughing as he attempted to tap his finger to the beat on the steering wheel. Harry's musical ability was nonexistent.
"Are you laughing at me, Mrs Cunningham?"
"I might be," She giggled, her voice was hoarse, she was beginning to lose it after all the sleepless nights with the new baby and running around after her elder child.
"How rude," She laughed at him again before turning to check on the kids. They were both asleep now; she stared at them for a while, soaking in the adorable looks on their faces. "We've done well," He commented, as if he was reading her mind.
"Yeah," She agreed, placing her hand in between the two seats, allowing him to place his over it. "He looks really tired,"
"Because he was up until at least 1,"
"1 am?" Her eyes widened.
"I caught him with his torch under the covers,"
"Did you stop him this time?"
"No..."
"Harry, come on, he's 7, you have to discipline him,"
"He was reading Biggles..." He'd never been able to stop his son reading a book, especially when it was his favourite childhood series, even if it was at ridiculous hours in the morning.
"He's reading it by himself?"
"What can I say? He's clever like his daddy,"
"Pretty dumb then,"
"Thank you," He laughed.
"He never brings friends home," It had been on her mind for a while, eating away at her. What if her son was friendless?
"I wouldn't worry about that," He reassured her, squeezing her hand. "I wouldn't bring friends home if I had parents like us in the house, we're pretty embarrassing,"
"He's not meant to find us embarrassing until he's a teenager,"
"I hate to break it to you, but he's 7 and everything about him is more mature than a usual child..."
"I guess you're right,"
"You know I'm right," He grinned and then focused on the road again, turning into a drive and parking up next to Leo's car. He left his wife the more difficult task of getting the baby out of the car without waking her, whilst he went around to his son's side, gently shaking his shoulders to wake him. He rubbed his eyes and yawned.
"Wasn't too noisy after all, huh?" This earned a glare from his son; the phrase if looks could kill came to mind. "Come on then grouchy, they're waiting for us," He let his son clamber out, before closing the door and locking the car.
"Dad?" They were through the front door, their shoes making loud noises on the newly polished oak flooring.
"Yeah?" He hung their coats up then made his way to the living room, but was held back at the door, his son tugging on his jumper. "What's up?"
"I don't want to sleep in the closet," Harry looked down at him, brow furrowed, trying to work out what he meant.
"You're going have to explain kiddo, I don't get you,"
"Please don't make me sleep in the closet,"
"Why would we do that?"
"Because you're going to give Poppy my room,"
"Who said we were giving Poppy your room?"
"Because you love her more than me, because she's your proper daughter and I'm not really your son. Scott said that when she can talk you'll forget about me and that you'll just put me in a closet all day and then when you hate me, you'll send me away. "
"Of course we won't," He crouched down so they were at the same eye level. "Noah Cunningham, you are my son. Ok? Exactly the same as your sister is my daughter. That's never going change, ok? Unless you want it to. And you will never have to live anywhere but in our house in your room, ok?"
"Scott said that you'd say that, but then you'd change your mind and you'll..."
"Scott doesn't know what he's talking about," Harry assured him. "You're keeping your room... it would be impossible to redecorate with all the photos and posters you have on the walls," His son smiled slightly. "Is this why you've been in a mood the past few days?" He shrugged. "I know we've been really busy with Poppy, but I promise next Saturday I will sit down and help you make the Nimrod all day, like we used to, ok? And afterwards I'll read Biggles to you."
"I'm a bit too old for bedtime stories,"
"Don't be silly, you're never too old for bedtime stories," He stood up. "We good?" Noah nodded. "Good, because I think I just heard Granddad say he's going to do a trick," He watched as his son's eyes lit up and laughed as he ran into the room. He looked into the kitchen, finding his mother, Janet and Nikki sat around having drinks, although he noticed his wife was drinking tomato juice...it had become a pregnancy habit that she couldn't get rid of, apparently. His mother cooed over her granddaughter, tickling her and playing peek-a-boo. He turned back around and joined Leo in the living room.
He laughed as his son sat opposite Leo, transfixed, attempting to work out how the card trick worked.
And that was when he realised it.
Maybe it wasn't how they had thought or planned or originally wanted.
But it was certainly how it was meant to be.