Chapter 3

I drank some tea and looked at my mobile once more. The call log showed it had been five weeks since Caroline and I had last spoken.

"What's that?" Caroline Bosman said to me in a tinny voice all broken with static.

"I said… how are you and Tom getting on?"

"Okay. Are you getting used to the new school? And London?

"London is…" I stopped as a loud lorry passed my third floor bedsit competing with a belching bus. "LOUD."

"I can tell!" she laughed. "And your school?"

Ah. "Well the kids are smart but the parents are smarmy. I don't think they are too keen on a country girl teaching their posh offspring." That much was clear when I was introduced at the Holiday Parent's Night. They way eyes were rolled at me and hands were shaken, dutifully, but that was all. It seemed to be that they might consider me a country bumpkin so I'd dressed carefully for the event in my best school clothes and new shoes, which seemed tight which was odd for I just bought them.

The Head Teacher had given me a nice intro so all I had to do was smile and say 'hello' to the assembled parents. "And this is our Miss Glasson who has replaced Mr. George after he left. We are so happy to have her on such notice."

I had seen an elbow nudge or two and at least one mum leaned close to her man and whispered 'Cornwall.'

Caroline snorted. "Well don't feel bad, Louisa, They'll get used to you, especially when the see how well you teach."

"Stranger in a strange land," I muttered. "But they needed a new Maths teacher."

"What happened to the one you replaced?"

"He quit – suddenly – and very." Schools were full of gossip and North London Prep Academy was no different. It was said that he had been a bit too friendly with a child's mother. There was a confrontation in the schoolyard with her policeman hubby and that was that. Mr. George went out like a blown candle. "They were very glad to take me on such short notice." I'll say for they paid me an extra thousand to start by December 1st.

"Well you certainly took off from the village about as fast."

I sighed into my mobile. I know it was fast but I had to go and quickly.

"What?" she asked.

"Never mind."

The silence stretched once more finally broken by Caroline. "So Louisa, how are you feeling?"

Now that was a question. Ought I to say I was sad or go one step further and say depressed? "Uhm, getting on," I answered which wasn't much of an answer for I certainly wasn't dancing for joy, especially since the a few days back. "Fine really."

She sighed into my ear. "Have you called him?"

"No."

"Not once?"

"Listen Caroline… I've got to go. Marking to do."

She laughed. "A step down from being Head Mistress, right? Sorry to say."

"No, no, that's alright." It was true it was a jump down the ladder for I did it on my own. "My kids' papers won't mark themselves. Call me again soon. And Caroline just don't broadcast anything to anyone – I mean, keep our confab private."

"Do you think I'll blab any of this over the radio?"

"Sorry no, just… er, especially not to Martin."

"Tick a lock Louisa. So you haven't called him."

"Goodnight," I told her slowly and closed the mobile. The pile of school papers glared at me accusingly. "Don't you start," I said to them then started to have my way with them by way of a red Biro.

My bedsit was small, sublet from another teacher who'd gone down to the Canary Islands on an exchange program. A blast of rain pattered on the windows and I hoped she was using plenty of sunscreen. I tugged my wool cardi higher then added a silk scarf as my neck was cold. I could hear steam pulsing up from the cellar but the radiator didn't seem to be doing much good. Heat was included but the landlord had the thermostats locked at 68F and it seemed to never get up to 60.

Well I was a Cornwall girl so I was tough; had to be.

After savaging Juliet Timmon's paper with my pen, I made my tea then snapped on the telly. I looked down at the mess she'd made of her paper and thought I'd not improved it. "Juliet," I muttered, "you are a smart girl. Certainly you can do better. Just have to apply yourself."

The show on the telly was a cooking show and the host was interviewing a Mrs. Kelly from Falmouth about pasties. Just looking at them made my mouth water. "Get a grip, Lou," I told myself.

"So here is the classic Cornish Pastie!" gushed the host from the screen.

"No!" I nearly shouted. "It is just a pastie! Only you English add the adjective!"

What was wrong with me? I threw down my pen, scooped up handbag, mobile, and coat and went out for a walk.

The rain had now ended and the streets were cold and dark, but this section of town was pretty well lit, so no worries. My boot heels made a clopping sound on the cobbles and pavement and I felt invigorated by the cold air and getting some exercise.

I knew full well what was wrong with me, and I felt a little a little guilty at lying into Caroline. Well at least not even telling even a part of the truth.

I passed the local pub, where a loud crowd was gathered, and I looked inside self-consciously, staring thru the door. I wasn't much of a pub goer, well, I used to be, but not every night, and recently definitely not.

"You going inside or not?" a man's voice asked at my elbow. He was about thirty-five at a guess; blonde headed, blue eyes, slender with a lovely smile.

"Sorry," I told him and stepped to the side clearing the doorway.

He stepped inside then came right back out. "Crowded in there. Sure you won't come inside?"

I shook my head. "Thanks but no."

I saw him scan me from head to toe and I was glad I was wearing my long black coat for it made me mostly a shapeless thing. I had to start loosening the belt though.

He smiled at me. "Coffee instead? There's a nice café right 'round the corner." He pushed the door closed then leaned against the frame, hands casually in his pockets. "I could use a coffee," he said firmly.

I spun on my heel and dashed away before he could follow. No! I didn't want to be with anyone. Not this handsome man, not my sometime friend Holly who seemed to be entirely full of herself too much along with her unwanted advice, or even…

The man was following me now twenty feet or so back so I hurried across the street to leave him.

"Hey!" he yelled. "Sorry! I'm not a…"

I turned at the pavement and faced him across the street and shook my head.

"Oh," his face fell. "I just wondered…"

I shook my head again. "Thanks but no thanks." I started walking but he paralleled my path across the street.

"Okay then," he muttered but it was clear he was interested.

I was not, nor could I be, since I got the news.

All the signs were there; no periods, sore baps, plus nausea, and finally I used an EPT and it was positive. That's when I went to my GP for I had to carry on.

Dr. Spears looked from her computer to me. "You're thirty-seven."

"Yes," I said trying to stay at least partially covered with the stupid paper gown. These things were useless and the room was cold. I was all gooseflesh and not just from the temperature in the examination room.

She looked at me over her glasses. "Single."

"I was going to be married; in October. But we called it off."

"You didn't know you were pregnant."

I shrugged. "After New Year's I suspected." I sighed which I'd been doing a lot of. "So here I am."

"Ah," she said.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just ah." She held up a circular slide-rule thingie and spun the top dial. "By dates, your baby is due 27 July."

Your baby. Your BABY. YOUR BABY! Those words… those words… Not just MY baby, now was it? No, it was Martin's as well and how in Heaven's name could I tell him about it?

"Hey!" the blonde guy yelled from across the street. "I have to get home. You okay?"

I snapped out of my reverie. "What?"

He shrugged and waved his arms at the empty and dark streets. "Kinda late and this isn't the best time of night to be out. Not around here."

I looked at my watch and it was past eleven. How far have I walked? I hadn't really paid attention to where I was. "Where are we?"

"Halley Street!"

I wracked my brain but it didn't ring a bell.

"We're just off James Street… look; I'll walk back to the pub with you, right? That work?"

We were the only two afoot other than an old man walking an ancient bloodhound a block away. "Sure."

A Ford passed, tyres hissing on the wet road.

He crossed his arms. "You can walk on that side and I'll stay over here; so you don't won't get nervous."

I thought back to how I told off that tosser Adrian Pitts at hospital when Peter was hurt. I could handle myself. "Don't you get nervous either!" I said to him and he laughed.

"What's your name?"

I shook my head no.

That didn't daunt him. "Oh, well I'm Will, William Baker. Ready to walk?"

"Sure."

Will was as good as his word for he got me back to the pub in a few minutes and suddenly I knew where I was.

He slowly crossed the street. "See? Safe as houses. Can you walk home from here?"

I nodded. "Thanks. Guess I was wool gathering."

He smiled. "Been there, done that. Your accent; uhm… Cornwall is it?"

"Yes."

He took his bare hands from his pockets and blew on them. "Thought so. Had second cousins down that way."

I turned to go but then stopped. "My name's Louisa," I told him.

"Good night Louisa," he said softly and bowed at the waist. "Take care."

I smiled. "Thanks Will. Goodnight."

"Maybe I'll see you around sometime."

See you around. He would have to say that. I managed a grin then turned away and managed a few steps before my tears flowed.