Tuesday 13th April.

Baby outfits purchased from a shop: 6 (much better). Baby outfits purchased online: 11 (poor).

10:00 am: Daniel rang the office to apologise for the other night. 'How about I make it up to you Jones?' Fuck off, you arse hole.

11 30 am: Phone call from Magda.

'Tut tut Bridget, I always knew this would happen.' She announced in her sloaney voice.

'What? What would happen?'

''You and your ovaries!'

Oh, she knew.

'It's not just my fault, Magda,' I reminded her, 'It does take two, you know.'

'Yes! So I've heard! Anyway, that's not why I'm calling. I've booked an appointment for you during your lunch hour. You obviously haven't thought this through, otherwise you would have done this yourself! Don't worry; I've explained the situation to her so you won't waste time doing that yourself. She'll just tell you what your options are.'

Couldn't believe I was hearing this. Especially from Magda, mother of 3, one of whom was, as Magda herself said, 'an unexpected surprise.' 'Magda, I'm keeping the baby. We'll cope; we'll have each other. It doesn't need a dad who buggers off to some cocaine country or a dad who buggers off as soon as he hears the word 'commitment.'' Was getting quite passionate, actually. Maybe should quit job and become speech writer for Tony Blair or Gordon Brown or something.

'Bridget, you willy! I was simply saying I have booked you an appointment with my doctor. Obviously not some clinic! I don't know where you get these silly ideas from. Honestly, what are you like?'

Had to hang up and rush to toilet. Baby clearly didn't like the bran flakes I had this morning.

1:30 pm: Doctor's surgery.

Doctor Johnson glanced at the double A4 sided sheet of dates, possible times, date of last period etc. Then she tutted, typed something on her computer before swivelling round to look at me.

'I thought women these days thought about the consequences of sex before they bedded a man. Anyway, I suppose you're living with it.' She took off her glasses and looked at my stomach. 'Well, at least the baby is.'

'Can't you work out who the father is?' I asked through gritted teeth. Cow.

'No, four days apart is not enough.' Couldn't admit real time otherwise she'd definitely think of me as a whore. 'Though as from this week, you're eight weeks so I'll book you in for a scan for next month.'

'A scan?'

'Your three month one? Vital you have it to check everything's alright. It's all explained in the leaflet. And, Miss Jones, another thing?'

'Yes?'

'I think it would be a good idea if you considered having a DNA test. Just to put your mind at rest. It's all very safe now. No needles or anything. My friend had one when her eldest was born so I know it's safe. Plus the results can take less than two weeks to come back.' She looked me deeply in the eye. 'Do you have a preferred father?'

'No! My biological dad has always been my favourite!'

'I mean the baby's.'

'Oh, I see. Well, I suppose there is one. But he doesn't know and I'm not going to bring his hopes up.'

'So don't bring yours up either. Just bear in mind that life doesn't always go to plan.' She tapped a pile of papers on the desk and scribbled a post-it note. 'So I'll get Jane to ring you with details of your scan. Make sure you go. As any mother will tell you, your child always comes first.'

Of course I knew that. Whenever mind wondered from the foetus living inside me, foetus would kick stomach so would be forced to drop everything and make a mad dash for toilets.