Chapter 14

Spike made it back to Lynda's flat without incident and presented her with the brown paper bag from the pharmacy. Lynda took the box out of the bag and studied it.

"Right. No time like the present, I suppose!" she said and walked into the bathroom with Spike hot on her heels.

"Spike! You can't come in!"

"Why not?" asked Spike, puzzled. "This is a pretty big thing, you know. I'm with you every step of the way."

Lynda smiled in spite of herself. "You didn't read the directions, did you?" she asked.

"Huh?" Spike replied wittily. Lynda handed him the box and waited as he scanned the instructions briefly. "Oh. Okay. Well, I guess I'll wait out here then."

"You do that," said Lynda wryly and closed the door.

Spike sat on the couch and fidgeted. Then he stood up and walked to the kitchen table, sat down and fidgeted some more. He jumped up again, opened the fridge for no reason, got a glass of water from the sink and put it down untouched. Finally, after three minutes had inched past, he went over to the bathroom door and tapped.

"How's it going in there?" he asked.

"That's not a very polite thing to ask someone who is in the bathroom," came the tart reply.

Spike rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. What does the test say?"

There was a pause. "Erm . . . I'm not sure."

"What do you mean? There's supposed to be lines, right?" Spike asked.

"Yes, but . . . I don't know if this is a line or not."

"Well, what does it look like?"

There was another pause. "Half a line?"

"Hey! Does that mean you're only half pregnant?" Spike joked lamely. There was no answer. "Okay, I know. Bad timing. I'll go and wait on the couch."

After a few minutes, Lynda emerged from the bathroom dejectedly.

"I'm going to have to go to the doctor, aren't I?" she asked.

"I guess so," replied Spike. Lynda flopped down beside him and buried her head in her hands.

"I can't do this, Spike! I'm not a mother! I'm about to launch a brand-new magazine, how am I supposed to edit The Phoenix and juggle a baby at the same time? And I've just taken out a lease on this apartment – I can't afford anything bigger! What am I supposed to do, keep it in a drawer?"

"Hey, hey! Lynda!" Spike took her by the shoulders and put his face in hers. "You're forgetting, you won't be doing this alone. You've got the baby's dad, right here."

"What?" asked Lynda.

"What, you were thinking I was just going to pop over and look in on how you're doing every now and then?" Spike asked with a catch in his throat. "Who do you think I am, my dad?"

"I – I suppose I didn't think of it like that," replied Lynda, dazed.

"Lynda, let me tell you, I'm determined to be everything my father wasn't. And my mother. This kid is going to grow up loved and wanted and happy and stable. No getting pulled from country to country. No council estates, no going from school to school, no custody battles at Christmas." Spike spoke with a quiet and serious determination that was unusual for him. "We're in this together. The whole deal, forever, the works, right?"

Lynda smiled. "Right."

"I love you, Lynda."

"I love you, Spike."

"Now, get up and make that phone call to the doctor's office."

"Oh, I can do it later."

"No, now."

"Why?"

"Because you're sitting on my hand and I can't feel it anymore."

"Oh! Sorry."