For a brief moment he looked as if he was going to ask "for what?," then his expression changed to one of total shock as she saw that he understood her meaning. She didn't think he looked pleased. But then she hadn't expected he would be.
"How late?" he asked cautiously.
"Two weeks," she replied quietly, knowing it wasn't the kind of answer he was looking for.
He was silent for a while before asking, "Have you taken a test?"
She shook her head. "No."
"I have one though," she added, as if it somehow made amends for not taking it.
"Where is it then?"
"In my handbag," she said reluctantly.
Three days ago she had got as far as undoing the wrapper and opening it up. After standing and staring at it for five minutes and unsuccessfully trying to steel herself to pick it up she'd lost her nerve and hurriedly returned it to its packet, dumping it inside her handbag where it still remained.
"You should take it once we get back to the grid," he said shortly. "The sooner we know the better."
Lucas found his attention distracted by some activity on the camera feed. The suspect was finally making for the exit, "He's on the move, do you copy?" said Lucas to Malcolm.
"Copy that," replied Malcolm. "Our chaps will take it from here," he said referring to the undercover staff from Section B who had been waiting in a dark blue sedan to tail the suspect once he left the mosque.
"You're done then – we'll see you back here for afternoon tea," Malcolm finished cheerily.
Jo felt her heart sink on hearing Malcolm's comments.
**
After an unusually quiet trip back, Lucas entered the grid followed by a rather pale looking Jo.
"I'll take care of the paperwork," said Lucas, "You take your handbag and go," he said looking grim.
The look on his face further alarmed an already apprehensive Jo. She quickly exited the room and headed for the women's toilets, her navy handbag in tow.
**
Back at his desk Lucas wondered impatiently what was taking so long. He looked at his watch and noted with frustration that she had now been in there for 15 minutes. He was sure the whole process should take a maximum of five.
He had never understood what happened when women visited bathrooms. It was like they were visiting some kind of a parallel dimension where they thought that space and time stood still, always taking an inordinately excessive amount of time to do the most simple things - like do their hair or check their makeup.
Finally Jo emerged from the bathroom, her expression guarded. "What did it say?" he asked urgently. He had moved to stand next to her so they couldn't be overheard - his tall frame leaning in to her, her head level with his shoulders.
"Yes," she said, sounding defeated.
It occurred to him that he had forgotten to ask a rather fundamental question – one which might offend her but needed to be posed, "And it's mine?"
"Yes, it has to be," she said shortly, annoyed at his question.
He nodded. For some reason he was relieved by her reply, even though he shouldn't have been. They stood there silently for a while, neither knowing quite what to say.
"Will you excuse me then – I have some things to attend to," said Jo after a moment. She was surprised at how curiously formal she sounded considering she was addressing the father of her child.
Lucas looked at her then nodded silently, her comments interrupting him mid thought.
Jo's "things to attend to" included anything not involving Lucas North that could be done anywhere he wasn't. After visiting GCHQ to follow up a lead with a researcher there, she spent the rest of the afternoon in the records room, then headed home at 6.30.
**
The next morning Lucas was in early. The rest of the team filtered in over the next hour, but by 8.30 there was still no sign of Jo.
"Where's Jo?" Lucas asked Ros.
"On leave," she replied shortly.
"Oh - she's not ill I hope?" Lucas asked, concerned.
"No," she said, then turned her attention back to her computer.
Lucas found himself more than ordinarily busy that day as he met up with various contacts he'd been cultivating over the past few months that he hadn't had the chance to see during his secondment.
But he found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on his work, being distracted by other thoughts.
One particular image kept coming into his mind, something he had tried to block out over the past eight years. Successfully, he thought, until now.
He remembered the day he had come home – late as usual - to find Elizabeta's car parked in the garage but no sign of her at the house. He'd wandered through the house becoming increasingly puzzled as to where she could be, before pausing at the entrance to the bathroom.
The scene inside had been enough to made his heart skip a beat and the colour drain from his face.
Elizabeta had been crumpled on the ground, her face unnaturally pale and her hands clutching at her stomach. A pool of blood surrounded her on the floor. In that moment he knew that their hopes and wishes of the past three months had come to an abrupt end.
He'd insisted they take her to the doctor, had argued with her when she'd said there was no point, that it was too late. She'd been right.
After a few weeks later they'd tried again, but nothing came of it. Four months after that he had been sent to Russia, to begin his government sponsored nightmare.
**
At home Jo was also finding it difficult to concentrate. She's stayed awake late into the night, going to bed early but finding herself unable to get to sleep had gotten up once to pick up a favourite book, and later again to fix herself a hot chocolate. Neither seemed to help.
Today she found the same thoughts that had troubled her last night still whirring in her head.
First she'd think of her salary – barely enough to cover her expenses at the moment and not likely to increase any time soon thanks to the professional miser who now headed the British Government.
Then her thoughts would turn to the friends and colleagues she'd lost in the service, to Adam, Fiona and Wes, to Lucas' and her own mortality. It was true that along with taxes, death was a certainty everyone had to face in the end. But in her case, and in Lucas' it seemed more certain than most, and the end less distant.
Finally she'd think of the notes on her personnel file. The psychological evaluation they'd made her do after Adam's death, before she could return to work. "My recommendation is that Joanna is fit to return to service, but that given the multiple traumatic episodes she has been exposed to, she be carefully monitored. It is my belief that any further adverse incidents could rapidly destabilise her mental health.
She hated those words – the reminder that, as she'd heard one of the girls from Section B whisper to a colleague as she entered the staff cafeteria shortly after her return to work, she must be "close to the edge."
She sighed and got up to make herself a cup of tea, checking the time on the microwave as she did so – 1.45. She reminded herself that she needed to leave at two.
**
The next day Lucas asked again where Jo was and received the same answer.
After lunch he had impulsively dialed Jo's number then changed his mind before the ring tone could finish and abruptly ended the call, thinking to himself that these things were better done in person.
After finishing off some paperwork, Lucas left the office at four to drive round to her house. He arrived to find her car gone and the house empty. After pacing for a few minutes up and down her driveway he finally made up his mind. He crouched down to sit on her doorstep and waited, pulling his coat closer about his body to provide some relief from the cold.
**
Jo looked at her watch – 4.10.
She remembered the last time she'd been in one of these places. Harry had sent Connie to sit with her while she waited, not knowing what else to do. They'd sat - Jo silent and pale, while Connie chattered about everything and nothing really, her voice soft and comforting, pausing to pat her hand reassuringly every so often. The atmosphere had been stuffy, stifling almost. And always the waiting. She hated it then and she hated it now.
Even with Connie with her she'd felt alone. She thought that had Lucas been with her now she would still feel alone. But then of course she thought with a twist, he wouldn't have been with her, even if he'd known.
A pleasant sounding female voice broke the silence, jolting her back to reality.
"Joanna Portman?"
She nodded reluctantly, "Yes," and stood up.
"Come through, the doctor's ready for you now," said the nurse.