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could stop it, but Paul, intent on his task, ignored her. She pulled out a chair opposite him and waited, and after a while, the crease of concentration between Paul’s eyebrows changed to a look of resignation and he pulled his eyes from his task. ‘Did you want something, only I’m…?’

‘Yes, sorry.’ Her North Wales accent was stronger than usual, and Paul narrowed his eyes.

‘Something wrong?’

Cerys shuffled in the chair. ‘Well, depends how you look at it. It might be fantastic, but…’ She waved the pregnancy tester at him, and he stared at it.

‘You’re pregnant,’ he said without expression.

Cerys’s fizz of hope spluttered and died.

But then, a great grin split Paul’s face and he shouted, ‘You’re pregnant,’ and punched the air.

She laughed. ‘You’re please then.’

‘Well, it wasn’t in the plan but, yeah.’ He hesitated. ‘D’you think I’m too old to be a dad though?

‘You’ll be fine. You haven’t got a choice, anyway.’

Paul nodded, then he studied her face. ‘How do you feel about it?’

‘I’m fine. A bit shocked, like. I’m no spring chicken either.’ He scraped back his chair, and she was in his arms, blinking back tears. The stink of oil and petrol on his overalls made her shudder and she pushed him away. ‘Sorry. Got to run,’ she said and bolted to the downstairs cloakroom.

Later, her feet tucked up beneath her, she snuggled into a deep armchair opposite Paul.

‘Not sure what Kitty’ll to think about this,’ Paul said.

With her gaze on a still life above the fireplace, Cerys said, ‘Well, there isn’t much we can do about it, whatever she thinks.’ Paul’s blond biker-girl daughter with a tendency to speak her mind, did not have much time for Cerys. Paul was oblivious to the chilly edge to his daughter’s voice and her slight sneer when they all met. But Cerys worried that Kitty saw through her.

Paul linked his fingers behind his head. ‘Yeah, but I want her to be pleased.’

‘She’ll be fine…’ She fixed her eyes on the picture, ‘Paul?’

‘Mm?’

‘I wondered if we ought to get engaged.’ In the corner of her eye, his body stiffened.

‘What’s the point of that? We’re OK as we are, aren’t we?’

‘Well, we were, but with a baby coming…’ she met his eyes and he stood up.

‘I’m not sure.’ He paced round the room. ‘It’s a big step.’

‘Having a baby is a fucking enormous step,’ she yelled and erupted into a storm of weeping. This was not in her plan, and she flapped her hand at him with a sob. ‘Sorry, my hormones are a mess.’

Paul leaned over the back of the chair and patted her shoulder. ‘OK, OK. If it makes you happy, we’ll get a bloody ring.’ Then he ricocheted to the door, hollering, ‘I’m going to call Kitty.’

Mission accomplished.

~~~

‘What did Kitty say?’

Paul swallowed a mouthful of sirloin steak before replying, ‘No answer. I’ve tried a few times, but she must be out of battery or something.’

‘That’s not like her.’ Cerys jabbed a chip with her fork and observed it without enthusiasm ‘She’s a journalist. You’d think she’d be available at all times.’

‘She is, usually. I’ll keep trying.’

Cerys put a chip into her mouth. It was lukewarm and tasted of metal. ‘I was thinking of throwing an engagement party. Just your relatives and friends. I’d love to do that for you. I have nobody, so it would help me feel part of the Thomases.’

‘I hardly have anyone either,’ said Paul, drawing a pout from Cerys. ‘But I’d be happy to share Kitty with you; and Mick and Maurice, they’re almost relatives after all the years I’ve known them.’

Mick, a broad black fellow with greying curls and laughter lines, and Maurice, pallid and nervous, often met Paul in the pub. But he would never invite them back, or Cerys along. ‘It’s a boys’ night out,’ he would tell her. And that was meant to be explanation enough.

‘That’s settled then,’ she said. ‘Leave it to me. All I need from you is their contact details. We can invite the neighbours too. It’s time we got more involved in the community now we’re having a baby.’

‘I’ll try Kitty again,’ Paul said.

‘You worry too much about that girl,’ Cerys called after him.

~~~

‘Look. I’m not having any party until I’ve spoken to Kitty.’ Paul was once again patrolling the lounge carpet.

‘I understand you’re worried, Love, but she’s a big girl, and no news is good news isn’t it? She’s probably fine. Could she be on holiday?’

‘Without telling me? No. I do know my own daughter.’

‘I’m sure you do, but you also worry too much. Parties take a great deal of planning. Look - I’ll send her an invitation. She’ll be there. Trust me.’

From his silence she inferred compliance and grabbed a pen and her notebook, ‘Now then, what’s her address?’

~~~

To Cerys’s relief, Paul announced his plan to meet up with Mick and Maurice that evening.

‘OK, darling. That’s a good idea. Why not invite them in afterwards, and I’ll make you all coffee?’

He opened his mouth, then closed it. ‘OK,’ he sighed, and after a beat, ‘Thanks.’

After he left, Cerys washed up their dishes then trailed from room to room, straightening pictures and stroking furniture. She had a job to do tomorrow. A secret mission. As far as Paul knew, she would be at a wedding fair in Birmingham. She checked her watch. Eight twenty-five in the evening.

At eleven o’clock, she set out a tray for the men’s coffee. Alone in the kitchen, she allowed her face droop with exhaustion. But a key in the lock acted like a switch. ‘Hi Darling,’ she called. Then in a bright voice to the beer-buoyant voices, said, ‘Make yourselves comfy, I’ll be right in.’

Mick and Maurice smiled up at her from the

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