More Than Enough

This cannot be happening, thought Katie, her head in her hands. It can’t. But as she raised her head and peeped through her splayed fingers, the white stick flouted its thin blue line defiantly. Not a faint, wishy-washy, could-be-might-not-be blue. A deep, strong, no-chance-of-being-wrong blue. Katie was pregnant. Again.

Pulling herself upright she stared in the gilt-edged mirror, running her fingers through her cropped blonde hair. Taking a deep breath she faced her reflection. The dark circles under her green eyes served only to remind her of the sleepless nights that lay ahead, the softness of her jowl that she hadn’t had a chance to lose the weight she’d gained from her last pregnancy. She put her hand to her stomach and pulled at the soft folds of her jumper, exposing the wrinkled, papery skin that constituted her stomach. OK, it had never been perfectly flat and taut before, but now it looked as though someone had taken a purple marker and scribbled their own interpretation of the M25 over her. Of course it was too early to tell she was pregnant, though it would have been easy to mistake the post-baby bulge for a new baby bump. Those signs would come all too soon, she thought, along with the morning sickness. A wave of nausea hit just at the memory; she’d certainly be spending a lot more time in this bathroom in the coming weeks.

Katie had designed the en suite to be an oasis of calm. It was her final project after they’d moved in and she’d taken extra care to make it the peaceful haven she’d always dreamed of. The sloping loft walls were painted a soothing aqua green that gently reflected the sun coming in through the skylight, exaggerating the already large space. The accessories had all been carefully chosen in deep greens, rich browns and soft beiges. Everything worked in harmony, from the thick chocolate brown towels folded neatly over the heated rail, to the peace lily in its wicker holder soaking up the sunlight. Anthony had teased her that nothing was allowed through the door unless it matched and he was right. Even the small, framed photo of the two of them on their honeymoon had been picked because the crystal clear waters of the Indian Ocean blended so well with the bathroom’s decor.

Katie had spent hours pondering the exact right suite to have; one that was modern but wouldn’t go out of fashion, simple but stylish, beautiful but functional. She’d settled on an elegant Villeroy & Boch suite, with a bath big enough for two that had taps placed in the middle to stop the inevitable fight. One press of a discreet button and the bath water would explode into a foaming jacuzzi. But, Katie now rued, she’d actually spent far more time cleaning the damn thing than sitting in it. As she sat and absentmindedly wiped a small speck of dust from the bath’s edge, she wondered if she could even remember the last time she’d had the luxury of time to wallow in a sea of bubbles. She could definitely remember the last time she’d attempted it. Anthony had come home from work unusually early and insisted that she take some time for herself while he got the kids ready for bed. She’d kissed him gratefully and headed up the stairs to their converted loft bedroom, light with the joy of a few moments of unexpected freedom. The water was hot and deep just the way she liked it and she had used the Jo Malone bath oil that Anthony had bought her the previous Christmas that had spent months on the shelf as nothing more than an expensive ornament. She sunk in slowly, closing her eyes and enjoying the sensation of heat on her skin. Gradually she relaxed, breathing in the sound of silence and letting the tension out of each muscle as the bubbles rose around her. The first noise that broke through the peace sounded like Annabelle hooting with laughter and Katie imagined Anthony carrying her round on his shoulders and Annabelle throwing her head back and crying out for him to go faster. Katie thought for the hundredth time that this was hardly a conducive wind down for bedtime and she rolled her eyes. She knew little Nathan would be looking on, gurgling away and enjoying the spectacle, his dimpled cheeks beaming at his dad and sister. She smiled to herself and felt the familiar wave of love as she pictured their happy faces. But then the scream changed pitch; it wasn’t a laugh and was now being joined by Nathan, his vocal chords providing the crashing chorus to Annabelle’s high pitched verse.

Halfway out of the water, she’d hesitated briefly. Anthony was there and surely capable of looking after his own children. But she couldn’t do it, couldn’t bare the sound of their tears without being there to comfort them. Leaving sopping wet footprints on the marbled tiles, she pulled a towel from the rail just before the bathroom door opened and a naked, shivering Annabelle stood in front of her, hand clasped to her forehead. Katie was relieved to see there was no evidence of blood but the tears spilled out of Annabelle’s eyes at a furious rate as she ran into her mother’s open arms.

‘What happened, sweetheart?’ Katie asked, kissing her gently and trying to get a better look.

‘Hit…head,’ Annabelle stammered before giving in to a fresh wave of tears.

Anthony wasn’t far behind his daughter, carrying a distraught Nathan who threw wide his podgy arms upon seeing Katie’s face and increased the urgency in his crying. Katie balanced Annabelle on her left knee to make room to gather Nathan in her right arm, trying to keep her balance as she hunched on bended legs. Anthony looked frazzled and perplexed.

‘I was trying to get her nappy on but she ran off and fell. She bumped her head on the toy box, but it doesn’t look too bad – I think it’s just given her a fright.’

‘And Nathan?’ Katie asked.

‘Was upset by the noise Annabelle was making,’ Anthony replied sheepishly.

Katie had pulled on a dressing gown, doled out cuddles, kisses and whispered reassurances and left her forgotten bath water to turn cold as she finished getting the children into bed.

Now Katie took a deep breath, trying to refocus; she knew she was on borrowed time. It wouldn’t be long till the first cry would start, muffled at first then growing stronger and more insistent as each moment passed with the realisation that mummy wasn’t there, the nappy was wet and the tummy empty. The one day both kids went down for a nap at the same time and all she managed to do was find out she was expecting a third. Funny? She thought not. Carefully Katie wrapped the stick in toilet paper and placed it along with the box in the bin. There were three more tests already there – one was never enough to make it real, a fact the makers cottoned on to by only selling the kits in packs of two. How many were wasted confirming the same truth over and over again, Katie wondered. And yet it didn’t make it seem any more real. She knew the tests were rarely wrong – certainly not this many of them, but it was early days. What was the statistic? One in eight pregnancies ends in miscarriage? She’d had two healthy full-term pregnancies, perhaps this time things wouldn’t work out. Guilt pulsed through her like an electric shock. This was a baby she was talking about. Her baby. After everything her own mother had been through how could she even think about a miscarriage so lightly? She shook her head in frustration. Why was she feeling so numb? She’d never had to consider how she felt when she’d found out she was pregnant before. She’d eagerly anticipated the tests. There had been times when she’d prayed for that line to appear and its absence felt like a graze of loss on her heart. Then the times it had grown stronger before her eyes the euphoria had exploded without warning, the unrivalled hope and expectancy of the love and joy that lay in store.

Now she felt as though she was watching a stranger take a test and find out her life was taking an unexpected turn. Watched as that stranger buried her budding hopes and dreams into the bathroom bin alongside the incriminating sticks. The numbness was quickly replaced by a disappointment that crushed her heart and threatened to take her breath away. This wasn’t what she had planned. This wasn’t how it was meant to be. Tears sprang to her eyes and she fought hard – she couldn’t afford to fall apart now. If just one tear escaped and she felt its salty wetness on her skin she might just unravel. No, she thought, taking a deep breath and reaching for the bathroom door handle. Now wasn’t the time for tears: there were things to do. Always so many things to do.

Chapter 2

Amy flicked through some papers on her desk and hoped that the other PAs would think she was looking for something. Truthfully she was looking for something but she was unlikely to find it in a pile of correspondence marked for the attention of the marketing director. What Amy needed wasn’t a letter of complaint about Jackson & Lewis’s recent Saucy Puddings ad campaign, a speculative CV or a questionable invoice. She was looking for a plan. It wasn’t a life plan or even a five-year plan, though she made a mental note it would probably be a good idea to work on one of those at some point soon. No, all Amy needed was a plan for the weekend. Up until five minutes ago it had all been sorted and she had been looking forward to the precious two-day reprieve from work. Friday night was to be a luxurious night to herself. She never felt guilty about skipping the gym after work on a Friday and knowing that two whole days stretched out ahead of her took away the burden of any jobs that needed to be done. Who needs to put the washing machine on, do any cleaning or go to a supermarket at the start of the weekend? Friday night was the perfect time to close the door on the rest of the world, sink onto the sofa with a bottle of wine and a takeaway (preferably delivered so as not to have to leave the flat at all) and watch a good film. One of the joys of living alone was not having to compromise on what she wanted to watch; there was no one to moan about her love of overly romantic chick flicks or try to persuade her she really did want to see a film where virtually everyone would end up in a bloody heap on the floor.

On Saturday Amy was looking forward to catching up with her old school friends, Ed and Melissa. As usual they had planned to meet for dinner at Il Carnevale, their favourite Italian. The snaking vines that passed themselves off as decoration were as plastic as the tablecloths but the food was cheap and good – no one could touch their seafood linguini for miles around. Then Melissa called. Baby Lucas – she insisted on calling him ‘baby’ even though he was now a bruising two year old with the devious mind of a toddling monster – had just developed a cold.

‘I just wouldn’t feel right leaving him with a sitter,’ Melissa said. ‘You know what they’re like at this age.’

‘Not really,’ Amy murmured truthfully, squirming in her seat. Betty Sanders, the CEO’s PA didn’t like the other PAs using personal mobiles at their desks as it looked ‘unprofessional’. She was currently pushing her half-moon spectacles up on the bridge of her slightly hooked nose so she could give Amy her most disapproving frown. Amy was in enough trouble as it was; she really didn’t need to do anything else to upset Betty today.

‘Lucas will only want me if he wakes up so I couldn’t relax, and Ed seems to be coming down with it too,’ Melissa continued obliviously. ‘Anyway, I’m sure you’ve got better things to do on a Saturday night than hang around with the likes of Ed and me with only nappy talk for entertainment. You’re so lucky you don’t have your social life totalled by a toddler,’ Melissa added wistfully before she rang off to what sounded like a mountain of pots and pans crashing to the floor.

As she tucked her mobile out of Betty’s sight, Amy had a sinking feeling that actually, no, she didn’t have something better to do. It seemed like weekends were when the majority of people she knew wanted to be with ‘that special someone’ and it had been a while since Amy had anyone in her life who fell into that category. Lucas’s fever had blown a gaping wound into Amy’s carefully planned weekend. One weekend night at home was fine. Two? Social disaster. She couldn’t stay in alone: it was just too Bridget Jones.

In theory there was still time to find someone to fill the gap but she didn’t like her chances. Louisa, her best friend since school, was away with her boyfriend Matt, visiting his parents in Bath. Amy couldn’t claim to be jealous; she’d only met Matt’s parents the once but had counselled Louisa through many weekend visits. With their distrust of anything modern (they didn’t even own a DVD player for heaven’s sakes), passion for discussing the weather, and their idea of fun being two chocolate biscuits with their cup of tea ‘because it is the weekend after all’, Amy certainly didn’t want to trade places with Louisa.

Dawn, one of her few single friends, had gone on a two-week holiday to Greece with a couple of the girls from the hair salon she worked in. In recent months Amy had gone out drinking with them a few times. They invariably got drunk and had a laugh, often staying over at Dawn’s and feeding their hangovers the following day with a mountain of ketchup-soaked bacon sandwiches. She’d been tempted to go away with them and enjoy the sun but she didn’t have enough room on her credit card so she’d had to say no. There was nothing quite so miserable as being at your desk when you knew you could be lying on the beach, Kindle in one hand, drink in the other, reliving the drunken exploits of the night before.

Amy briefly toyed with the idea of calling her sister Katie and seeing if she could go and hang out with her. She hadn’t done that in a few weeks and it would be lovely to see Annabelle and Nathan, but then Katie didn’t like things being sprung on her. Calling on a Thursday afternoon about the coming weekend? Far too short notice – Katie had probably planned her weekend months ago. Besides, watching Katie and Anthony live out the perfect embodiment of domestic bliss wasn’t something she could face right now.

Betty’s sharp voice cut through her thoughts.

‘Amy, you do know that the board meeting starts in five minutes and you haven’t printed the agendas yet, don’t you?’ The words were so clipped Amy wondered if you could actually strain a muscle pulling your mouth so tight. Rolling her eyes at the computer screen Amy found the document and clicked on the print button. She pulled herself from her chair then decided it was too long a walk to the photocopier, so she plopped back down and sent nine more to print, earning her a raised eyebrow from the ever-watchful Betty, but thankfully no more criticism.

Betty had been much softer when Amy first arrived. She’d looked almost grandmotherly with her soft tweed skirt suit, gold chain to secure her glasses and a slightly orangey shade of lipstick that Amy was pretty sure was very fashionable before the war. On first sight Amy had thought she’d landed on her feet; this woman with a sweet smile was surely just biding her time before retirement and would no doubt indulge the younger members of the team. And it seemed Betty had taken a bit of a shine to Amy too, confiding in her confidently that she would take her under her wing and turn her into a wonderful PA. Amy’s look of confusion and disdain said it all; yes, Amy’s acceptance of the job may have given them reason to believe she had some interest in the role, but the truth was she had no desire to be a PA, wonderful or otherwise. Betty might not have taken this so hard if it hadn’t coincided with her only child emigrating to Australia and her husband leaving her. Work was all Betty had left and she was damned if she was going to let that fall apart. Her warmth disappeared and virtually overnight she sucked all the joy from the office. Just one nod of her auburn-haired head could silence the room, and she seemed to reserve a special air of icy dissatisfaction for Amy. Nothing she ever did was good enough and Amy didn’t have the time or inclination to try and persuade her otherwise. Being a PA at Jackson & Lewis hadn’t exactly been Amy’s dream, but seeing as her real dream hadn’t panned out so well this at least paid the bills. Well, some of them.

Amy sighed and looked at the clock. It was only 3pm; two and a half long and torturous hours still lay ahead of her and now she didn’t even have the weekend to look forward to. She pulled her note pad from under a pile of papers and made a shopping list that largely consisted of wine and junk food. If it was going to be a pity party for one tomorrow night she should at least make sure the guest was well fed and watered.

Chapter 3

As the doorbell rang Katie bemoaned the fact that she hadn’t had time to speak to Anthony. It hadn’t felt fair to tell him over the phone this afternoon while he was at work and she had the kids. An unplanned pregnancy wasn’t something you could fit into a two-minute gap between his meetings and the children’s nappy changes. Then Anthony had been held up at work and she realised too late that he’d left her a voicemail saying he’d invited Adam and Isabelle over for dinner on a whim. ‘Hope that’s OK,’ his disembodied voice had said cheerfully while Katie couldn’t see how it could be any less OK. Their lives were about to be turned upside down and Anthony didn’t even know about it yet. Her initial numbness was rapidly being replaced by a rising tide of fear and, as Anthony didn’t even know she had taken a test, she felt completely and utterly alone. She didn’t usually mind indulging Anthony’s spur of the moment ideas and, as Adam had been a close friend of both of theirs since they were all at university together, Katie was ordinarily very happy to see him. But today was just the wrong day. Even if it hadn’t been for the bombshell news there was no food in the house and the Waitrose delivery wasn’t due until tomorrow. A trip to the local supermarket, that used to take 20 minutes on her own, was these days a full-blown expedition that required meticulous planning. She had to time it between Nathan’s feeds and find just the right slot between Annabelle’s afternoon nap and her dinner to make sure she didn’t get overtired or hungry and scream the shop down. But it was too late to cancel, so the latter part of the afternoon quickly disappeared as Katie packed up the bag for the operation, covering every eventuality from an explosive nappy to a hunger pang, and then tried to keep Annabelle and Nathan entertained in their trolley perches whilst gathering the correct ingredients to make dinner for four.

Once the clock hit five there would have been no point in attempting any kind of conversation even if Anthony had been able to make it home, as then she switched into dinner, bath and bed mode. As it was he’d walked through the door just as she was settling Annabelle, who insisted he come in and see her, so Katie raced downstairs to get the salmon in the oven. Anthony had jumped in the shower while she prepared the vegetables and the dessert and now he was answering the door and they’d barely said hello to each other.

The phone started ringing and Katie hesitated before guiltily deciding to leave it for the answerphone. It would probably be her mum calling for her regular chat – she was one of the few people besides cold callers who didn’t automatically call her mobile – and though she felt terrible not picking up there just wasn’t time now that Adam and Isabelle were here. She wiped her hands quickly on a tea towel, noticed it was a bit grubby and threw it out of sight in the washing machine. She checked the timer, noting it was just six minutes until dinner would be ready, and took a final look around. Katie loved that their kitchen and dining room were open-plan, allowing her to busy herself in the kitchen without leaving the company of their guests. She cast a quick critical eye over the dining area where she’d laid the table with clean linen and four place settings that sparkled under the candlelight. It looked inviting, although she kicked herself for forgetting to pick up some flowers in her rush to get out of the supermarket and there hadn’t been enough time to run the hoover round the room as she would have liked. It will have to do, she thought with a disappointed shrug as she heard Anthony welcoming Adam and Isabelle in the hallway. She gave the counter that divided the kitchen and dining room another quick and unnecessary wipe, moved to smooth a crease in the tablecloth and turned to face their guests.

‘Great to see you, Katie!’ Adam smiled, his six-foot frame filling the doorway. ‘Wow! Something smells delicious. What have you been cooking for us tonight, Nigella?’ He kissed her warmly on the cheek and headed into the kitchen. ‘Your famous chocolate pots I see,’ he said, having pulled open the fridge door.

‘He’s so rude,’ Isabelle sighed apologetically. She gave Katie a cursory hug.

‘We’re used to him,’ Katie replied easily, taking in Isabelle’s carefully applied make-up and neatly-styled hair, wishing she’d had more time to make an effort with her own appearance. ‘He’s always been like this and he wouldn’t be Adam if he didn’t make himself completely at home,’ she added in Adam’s direction.

‘Hey!’ Adam laughed, lifting the lid from a saucepan on the stove to discover asparagus steaming inside. ‘I don’t make myself completely at home – you never see me walking around naked, do you?’

‘No, thank God,’ Anthony chipped in, taking the wine that Isabelle offered him and pulling a corkscrew from the drawer. ‘And if I ever do I’ll never invite you round again!’

‘Like I need inviting!‘ Adam kicked off his shoes and pulled out a chair at the table as they all sat to eat.

Busying herself with serving food and clearing plates all evening provided the perfect cover for Katie to hide the fact that her mind was elsewhere. When she was at the table she was lost in thought, half-heartedly trying to keep one ear on the conversation. She just couldn’t make sense of her feelings; all afternoon they’d spun round and round like clothes in a washing machine and now they were just a tangled, sodden mess. How the hell was she going to cope with a third baby? Each day was already like a battle for survival and now the odds were most definitely against her. And what impact would another baby have on Annabelle and Nathan? There was so much more she wanted to invest in them in these precious early years. She and Anthony had always thought two was the right number of children to have; one and they could be spoilt, three or more and they wouldn’t have enough time to devote to each of them. What would Anthony say? Even if they had wanted a third the timing was all wrong as his company was about to go through a management buyout. Katie didn’t exactly know what that meant except that he would have to be in the office, and therefore away from home, for even longer hours. Then there were so many practicalities to think of; how would she even get three children out of the house? If her dates were right she was about six weeks pregnant, so any day now she’d be struck by an overwhelming fatigue as the baby began to take all the nourishment from her body. It was tiring enough looking after two small children, but how could she do that when she was completely exhausted? Nathan was still waking for a feed in the night and Katie figured she probably hadn’t had a run of decent nights’ sleep since she was first pregnant with Annabelle. It was all too much. With each new question and problem that erupted into her mind the cold dead-weight grew heavier on her chest and made her take forced, shallow breaths. She tried to keep smiling and conceal her strange breathing from the others but she felt trapped, unprepared and scared. Only recently she’d allowed herself to dream and to think about what it might be like to be just Katie again. She’d felt a growing longing to go back to work part-time, but every time it surfaced she felt such a wave of guilt that she tried to suppress it again. Why would she want to work when she could be with the children she adored instead? It wasn’t like they needed the money. Why had she been feeling like she needed something else in her life? Was she a terrible mother? But there was no point in even thinking about it now; with a new baby it would be at least another two years before she got any time to herself.

Katie became vaguely aware that voices around her were being raised and she dragged her mind back to her dinner guests. Adam and Isabelle were hissing at each other across the table, from the sounds of it about Adam’s alcohol intake.

‘I’ll get some coffee,’ Katie said, retreating from the cold atmosphere.

‘I’ll give you a hand.’ Anthony sprung from the table, following her quickly.

‘What’s up with those two?’ Katie asked quietly as she heaped ground coffee into the cafetière and flicked on the kettle.

‘Adam said they’ve not been getting on well recently but I didn’t realise how bad things had got,’ Anthony whispered. ‘I mean, the tension tonight is awful, isn’t it? Even I have noticed it so it must be bad.’

Katie smiled affectionately at her husband.

‘I hope they’ll be OK,’ she said more seriously.

‘Do you?’ He raised his eyebrows questioningly. ‘You’ve never exactly been Isabelle’s biggest fan.’

‘I suppose not,’ Katie conceded, reaching for the sugar. ‘I just hate the way she puts him down. It’s like nothing he does is ever good enough, you know? In fact, come to think of it, I never feel like any of us are good enough to reach her impossible standards.’ She found herself staring motionless at the coffee cups in her hands and snapped back into action. Loading the tray then pouring the hot water she said, ‘I guess I just want Adam to be happy, that’s all.’

‘I know.’ Anthony glanced over his shoulder to see their guests had now lapsed into a stony silence. ‘I think it’s safe to go back in,’ he said, taking the tray from Katie.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Isabelle said, pushing back her chair sharply and placing her napkin on the table when she saw them. ‘I’ve got a bit of a headache so I think I need to head home and get an early night. Thanks for a lovely dinner, it really was delicious.’ She said all the right words but Katie couldn’t help but notice her voice lacked any warmth. Isabelle flashed her dark eyes at Adam. ‘You can get a cab home,’ she said in a low voice. ‘And don’t wake me up when you come in.’ She kissed Anthony and Katie a perfunctory goodbye and strode towards the door, her clenched fists and hunched shoulders visibly displaying her anger.

‘Aren’t you going to go after her?’ Anthony asked. Adam sank down lower into his seat.

‘What’s the point?’ he said morosely, lifting a spoonful of sugar from the bowl then slowly tipping it back in. ‘I already know I’m sleeping in the spare room tonight. Actually,’ his face brightened briefly, ‘can I crash here? I don’t think I can face another one of her moods. And the springs on that bloody spare bed dig in at all angles, it’s impossible to get any sleep.’

Katie desperately tried to make eye contact with her husband but it was too late.

‘Course you can, mate, you know you’re welcome anytime. Are things really that bad between you?’

‘Get out the whisky and I’ll tell you all about it.’ Adam drained the last of his beer.

‘Whisky it is,’ Anthony