Sue chewed her bottom lip, nervously. Peter was due any minute and this could well be the make or break point of their relationship. She’d spent a lot of time preparing herself and the flat, and was trying to restrain herself from dashing around one last time to check everything was in its place, or to check her appearance in the mirror for the umpteenth time.

Despite still feeling completely shit, she’d managed to put some makeup on and had foregone the little black dress (she wasn’t showing yet, but was feeling bloated and it was just too tight and uncomfortable) for some tailored trousers and a simple blouse. For once, she’d avoided getting takeaway food and had some steaks ready to grill and serve with a simple salad and jacket potato. Hopefully they’d be bland enough not to make her feel too ill, and she’d bought some ready-made peppercorn sauce to add more interest to Peter’s steak if he wanted it. Everything was ready. All that was now needed was Peter.

She hoped that he wouldn’t be late again; Sue wasn’t convinced that she would be able to cope with much more waiting. After Peter’s brusque telephone call earlier, she was convinced he thought that she’d somehow manipulated him into this situation and didn’t believe that her pregnancy was really an accident. Still, maybe he would be less doubtful when she announced her first appointment with the clinic; she’d telephoned them on her return from the disastrous GP meeting and had been able to book a time early next Friday – a vast improvement from the eight weeks waiting list her doctor had implied.

The doorbell rang, making her jump. Peter had arrived. Suddenly she found herself wishing that he had been late after all. She wasn’t ready for this, hadn’t prepared for the important conversation they faced. Wasn’t prepared for feeling disappointed in him yet again over his inadequate reaction to something so crucial in their relationship. She unlocked the door to the block remotely and stood by her front door, inwardly composing herself. She took a deep breath, fixed a smile on her face, and flung the door open.

“Peter!”

Peter stood at the doorway looking sheepish, holding a huge bouquet of flowers. “Hello love, these are for you. How are you feeling?”

Sue was a bit taken aback, but took the offered blooms. “More flowers? I’ve still got the ones you brought the other day in a vase. They are lovely though.”

Peter shrugged. “Well, I’d have brought a bottle of wine to go with dinner, but I didn’t think it would be appropriate with you being pregnant and all.”

“Um, Peter… sweetheart. I’m having an abortion. I’m not really staying awake at night worrying about foetal alcohol syndrome. Anyway, there’s not much point in you hovering in the doorway. Come on in, I’ll put these in water and start getting dinner ready. I’ve got a couple of nice pieces of steak for our meal, so I hope you’re hungry.”

“Famished. Look, are you sure you don’t want me to cook? Shouldn’t you be resting – putting your feet up or something?” He was fussing around her, treating her as if she might break at any second, it was driving her up the wall. They’d never had that sort of relationship, always been fairly equal. Now was not the moment for pedestals.

“Peter! Will you go and sit down!” She snapped. “You’re capable of burning water, I’m NOT letting you loose on these lovely steaks. I’ll deal with it!” She stormed into the kitchen, placing the flowers roughly into the sink and added some water until she’d figured out what she was going to place them in. She glanced back into the other room. Peter was sitting meekly on the sofa, silently staring at the wall. What had got into him all of a sudden? Hell, what had got into her? Was it the hormones? He was probably only trying to impress her, trying to repair the damage from the other night. It was hardly his fault that she was in the sort of mood which meant that nothing he did would impress her at the moment, even if he miraculously produced a one legged man riding a bicycle while singing auld lang syne. What a bizarre image! She shook her head vigorously, trying to shake some sense back into her skull. She was definitely not feeling her usual self.

She checked on the jacket potatoes she’d popped into the oven earlier – great, crisping up nicely. Time to pop the steaks under the grill. She called into the other room, “how do you like your steaks?”

“Medium rare, please.” Peter called back tentatively, careful not to upset her again. “Are you sure I can’t help with anything? Lay the table or something?”

“Quite sure. Everything has already been done.” She’d spent around half an hour faffing with napkins and arranging a floral centre piece on the small dining room table. If it wasn’t ready after all that effort then it would never be.

The steaks popped under the grill and sizzling nicely, she turned her attention to the jar of peppercorn sauce. Reading the label carefully, she noticed it could be heated in the microwave – well that was easy enough. She poured it into a bowl and chucked it in, keying in the time the instructions gave and pressed cook. Now for the salad dressing. She opened her favourite raspberry vinegar and put a few splashes into a small jug. Then she added some olive oil and gave a small twist from her salt & pepper grinders. There. All done. She was about to add it to the salad when she remembered that the flavours were sure to turn her stomach and changed her mind. She took the jug out to the table with the bowl of salad so Peter could help himself but she could just stick with the plain leaves.

It wasn’t long before everything was cooked. “It’s ready,” she called, bringing through the plates at the same time, placing them gently on the table.

Peter jumped up and rushed to the table, pulling out Sue’s chair so she could sit down. That earned him a glare which he ignored. “Smells delicious,” he observed.

Sue waited until they’d both served themselves and had started eating before she brought up the topic they both knew had to be broached this evening. “Peter. I just want you to know, to be absolutely certain, that this pregnancy was completely accidental. I did not set out to entrap you, I’m not harbouring secret dreams of you leaving your wife and starting a whole new happy family with me, I’m not out to get as much money from you as I can. I’ve booked my first appointment with the clinic for Friday and will be arranging a termination which I do not have any expectations of you contributing financially or otherwise.” She took a deep breath. There … she’d said it, managed to get her rehearsed speech out more or less intact. She searched Peter’s face fearfully for his reaction.

“No… it’s not that I… I mean… I never thought that of you – ever! I know I didn’t respond to well to the initial news, I was a bit in shock to be honest, I just wasn’t expecting it.” Peter was flustered, his rehearsed speech wasn’t behaving well at all and he was having problems getting anything coherent out. “It’s just … isn’t there any other option between the two?”

Sue frowned. “What are you saying?”

“I mean… must it be either happy families or abortion? Isn’t there some sort of compromise in there?”

“Compromise? If you’re implying that I should carry this baby through to term and then sign it away to someone else, you have got to be kidding. I’m barely able to contain my patience until next Friday let alone another eight months or so of this. Not to mention the disruption in twenty years time when ‘junior’ suddenly decides he wants to know what his roots were. No thanks.”

“No, no… I don’t mean adoption. I just thought… maybe… there was some way to keep the baby. I wouldn’t be uninvolved, I promise. I’m happy to support you both. I know it won’t be easy, but I’m sure we could get through it somehow. Each day at a time as they say.” Peter cringed at his pathetic attempts at persuasion, but he had to try didn’t he?

Sue was angry now. “And just how are you going to support me, Peter? Be a good dad and play with the kid at weekends?! You can barely sneak out of the house to see me one evening a week! Just how are you going to manage that? What about child support? You know the CSA will hang you out to dry – don’t you think Shirley will notice that sort of money coming out of the joint account? How are you going to explain that to her? Be practical, for God’s sake. I’m not cut out to be a mother, and there’s no way you’re going to manage any resemblance of being a father, so let’s cut the pretence and get on with our lives.”

There was silence after her outburst and for a while they just concentrated on eating, neither of them daring to make eye contact. Eventually, despite already feeling rather bruised from the conversation, Peter took up the courage to say something. “Nothing going to change your mind?”

Sue noticing the despair in his voice, laid down her cutlery, placed her hand over his and said softly, “nothing’s going to change my mind, Peter. I’m sorry.”

Peter slouched back in his chair, resigned at the outcome, then remembered his other news. He leaned forward again. “How about we go away somewhere for a weekend together, maybe next weekend after your appointment – might be a good way to take your mind off it for a bit?”

Sue needed convincing. “Are you sure that isn’t going to make Shirley suspicious? You normally think weekends are too dangerous.”

Peter warmed to the theme. “No, no, it’s fine. I’ve told her that I have a training weekend for work coming up this month. I could do with a break too. It’ll be fun! We’ll go somewhere nice – how about Torquay? We could do a bit of sightseeing, strolling down the beach holding hands, go out for romantic meals, stay in a posh restaurant. All my treat of course.”

She laughed at his earnestness. “Strolling down the beach, in November?! Won’t it be a little cold?”

Peter looked a little hurt. “We’ll wrap up warm, of course, I do know it’s not t-shirt and shorts weather, but we could be lucky and avoid rain. It might be rather romantic strolling down a deserted beach.”

“Okay, okay! You’ve convinced me.” What the hell, she could do with a break and something to aim for after that looming appointment. Maybe it would do her good to be distracted between the first and second visit, might make the time go quicker too. She deserved to be wined and dined like the best of them. Torquay was far enough away that no-one there was likely to know them. It could be a lot of fun.

Peter smiled with relief and from that point on the evening became more relaxed and more like “old times”. Sue found herself gradually forgetting that she had ever worried that their relationship was coming to the end. They cleared the plates away together, sharing banter and quipping jokes and with Sue feeling so exhausted with the pregnancy she felt relieved when Peter suggested they just had a cuddle in front of the TV for the rest of the evening. Not that there was anything on, as usual. They ended up watching a documentary about some Polish ballerina who was starting a new life in the West.

That night she dreamed of pirouetting down Torquay’s beach in a tutu…