‘You’re overdue for the eight-week ultrasound. I’ll ask David Borenstein for a recommendation and make an appointment for you.’

‘Leave it. I’ll sort it out on Monday. I’m meeting Judy for lunch.’

‘David is far more knowledgeable.’

‘Judy knows everyone. Please. Just leave it to me.’

‘You guarantee you’ll make an appointment on Monday?’

‘Or Tuesday. It might be Tuesday I’m seeing Judy. She changed but we might have changed back. I can’t remember.’

‘You’re too disorganised to have a baby.’

‘And you’re too obsessional. Lucky I’m the one who’s having it.’

What had happened to We’re pregnant?

15

‘I’ll let you guys have a romantic dinner alone,’ said Gene when I went to his office after completing my scheduled work the following Tuesday. ‘I’ve got a date.’

I had been expecting him to travel home with me on the subway to provide intellectual stimulation. Now I would have to download a paper to read. More seriously, Inge had left early to prepare for dinner at an upscale restaurant. I detected a pattern.

‘You’re having dinner with Inge?’

‘Very perceptive. She’s delightful company.’

‘I’ve scheduled dinner for you at our apartment.’

‘I’m sure Rosie won’t miss me.’

‘Inge is extremely young. Inappropriately young.’

‘She’s over twenty-one. She can drink and vote and associate with unattached men. You’re in danger of being ageist, Don.’

‘You should be thinking about Claudia. Fixing the problem of your promiscuity.’

‘I’m not promiscuous. I’m only seeing one woman.’ Gene smiled. ‘Worry about your own problems.’

Gene was right. Rosie was pleased with his absence. When we got married, I had assumed I would have to spend uncomfortable amounts of time in the presence of another person. In fact, much of our time was spent apart, due to work and study, and our time together (excluding periods in bed when at least one of us—usually me—was asleep) was now frequently shared with Gene. Dedicated contact with Rosie had now fallen well below the optimum level.

There was one encouraging item in The Book, which I had chosen not to raise in the presence of Gene.

‘Have you noticed an increase in libido?’ I asked.

‘Have you?’

‘An increase in sexual appetite is not uncommon in the first trimester. I was wondering whether you were affected.’

‘You’re hilarious. I guess if I wasn’t throwing up or feeling like shit…’

It struck me that our practice of having sex in the mornings rather than the evenings was contributing to the problem.

After dinner, Rosie headed for her study to work on her thesis. On average, she was devoting ninety-five minutes to this pre-bed session, although the variance was high. After eighty minutes, I made her a cup of fruit infusion, which I accompanied with some fresh blueberries.

‘How are you feeling?’ I asked.

‘Not so bad. Except for the stats.’

‘There’s a lot of ugly things in this world. I wish I could keep them all away from you,’ I said. Gregory Peck as Atticus Finch in supportive mode. It was probably my most effective line. Opportunities to impersonate Gregory Peck had been significantly reduced by Gene’s presence.

Rosie stood up. ‘Good timing. I think I’ve had enough of ugly things for tonight.’ She put her arms around me and kissed me in passionate mode rather than greetings mode.

We were interrupted by a familiar noise from an unfamiliar location: someone was calling Gene on Skype. I was not sure of the rules for answering another person’s VoIP communication, but perhaps it was Claudia with an emergency. Or a proposal for reconciliation.

I entered Gene’s bedroom and saw Eugenie’s face on the screen. Gene and Claudia’s daughter is nine years old. I had not spoken to her since we moved to New York. I clicked on Answer with video.

‘Dad?’ Eugenie’s voice was clear and loud.

‘Greetings! It’s Don.’

Eugenie laughed. ‘I can tell from your face. I could have told from you saying greetings.’

‘Your father is out.’

‘What are you doing at his house?’

‘It’s my apartment. We’re sharing. Like students.’

‘That’s so cool. Were you and my dad friends at school?’

‘No.’ Gene is sixteen years older than I am and would not have belonged to my social group if we had been contemporaries. Gene would have been dating girls, playing sport and soliciting votes for school captain.

‘Hey Don.’

‘Hey Eugenie.’

‘When do you think Dad will come home?’

‘His sabbatical is six months. Hence, technically December 24, but the semester ends on December 20.’

‘It’s a long time.’

‘Four months and fourteen days.’

‘Hey, move your head, Don.’

I looked at the small image of my face in the corner of the monitor and realised that Rosie had walked into the room behind me. I moved to one side and expanded the image. Rosie was wearing her one item of impractical nightwear. It was her equivalent of a blueberry muffin, although it was black rather than white with blue spots. She did a little dance and Eugenie called out to her.