Holly wished she could fast-forward time. It would be a week before she could take a pregnancy test, and she could think of nothing else. Any sensation in her body—any tiredness, any ache, any random rumble in her tummy—had her wondering: Am I pregnant?Am I? Am I? Am I?

She’d woken early on Monday, and had left for work before she needed to. Since she’d changed the displays the day before, there was little for her to do. She pottered about the shop floor, getting under the cleaners’ feet.

She took the escalator up to the children’s department, and found a table of baby clothes. She decided, to occupy herself, to refold them, and as she did, her mind wandered. She pictured dressing a baby of her own.

‘I remember when you were that tiny.’

Holly hadn’t realised the shop had opened. ‘Mum,’ she said, startled, ‘what are you doing here?’

‘Some idiot on the bus caught my tights with his umbrella,’ Mingmei said. ‘I popped in to get a new pair. The girl at the till said you were up here.’ She brushed a strand of Holly’s hair back from her face. ‘You look tired.’

Holly swatted her mother’s hand away. ‘I was up early,’ she said. She wondered whether looking tired might mean she was pregnant.

Mingmei tilted her head and stared at Holly. Holly started to feel hot. ‘Why don’t you and I go for a drink tonight?’ her mother suggested. ‘It’s been a while since we had a chat.’

*

Traffic had ground to a halt on George IV Bridge, so Holly was late to meet her mother. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, kissing her cheek.

‘I was in the mood for a Bellini,’ Mingmei said. ‘I ordered you one.’

A waiter brought their drinks to the table. Holly looked up at him. ‘Could I have a sparkling water, please?’ He nodded, and left.

Mingmei watched Holly set her Bellini aside. ‘Is there something I should know?’ 

Holly took a deep breath. ‘I might be pregnant,’ she said. ‘It’s too soon to tell.’ She looked at her mother. Mingmei sipped her drink. ‘Say something.’

‘I’m trying to decide what to say,’ Mingmei said.

‘We’re using a sperm donor. His name is Aidan,’ Holly said. ‘He’s one of  Jemma’s friends.’ She hadn’t planned to tell her mother all this, hadn’t planned to tell her anything at all just yet, but the words tumbled out. ‘He wants to help us raise the baby.’

‘Does he? And what does Jemma want?’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘It means was this your idea or her idea?’

‘It was our idea.’

‘Was it?’

‘Yes,’ Holly insisted. 

‘That surprises me.’

‘Why?’ Holly’s voice was becoming terse.

‘You know I love Jemma,’ Mingmei said. ‘But bringing a baby into the world, it… it ties you to each other.’

‘She’s my wife. We’re already tied to each other.’ Mingmei raised a doubting eyebrow. ‘Mum, I’m a lesbian. It’s not a phase I’m going through.’

‘I don’t think it’s a phase,’ Mingmei said.

‘No? So you’ve told Po Po that I’m gay?’

‘Your grandmother is an old woman, Holly. There’s no need to upset her.’ Mingmei took another sip of her drink. ‘I simply meant,’ she said, ‘that Jemma is immature. I’m not sure she’s ready to be a parent.’

‘No one’s ready to be a parent,’ Holly snapped. She sounded like a petulant teenager.

*

As Jemma and Holly ate dinner on the couch, plates on their knees, Holly found she wasn’t hungry. Her mother had rattled her. She didn’t want Mingmei to be right about Jemma. She didn’t want it to matter that she barely knew Aidan. She didn’t want doubts and hesitations. She wanted a blue line on a pregnancy test. She wanted a baby in her arms. 

‘Did you see my post?’ Jemma asked. She’d been scrolling through her phone as she ate. When Holly shook her head, Jemma showed her a photo of the two of them with Aidan. She’d posted it with the caption: the journey starts here #babybell.

‘Baby Bell?’

‘I was going to put Baby Chan, but I think Baby Bell is catchier.’ She looked at her phone. ‘It got 3000 likes.’ She glanced at Holly’s plate. ‘Not hungry?’

‘No,’ Holly said. She put her plate on the floor.

‘Do you think it’s a sign? Do you think you might be…’ Jemma pointed at Holly’s belly.

‘I don’t know,’ Holly said. ‘Maybe.’

Jemma grinned. Holly wished her mother could see it, because either Jemma was becoming better at pretending, or her delight was genuine.