Trish Elliott ran her hand across her stomach for the hundredth time since she’d left the doctor’s surgery. It didn’t feel as if there was a new life growing inside her, it was far too early for any movement or kicks, far too soon for the baby to be making its presence felt. But Trish had known, known at the very moment that Jonathon had come inside her, that this time, after years of trying, she was pregnant. She’d bought a pregnancy test kit the very next day but it had been negative, and she’d gone out the day after that and it had also been negative. But Trish had known, deep down inside she’d known, and a third pregnancy test had confirmed what her body had been telling her. She was pregnant, at last.
She hadn’t said anything to her husband and she’d left it another month until she’d gone to see her doctor, but now there was no doubt. Pregnant. She whispered the word to herself as she parked the car at the side of the road, relishing the sound of it. ‘I’m pregnant,’ she said softly. ‘I am pregnant. I am having a baby.’ She wanted to run down the street and tell everybody, to shout it to the sky, to phone every friend and relative she had. But she also enjoyed the fact the she had such a delicious secret. She knew. The doctor knew. And that was all. For a while at least, the baby belonged solely to her.
She switched off the engine and shuffled across to sit in the passenger seat. Her husband loved to drive. It wasn’t a macho thing, it wasn’t that he didn’t trust her at the wheel, it was just that he enjoyed driving so much that she was happy to let him do it. Trish thought that she was probably the better driver of the two. She took more care, followed the Highway Code religiously, checked her mirrors constantly, and was always happy to let other motorists get ahead of her. Jonathon, well Jonathon drove like a man, there was no getting away from it. But he enjoyed driving so she sat in the passenger seat and waited for him to leave the office.
That was something else that was going to change, she thought with a smile. Jonathon had promised, crossed his heart and promised, that when they had a family he’d get a desk job. No more late nights, no more weeks away from home, no more putting his life on the line. He’d promised. He’d take a regular job, with regular hours, and he’d be there for her when she needed him. Someone else could take the risks, someone else could get the glory. He’d be a husband and father. A family man. He’d promised and she would keep him to it.
She saw her husband walking along the pavement towards the car and she waved. Jonathon got into the car and gave her a kiss on the cheek. As he pulled away, Trish slipped her hand around his neck and pushed her lips against his, kissing him deeply. He kissed her back, with passion, and slid his hand down to cup her breast.
‘That was nice,’ he said as she finally released him.
‘You deserve it,’ she said.
‘For what?’ He started the engine and revved the accelerator as he always did, boy-racer style.
‘For being such a good husband.’ She stroked his thigh and smiled to herself. She wasn’t going to tell him yet, not until the time was absolutely right. The food was in the boot, all the ingredients for his favourite meal. And a bottle of his favourite wine. She’d only have a sip to celebrate and that would be the last alcohol she’d touch until the baby was born. She wasn’t going to do anything that would remotely jeopardise the health of her child. Their child. The child they’d been waiting for for almost three years. Their doctor had insisted that there had been no medical reason for her inability to conceive. She was fine. Jonathon was fine. There was no need yet for medical intervention, the doctor had said, they just needed to keep trying. They were both young, fit and healthy. Jonathon’s job meant that he was under a lot of stress most of the time, but other than that all they needed was lots of sex and a bit of good luck. They’d had lots of sex all right, thought Trish with a smile. The sex had always been great, from the moment they’d met.
‘What are you smiling at?’ asked Jonathon, putting the car in gear and driving away from the curb. He pushed his way into the traffic without indicating, waving a careless thanks to a BMW that had to brake sharply to let him in.
‘Nothing,’ she said. She wanted to tell him there and then, but she wanted it to be perfect. She wanted it to be a moment that they’d both remember for ever. The moment when she told him that she was pregnant. That they were pregnant.
‘Come on, come on,’ muttered Jonathon. Ahead of them was a set of traffic lights. Jonathon groaned as they turned red. ‘See that?’ he said. ‘Now we’re stuck here.’
‘There’s no rush,’ she said, patting his thigh. She looked across at her husband and smiled. He was so good-looking, she thought. Tall, broad-shouldered, and a mop of black hair that kept falling across his face. Perfect teeth. A toothpaste advert smile.
He grinned at her. She loved his grin. It was the grin of a mischievous schoolboy that had never grown up. ‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘What?’
‘You. You’re smiling like the cat that got the cream.’
She wanted to tell him. God, she wanted to tell him. She wanted to grab him and kiss him and hug him and tell him that he was going to be a father. But she just smiled and shook her head. ‘Nothing,’ she said.
A large black motorcycle pulled up next to them. The pillion passenger leaned down so that he could look into the car. Trish thought for a moment that he wanted to ask directions, then she saw the gun and frowned. It was so unexpected that for a few seconds it didn’t register. Then time seemed to stop dead and she everything clearly. She saw the gun. A dull grey automatic in a brown gloved hand. The pillion passenger wearing a bright red full face helmet with an black visor. The driver wearing a black helmet, his visor also impenetrable. Men without faces. The driver revved the engine. The passenger held the gun with both hands. Jonathon was still looking at Trish, but as her frown deepened he started to turn, to see what it was that she’d seen. As he moved, the gun kicked and the window exploded and cubes of glass splattered across Trish’s face.
The explosion was so loud that it deafened Trish and she felt rather than heard the next two shots. Her face was wet and she thought that she’d been cut but then she realised it wasn’t her blood but her husband’s. Her face and chest were soaked with his blood and she started to scream as he toppled forward onto the steering wheel.