Michael

I amble into the kitchen to the mixed smells of toast, peppermint and coffee. Mitch, Beth and Charlotte are gathered around the breakfast table. Plastering a smile on my face, I try to sound cheerful. “Morning all.”

“Morning, Michael,” smiles Beth. She still looks tired, but like Charlotte, is still going through the stage of not wanting to let go of Adam. He coos in her arms and she keeps her attention on him.

Charlotte speaks quickly, then looks away. “Hi.”

Mitch nods, then sips from her teacup, looking down.

Have I said something I shouldn’t?

Offended one of them?

Snagging a couple of oranges, I head for the squeezer and slice the first one in half. “Juice, anyone?”

“I’ll have some,” says Charlotte. “And squeeze some for Mom too, please.”

“Sure thing.” I grab another couple of oranges, running a quick mental inventory of what I’ve said and done this morning and the evening before…

Beth was tired… Hardly surprising. But certainly not upset. Triumphant would be nearer the mark.

Did I say something to offend her?

Nah…

What then?

The squeezer hums and spins, shooting a thin

Fuck!

my

a grab for the paper towels I swipe down my face, then mop at the stains

it makes a convenient excuse for me to surreptitiously eye the

an air of huddle about

would have at

and Mitch and Beth lean in, heads close, talking quietly. This is

I’m inching towards conspiracy…

the hell’s

On the tabletop, lying

that a

faces jerk my way. Three sets

over, snatching up the small wand. Two blue lines stare up at me. “Charlotte? Didn’t

to mine and her mouth opens to speak, but I’m still talking… “It’s pretty soon after the first, I know, but did you imagine

her head…

“Charlotte… It’s marvellous…”

“Michael, it’s not mine.”

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