We'd stopped talking about babies ages ago. We'd talked about the dog having harvest mites. We talked about my brother's upcoming wedding. I had just got my mother to write down a recipe for a fish pie that I wanted to cook that evening and we were winding up. I had to get to the supermarket before 4.00 when they close and my mother had things she needed to do.
'There wasn't anything else I had to tell you, was there?' she mused, collecting together the mugs.
'No, I don't think so. I don't know. Oh, I told you I felt her kick me, didn't I?'
There was a pause. 'You just told me!' exclaimed my wide-eyed parent.
'You just told me.'
'Told you what?' I said, genuinely confused. I ran the internal security tape footage back in my head. Before I could work it out, my mother repeated what I'd said.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fucketty, fuck, fuck, not to mention shit, piss, bollocks, wank. I fucking did too, didn't I? Did I have plausable deniability? What do you think? No, I didn't.
'I'm so sorry,' I said, putting my hand on her arm. I was too. Even though it was bloody obvious something like this would happen, we'd both tried to keep it a secret and it had been stupidly hard. And then one moment of spontaneity, and the whole thing was out in the open.
'F_____,' called my mother to my father indoors. 'You'll be pleased, it's what you wanted. It's a girl...'