Michael rose, fed the meter and turned on the fire. He returned to her and wrapped her close to him again. After several minutes, she pulled in a deep shuddering breath, and then another. There were several crumpled tissues on the floor. Michael reached for one, lifted it to her face and dried her eyes. She took it from him and wiped her nose, and then buried her face in his chest, but did not cry.
‘Are you getting a bit warmer now?’
‘Yeah, I suppose.’
‘I’m really, really sorry-’
‘I thought you’d just gone off, walked out. Just gone.’
‘No. No, no, I never would… never. I never would. Honest, I never would.’ His arms tightened round her and with one hand he caressed her shoulder. The neck of her sweatshirt was wide, and his hand met her skin and dipped under the edge of the material. The warmth and softness of her seemed to flood him with other sensations; she became not just warm skin beneath his fingers but also taste, a smell. She was almost a sound, both in and of his own head, filling every cell of him with an incredible, compulsive music that his body recognised and wanted to move to. He pulled the sweatshirt from her shoulder and buried his face in her neck, kissing, breathing her in, and with a burst of courage he moved his hand and placed it lightly on one breast. One of Steph’s hands was moving up his thigh. Whether he was more terrified than excited, more embarrassed than elated, he simply did not know. As her hand roamed closer Michael pressed the round breast beneath his palm. It could have been made of bread for all he could tell, under the thick sweatshirt, but he was unsure if he was allowed to do more, and now something close to panic washed through him in case it was all going to stop. Her hand had left his thigh and was removing his hand. He would explode, surely, if it had to stop. Steph pulled his hand away and drew it under her clothes, and as he touched her bare breast, she gasped.
‘Sorry!’ Michael blurted, withdrawing his hand.
She replaced it gently and kissed him, pushing her tongue into his mouth. It was only when she stood up and pulled him to his feet that he remembered properly that she was pregnant. He stared at her stomach, trying and failing to conceal his erection, not knowing what to say or do, even less what she wanted. She reached round his neck with both arms and whispered, ‘Michael. Michael, it’ll be all right. Come on, it’s all right,’ and there was silence. Michael’s hands reached under the sweatshirt and pulled it off over her head. He gazed at the white-skinned, blue-veined breasts, so lopsided and heavy, while both hands lifted and cupped them and his fingers played over her brown nipples. He searched her face to see if he was getting this right, if his hands being here, doing this to her breasts, really could be what she wanted. He took one nipple in his mouth and she moaned and stroked his head. It was incredible; he was almost unable to believe it, but she was unzipping him now. He felt afraid. He had slept with people, of course, perhaps half a dozen, and with one of them, on and off, for several months, but not for ages. And never with anyone pregnant. He did not know how or even if it were possible. What if he hurt her, or the baby?
‘Come on,’ Steph whispered. ‘It’s fine. Come on, it’ll be fine.’
Michael allowed himself first to be led to his bedroom, then to be undressed, and to undress her. She was beautiful. With the sight of her naked round body came a burst of hope that entering her would be as easy as it was necessary. It was, she made it so. It was easier than he would have believed possible and, beyond that, infinitely happier. She lay on her side and let him travel her with his hands and tongue, moving as and where he wanted. When he began to understand that he had more than her permission and that she was as frantic as he was, he grew bolder, and when he finally parted her legs and found her so wet that he thought he would die from need of her, she reached down and drew him inside her. She showed him how to glide and twist in her. He delighted in the way she instructed and he followed. For ever afterwards he would remember how his delight seemed to please her as much as her own, which she also knew how to take from him. She showed him how, but it was he who delighted her. He touched, pushed and slid and waited, withdrew, touched again as she pulled him back between her legs. For as long as she wanted he sank in and out of her, entering and leaving her, until with her legs gripping him round his waist he felt her tug and tighten over him and she gasped and swore happily. He was long past speech himself.
In a state of amazed exhaustion they lay together through the rest of the morning and into the afternoon. The bedroom was freezing. Under the covers, they could believe themselves just about warm enough if they did not move. Lying face to face, they laughed because their noses, when they touched, were both so cold. Above them the dog barked, and feet pounded. They dozed. Hours passed and they watched darkness come, the time of day an irrelevance. Then Michael wanted her again, and afterwards Steph fell asleep while Michael lay looking at the ceiling, trying to place himself in this new, re-ordered scheme of things. From his bare past, which already he was thinking of in the way that a freed man thinks of prison, it was like stepping through an archway. It almost eclipsed the finding of his mother but was also part of the same thing, marking the beginning of his life as a person who had other people. He turned and looked at Steph’s face. Her eyes, so large, seemed smaller when she was asleep. The eyelids were thin-skinned and bluish and reminded Michael of a baby bird. Her lips had relaxed and seemed fuller. They were still wet. His eyes wandered down to the swell of her stomach over the duvet, the line of her splayed legs. He placed a hand gently on her and let it climb her curve, barely touching. He could hardly bear the distance her sleeping put between them, but he would not dream of waking her. There was no hurry. They had each other. And soon there would be a baby, and all of them, they would all belong to one another. A voice in his head declared it.
When Steph woke she looked even more tired than before, and she had a headache. When she told Michael that she had eaten hardly anything since he had left the house, he went into the kitchen, where he found her frankfurter spaghetti in a coagulated mess. He brought her tea and biscuits, feeling slight consternation because he was out of aspirin. Then Steph said she wanted a bath, so he switched on the immersion heater. It only produced enough water for one bath, so he washed in cold water and got dressed. Later he returned to the bathroom and ran a bath for her, fetching a clean towel and placing an old one on the floor. It had occurred to him that the wet floor might be dangerous. What if she were to slip while he was out? He explained all this solemnly, warning her to be very careful and to step onto the towel on the floor, while Steph lay propped up on his pillows and drank her tea, listening and nodding, rather stunned. Michael could have laughed aloud with the pleasure of spoiling her. He still had not told her about Jean, and she had not asked. Things had happened too quickly, and even now he was in a hurry to get her the aspirin. Suddenly he was so busy, life was so full.
‘You’re nice and cheerful, anyway,’ Steph said, looking over her mug of tea.
‘Yeah, well, and I reckon you are too,’ he said. ‘Cat that’s got the cream, that’s you.’ She laughed.
He came back with paracetamol, which the pharmacist had told him was better than aspirin for pregnant women, and two or three carrier bags of food including a chicken and a bottle of wine. He found Steph sitting on the sofa in front of the fire, barefoot, dressed in pyjamas and one of his sweaters, combing out her hair, which dangled in wet loops over the towel round her shoulders. She looked up almost shyly because she had planned for him to notice her hair. She wanted him to think it was nice when it was newly washed.
‘You warm enough there like that?’ Michael asked. Steph smiled and nodded, turned her head and continued combing, while he watched.