There were two birthday cards. One was from an aunt who lived in Dorset, while the other was from a girl she had been to college with, one of the few people she’d given her new address to when she’d moved, and who kept in occasional touch by letter. There was nothing from Lucy. Kate felt a skim of anger masking the hurt. They had never missed each other’s birthdays before. She’d felt sure that Lucy would still send her a card, and had already anticipated using it as an excuse to phone her again. Now, though, the snub only made her more resolved not to.
No one mentioned her birthday at work. Clive had usually remembered in the past, but obviously hadn’t this time.
Kate knew she was feeling sorry for herself, and in danger of wallowing in it. Pathetic cow, she thought, angrily, and went up to her office and shut herself away.
It was almost lunchtime when Clive buzzed through on the intercom. “There’s somebody to see you,” he said. His voice sounded odd. “Can you come down?”
“Who is it?”
“Er … I think you’d better see for yourself.” There was a hesitation. “It isn’t anything to worry about, though.” He cut the line.
More irritated than puzzled, Kate went downstairs. She opened the door to the office. A police constable was standing in the centre of the room.
“It’s all right, there’s no problem,” Clive said, quickly. Kate noticed him flash Caroline a glance, but her attention was on the policeman. He was young and good-looking.
He stepped towards her. “Kate fPowell?”
Her mouth was dry. “Yes?”
She was vaguely aware of Clive nodding reassuringly. The policeman opened a notebook. “Is today your birthday?”
“Uh, yes. Why, what’s — “
“In that case I’ll have to charge you with being thirty-four in possession of an eighteen-year-old’s body,” he said, and tore open his tunic.
It came apart in a rip of velcro, revealing a shirt and tie bib over a bare chest. He cast them flamboyantly to the floor with his helmet and ripped open his trousers. Underneath he wore only a black posing pouch, with a police badge pinned on the front. Kate jerked her eyes from it as the young man kicked free of his trousers and began singing. “Happy birthday to Kate, happy birthday to Kate, happy birthday dear Ka-yate, happy birthday to you!”
jHe ended with a flourish and grinned. “Now I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said, and Kate took an involuntary step back as he put his hand into his pouch and began to pull something out.
“No!” she exclaimed, and then he was holding up a stuffed cloth truncheon. He waggled it at her.
“The sentence is a kiss, or I’ll have to hit you with this,” he said, but before Kate could answer Clive had stepped forward.
“I think we’ll skip that bit, thanks.”
The stripper gave them a quick look, then nodded cheerfully. “In that case, have a happy birthday,” he told Kate, and bent and kissed her on the lips before she had time to move. Scooping up his clothes, he dressed with practised efficiency and went to the door. He gave her a wink. “I’ll let you off this time with a verbal,” he said, and went out. There was a silence. The alcohol scent of his aftershave lingered in the office.
“It, er, it was supposed to be a vicar,” Clive said apologetically. He gave Caroline a hard look.
“They said they could only do a cop-o-gram!” the girl protested. “It was either that or a gorilla!”
It was their anxious expressions that did it. The pressures that had been building up for days were abruptly lanced, and Kate lolled back against the edge of a desk as laughter swept over her. There was an edge of hysteria to it, but it was no less purging for that. Wiping her eyes, she looked at the other three, whose own laughter was touched with relief. “Let’s go for lunch,” she said.
They went to an Italian restaurant that wasn’t too far from the office. Clive ordered a bottle of wine, most of which Caroline and Josefina drank. He raised his eyebrows when Kate asked for mineral water but said nothing. After they’d eaten and had coffee, he surprised her by telling the two girls to go back to the office alone. “We’ll be along in a while,” he said.
They watched them through the window, leaning on each other and laughing as they disappeared from view.
Clive shook his head. “Somehow I can’t see them getting much work done this afternoon.” His smile faded. He slowly stirred his coffee.
“Sorry if it was a shock, walking in and seeing a policeman. I should have known better than to leave it to Caroline to sort out.”
Kate smiled. “Whose idea was it?”
“Hers and Josefina’s. I went along with it, though. We thought it might cheer you up.”
She looked down at her glass. “It’s been that obvious, then?”
“I could tell something was wrong, let’s put it that way. You’ve not been the same since the police came to see you.” Clive paused. “Do you want to talk about it yet?”
Kate found she did. She glanced around. No waiters were within earshot. “I’m pregnant.”
Clive didn’t seem surprised. “I did wonder.” He nodded at her mineral water. “No wine or coffee. And you’ve started drinking herbal tea at work. Well, congratulations. Or is that the wrong thing to say?”
Kate tried to smile. “I’m not sure myself, to be honest.” She felt her eyes filling up. She wiped them with the napkin. “Shit. Sorry.”
“No need to be. If I hadn’t wanted to know, I wouldn’t have asked. So what’s happened?”
She hadn’t intended to tell him everything. But now that she didn’t have Lucy to talk to, the need to unload on somebody was too great. He listened in silence until she’d finished, then sat back and gave a low whistle.
“Well, I was expecting boyfriend problems, but not quite like this.”
“Original, isn’t it? And before you say it, if anyone else tells me I’ve been stupid, I’m going to scream.”
He shrugged. “I don’t think you’ve been stupid. You’ve been bloody unlucky, but that’s all.”
“You don’t think it’s my fault, then? That I’ve brought it on myself?”
“Christ, Kate, how is it your fault? All you’ve done was try to be careful. I don’t see how anyone can blame you for that.”
“Didn’t get me very far, though, did it?”
“No, but how could you expect something like this?”
Kate had told herself that countless times, but a masochistic voice still whispered that she deserved it. “So you think I’m doing the right thing, keeping the baby?”
“If that’s what you want, yes.” He leaned towards her. “Look, it’s your life. You get one crack at it, so do what you want. If you felt you wanted an abortion …” He spread his hands. “Fine. Your choice. But if you want to keep it, then that’s your choice too. It doesn’t matter what anybody else thinks.”
Kate spoke lightly, watching her hands crumble a piece of breadstick onto her plate. “Perhaps I should have listened to Lucy, after all. She said I should have asked you to be the donor.”
Clive didn’t answer. When she looked up he was gazing out of the window, an unreadable expression on his face.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” she said.
“You haven’t. I’m flattered.” He seemed to choose his next words carefully. “I don’t think I’d have been a good choice, though.”
“Why?” Kate hesitated. “Because you’re black?”
“Actually, I was thinking more because I’m gay.” He turned back to her with a half-smile. “Wouldn’t be fair to dump too many prejudices on the poor little devil, would it? A father who was black and homosexual? Try explaining that on Open Day.”