Page 75 of Pack Baby for the Silver Foxes

Hudson came back with a glass of water and a damp cloth.

“She’s unwell,” I said.

“She’s pregnant.”

Mary came out five minutes later, pale and furious.

“Nobody make a comment.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I said.

“You look like a man who can’t help himself.”

“My face is under strict instruction not to look anything but happy.”

Hudson handed her the water and cloth. “Rinse. Then we go.”

“I haven’t eaten all my cake.”

“I’ll order a fresh slice to go.”

She took the cloth. “A whole one.”

“We want you to eat, Mary. And if you like cake, then we’ll feed you cake.”

Outside, the rain had thinned to a mist. Mary stood under the awning while Hudson settled the bill and bought another slice of cake to go.

“Where are you staying?” I asked.

“My sister’s home.”

“Surrey.” I looked at her. “Did you come into London from Surrey alone?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Uber.”

“From Surrey?”

“Cars do move in both directions.”

“Why not the train?”

Her mouth twisted. “The thought of getting on the train made me want to be sick before I’d even left the house. Also, trains have smells, and people, and nowhere to be privately pathetic.”

“Mary.”

“What?”

“Let us drive you home.”

“No.”

“You’re pale, you’ve just been sick, and you’re pregnant.”

“That list is becoming less charming every time someone says it.”