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“I’m behind with it. I’m so stressed and tired, I fall asleep every time I sit down to read it.”

“It’s good,” Carrie said. “Though the style took me a while to get into.”

They walked through to the kitchen.

“How about a cuppa?” Carrie suggested.

“Thanks. Black, please. Milk’s making me feel weird.” She absentmindedly rubbed her stomach.

Carrie watched her carefully.

“You’re sick?”

“Not really. Just tired and stressed, and that stupid cold won’t shift. I’m still so wound up about going into business with Dylan.”

“What’s going on with that?” Carrie asked, taking mugs out of a cupboard.

“Everything’s coming together so quickly. I should have known it would once Mary got involved,” Lucy joked. “My landlord seems keen to wrap everything up, and agreed to the lower offer we made, which was great. I mean, I won’t be able to fully relax until everything’s completed and I’m sure my business and home are safe, but things are looking good.”

“And you’ll be OK working with Dylan?”

Lucy shrugged as she accepted her drink. “I have to be.”

They moved over to the kitchen table and sat down.

“You really do look exhausted,” Carrie said, her forehead furrowed. “You’re sure it’s just the remains of a cold?”

“Yeah. And stress. It’s been a really weird time.”

“You’re tired all the time and feeling nauseous . . . do you think you could possibly be pregnant, Lucy?” Carrie asked gently.

“No!” Lucy said immediately. “No way. I haven’t . . . Well, you know how busy I am . . . I’m not seeing anyone.”

“My mum was telling me that you haven’t been feeling right for a while.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You’ve been feeling nauseous, especially around certain foods?”

“Most foods, yeah, but especially dairy.”

“Lucy, when was your last period?” Carrie asked.

“I’m not sure.” Lucy tried to think. “They’re usually really regular, but I haven’t been paying attention, and stress can make them late, can’t it?”

“So, it’s like a few days late? A week?”

Lucy thought. “More like a couple of months . . .”

“OK, Luce. This is really weird because your symptoms sound exactly like my pregnancy symptoms, and you haven’t had a period in two months.”

“But I’m telling you, I haven’t . . .” Lucy began to protest. And then she remembered. Her night with Dylan. But they’d used protection. She was sure they had. When was that? The night of the town’s Christmas meeting . . . just over two months ago . . .

“What is it?” Carrie asked. “You’ve gone really white.”

“I think maybe taking a test might not be such a bad idea after all,” Lucy said, her heart thumping in her chest as she realised the implications of what she was saying. “Just to rule it out.”

“Right,” said Carrie, doing a dreadful job of hiding her emotions. “Let me go upstairs and check if I have one.”