by Charlie Britten
Clare told all her friends at work that she was pregnant. Every coffee-break she bored them with her talk of baby names and at lunch times she dragged some poor childless colleague off to Baby Gap to drool over babygros with Teddy bear motifs.
The only person who didn’t know was her husband.
It was fortunate that Darren never looked under the bed, although sometimes, as he sat on it whilst getting dressed in the morning, his foot touched slippery cellophane packets. Was it his new Jasper Conran shirt? Or a new computer game?
Darren wasn’t ready to be a dad. He was only thirty-five.
by David Woodruff
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