Free Will You Remember Me? by Amanda Prowse

duff, don’t you?’ He sank down onto the carpet by her side of the bed and placed his head on his palm, propped up by his elbow. ‘It’ll be bloody brilliant. Don’t worry about the space or money, we’ll figure it all out, we always do, right? If it’s a girl, she can go in with Peg and if it’s a boy, then we can move both boys into the big room and Peg can go into Max’s room. She’ll kick off, but I’m sure we can sweeten it with a splash of pink paint and a few cushions!’
    ‘Martin, please.’
    He sat back on his haunches. ‘What? Too excited too soon? I know, but I can’t help it. A baby! Oh, mate, this’ll be the making of us. It’ll all be fine, it always is with us. Peg will go nuts and Maxy will be the big boy – imagine that. He can teach it how to count, if nothing else!’
    Poppy shook her head. ‘I’m not pregnant.’
    Martin stared at her, still with his grin fixed. It was a little while before he spoke. ‘No?’
    ‘No, love.’
    He sat back on the carpet and folded his arms across his chest, leaning against the wardrobe and looking confused and slightly embarrassed. ‘Blimey, I thought that was what you were going to say. I would have sworn…’ He stared at his wife. ‘So what was the doctor’s all about then?’
    Poppy studied her fingers as they fidgeted in her lap. ‘I’m poorly.’
    ‘Well I guessed at that much, you silly moo. You don’t go to the quack if you’re feeling great, do you?’ He gave a small snort of laughter, trying to lighten the mood; already his breathing was coming a little too fast. The vein on his neck pulsed. ‘Is it… period business?’
    Poppy gave a small laugh in spite of herself and the gravity of the conversation she was trying to have.
Period business.
They’d been together since they were fourteen and yet he was still shy, awkward at having to mention or observe this most basic of bodily functions. She went quiet, unable to locate the words that hovered on her tongue.
    ‘No, it’s not period business.’
    Her tongue stuck to the dry roof of her mouth. She practised the words in her head. ‘It’s cancer, Mart. I’ve got cancer.’ That sounded too blunt; maybe it should be ‘They think I’ve got cancer,’ and give him a small ray of hope on which to focus. She looked at the worry etched on his face. It didn’t matter what she said or how she phrased it, she was going to shock him, upset him and smash the serenity in which he thought they lived.
How? How do I do that to you, my love?
    Max let out a wail from his bedroom. ‘Maxy’s awake!’ Peg shouted from hers. ‘It’s okay, Maxy, Mummy’ll be in in a sec!’
    Poppy smiled and closed her eyes for a second and she saw it, saw how she would shift in an instant from wife to patient, from lover to invalid and she didn’t want that, not yet.
    ‘I’ve got some fluey bug, apparently.’
    ‘Oh no! You should have said earlier. Can I get you anything?’ Martin was already standing and making for the door. Busy, preoccupied as ever, this was their life.
    ‘You can go get that Maxy!’ She smiled at her man.
    Martin nipped across the floor and kissed her on the forehead. ‘You should have said you weren’t well. Tell you what, you nod off and shout if you need anything. A good night’s sleep and you’ll feel as right as rain. Don’t worry, just go to sleep. Ssssshhh…’ He crept backwards out of the room.
    ‘I’m sorry about the baby thing, Mart.’
    He looked back at his wife. ‘Don’t be. I’m happy with the practising!’ He winked at her and went to grab the crying Max.
    Poppy stared at the back of the closed door and wished that she
could
wake up feeling right as rain, without the stone of anxiety sitting in her stomach and with her mind free from the worry about what the future might hold.

Seven
    Poppy sat in the large consulting room with its examination couch and wide desk with two armchairs positioned in front of it. She was grateful that Jo had agreed to sit