“What do you mean?”
“You haven’t answered calls, texts, emails anything all weekend. You’re in total techno-purdah.”
“What is she googling?”
I leapt at the laptop and wrestled it from their hands.
“Perimenopause! She’s been googling perimenopause for seven hours. She’s signed up to hotflush.com.”
“For some women perimenopause can begin as early as thirty-five,” I gabbled. “In years to come all women will automatically freeze their eggs, build their careers, microwave them, and Bob’s your uncle, but…”
“Why do you think you’re perimenopausal?”
I stared at them, embarrassed.
“Have your periods become irregular?” said Shazzer.
I nodded, almost in tears. “Gone, and I’m getting middle-age spread. Look, I’ve had to buy jeans a size bigger.”
I showed them my stomach. But instead of looking sympathetic they started exchanging glances.
“Er, Bridget,” began Tom. “Just, um, a thought. Perhaps a random thought, but…”
“You have done a fucking pregnancy test, right?” said Shazzer.
I reeled. How could she be so cruel?
“I told you—I’m barren,” I said. “I can’t be pregnant because I’m perimenopausal, so I can’t have children anymore.”
Miranda looked as though she was trying not to laugh. “You know, the whole ‘doesn’t count with exes thing’ in the summer? Mark and Daniel? Did you use condoms?”
This was unbearable.
“Yes!” I said, starting to feel quite cross now. “Of course I used condoms.” I picked up my handbag and held out the packet. “These condoms.”
The packet was passed between them as if it was a piece of evidence from CSI Miami.
“Bridget,” said Shazzer. “These are eco-dolphin-friendly condoms and they’re two years out of date.”
“Well, so?” I said. “I mean, sell-by dates are just there to sell more products, aren’t they? They’re not real.”
“The whole point of the dolphin-friendliness is that they dissolve over time,” said Miranda.
“Look,” said Shazzer, standing up and putting on her coat, “never fucking mind the fucking dolphins. Let’s get the fuck to the late-night chemist.”
—
As we drove through the streets to the late-night chemist I felt like I was driving through the graveyard of my fertile years—there the tree where Daniel threw my knickers after the Pergamon Press Christmas party, there the corner where Mark and I had our first kiss in the snow, there the doorstep where Mark Darcy first said, “I love you, just as you are.”
—
Back in the flat, Shazzer was banging on the bathroom door.
“It takes two minutes, OK?” I said.
“What if she’s pregnant with both of them? Like twins?” I heard Tom whisper loudly.