Jen and I are wedding dress shopping in Chelsea. This is the fifth boutique we've visited today.

The funny thing is, I know that Jen has already seen her wedding dress. It was the second one she tried on in a boutique a few streets away. But she doesn't know that yet. She'll have to try on fifty more dresses before she realises.

'It's beautiful,' I say. 'But a bit Princess Kate, don't you think?'

'What's wrong with that?'

'Nothing.' I choose my words carefully. 'But ... you want the dress to be you. It should suit your figure.'

Jen laughs. 'I get it. You're saying my big b.o.o.bs and Kate Middleton's willowy, slender figure are worlds apart.'

'Exactly.'

'So how about this one?' Jen plucks another dress from the rail.

'What about that dress in the first shop?' I say. 'You know the second one you tried? With all the crystals?'

'Oh I loved that one,' says Jen. She fingers teardrop crystals on another hanging dress. 'I'd almost forgotten it was my favourite, wasn't it?'

'Yes.'

'Tell you what I'll just try a few more shops, and then we'll go back and try it again. Okay?'

I laugh. 'Okay. So. How are things with you and Leo?'

'Great! Really, really good. He is so hot. I mean just AMAZING in bed. The things he can do with his tongue-'

'I more meant, you know, in general,' I say. 'How is it living with him?'

'He's a messy sod. But he pays for a housekeeper so it's all good. I just feel content. I mean the s.e.x is hot. But sometimes we spend all night just talking. I love being with him. We like totally different things but ... it works. He's my best friend. After you of course. How is he to work with?'

'Good. How do you feel about him being around Sigourney these days?'

'Fine. I did have a bit of a freak out didn't I? So not like me. I'm over it now. What has this boy done to me?' She giggles. 'It must be love. Anyway. I think everyone's allowed to get jealous of their boyfriend's supermodel ex-girlfriend. I mean, I'm only human. And Sigourney is stunning.'

'Not as stunning as you.'

'Spoken like a true best friend. How is Leo on set? Is he good fun? Or does he get all serious when he's working?'

'He's great,' I say. 'Funny. Considerate. I can't believe how fast the time has gone. The movie is really coming along. I'm enjoying it, but I'll be glad when we're finished too.'

'And you can put your feet up and be fat and pregnant.'

'Yep.' I stroke my stomach. I'm showing a little, which I love. 'Although I feel great actually. Glowing. Totally not sick any more.'

'So how are you and prince charming?'

I finger the lace on one of the dresses.

'Okay.'

'Just okay?'

'Great. I mean we're great, but ...'

Jen lowers the dress in her hands. 'But what?'

'It's just ... ever since I thought I saw him on set that last time, things have been a bit funny.'

'Funny in what way?'

'I don't know. I don't know if it's me or him. Or both. I'm sure Marc would never lie to me. But I just can't help thinking ... I thought I saw him twice. And both times he denied it. I mean, once I could have been seeing things. Tired. Stressed out. But twice ...'

'So if he was there, why would he say he wasn't?'

'Because I asked him not to be,' I say. 'And he promised to stay away. And do you know what that's another thing. The way he reacted when I asked him if he was there. It was ... I don't know. Not like he'd usually react. He was kind of angry.'

'Marc seems like an honest guy to me,' says Jen. 'He might not do what you tell him. But I don't think he'd lie about it.'

'That's exactly what I think. But since then ... I don't know. Marc's been leaving the house at strange times. And being sort of secretive.'

'Maybe he's planning a surprise for you,' says Jen. 'Like Leo was for me.' She hugs the dress to her. 'I'm so happy we're getting married! Sorry. What were you saying?'

'Marc's just not quite himself, that's all.'

'Could it be something to do with his sister?'

'No. I don't think so. I mean, everything seems fine with her. She's with her son. Things are good. Although they were talking on our wedding day ... about family drama or something.'

'That was ages ago. I'm sure whatever that was about has blown over.'

'Perhaps.'

'Maybe he's just stressing out. About the pregnancy. It's a big change. And he really cares about you. Maybe he's scared the baby is going to rip you in half when it comes out or something.'

'Don't say that. I'm worried enough about the birth as it is.'

'Sorry. Your friend Jen has no sensitivity whatsoever. But then you've always known that.'

'Yes I have.'

We both laugh.

'So it's the big scan today, right?' Jen asks. 'The one where they tell you if it's a boy or a girl?'

'Yes. This afternoon. And that's another thing you would have thought Marc would be excited. But he's all kind of huffy about it. Whenever I mention the scan he changes the subject.'

'He's probably just scared.'

I put my hands to my stomach. 'I'm scared too.'

'You don't need to be. You're going to have a perfectly healthy baby.'

'You're right. It's silly to worry. So are we going back to the first wedding shop or what?'

Jen grins. 'Yes. Let's go back there and try that crystal covered dress again. Do you know what? I think that one could be the one, actually.'

'I think so too.'

68.

I stare at the beige ceiling as I lie back on the hospital bed.

This is familiar now my t-shirt pulled up and gel on my belly. And the sonographer moving a plastic thing over my skin. Of course, my belly is a little bigger than when we did the last scan.

We watch the little black and white TV that will, any minute now, show us our baby.

'Look Marc, there it is!' I shout, pointing.

'There he is.' Marc turns to the sonographer. 'Is everything okay? Is the baby healthy? And Sophia ...'

'From what I can see so far,' says the sonographer, 'your baby is very healthy. Everything in the right place. Nothing to worry about.'

'Thank you,' I say, feeling tears come. I didn't realise I was worried, but I guess I must have been. Finding out our baby is still healthy is such a relief. 'Oh Marc. Our baby. That's our baby.'

'And I can give you a pretty good picture of when your baby will be born too,' says the sonographer. 'You're looking at a New Year baby. Around January 15th. Would you like to know the s.e.x?'

'Yes!' I blurt out.

'Sophia, are you sure about that?' says Marc. 'You said before that you wanted to wait.'

'That was before we were in a room, having a scan, being told we could find out.'

'You don't want to act on impulse and be disappointed later.'

He has a point.

'Okay,' I concede. 'Maybe we should wait until later to decide.'

'We're never completely certain about the s.e.x,' says sonographer. 'But we get it right around 95% of the time. Would you like me to write my best guess on a piece of paper and seal it in an envelope? That's what some parents do. Then you can decide to open it or not whenever you're ready.'

'I like that idea,' I say.

'I'll look after the envelope,' says Marc, raising an eyebrow. 'The excitable state Sophia is in right now I don't trust her not to rip it open before we leave the clinic.'

I laugh. 'I'm not that bad.'

Marc kisses my forehead. 'You're not bad at all.'

As we leave the clinic, I clutch Marc excitedly. 'Oh Marc! Everything's okay with our baby. And it's growing. It's healthy. Are you sure you don't want to find out if it's a boy or a girl?'

'I'm sure that you don't want to know,' says Marc. 'I seem to recall you saying something about opening your Christmas presents before Christmas day. Or had you forgotten?'

I laugh. 'Trust you to throw my words back at me.'

'Do you want to phone your father? And Jen?'

'I should, shouldn't I-'

But as we walk out of the clinic, my words fall dead.

An army of photographers are waiting, circling the entrance in a big, black ma.s.s.

Marc's lips set into a thin line. 'Low lives.' He puts an arm around my shoulder.

The photographers snap away and yell questions.

'Sophia! Is it a boy or a girl Sophia? Marc do you have any names yet? Do you know where the baby will be born?'

Marc steers me through the crowd. 'OUT of our way,' he barks.

The crowd widens, leaving a path for us.

I see the limo ahead, banked up on the curb.

As Marc ushers me inside, the photographers close in again.

I hear a photographer shout, 'Are you sure the baby's yours Marc? And not Leo Falkirk's?'

There are a few murmurs of laughter.

Marc's fist is so quick I don't even see it. I just hear a smack and see a photographer sink to the floor.

The other photographers back off again.

Marc shakes out his fingers. 'Tell him if he takes me to court, I'll counter sue for slander.'

He climbs into the limo and slams the door.

Keith pulls back the driver window. 'I'm sorry Marc. I tried to ring the clinic to warn you they were outside. But no one picked up.'