The Eyre Affair_ A Novel - Jasper Fforde [186]
COLONEL NEXT,QT CG (nonexist.),
Upstream/Downstream (unpublished)
ISTARED AFTER their departing car, trying to figure out what to do. Finding a way into “The Raven” to release Jack Schitt would be my first priority. It wasn’t going to be hard—it was going to be impossible. It wouldn’t deter me. I’d done impossible things several times in the past, and the prospect didn’t scare me as much as it used to. I thought of Landen and the last time I saw him, limping across to the café just opposite the SpecOps building. It was going to be his birthday in two weeks—we planned to take the airship to Spain, or somewhere hot for a break; we knew we wouldn’t be able to go on holiday so easily once there was a baby—
The baby. With all that had happened, I didn’t know whether I was still pregnant. I jumped into my car and screeched off into town, startling a few great auks who were picking their way through a nearby garbage can.
I was heading for the doctor’s surgery on Shelley Street. Every shop I passed seemed to either stock prams or high chairs, toys or something else baby-related, and all the toddlers and infants, heavily pregnant women and prams in Swindon seemed to be crowding the route—and all staring at me. I skidded to a halt outside the surgery. It was a double yellow line and a traffic warden looked at me greedily.
“Hey!” I said, pointing a finger at her. “Expectant mother. Don’t even think about it.”
I dashed in and found the nurse I’d seen the day before.
“I was in here yesterday,” I blurted out. “Was I pregnant?”
She looked at me without even the least vestige of surprise. I guess she was used to this sort of thing.
“Of course!” she replied. “Confirmation is in the post. Are you okay?”
I sat down heavily on a chair and burst into tears. The sense of relief was overwhelming. I had more than just Landen’s memories—I had his child, too. I rubbed my face with my hands. I’d been in a lot of difficult and dangerous life-or-death situations both in the military and law enforcement—but nothing even comes close to the tribulations of emotion. I’d face Hades again twice rather than go through that little charade again.
“Yes, yes,” I assured her happily. “I really couldn’t be better!”
“Good,” beamed the nurse. “Is there anything else you’d like to know?”
“Yes, actually,” I replied. “Tell me, where do I live?”
The shabby block of flats in the old town didn’t look like my sort of place, but who knows where I might be living without Landen. I trotted briskly up the stairs to the top landing and flat six. I took a deep breath, unlocked and opened the door. There was a brief scrabble of activity from the kitchen and Pickwick was there to greet me as usual, bearing a gift that turned out to be the torn cover off last month’s SpecOps-27 Gazette. I closed the door with my foot as I tickled her under the chin and looked cautiously about. I was relieved to discover that despite the shabby exterior my apartment was south-facing, warm and quite comfortable. I couldn’t remember a thing about any of it, of course, but I was glad to see that Pickwick’s egg was still in residence. I walked softly around the flat, exploring my new surroundings. It seemed I painted a lot more without Landen about, and the walls were covered with half-finished canvases. There were several of Pickwick and the family which I could remember painting, and a few others that I couldn’t—but none, sadly, of Landen. I looked at the other canvases and wondered why several included images of amphibious aircraft. I sat on the sofa, and when Pickwick came up to nuzzle me I put my hand on her head.
“Oh, Pickers,” I murmured, “what shall we do?”
I sighed, tried to get Pickwick to stand on one leg with the promise