The Two Week Wait by Sarah Rayner

afraid so.’
    Perhaps they should say it’s for a car. But before Rich has worked out a plausible fib, Cath volunteers: ‘It’s for fertility treatment.’
    ‘Oh.’ This time there is no concealing Mr Edwards’ disconcertion. For several seconds he appears not to know what to say.
    ‘My wife has had cancer,’ says Rich. If this man is going to be so nosy, he might as well embarrass him in return. ‘So we need IVF if we want to have a baby and be a
family.’ He’s surprised: he hadn’t realized he felt so passionate about it. Evidently he’s in less of a quandary than he thought.
    ‘Ah.’ Mr Edwards blushes.
    Rich has a flush of caustic pleasure. For a spontaneous tactic, it’s shrewd: hopefully Mr Edwards will feel too guilty to turn them down.
    Mr Edwards directs his attention back to Cath. ‘So, your illness, um, is that the reason your income has been a bit . . . sporadic, Mrs Morris, over the last couple of years?’
    ‘It is,’ says Cath. ‘I was on statutory sick pay for quite a while.’
    Another pause. ‘Which made you, Mr Morris, the main, um, breadwinner, I take it.’
    ‘For a while I was, yes.’
    ‘And you’re in the music industry?’
    ‘That’s right, I’m a product manager.’
    ‘Must be a lot of changes in that at the moment . . . ’ He smiles, as if out of sympathy, but Rich can discern the implication. Only last week there was another round of redundancies
at the label’s head office; Mr Edwards has tapped directly into one of his most prescient concerns.
    Mr Edwards drives the point home. ‘You’d say your job was secure?’
    Surely no one’s job is safe these days? thinks Rich, but instead he lies, ‘Yes, I’d say so.’
    ‘He’s very popular with clients,’ interjects Cath. ‘And the bosses like him.’ She squeezes Rich’s knee under the table.
    ‘And your monthly outgoings . . . ’ says Mr Edwards. ‘You think you could manage another three hundred and fifty pounds?’
    ‘Yes.’ He’s still struggling not to lose his temper.
    ‘You have been overdrawn . . . ’ Again, that obsequious smile.
    Rich has half an urge to punch him, but of course he won’t. ‘Hardly by much, and it was with prior agreement. It was because Cath was unable to work: with her full-time, we’ll
be fine.’
    ‘Though should you have a baby, then I’m assuming, Mrs Morris, you’ll take maternity leave . . . ?’
    ‘She would take some time to spend with a newborn, yes.’ Again, Rich is surprised by the force of his feelings.
    ‘And you’re wanting to pay back this loan over thirty-six months . . . ’
    ‘We’ll manage.’
    ‘I think you understand why I needed to run through this, though . . . ?’
    No, I bloody don’t! Rich wants to shout. He senses Cath beside him, full of expectation and hope. He can’t bear to think how upset she’ll be if they are declined.
She’s been through such heartache already.
    Suddenly she leans across the table. ‘Please, I know it’s a lot of money. I know you’re under pressure not to lend so much these days. But this isn’t a new BMW
we’re talking about, or even a holiday – if we’d known we’d need this loan, we’d have forfeited the trip abroad, just like that, even though we really needed a break.
We’ve only recently found out it might be a possibility for us to do it this way. This is a baby we’re asking for help with. A child. We want one so very badly.’ She
glances at Rich. Inside he is cringing at her forthrightness, but he nods – increasingly he’s realizing how much he wants this too. She continues, ‘We’d rather it
wasn’t going to cost us anything to conceive, of course we would. For lots of people it wouldn’t cost a bean – probably it won’t for you when the time comes. Do you have a
girlfriend – a partner?’
    Mr Edwards blushes. Rich notices he’s wearing a wedding band. For the first time Rich feels for him – they both find this excruciating, it seems.
    But Cath doesn’t hold