Surrogate – a psychological thriller Read Online Free PDF Page B

him our good news and that I wanted him to be our best man in a week's time.
    The next seven days felt as if I had one foot on the accelerator and the other on the brake. Mole and I met one lunchtime to wander through the hush of Burlington Arcade, admiring rings in the window. There was one in particular that caught Mole's eye: a plain gold band with a stonking diamond on top. The faintest alarm bell rang at the back of my mind as I watched Mole gazing at the display in the shop window with a look of, well, to be frank, greed. I felt slightly lightheaded when the jeweller showed me the price tag. Still, I wouldn't remember how much this ring cost in a month's time or even a few days, I rationalised. This was forever. Mole's eyes glistened with tears when she tried the simple gold band on for size. "I've never seen such a beautiful ring," she said, admiring her finger.
    Looking back, I suppose it was odd that the only person Mole invited to our register office wedding was a work colleague. Of course because, like me, she was an only child, there were no brothers or sisters. But didn't she have any uncles or aunts, or cousins? ("I don't really know her at all," the workmate confided over a glass of champagne in the restaurant afterward.) I was also surprised by how short the service was, despite Mole insisting on adding a vow to tell each other the truth, no matter how uncomfortable it made either of us feel. Telling the truth was important to her. ("If you don't tell the truth, there's nothing to hang onto anymore," she said.) And yet the moment the registrar declared us man and wife I felt oddly high, with the clerk's face taking up the whole of my vision. It was almost as if I did not dare look at my bride.
    Afterwards, Currie bought us dinner at an Italian restaurant round the corner. We must have made a funny-looking group sitting round the table. Currie tried to do his worst as best man, embarrassing me with his stories about our nights on the town. He raised his glass and proposed a toast. I felt intensely proud. "The bride and groom," he said, partly for the benefit of the other diners in the room. Some of them turned and looked at us. I stood up and made a mock pompous speech too before looking directly at Mole. "I want you to know that everything I do from now on will be a flame for you to warm your hands by," I told her.
    My bride looked so beautiful that evening. I remember it as being the happiest moment of my life.

Chapter Four
    I don't remember when exactly we started talking about having children. There was one conversation we'd had lying in bed just before going to sleep, and we had both dived under the covers as if the decision was too momentous. Funny, really. I mentioned to Currie that we were already trying for a baby, and he said, "Well, the practising is fun." That might have been true in the early days, but it soon wore off. Mole became obsessed with her monthly cycle and the right time when she was ovulating. She started using an ovulation stick and gravely informed me that we both had to cut out alcohol, coffee and even chocolate.
    I remember one afternoon in my office, going over some revenue forecasts with Brian Sibley. My BlackBerry pinged with a text: "Come home right now." There's nothing more inhibiting than trying to perform to order, let me tell you. Sometimes we had a window of just an hour where she was at peak fertility, and I began to feel as if I'd volunteered for some medical experiment. This was not exactly what you would call passionate lovemaking. I mean, the whole thing felt so ... robotic.
    This went on for months. Our inability to conceive was always there, hanging over us like a cloud. One night, an underwriter pal invited us over for dinner and his wife announced that she was pregnant with their first child. I glanced at Mole, knowing how badly she would take this. Sure enough, in the car on the way home, it all came out: how she hated hearing about other people's pregnancies,