Neville Huntington prided himself in being an astute business man, eagle eyed, able to cut through the bullshit of life.

He could tell when he was being told a story, and right now as he sat down to a friendly, relaxed dinner, his bullshit detector was going off the charts.

He usually had no cause to question his nearest and dearest and he wouldn't call it in front the rest of the group but he wasn't buying his cousin Sarah's story.

Tonight had been a nice family night – he and his wife Elizabeth, two of their oldest friends Petra and George, Petra's brother Dmitri and his partner (Neville's old friend Boyd) and of course cousin Sarah – the cousin who was more sister than anything else and who was technically step-sister to his wife. The only one missing from this inner sanctum of friends was Elizabeth's brother Dane, best friend to at least three people sitting around the table. Dane, the thespian of the group was off filming a movie somewhere in the antipodeans and would be home in 10 days.

But Neville and Lizzie couldn't wait that long - they had big news – finally after three years of trying to add to their brood (if you can call one rambunctious four-year-old a brood) they were pregnant, 10 weeks pregnant. 

There had been gushing and crying and great big sighs of relief. 

They were only announcing it now because George had quietly confided that after a similar length of time (and numerous IVF treatments) he and Petra were finally having a baby, were 12 weeks and confident enough to tell people. 

The two women toasted each other with water, in fact, all three women at the table were on the water, even his very happily single cousin, a woman who was all Huntington and could drink most of the males in the family under the table. 

There had been no pre-dinner cocktail for Sarah and no wine with dinner. If she refused the after dinner scotch, her favourite tipple, then he was going to take her straight to the doctor.

As he looked at her across the table, chatting with his wife about their sister and plans for her 15th birthday in three weeks time, he realised how pale and gaunt she looked. She was pretty subdued tonight too, which was also very un-Sarah like.

Maybe she really was sick?

He eyed her curiously.

She'd cried when he'd announced Ruby would be a big sister next year, she'd cried when Petra had announced her pregnancy.

Sarah Huntington was Aspergers, strong and independent, Sarah Huntington didn't cry not in public or in front of people, not for things like that - not even family. Sure she had the very occasional meltdown where crying was more about frustration and anger but this was girly crying and that wasn't Sarah. Yes both women had battled to conceive and yes Petra and Sarah had been friends since they were 10 and her battle for a child had been particularly brutal and involved several miscarriages but Sarah Huntington did not cry – not often.

 When she lost her mother and then father when her sister Athena was born to Lizzie and Dane's mother five months after her father's death and maybe when his own mother had succumbed to cancer last year but that was it. And even then it was more moist eyes than the full on kind, she left her real grief for private moments. Yet here she was a flood of tears twice tonight.

He was almost relieved when she had caused the shock of the evening – "snap" she'd said to Elizabeth, mouths dropped open. Was she saying what they thought she was saying?

"I decided it was time, I went to the sperm bank and well here we are," she said quickly sipping her water nervously resting her hand on her stomach. Neville noticed it now, her waist had thickened and her breasts seemed a little larger, not that he was really looking. But it was her nervous demeanor that had Neville's curiosity peaked. Sarah didn't do anything nervously, not around her family and they were all family as far as she was concerned. She even hid her anxiety in open company these days; she had to particularly now she was fronting her own TV documentary shows.

No something was off.

She was 11 weeks pregnant, due in May, a little more pregnant than his wife and less than Petra.

He did a quick calculation in his head; he'd got good at working out due dates and cycles etc over the years thanks to their conception woes. Too good.

Nine weeks back late July.

Late July?

The penny dropped and the light bulb flashed over his head.

Holy shite.

Sarah had fallen pregnant around or near her birthday when most of the rest of the group were out of town and Dane was home for a rare week or two.

He'd been worried, they'd made a bit of a fuss of everyone else's 35ths and Sarah would be alone, but he'd talked to Dane who'd promised to look after Sarah and "show her a good time".

Holy Shite.

Maybe a good time wasn't all he'd shown her?

Surely not?

They were friends, they flirted but they didn't.....? Not since they were teens surely?

She'd never mentioned anyone else though. Actually, she'd not mentioned her birthday at all, other than to say she and Dane had pizza at his place and had just hung out.

Mmmm but hung what out?

Holy Shite.

He'd turned into a dirty old man and everything was an innuendo. He tried not to laugh, this was no laughing matter, this could pull their little group apart particularly given Sarah seemed to have decided the path she would be taking – sperm donor.

That didn't sound like her; she and Dane had been friends forever. Sperm donor sounded cold. Had she told him and he'd rejected her?

Surely not?

It was an open secret (the secret mainly being kept from Dane and Sarah) that those two loved each other.

He did have a new girlfriend – 24, French, with the body of a bikini model and the face of an angel – for a boy who had been awkward with girls into his early 20s, his aim was improving. A little too much in this case.

Neville schooled his features while he watched Sarah, Elizabeth and Petra interact. He was astute, use to not giving himself away. Dmitri was saying he wished he and Boyd could just have gone to a sperm bank, sperm wasn't their problem. She explained the process but that meant nothing Sarah was an expert researcher and this all sounded too rehearsed. She seemed relieved too. He wondered if she'd told anyone else – the two women were obvious but with their conception woes she'd seek out someone else. The most obvious were Dane's mother Margaret and his oldest sister Jane. But if this was Dane's...............and of course this was Sarah, if she'd made a decision like this she'd have researched it thoroughly, talked about it endlessly and obsessed.

Nothing.

Holy hell

Well, his family was never dull.

But how the hell did you broach a sensitive subject like this? He knew how Sarah would do it – she'd just ask outright.

It didn't seem appropriate. He doubted she'd want anyone to know who might report back to daddy oblivious and everyone here would.

Except for Neville.

Shit.

Should he just leave it?

Yeah right.

Like that was going to happen.

He waited.

He thought he might have to wait a day or two but the gods smiled on him.

Boyd received a work call – he had to follow a breaking story, they'd driven the other couple and George was happy to go early – wrapping his wife in cotton wool. Suddenly the house emptied out. Elizabeth was feeling a little off and went up to bed to lie down, so Sarah stayed to help clean up.

Normally he'd do it himself, tell her to rest too.

But he had her alone in the kitchen and by god, he was going to get the bottom of this or die trying (and if he upset a hormonal, pregnant Sarah that might be on the cards).

"So pregnant," he said as they loaded the dishwasher after clearing the table.

"Yep!" Sarah said matter-of-factly not looking him in the eye as she handed him another dish to stack.

"Are you going to tell him?" Neville asked, still stacking, not looking.

"Who?" she asked too off the cuff, too relaxed.

"The sperm donor of course," he took another dish from her, watched her hand shake and knew he'd hit pay dirt.

Nervous laughter.

"I don't know who that is, it's anonymous," she scoffed.

And then Neville Huntington played his trump card. He stood and put both hands on her arms and looked her right in the eyes.

"Fox?" he said questioningly.

Sarah's eyes widened.

Her childhood nickname, a name she and Petra had come up with but a name only one person called her consistently, certainly, only one person used it now.

He knew.

"I'm right, aren't I? It's Dane's?"

She should lie. She didn't need this. And yet. Tonight was the first time she'd told anyone about her baby and it had been a relief. Neville had always had her back.

She looked down.

She nodded.

He pulled her into his arms.

Holy shit.

It was one thing to suspect it but quite another to have it confirmed. It knocked him for six. Yeah, he knew they'd lost their virginity together, he'd come home to find them washing sheets and towels, actually, he'd come home to hear them going for it in the laundry. He'd made fun of Dane's long legs until that day – bastard he'd never been able to take someone on a washing machine! He'd heard him walk the corridor to her room that night and knock on the door. The one shock was that they hadn't carried things on to university but then the whole thing with her dad changed their lives, as did studying and taking the next step in life. Had they carried on secretly intermittently? No, he'd have known. And they were friends, close friends. So why the fucking subterfuge?

"You have to tell him, Sar – you two are too interconnected, there are too many other people that could get hurt, Lizzie, Margaret, Athena," he said pointedly. Her sister was precious to her. Much more than Neville's half brother was to him – the annoying little git.

"He needs to know," Neville said softly

He felt her shoulders heave and his own shoulder started to feel damp.

Holy hell Sarah was crying in his arms.
"I would," she hiccupped.

"But he hasn't rung or messaged me since he left my house that morning," she sobbed.

"Seventeen years of friendship, one drunken fuck and he doesn't want to know me."

Neville held her tight, trying to fathom what the hell was going with his friend. Suddenly feeling very protective of the woman in his arms, his closest relative, one of his best friends, his sister. 

They'd had a drunken fumble and now Dane was ignoring the woman who had been there through all his big moments.

Sarah wasn't having a baby, she was losing her best friend.

Yeah, that'd be enough to break the unbreakable Sarah Huntington.