Deliver Me

by Karen Cole

  ‘Do you remember a tall man with red hair?’ she says, moving away slightly. ‘He was at Danny’s New Year’s Eve party. He’s called Hugo, I think?’

  ‘Christ. What is it with you and New Year’s Eve? No, I don’t . . . Wait, yeah, maybe there was some posh bloke – bit of a twat, if you ask me. He was asking where you were, after you left. He asked Danny for your phone number.’

  Abby sits up. ‘Danny didn’t give it to him?’

  Alex frowns. ‘I don’t remember. I didn’t stay to find out. Why?’

  ‘I just don’t like not remembering things, that’s all.’

  Alex sits back and rests his arm on the back of the sofa. There’s an awkward silence for a moment. ‘How’s the baby, anyway? Have you felt it kick yet?’

  ‘It’s kicking me right now.’ Lately, the baby has been kicking her a lot, and the movements are getting stronger all the time, constantly reminding her of its presence.

  ‘Can I have a feel?’

  ‘Sure.’

  He places a hand on her belly. The baby judders and Alex laughs. ‘Fuck me, I think he just punched me. He’s got quite an attitude, hasn’t he?’

  Abby laughs too. Then suddenly they stop laughing and they are staring into each other’s eyes. Abby feels warmth flood through her body.

  ‘The other day . . . when you said you had a lot going on in your life, I suppose you meant the baby . . .’ he says.

  ‘Well, yes, that and other things . . .’

  His hand is still on her belly. The baby is perfectly still, as if it knows there’s something afoot.

  ‘Do you still feel the same way?’ he says softly.

  Abby doesn’t answer, but touches the tattoos on his arm tracing the black pattern on his bicep. He makes a low moaning noise.

  ‘God damn it, why are you so sexy?’ And slowly, deliberately, he lifts her top and places a warm, rough hand on her bare midriff. He leans over and kisses her gently, and Abby kisses him back.

  ‘Doesn’t it put you off, me being pregnant?’ she says, between kisses.

  He grins. ‘No, it’s kind of sexy. I like a bit of curve. Pregnant or not, you do things to me.’ He kisses her again and his hand snakes up under her top to her breast. What the hell, thinks Abby. At least I can’t get pregnant again.

  But the sex, when it comes, is disappointing, distressing even. There’s an awkward fumbling when they take off their clothes and Abby tenses up as soon as he enters her and is suddenly flooded with anxiety. Has this happened before? she thinks. She can’t shake the image – no, not an image exactly, more of a feeling – of someone pinning her down as she lies there helpless, unable to move. Is she remembering or imagining what happened to her that night?

  Please, no, she begs in her head as he thrusts inside her, but the words don’t come out.

  Is this it? Is she ever going to enjoy sex again? she wonders as she lies next to him afterwards, tears rolling down her cheeks. Alex is already fast asleep, lying on his front, the covers pushed off and his limbs sprawled, his back rising and falling with his breath. He’s really attractive and sweet, and she really thought she wanted this, but there’s no getting round the fact that the experience was an ordeal.

  She lies there for a long time, staring at the moonlight flooding through the curtains, washing his skin smooth and grey like a pebble. It seems like she’s only just dropped off to sleep when her phone buzzes loudly in her jacket pocket on the floor. Alex grunts and rolls over but doesn’t wake up. Abby stretches out an arm, picks up her jacket from the floor and, half asleep, she opens the message.

  I know where you are, slut. I’m watching you. Are you trying to make me jealous? Is that it? I told you to stay away, Abigail. Why are you wasting your time on a loser like Alex Taylor?

  Abby sits up in bed, suddenly fully awake, and reads the message again. She glances over at Alex, but he’s still soundly asleep, snoring gently.

  I’m watching you.

  Abby shivers. Is he here right now? Outside? There’s the sound of a car engine starting up. Is that him? She gets out of bed and rushes to the window. Heart hammering, she pulls the curtain back and peers out into the darkness. The street is empty, the black road gleaming in the moonlight. At the far end of the street a dark car pulls around the corner. She tries to make out the make and licence plate – but it’s too dark, and she can’t even be sure of the colour.

  She lies back down in bed, but she’s too wired to sleep. Angry and scared. She goes to the main room and turns on the light. The light feels stark and it’s cold on the tiles in her bare feet. She shivers, and paces up and down, fuming. How dare he?

  Are you trying to make me jealous?

  Whoever it is, he’s clearly delusional. Perhaps ringing him back will only add fuel to his delusion, but she needs to do something.

  She writes back, ‘Leave me alone, you freak.’ Then she stabs the SEND icon with her finger before she can change her mind. She sits and waits for a while, staring at the phone waiting for a reply, but nothing comes. So then she picks up the phone again and taps CALL. Her chest feels tight as the phone rings. She waits.

  She has no idea what she’ll say if he answers, but at least she’ll hear his voice. Maybe she’ll even recognize it. She’s scared of what she’ll find out, but it’s better to know than deal with this uncertainty. But the phone rings and rings until she gets a recorded message saying the person she has called is unavailable: ‘Please try again later.’ She switches the phone off and throws it down on the sofa in frustration.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Alex is at the door, eyes half closed, squinting in the light.

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing.’ She picks up the phone but doesn’t bother switching it back on again.

  ‘Come back to bed.’

  Abby lies on the bed unable to sleep, eyes wide open until the grey daylight crawls through a gap in the curtains and she hears the clanking of the rubbish truck outside.

  She slips out of bed before Alex wakes up, pulls on her clothes and lets herself out of the house, closing the door softly behind her.

  JUNE

  Your baby now measures approximately 34–36 cm and weighs 660g. As their reflexes develop, they may react to loud noises by jumping or kicking. Their taste buds develop too, and they can taste the different flavours you eat. This is a special time in your pregnancy, as you and your baby begin to respond to each other.

  Sixteen

  Abby is dreaming – a series of strange, disturbing dreams. In one of them, the baby inside her has petrified, but even though it’s stone, it keeps on growing and growing, weighing her down, until it’s so massive her distended belly is scraping along the ground and she can barely walk. This dream segues into another. She’s at a party, and someone – she can’t see his face – offers her a drink, but as she lifts the glass to take a sip she realizes a snake is coiled around the stem, its head close to her lips, tongue flicking, poised ready to strike. She wakes up just as the snake is about to bite. Her heart is racing, and the baby is kicking her belly frantically.

  Someone is knocking loudly on her bedroom door. Half awake, she stumbles out of bed and opens it. Ellie is standing there holding a cup of tea.

  ‘You didn’t forget, did you? You’ve got a doctor’s appointment today. It’s in an hour.’

  Abby groans. That’s right. Ellie insisted on making an appointment for her with Dr Rowe a few days ago.

  ‘Okay, I’ll be right down,’ she mutters. She slurps her tea and dresses quickly, pulling on a pair of leggings and a baggy T-shirt she’s borrowed from Rob. She’s beginning to regret involving Ellie in this pregnancy. After the initial shock, far from being upset or jealous, Ellie seems to have embraced it with a whole-hearted joy that is almost frightening. Last weekend she dragged Abby out shopping for baby stuff, and yesterday evening she climbed up in the loft and brought down the skeleton of the cot
they bought when she was pregnant with the baby she lost. It’s now sitting in the corner of Abby’s room in pieces, a reproachful reminder that Abby needs to deal with this situation quickly before it gets out of hand.

  ‘Somebody might as well use it,’ Ellie said firmly when Abby told her she didn’t want it.

  Abby hasn’t had the heart to tell her there will be no need of a cot. She’s already decided she’s going to give it up for adoption as soon as it’s born.

  *

  Just under an hour later they are sitting in the waiting room at the doctor’s. Ellie has bought a book of baby names and is reading aloud through the A’s.

  ‘Ada, Adelaide . . . ooh, Ariana’s nice.’

  ‘We don’t know yet if it’s going to be a boy or a girl,’ Abby says. ‘What’s the point in choosing a name?’

  A pretty little girl with butterfly hairclips is playing with a wooden track in the corner of the room. The mother is preoccupied, on her phone. When the girl tugs at her arm, to get her attention, she shrugs her off. Abby watches Ellie watching them. She’s staring at them steadily, her lips pressed together into a judgemental line. Abby can guess what she’s thinking. That if she had a gorgeous little girl like that, she wouldn’t waste one minute of her time with her.

  ‘Didn’t you find out the sex at your twenty-week scan?’ she asks, not looking at Abby.

  ‘I didn’t have one.’ Abby doesn’t mention that she hasn’t been for a check-up for ages, not since she went to talk to Dr Rowe about Aaron.

  ‘You haven’t had a scan?’ Ellie tears her eyes away from the little girl and frowns at Abby. ‘Why not? You have to get a scan. Scans can check for anomalies and give doctors information, so they can treat babies in the womb or after birth. It can be potentially life-saving.’

  A nurse pops her head round the door and smiles at Ellie. ‘Abigail. Dr Rowe will see you now.’

  They make their way into the stuffy office. Dr Rowe is sitting at his desk tapping away at the computer. He jumps up when Abby and Ellie come in and pulls up seats for them.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind,’ says Ellie. ‘I thought I’d tag along.’

  ‘Not at all.’ He smiles. ‘You must be excited to be an aunt.’ He turns to Abby. ‘Well, how’s Mum doing?’

  For a confused second Abby thinks he’s asking about her own mother, then realizes he means her. ‘Oh, um . . . fine,’ she says.

  ‘Good. I was a little worried, because you’ve missed a couple of appointments.’ He looks at his notes.

  Ellie sighs. ‘Abby, you really should get regular check-ups – shouldn’t she, Simon?’

  Dr Rowe nods. ‘Once a month at least, and after twenty-eight weeks once every two weeks.’

  Ellie waits anxiously as the doctor measures Abby’s blood pressure, weighs her, and takes a blood sample.

  ‘Well, everything seems fine,’ he says, smiling, at last. ‘Your blood pressure is still a little high. You need to make sure you don’t miss any more appointments. Have you been having any headaches, blurred vision?’

  Abby shakes her head.

  ‘Well, I expect it’s nothing to worry about. And how are you feeling in yourself? Any concerns?’

  Only that I think I might have been raped and I’m being stalked by some lunatic, Abby thinks, but she just shakes her head. She just wants to get out of there. She’s finding it difficult to breathe, and the nausea which she hasn’t felt for a long time is coming back. She feels trapped, and she can’t bear the way Ellie and the doctor are looking at her – like this is a normal pregnancy, like she’s a normal mother.

  Ellie shuffles impatiently in her seat.

  ‘We should book her in for an ultrasound, shouldn’t we, Simon? She missed her twenty-week scan.’

  Dr Rowe fiddles with his notes. ‘Did you? Ah, yes. I’ll make you an appointment at the hospital right away.’

  ‘Do I have to?’ says Abby.

  ‘Well . . .’ Dr Rowe clears his throat.

  ‘You have to have a scan, Abby,’ Ellie interrupts. ‘Tell her, Simon.’

  She’s getting agitated, and Abby knows Ellie believes that if she’d had more scans when she was pregnant, the problem with her baby might have been spotted. But this isn’t true. The cord didn’t become wrapped around the baby’s neck until she was in labour, so no amount of ultrasounds would have made any difference. Logically, Ellie must know that too, but she doesn’t think logically when it comes to the baby she lost.

  ‘It really is a good idea to have at least one scan.’ Dr Rowe nods. ‘To check for any anomalies.’

  ‘Okay.’ Abby sighs.

  ‘Good. I’ll book you in for next week.’

  Ellie goes back to her office to catch up on some paperwork, and Abby makes her way back out through the waiting room. It’s filling up now – a couple of old ladies, a mother with two children, and two men: an old man and a younger man in a hoodie. The younger man raises his eyes and stares at her as she walks past, and she can still feel his eyes on her back as she exits through reception. Could he be her stalker? Could he have followed her here? She gives herself a mental shake. She’s being ridiculous. She’s never seen that man before in her life. What could he possibly have to do with her? But as she passes through reception, the feeling that someone is watching her intensifies.

  She turns, but it’s only a girl, about seventeen, pretty, dark-skinned.

  ‘Hi, miss, I thought it was you,’ she says, smiling.

  It takes Abby a moment to work out who it is. She’s changed so much since she last saw her. She’s slimmer for a start. She’s wearing make-up and her sleek black hair is coiled up in a bun, making her look older and more sophisticated. But it’s not just that. It’s something else. There’s an aura about her. She was always such a shy girl, but now she seems confident, radiant almost.

  ‘Remember me, miss?’

  ‘Yes, of course, Tanseela.’ Abby smiles warmly. ‘How are you? You look great.’

  ‘Thanks, miss. You too.’ Her voice tails off unconvincingly. Abby is uncomfortably aware she looks anything but great. For a start, she’s dressed in leggings and an old T-shirt of Rob’s, and her hair hasn’t been washed for a while.

  Tanseela looks down at her belly and her eyes widen.

  ‘Congratulations, miss. I didn’t know you were pregnant.’

  Abby places a hand on her belly and flushes slightly. ‘Yes, nearly six months now.’

  Outside they stop. ‘Well it was nice to see you, again,’ says Tanseela. ‘Hope it all goes okay with the baby and everything.’ She turns and heads away from town.

  Abby watches her walk away, back straight, hips swaying gracefully. Then she considers what Thea told her at dinner the other day.

  ‘Wait! Tanseela!’ she calls out on impulse.

  ‘Yes?’ Tanseela stops and turns.

  Abby’s words come out in a breathless rush. ‘Have you got a few minutes? I’d like to talk to you about something.’

  ‘What, miss?’

  ‘Not here. It’s kind of personal. We could go for a coffee somewhere.’

  Tanseela flushes slightly. ‘Um, well . . .’ She looks at her watch.

  ‘Please, Tansy. It’s kind of important and it will literally only take a few minutes, I promise.’

  ‘Er . . . well, okay. I’m meeting my dad at eleven, but I’ve got a bit of time until then.’

  Seventeen

  Abby sits outside in the Swan Yard café sipping coffee. The sun has broken through the cloud and she turns her face towards it, trying to soak up its rays before it vanishes again. Tanseela has gone to the toilet and as she returns to her seat, weaving her way gracefully through the tables, Abby notices a couple of young men blatantly ogling her.

  ‘There’s something different about you,’ Abby says when she sits down. ‘I can’t put my finger on it.’


  Tanseela smiles and touches her cheek self-consciously. ‘It’s the mole, miss. I had it removed.’

  That’s it. She used to have a large, unsightly mole on her left cheek. Abby had become so used to it she’d barely noticed it, but now it’s gone, there’s not even a scar, and it’s made a big difference to her overall looks.

  ‘Well, you look great.’ She smiles.

  ‘Thanks, miss.’

  ‘And how are you, Tansy? What have you been doing now since you left school?’ Abby realizes she’s stalling, trying to work up the courage to ask the questions she really wants to ask.

  Tanseela wraps her hands round her mug. ‘I’m doing a hairdressing course. I’m really enjoying it, so far.’

  ‘You haven’t thought about coming back to school, doing your A levels? You were so talented in Art.’

  ‘Maybe . . .’ Tanseela gives her a direct look. ‘But that’s not what you wanted to talk about, is it?’

  ‘No,’ Abby admits. She clasps her hands in front of her.

  ‘I just . . . want to know . . . are you happy? I mean, in general? Is everything okay?’

  Tanseela lifts one shoulder. ‘Sure, why not?’

  She does look happy. Radiant, even. Perhaps Abby’s fears are unfounded. She’s not sure she’s wise stirring this up, but she needs to be certain that Tanseela is okay. And she needs to know for herself, too. She can’t help feeling that Tanseela is connected to what’s going on. She chooses her words carefully. She mustn’t say anything too leading.

  ‘There’s nothing bothering you? No one? Nothing you want to talk about?’

  ‘No, miss,’ Tanseela’s eyes widen. ‘I’m fine, honestly.’ She looks at her watch. ‘Look, I’ve got to meet my dad in a minute. What’s this all about?’