Oh, I’d think, feeling disappointed. He’s not coming.
Occasionally we played pool together at the bar, and after he beat me, he’d say, ‘You can buy me a drink now.’
‘No! What the hell!’ I’d splutter angrily. ‘Why would I do that when you ignore me the whole time?’
This went on for months and it really started to bug me. Why don’t you fancy me? I thought, as it dawned on me how much I fancied him. I really like you!
I used to sing karaoke in the hope that he was watching me, but he never cared whether I was singing or not. ‘Did you see me?’ I’d say breathlessly after I’d finished a song.
‘No,’ he’d reply shortly, and if I was lucky he might add, ‘Sorry, I was playing pool.’
It just made me like him even more. I’ll go out with him one day, I decided. But in the meantime, I was always telling my friends, ‘I really like him, but he doesn’t like me. It’s so unfair.’
‘Don’t bother,’ Elise told me. ‘He’s not interested in having a girlfriend. I’ve never seen him even look at a girl.’
Several girls were obsessed with him, and the less interested he was in them, the more they seemed to fancy him. I suppose girls must like a cool guy, because they were all over him, myself included. He’s not even that good looking, I thought angrily. The situation became more and more frustrating.
Then, after months of ignoring me, he suddenly changed his mind. It was March 2007 and one night Lauren said to him, ‘Don’t you like her? Come on, you like her really, don’t you?’
And he said, ‘Yes.’
‘What?’ I screeched when she told me.
I immediately texted him. ‘I heard you like me!’
‘I might do,’ he texted back. ‘You’re all right, ain’t you?’ It wasn’t the most romantic message in the world, but it made my heart leap.
He asked me to his house, which was just around the corner. Everyone knows his family around where I live. He introduced me to them and they were really friendly. ‘All right?’ they said. Dean was really nice to me, too, and straight away he said, ‘Let’s go out.’
The next time I saw him he said, ‘So, are you my girlfriend, or what?’
‘Yes!’ I said. I was really excited about it. I’d fancied him for such a long time and now at last it had happened.
All our friends were amazed. ‘Oh my God!’ they kept saying, when they saw us out together. It was a really big deal as no one had seen him with anyone before.
I didn’t sleep with Dean straight away. I waited a month, partly because I felt a bit insecure about his feelings for me. He’d been distant with me for so long that I couldn’t help wondering why he’d suddenly changed his mind and decided to go out with me. It made me wary. I know a month doesn’t sound like a long time, but in the scale of my life it was. Dean was only the second person I’d slept with, so making up my mind to sleep with him was a big deal for me. We used condoms from the start and never, ever had unprotected sex.
He was really nice, but he wasn’t all over me. He wasn’t that kind of guy. We had a good time, but he didn’t tell me he loved me or anything; he was too cool to be openly affectionate. Of course, that made me determined to make him like me more. Come on, LOVE ME! I thought.
I always tried to be at my best when I was around him. At the time I was really good at pool and he seemed to find that cool. Yes, he thinks I’m good at pool! I’d think. I was on the pool table all the time, challenging his friends.
It was like a game, really, or a school romance. I’d see him at the karaoke and think, Oooh, there he is! At least now he clapped when I sang a song. Everyone clapped when you sang, so I would have been devastated if I’d turned round to find that he wasn’t.
I tried to be as cool as I could. I couldn’t be needy or ask him why he wasn’t more affectionate – that would have made me cringe. ‘You don’t need to ask those questions,’ I told myself. ‘Just be cool and eventually he’ll come round.’ To be honest, I think I was more obsessed with him than I was in love with him. I really wanted to make him like me.
I’d save up my money, so that I had cash when I saw him and could pay for things. I really wanted to show him that, Yup, I earn my own money, and for him to see that I was self-sufficient and didn’t need anyone.
He probably just thought, Ah, bless her! But he stayed with me, so he must have liked it. I loved it when we went to the cinema together, because he wasn’t as detached when we were on our own. It was so exciting for me. Yes, I’ve got him to myself! And when we were watching a film at his house, I’d cuddle up to him a bit. If no one was around, he was more relaxed about that sort of thing. We often stayed in and watched films with my mum, as well. They got on well, which was good.
As the summer went on, me and Dean became really close. Sometimes we’d go and hang out at his best friend Phil’s house. Phil was building a bar at the end of the house, with a line of bottles with optics and a pool table. Everyone was impressed by this bar and we had such a laugh ordering crazy cocktails from ‘Phil the bartender’. His parents were always really welcoming and so we ended up going there quite a lot.
In August, I went to Tenerife on a girls’ holiday for two weeks. There were eight of us and we were definitely going to have a good time, but as we got off the plane after we landed, I suddenly felt sick. ‘Oh no, I feel ill,’ I said.
‘You need a drink!’ one of my mates suggested.
We immediately started drinking anything and everything: vodka, rum, brandy, whatever. We’d order a massive fish bowl cocktail, usually a Blue Lagoon or a Sex on the Beach, then we’d all dip a straw in and that was it, we were on our way! When you’re on holiday, anything goes, doesn’t it? Especially when you’re seventeen. We had such a good time. At night we’d go out clubbing wearing nothing but a vest and shorts. Everybody would be off their face. Then in the day we’d lie on sunbeds doing absolutely nothing, dead to the world, blind to the sunshine.
I was obviously overdoing it, though, because I was sick every morning when I woke up. I must have drunk too much last night. I mustn’t do that again, I’d think. I would resolve to go easy on the cocktails that evening, but then I’d sleep through the whole day on my sunbed and at night time I’d suddenly wake up. ‘What are we drinking?’ I’d yell. ‘Come on, girls!’ I seemed to follow the same pattern every day for the whole two weeks: feeling sick all day and great all night.
When we got back from Tenerife, I enrolled at college. At last, after a six-month wait! I was really excited about the course, but while I was standing in the long queue for the enrollment office, I suddenly came over all dizzy. ‘Why is it so hot?’ I asked the person behind me. I felt flushed and weak, my vision went fuzzy and my head was spinning, so I had to sit down. This is awful! I thought.
After a few minutes, my head cleared and I started to feel better. I went back to my place in the queue and eventually signed up to my course. But I still didn’t feel right, so I went home and slept for a couple of hours. A couple of times in the days that followed, I felt dizzy and faint again. It was so weird. I’m never ill, so I couldn’t understand it.
In the weeks to come, I threw myself into my course and studied hard. There were lots of different modules, including voice anatomy, singing, drama, history of drama, principles of drama, ballet, tap, street and contemporary dance. In principles of drama we learnt about the various theories of acting and acting methods, which I found fascinating, while in drama we’d pick a musical and study it. Sometimes we’d perform it, or scenes from it, too.
I chose to do Musical Theatre because I could get the equivalent of three A Levels out of it, which meant I could go to university if I wanted, to study English or Law. It was good to know I had that to fall back on. Once you have the right number of UCAS points, you can go and study anything, as long as you don’t want to be a doctor or something that requires a specific qualification. My secret dream, though, was to get into RADA, even though I knew I wasn’t good enough. Failing tha
t, I was hoping to get really good results and go to university or get a job at a top musical theatre.
If I couldn’t get into the West End or be a singer, I wanted to teach musical theatre. So I had to qualify in it. I would still love to be on the West End stage one day. I’ve seen lots of West End musicals, even the modern ones like Dirty Dancing and We Will Rock You. I love them all. I love the energy and excitement of live theatre.
A couple of weeks after my enrolment I went out for lunch with my dad and Karen at a café near my college. ‘I keep fainting,’ I told them lightheartedly, then I went on to describe what had happened the day I’d enrolled. ‘I was in the queue and I couldn’t even stand up!’ I found it funny. ‘I thought I was going to die or something,’ I added with a laugh.
‘That’s strange,’ Karen said, leaning forward.
‘Oh my God, what is that smell?’ I said, recoiling from her. ‘Eurgh! Your breath stinks! It’s making me feel sick.’
‘What does it smell of?’ she asked curiously.
‘Ugh!’ I put my hand up to cover my nose. ‘Onions!’
‘But I haven’t even eaten an onion for days,’ she said.
‘What could it be, then?’ I asked. ‘It’s definitely onions.’ We looked around the café for the source of the smell. There was a man on the other side of the room eating a hot dog with onions in it. ‘Yuk, that stinks!’ I exclaimed.
‘I can’t even smell it,’ Karen said. ‘What’s wrong with you?’
‘I don’t know, I just can’t stand that smell, I suppose,’ I said. ‘Can we leave?’
Karen glanced at my dad and then back at me. ‘Of course,’ she said.
A couple of days later, I saw her again. My dad had just bought a flat to rent out and she was having the carpets laid. I was hanging about, not doing anything – definitely not helping! – and out of the blue Karen said, ‘I think you’re pregnant.’ She didn’t refer to what had happened in the café or on the day I’d enrolled, she just said, ‘I think you’re pregnant.’
I was stunned. ‘What are you talking about?’ I said, frowning.
‘I think you’re pregnant,’ she repeated.
‘Don’t be so stupid!’ I said, and then for some reason I started crying.
‘Why are you crying?’ she asked gently.
‘I don’t know. I don’t want to be pregnant. I’m not pregnant. I don’t even know why I’m crying,’ I sobbed. ‘I’m definitely not pregnant because I’ve had my period.’ I broke down and cried hysterically.
‘Whatever you say,’ she said, and she left it at that.
The next time I went round to Dad’s house, she came into my room holding out a pregnancy test. ‘If you’re sure you’re not pregnant, prove it,’ she challenged.
‘Go away,’ I said angrily. ‘Leave me alone.’
‘Come on,’ she insisted. ‘Let’s settle this now.’
Reluctantly, I took the test from her and followed the instructions, weeing on the end of the stick for three seconds. Before I’d even put it on the side to wait for the results, a blue cross appeared in the test window, signifying a positive result. It was so quick. I was pregnant.
‘Huh?’ I mumbled, unable to believe my eyes. It couldn’t be true. It had to be a mistake.
Karen just looked at me without saying anything. ‘But I can’t be pregnant!’ I burst out. ‘I’ve been getting my period as usual. I’ve been having heavy periods.’
‘You’re pregnant, Stacey,’ she said, pointing at the test. ‘Whatever you say, you’re pregnant.’
‘No!’ I howled. ‘I can’t be!’ Tears started pouring down my cheeks. It didn’t add up. I was still getting my period every month. Me and Dean had never once had unprotected sex. Plus, I hadn’t got any bigger or heavier, although it wouldn’t have surprised me if I had, because I was eating fried food almost every night at the fish and chip shop and drinking loads.
I was in so much denial. ‘The test must be wrong,’ I insisted.
‘Fine, we’d better go to the doctor, then,’ Karen replied. We went to my GP the next day. He didn’t even bother to give me a pregnancy test. He simply had to feel my belly to be sure that there was a baby there, because the foetus was already so developed. ‘Yes, you’re definitely pregnant,’ he said.
On a subconscious level, I think I must have known – perhaps I’d known for a while. Looking back, it suddenly seemed obvious why I’d felt so sick in the mornings on holiday in Tenerife. Now I understood why I’d been feeling faint for the past couple of weeks. Even so, I couldn’t blame myself for not realizing. If you’ve never been pregnant before, how would you know? I had no idea what it felt like. And believe me, if you don’t know better, a baby kicking in the early stages feels just like wind! Karen had spotted the symptoms because she’d had my little brother two years earlier and it was still fresh in her mind. My mum was less likely to notice because it had been sixteen years since she’d had her last child.
Back home, Karen said, ‘You’ve got to tell your dad. I’m not keeping this a secret from him.’
I had no choice, so I went to find my dad. He was sitting in front of his computer. ‘Dad, I’m pregnant,’ I said.
‘You’d better not be,’ he said without turning round.
OK, that’s one out of the way, I thought. ‘Well, I am, so see you!’ I said.
He turned round to face me. ‘What do you want?’ he said impatiently. It was obvious that he thought I was just trying to get his attention. ‘Hurry up and tell me, what do you want?’
‘Dad, I am pregnant,’ I said.
He erupted. He was really angry. ‘How could you let this happen?’ he yelled. ‘How could you be so stupid?’ But my dad’s the kind of person who gets angry and then gets over it and says, ‘Where are we going to go from here? What are we going to do?’
Telling my mum was much worse. As soon as she heard, her face fell and she looked sad beyond belief. ‘I’m really, really sorry,’ she said dully. She stretched her arms out. ‘Come on, give me a cuddle.’
I couldn’t bear it; I would have much preferred her to get angry and shout at me. ‘Hate me, Mum!’ I told her. ‘Tell me that what I’ve done is really awful. Tell me I’m rubbish. Tell me I’m the worst daughter in the world.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m just sad for you.’
‘But why? Aren’t children supposed to be a blessing?’
She sighed. ‘You’d just got into college, you were getting your life on track and doing the things you wanted to do, but now that’s all going to change. I just feel really sad for you.’ She knew how much I loved being a kid, how much I loved living my life without responsibilities, floating in and out of home, going here, there and everywhere. ‘It just means that nothing can be the same again, which is going to be really tough for you,’ she said. ‘I wish I could make it different, but I can’t.’
I knew she was right and it was devastating to hear. I could no longer be the girl who said, ‘Let’s all go to Ibiza, everyone!’ I just couldn’t be that girl any more. I was going to have to change completely.
Chapter 6
I cried my eyes out for days. I was completely and utterly miserable. I really didn’t want this to be happening to me just when I felt like I’d sorted everything out in my life. I was at college; I had a job; I had great friends and I had the boyfriend I really, really wanted. I couldn’t bear to think how he would react when I told him I was pregnant.
I rang him from my dad’s house and said, ‘Are you coming round?’ Then when he arrived, I said, ‘Let’s go out.’ As we walked up the road, I took a deep breath and said, ‘I’m pregnant.’
There was a long pause. Poor thing, he was probably so shocked that words completely failed him. What would I have said in his situation? I’m sure I wouldn’t have known how to deal with it either.
Neither of us could get our heads round it. We just couldn’t process it. At seventeen and nineteen we were both so young, and it was so unexpected. We had no idea what to do,
no idea at all. It was too much, too soon.
My mum and dad didn’t advise me one way or the other. They were worried that I might blame them if they swayed my opinion, especially if I regretted my decision later. All the same, I desperately wanted someone to give me some advice.
I didn’t know what to do. My mum and dad told me they would support whatever decision I made, but I felt very confused. There were so many negatives to having a baby: I would have to leave college, stop going out with my mates and give up work and my independence. What were the positives? I tried my hardest, but I couldn’t think of any. So I asked my mum to make an appointment at a termination clinic.
Mum made inquiries and first we went to a walk-in centre in Barking, where we talked everything through. I explained the circumstances: I was seventeen, at college, and the pregnancy was a total accident. What else could I do, apart from have a termination? To my relief, the counsellor I saw made it very clear that I wasn’t being judged. She was there to help and advise me so that I could make the right decision.
A week later, me, Mum, Dad, Karen and Dean all piled into my dad’s car and drove to a termination clinic in Essex. It was a really awkward journey. No one said much; we just listened to the radio and pretended everything was normal. When we arrived, Dad wanted to come into the clinic, but they would only allow one person in with me, so I took Mum. Dad, Karen and Dean waited in a café nearby.
At the clinic, me and Mum had a very brief discussion with a counsellor to make sure this was what I really wanted. Next, we were shown into a consultant’s room, where I was given a scan. The screen was turned away from me so I couldn’t see the image, but the consultant called my mum over, saying, ‘Come and take a look.’
I watched Mum’s face as she looked at the screen. Her expression changed completely. Although she was struggling not to show her emotions, she looked really sentimental and upset. I don’t think she’d expected to see what appeared to be a well-formed baby, with arms and legs.
Of all the people I could have come with, I had to bring my mum, I thought. ‘Stop it,’ I said. ‘I’m not looking, and it’s not helping that you’re making that face.’ Then I saw that she had tears in her eyes. For goodness sake!
Stacey: My Story So Far Page 8