by Hilary Boyd
‘She’s a tough old bird … bit of flu’s not going to bother her for long. You don’t get to ninety by being a wuss.’
‘I’m sure you’re right. Anyway, better get on. Don’t want her waking up when I’m not there. You OK?’
Keith grinned. ‘Bloody marvellous is the truth. Got a gorgeous woman in my bed at last!’
‘Way too much information, thanks!’ His chuckle followed her to the main door.
She gazed blankly at the boxes of pregnancy test kits, going over and over in her mind the number of weeks since that night in Scotland. Five and a bit, if you didn’t count from the most recent period, which had only lasted two days. She grabbed the most prominent brand and went to pay for it, suddenly flustered in front of the girl at the till, self-conscious about the implications of her purchase. The girl merely scanned the box through.
‘Like a bag?’ She asked in a bored monotone.
Flora nodded, not wanting Keith to see what she was carrying.
When she got back to the flat, Dorothea was awake and ringing the little bell by her bed.
‘Sorry, I had to pop out for something. How are you feeling?’
‘I think … very tired.’ She tried to sit up. ‘I need to get out.’
For the next hour, Flora was tied up with her patient. It wasn’t until Dorothea was settled again, a cup of weak tea beside her bed, that she had time to go to the bathroom.
Scrabbling with the packet, giving a hurried glance at the instructions, she peed on the stick, watching the tip go pink. She checked her watch. Two minutes, they said. The second-hand pottered agonisingly slowly around the face. But as she sat on the edge of the bath, her eyes darting between her watch and the small results window on the white plastic wand, she was certain beyond any doubt that what she’d see would be a clear blue plus sign.
CHAPTER 15
17 December
Rene’s voice nattered on as she sat beside the bed, holding her friend’s hand. Dorothea had been asleep most of the afternoon and looked to Flora as if she wanted to go to sleep again.
‘It’s been a bit of a nightmare day. I had a terrible argument with Alan about the clematis – the gorgeous pink one along the bottom fence, remember? He claims it’s on its last legs, but he’s always such a Jonah about my plants, even though he’s employed to look after them. He wants to rip it out, plant a new one. But it’s been there since we got the house, twenty-seven years ago. I’m not letting it go without a fight …’
‘Oh dear,’ Dorothea muttered. ‘So what will you do?’
‘As little as possible. I said he was on no account to touch it. I know it wasn’t at its best this summer, but the weather’s been so strange. I said we should leave it another year, see how it goes. But he’s so bad tempered about it.’
‘Perhaps you should find another gardener?’ Dorothea suggested mildly, looking as if she were struggling to get involved in the conversation. She had Flora’s sympathy. As she finished massaging E45 cream into the dry skin on the old lady’s legs, pulling the bed covers back into place, her own thoughts were in turmoil; the precious secret buzzing round her, threatening to burst into the open at any moment.
Rene was shaking her head vehemently. ‘Heavens, no, I can’t do that. He’s Christine’s cousin. I’d never hear the last of it if I sacked him.’
The old lady said nothing, probably, like Flora, having no idea who Christine was and not having the energy to ask.
‘Anyway, my dear, I must love you and leave you, get back home and put the supper on. Rosie’s coming round with her latest beau.’ Rene rolled her eyes. ‘Hope he’s more articulate than the last one.’ She bent to kiss Dorothea on the cheek. ‘So nice to see you a bit better today. I’ll try and pop in again tomorrow.’
Dorothea smiled up at her friend. ‘Thank you so much,’ she said.
Flora went with Rene to the front door.
‘What do you think?’ Rene asked.
‘She’s weak, and still very tired, but she doesn’t have a fever any more. I think Dr Kent caught it in time.’
‘What a gem he is,’ Rene said. ‘I can’t believe how much attention he pays her. He’s always round here, and he’s not even private. We’re so lucky to have him.’
*
Flora heard the main door of the flats slam behind her at the end of her shift with a huge sigh of relief. Now she could think. She walked up Gloucester Road instead of taking the bus. It was mild for December, a light sleet making the pavements oily. She welcomed the cool, damp night air on her face.
‘I’m pregnant,’ she kept whispering to herself like a mad woman. ‘I’m pregnant.’ But the words made no sense. She had wanted a baby for so long.
But hard on the heels of her euphoria came the cold hard facts of her situation: living on what amounted to her sister’s charity, in a tiny flat, with an unemployed climber who was reluctant to have children. Not to mention the perils of actually keeping the pregnancy at her age. How will Fin react? she wondered, her stomach knotted with nerves as she trod down the slippery area steps to her flat.
Fin was frowning in front of the television, the volume muted. He smiled at her as she came in. ‘This stuff is such crap,’ he said, yawning, and stretching his long arms towards the ceiling. ‘I don’t know how they have the bloody nerve to make these ludicrous shows in the first place.’
She laughed. ‘Why watch it, then?’
‘Bugger all else to do.’ He got up and gave her a kiss. ‘I saw Prue today,’ he went on. ‘She was banging on about Christmas. Says it’s going to be about twelve of us.’
‘Usually is.’ She took off her coat and hung it on the stand. ‘Did she say who she’s got lined up for us this year?’
Fin shook his head. ‘Bound to be hideous. I was thinking … suppose we go up to Scotland instead? If Mary’s going to be there, you’ve got at least five days off if you include the weekend. It would be better than making nice to your sister’s pompous friends.’
Flora thought of his father’s house, freezing in December, the damp sheets, the musty smell, the avocado-coloured bath, but she decided not to have the argument with him just now.
‘Fin. Sit down. I’ve got something to tell you.’
The discontent and lethargy on Fin’s face was immediately replaced by a wary interest. ‘Go on.’
‘Sit down first,’ she repeated, receiving a puzzled frown from Fin. He threw himself back on the sofa and looked at her impatiently as she settled herself in the chair opposite, trying to find the right words. But her nerves wouldn’t stand prevarication.
‘I’m pregnant,’ she said flatly.
‘Pregnant?’
‘Yes. I did a test this afternoon.’
He stared at her in silence.
‘Say something,’ she urged.
‘It can’t be mine.’
‘Fin! Of course it’s yours. Who else’s could it be?’
Fin shrugged. ‘That man you were seeing before I pitched up? You had sex with him presumably?’ His voice was flat with tension.
‘Once. But that was months ago, and we used a condom.’
He got up and started pacing around behind the sofa. ‘So do we. Every time. And the only time we didn’t, I didn’t come inside you. There’s no way it can be mine. You said yourself it wasn’t possible, that night in Scotland.’
Flora realised she was shaking. She hadn’t expected him to be overjoyed, but to deny he was the father?
‘I said it was unlikely, not impossible.’
Fin shook his head but didn’t say anything.
She got up. ‘Fin. This is your baby. The test says I’m only five weeks gone.’
‘I just can’t believe it.’
‘Nor can I. But it is your baby.’ She went over to him and took his hands. His gaze was bewildered.
‘OK, OK … I believe you.’
They stood silently, staring at each other. His patent lack of enthusiasm clutched at her heart.
‘I know it’s not gre
at timing, but … I …’ She could feel the stress of the day finally catching up with her, tears gathering hotly behind her eyes.
‘Sorry, sorry.’ He pulled her into an embrace. ‘It’s just a massive shock for me.’
‘It is for me too, but I’m still happy.’ Was this true, she wondered. She was dazed, incredulous, but she realised she had waited to enjoy the moment until she’d spoken to Fin.
‘Come over here,’ Fin pulled her across to the sofa, sitting her down and holding her close against him. ‘It’s great, amazing. I was trying to think it through, that’s all. I’m just not sure how we’re going to manage when you can’t work any more … three of us cooped up in this tiny flat.’ He glanced down at her. ‘It’s going to be hard.’
She drew away from him. ‘You are pleased though … just a bit … aren’t you?’
He began to speak, then stopped.
‘Fin?’
He hesitated again.
‘Alright: I’m not going to lie to you, Flo, it’s too important. I don’t want a child right now. Not yet, not until we’ve had some time together, got our lives on track with somewhere decent to live. This is way too soon … you know it is.’
Tears were pouring down her face. ‘You sound as if you’re blaming me.’
‘I’m not … but it was you who said we should keep going, even though we didn’t have a condom that night in Dad’s house … if that’s when it happened. I’ve been so careful all the other times.’ He sounded almost peeved, and Flora suddenly felt an irrational desire to hit him.
‘Fuck you.’
She shot up from the sofa and walked out, shutting herself in the bedroom. Lying there, she felt her heart pounding through her chest wall, but anger stifled any more tears. She would have the baby whether it suited Fin or not. She would do it alone, somehow she would, even if they had to live off the state. She clutched her stomach, trying to get a sense of the minute cluster of cells that would eventually make up their baby.
It was a long time before Fin appeared by her side. She felt disorientated by his face suddenly so close to hers.
‘Flo … Flo? Please, let’s not fight.’
She pulled herself upright, but she didn’t know what to say to him as he sat awkwardly beside her on the bed. She fiddled with the tissue she’d been clutching.
‘Look at me,’ his hand went under her chin, gently drawing her head up. ‘Listen. I know I should be more enthusiastic, and I will be, I promise. I just need time.’ His grey eyes looked almost bruised.
‘I can do it myself if you won’t support me.’ Flora knew it was a childish declaration, even if fundamentally true. She had no desire whatsoever to bring up the baby without Fin, alone and in poverty.
‘Of course I’ll support you. I never said I wouldn’t. Please, stop being stupid and let’s have some supper. You’re going to have a baby, you need to eat.’ He was smiling now, but she could see the effort it cost him.
Later, as she lay next to him in bed, she couldn’t sleep. For the first time she questioned whether she really loved this man. His response had profoundly shocked her. Not the initial denial, or stunned surprise, that was fair enough – he was nearly fifty and had managed to evade fatherhood thus far – but the complete lack of love in his face when she had told him she was carrying his baby. Because this wasn’t a one-night stand with a woman he barely knew. He said he loved her, said he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. But she could see, in that moment, that he hadn’t been thinking about her at all, or about the baby, or even about them as a couple. He’d been thinking exclusively about himself. Where was the love in that?
*
Bel sat next to Flora on the bus taking them to Westfield.
‘Remind me. Why, exactly, are we going to some grisly shopping centre on the Saturday before Christmas?’
Her niece giggled. ‘To shop?’
‘Hadn’t thought of that.’
‘It’ll be fun. Like a zoo and totally hectic, and we won’t find a thing before our legs are reduced to bleeding stumps, but it’s what you do when it’s Christmas.’
‘I’ve bought all my presents.’
‘Oooh, smug. I suppose you bought them at a summer fair like old people do,’ Bel teased. ‘Well, I’ve got everyone’s except Mum’s. You have to help me. You know how hard it is to find something she hasn’t already got.’
Flora was pleased to be away from the flat and Fin. In the first few days after the revelation, they had been careful around each other: he being over-solicitous about her health, she making light of the whole thing. But neither of them had the will to really sit down and discuss what they might do in a practical sense. So the baby was like a looming, but mute, presence over all their conversations. Flora was the first to break.
‘We have to talk about this, Fin,’ she’d said, as they sat having coffee and croissants at the weekend.
‘I’m not avoiding it.’
‘I didn’t say you were.’ There was a tense silence. ‘Let’s not argue.’
Fin tore off another piece of his croissant, but instead of eating it he just looked at it then laid it back down on his plate, rubbing his hands together to get rid of the pastry flakes.
‘I’ve thought about nothing else since you told me, but I’m getting nowhere. We’re in a mess. And if you can’t work because of the baby, I don’t know how we’ll support ourselves in London.’ He gave a heavy sigh. ‘The only solution I can see is one you won’t even contemplate … moving up to Inverness.’
‘I have contemplated it.’
‘And?’ His look was cautious, but he didn’t wait for her reply. ‘I could get work up there quite easily, guiding people, or in one of the millions of climbing shops around, until I’m fit enough for bigger things.’
‘We could try it out,’ she conceded.
His look was surprised, bordering on suspicious. ‘You’d do that?’
She didn’t answer, no longer able to avoid the fact that it wasn’t the house itself, or its location, that was the problem. She pushed the thought away.
‘It’ll be a while before I can get back into hospital work … I couldn’t even begin to until she’s at least six months old.’
‘She?’ Fin asked. ‘It’s a girl, is it?’
She hadn’t realised what she’d said. ‘I’d like a girl.’
Fin looked away and she immediately felt awkward, aware that any baby talk met the same blank wall. He just didn’t want to engage in the baby as a real person.
‘We’ll sort the house. It’s a good space, I can fix it up in plenty of time for the baby. Make it really nice.’
He reached over for her hand. ‘You’ll see, Flo. It’s a wonderful place to bring up a child. Plenty of fresh air, a safe environment. He … she would have the perfect childhood.’
She nodded, knowing it was probably true.
‘When are you going to tell Prue?’
‘I’d like to tell her today, but I think we should wait. At my age there’s quite a risk of miscarriage.’
‘Would it be dangerous for you if you miscarried?’ He looked suddenly anxious.
‘Not for me.’
He frowned. ‘I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you, Flo.’
She resolved to start thinking seriously about the move to Scotland. It did make sense. And if they stayed in this flat, with or without a screaming baby, they would eventually stab each other …
*
Bel was digging her in the ribs. ‘We’re here.’
They took off around the circuit of shops lining the packed shopping centre. It was a bewildering place, loud, hot and stressful, milling with anxious people darting from store to store in their search for last-minute presents.
‘OK, so what are your options for Mum?’
Bel looked dispirited. ‘Dunno. I can’t afford the expensive stuff she likes in the perfume or cream department. And clothes are a no-no, she’d never wear anything that wasn’t designer …’
‘W
hat about a pretty box, or a nice coffee cup?’
Her niece pulled a face. ‘Boring.’
‘Or a soap dish, a wine glass … bath stuff?’
‘Boring, boring, boring.’
They paused in front of a shoe shop.
‘Those are cool,’ Bel said, eyeing a pair of heavy black boots with buckles up the side.
Flora pulled her away. ‘How about a CD? Your mum’s got quite broad taste. You could find some funky band …’
Bel snorted. ‘Yeah, good one. I can just see Mum chilling out to Dizzy Bats or the Dum Dum Girls.’
‘No, not quite your mum’s cup of tea, perhaps. Can we have a sandwich and think about it?’ Flora was suddenly feeling incredibly tired. Thank goodness she didn’t have to work now till Thursday, the day after Boxing Day. She hadn’t been sick any more, but she felt queasy a lot, and just strange – sort of buzzy and out of her body at times.
‘Crayfish and avocado salad and a cappuccino!’ Bel shouted. This was their favourite salad in Pret a Manger.
‘Crayfish and avocado it is,’ Flora agreed, then remembered she shouldn’t eat shellfish or drink too much coffee. ‘Or mushroom soup?’
Bel pulled a face. ‘Nah … crayfish for me.’
She eventually bought her mother a plum-coloured mascara and a case for her BlackBerry, decorated with a silver and cherry diamanté butterfly.
‘Didn’t I do well?’ her niece asked, as they squeezed into the bus seat.
‘Perfect.’
Bel looked at her sideways. ‘You don’t think they’re stupid?’
‘No, I think they’re great. If anyone can get away with plum-coloured mascara, it’s your mum.’
*
‘Can sex cause a miscarriage?’ Fin asked, as they lay in bed on Christmas morning. They hadn’t made love since she’d told him about her pregnancy. She’d been feeling fragile and tired, but she also sensed his lack of confidence around her body.
‘No, you can have sex all through pregnancy, if you want to.’
He looked over at her. ‘Do you?’
‘You look almost scared of me,’ she smiled, and pulled herself up to kiss him. ‘I won’t break, promise.’