The One That Got Away

by Lucy Dawson

  I also learn that if you decide to have an abortion you will attend the clinic in person to meet with one of our fully qualified and non-judgemental healthcare professionals, who will talk you through the right procedure for you. We accept unwanted pregnancies occur and believe that women have the right to choose for themselves how to deal with the situation. Please use our pregnancy calculator to determine which treatments may be suitable for you should you decide to go ahead.

  I click on the link.

  Please enter into the required fields, the information which will help us determine how advanced your pregnancy is.

  I enter my postcode, the first day of my last period and … click

  We estimate, from the information provided, that you are four weeks pregnant.

  That means the procedure most suitable for me is the abortion pill, available up to nine weeks, which will induce an early miscarriage. Or I can have a surgical abortion; gentle suction to remove the pregnancy. I suppose they describe it as gentle so it doesn’t frighten people.

  Either way I have to make an appointment to discuss my options. They call me back very promptly and from the list my postcode search threw up, the closest clinic that has the first available appointment – is in London.

  ‘Will you be bringing a nominated companion with you?’ the woman asks me. She’s kind and I’m grateful for that. ‘A partner? A friend or relative?’

  ‘No.’

  She doesn’t seem surprised. Or if she is, she keeps it to herself.

  I don’t want to tell anyone. Everyone will have opinions, advice … and we can’t even bury my dad yet, we have a funeral to arrange. I want none of this to be real – none of it. I want it all to go away. I keep seeing Dad in my mind over and over again, sinking to the grass, the confusion on his face … I’m not sleeping, I can’t eat. I still can’t cry. I am well, nothing really. I’ve just confirmed the time of the appointment and hung up when there is a soft knock at my bedroom door.

  ‘Molly?’ It pushes open and Joss puts her head round. ‘Is it OK to come in? Karen said I should just come up.’

  She comes into the room tentatively, dressed in work clothes.

  ‘Isn’t it a bank holiday today?’ I’m confused, laptop resting across my outstretched legs, back propped uncomfortably against the wall.

  She gives a slight shake of her head and sits down on the edge of the bed. ‘That was yesterday. How are you?’

  I don’t know really, so I just shrug as I close the screen and she says quickly. ‘I’m sorry, that was a really stupid question.’

  I shake my head. ‘It wasn’t. It wasn’t at all.’

  She pauses. ‘I don’t know what to say to you.’

  I look at her and she reaches a hand out to me. I take it and she grips it fiercely.

  We just sit there quietly for a moment.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ Her eyes fill with tears.

  ‘Thank you.’ I squeeze her hand lightly before pulling mine away.

  ‘I wish I could make it all go away for you.’

  ‘I know you do.’

  We fall quiet again.

  ‘I can’t even begin to imagine what you must be feeling like.’

  I think she probably has a rough idea. Joss has lived most of her adult life dreading someone in a hospital saying ‘We did all we could’. Every time her mum doesn’t pick up the phone, every time she does but she’s slurring, every time she rings Joss and is excitedly high as a kite because she’s decided tomorrow is the day she’s stopping drinking for good. Every time, Joss is dreading the worst and in it on her own. She knows better than anyone. How does she stay so brave all of the time?

  I reach my hand back out and she takes it again.

  ‘How’s Bec?’ I say eventually. ‘She called me yesterday. When you see her will you say sorry I didn’t pick up? I’d fallen asleep. I don’t want her to think I don’t want to speak to her.’

  ‘She doesn’t think that,’ Joss says quickly. ‘Not at all. She just wants – we both want – to do whatever we can.’

  ‘That’s really kind,’ I say automatically. ‘I appreciate that. So how are things going with that new man of yours?’

  Slightly thrown, she hesitates for a moment. ‘They’re good – really good, but we don’t have to talk about—’

  ‘I’m looking forward to meeting him. We must sort something out.’

  ‘OK,’ she says slowly. ‘That’d be nice. He’d like that … Moll, Bec wondered if she could come and see you tomorrow? We didn’t want to come together tonight, in case it was too much.’

  ‘No, no – I’d love to see her.’ But then I remember the appointment I have. ‘Do you think she’d be able to come after six?’ I take my hand back and scratch my head worriedly. ‘Would that be all right, do you think?’

  ‘Of course!’ Joss gives me a troubled look. ‘It’s whatever you want.’

  ‘After six would work for me.’

  ‘OK,’ she says carefully. ‘Well I’ll tell her then.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Another moment passes and she takes a deep breath. ‘So, have you heard from—’

  ‘Joss do you mind if I have a little nap?’ I say quickly. She’s going to ask me about Dan, and no I haven’t heard from him, I don’t even know where he is. ‘It’s just I haven’t been sleeping and I’m suddenly really tired. Is that OK?’

  She looks a bit startled but recovers herself well. ‘Absolutely it is. I’ll pop off home. Can I ring you tomorrow? Is that OK?’

  ‘Yeah I’ll be here.’

  Oh. Except I won’t. Well, I’ll deal with that then.

  ‘Do you need anything from your house?’ she asks as she gets up.

  ‘No thanks.’ I can’t even think about that now, that I have a house somewhere else, full of stuff. It feels like it belongs to a different lifetime.

  She looks at me, concerned.

  ‘Thanks for coming over.’ I deliberately stonewall her, and she knows it, so instead she just leans over and in a most un-Josslike way, gently kisses the top of my head.

  It says everything, but nonetheless, when she reaches the door she turns back, just to be on the safe side. ‘I’ll be here when you want me, you can ring me any time of the day or night. I’ll keep my phone on.’

  I know she will, and I am so grateful, I really am. I’m not being mean – I just … I want to say it all to her, but I don’t know how to. I am actually very tired – I seem to have no energy at all. I just want to be left alone. So I just nod instead and she slips from the room quietly, closing the door behind her.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  ‘You’re sure you’ll be OK?’ I say to Mum, wrapping a scarf around my neck. ‘I won’t be late.’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ Mum smiles tiredly. She looks shattered. Underneath her eyes has gone the colour of dusty blueberries and her skin appears paper-thin. But she’s wearing neatly pressed trousers and when I get up from the table, she picks up our lunch plates and scrapes the crusts into the bin before carrying them over to the sink, like normal. ‘You don’t want a coffee, do you? You’ll have one with Joss I expect?’

  ‘I should think so, yes,’ I button my coat up evasively.

  ‘It’ll do you good to go out,’ Mum says, turning the hot tap on and reaching for the washing-up liquid.

  I look at my watch. ‘I thought you said Maria was coming over? Shouldn’t she be here by now?’

  ‘She will be soon,’ Mum reassures me. ‘Go on, you go.’

  ‘But I don’t want to leave you on your own.’

  She turns to face me. ‘Please don’t be upset by this, but I’d actually really like it, just for a bit. I’m so, so pleased that you’re staying here my darling, but it would be nice to have five minutes space to hear myself think. You understand, don’t you?’

  I walk up to her and give her a quick kiss. ‘See you later.’

  She turns back to the sink and calls over her shoulder, ‘Take care my love.’

  Take ca
re. Her words are still bouncing around my hollow head as I stand outside the clinic on the pavement looking up at the front of the building. There’s no sign, just a number on the door. It appears to be an expensive town-house in a smart area of London. It could be any number of things; a barrister’s office, an embassy, a private members’ club … a place to end pregnancies.

  I shiver and stare at the glossy door. I must look very odd, just standing here. I should go in. It’s only a door, a building. I’m going for an appointment. One step at a time.

  I swallow, close my eyes and wobble on the spot a bit. Taking a deep breath and a step forward, I feel a wave of nausea woosh up within me. Just as quickly I turn and face away from the door again. My heart is beating very fast. Am I really going to do this? I scrunch my eyes up tightly and exhale, trying to calm my mounting sense of panic, but my throat starts to tighten, I gulp painfully and then I start to shake, really properly shake. Fumbling in my bag I scrabble around for my phone and pull it out, staring wildly at it for a moment, but I know exactly who I want to call.

  Standing there shaking in the middle of the pavement, I listen as it rings. I know he’s not going to pick up, but somehow even hearing him on his answerphone will be better than—

  ‘Hello’

  Oh! It’s him … and the sound of his voice … It simply releases something in me; my eyes flood with tears, everything rushes up from somewhere within me so suddenly and I am crying, crying and crying as I hold the phone tightly as I can, as close to my ear as possible.

  ‘Molly?’ I hear him say in confusion. ‘Molly? What is it?’

  I can just hear myself sobbing like my heart is going to break with grief but all I can think is don’t tell him, it would be so cruel, so manipulative. Don’t tell him about Dad either. Don’t. Don’t do that to him. But oh … my dad. My dad …

  ‘Molly, please – talk to me!’ he says desperately. ‘Are you hurt?’

  And that just makes me just collapse from the inside out. My eyes are open but I can’t see through them the tears are so thick. ‘I can’t—’ I hear myself gulping. ‘I’m—’

  ‘Where are you?’

  I can’t get words out, it feels like a physical pain. ‘I’m— Great Portland Street, I can’t— I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to call, to upset you.’ I hear my voice go very high. ‘I’m so sorry, Dan.’ And I hang up quickly.

  I can’t cope. I can’t cope with this, hearing his voice, knowing that – I just wanted to … I just wanted to what? Make everything even worse than it already is? Nothing has changed, Dad is still … and I’m … Oh shit! Before I can think about it a moment longer I wipe my eyes furiously, whirl round on the spot and ring the buzzer. Then the door unlocks. I push it open, and go in.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  ‘Now, although the pregnancy test we’ve just done is positive, one of our doctors needs to determine what stage of pregnancy you’re at,’ explains the counsellor. ‘Then we can talk through your options. You’ll see another doctor and after that, you and I will talk again, to see if it’s something you still want to go ahead with, OK?’

  I nod. This is all happening very fast. I feel numb. Did I really even speak to Dan? His voice echoes around in my head ‘Where are you?’

  ‘I’m going to take you through to the first consultation now, OK?’

  ‘So Molly …’ says the doctor, pushing the gel around on my tummy and looking at a monitor that is turned away from me. ‘You think you are only about four weeks? Hmm. I don’t think I’ll be able to … oh – hang on …’

  My heart gives an involuntary thud.

  ‘Right, I can see there is a pregnancy, it’s very early, but it’s there. I think you’re more likely nearly six weeks’ actually.’

  ‘Six?’ I’m astonished. ‘But the first day of my last period was …’ I try to remember ‘the thirteenth or fourteenth of November?’

  She pauses. ‘So, yeah – coming up to six. Give or take a day or two.’

  So it was pretty much literally first time – lucky?

  ‘Can I look?’ My voice is shaky.

  ‘Of course,’ she says gently, and turns the monitor towards me. ‘But you won’t be able to see anything, it’s too early. It is there though.’

  Silently, I stare at the screen, transfixed, not able to say a thing. She’s right, I can’t see anything of note at all – just grainy, indistinct blurs, but my eyes fill with tears all the same and I cover my mouth with my hand. I cannot stop staring. She’s seen it – it is there – and I know instantly that I absolutely cannot do this. I simply can’t.

  It doesn’t matter what I thought I wanted, or didn’t want, what anyone else thinks, it’s completely irrelevant to me now. Everything has changed, again.

  All I know is right here, right now; how I am feeling now. And I have never been more sure of anything in my life. There is no choice to make.

  So I tell her, I explain everything, and she’s incredibly kind and understanding, offering me more counselling if I would like it and telling me that she will do a referral letter with my permission, for the antenatal care I’m going to need.

  I’ve just finished slowly dressing, trying to take it all in, start to get used to how this feels to me, think about how things are going to be, when a knock at the door interrupts us. A younger woman half-slips into the room and murmurs something discreetly to the doctor while I’m reaching for my coat, then melts away.

  ‘Molly, I need to let you know that your husband arrived, asking for you.’ The doctor’s voice is deliberately neutral and calm.

  ‘Dan was here?’ I say in disbelief and my heart leaps. ‘Just now?’

  ‘He won’t have been told anything, no one will have confirmed whether you are here or not, so if you would like to wait and not leave immediately …’

  ‘No, no, you don’t understand—’ I reach out and place an urgent hand on her arm. ‘I want to see him!’

  ‘He won’t have been allowed in, I’m afraid, it’s to protect your right to confidentiality …’

  I’m one step ahead of her. I grab my bag and rush from the room, running down the corridor, becoming lighter with every step, through the anonymous reception area, into the corridor, before pushing out through the heavy door on to the cold London street. I look left and then right, I can’t see him! Where is he? I start to hurry up the road.

  Then across the street, right at the far end, coming out of a newsagent, fingers fumbling desperately with a packet of cigarettes, I see a very familiar face. He looks up and notices me at the exact same time … my muscles lock, my heart starts to pound and frightened heavy breath begins to suck in and out of my lungs.

  I step backwards with shock … I turn, and I start to run …

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  ‘Molly! Wait!’

  I look over my shoulder as Leo drops the fag packet and goes to rush over the road, but a white van turns the corner, going too fast to stop and gets in his way. He vanishes out of sight behind it, and reaching the door to the clinic, I frantically press on the intercom button for all I’m worth. ‘Please, let me in,’ I plead, frantically looking back up the street, he’s dodging a car, weaving across the road. ‘It’s Molly Greene, he’s coming! I need to—’

  The door buzzes, I push on it, hearing him yell ‘No!’ – he’s sprinting towards me, but the door doesn’t move, the lock buzzes redundantly again and again, why won’t it open? FUCK – because it’s a pull …

  I’ve realised too late. He reaches out and grabs my arm, making me yelp with fright, and wrenches me back from the door.

  ‘Shhh!’ he hisses. ‘I’m not going to hurt you! Stop it!’ he looks up at the door and for the first time I notice a security camera. ‘They’ll be watching us. Calm down.’

  I look at him, terrified. How could I have thought it was Dan? All I told him was Great Portland Street. He might not even be in London for all I know. He could be anywhere.

  ‘Don’t make a scene,’ Leo instructs, still ho
lding my arm and marching me away.

  ‘How did you know I was here?’

  ‘Just come away from the door,’ he pulls me further up the street and I yank my arm free. ‘How did you know?’ I stare at him, my mind swirling.

  He hesitates.

  I try to think. ‘That tracking thing, it was you, wasn’t it?’ He laughs derisively and looks away, scratching his neck irritably. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘But I took it off the phone.’ I ignore his dismissive tone. ‘Have you …’ my voice drops to a disbelieving whisper. ‘Have you been following me since then? All this time I thought you’d—’

  ‘You thought I’d what?’ he snaps, frowning. ‘So what if I have been keeping an eye on things? You’ve not exactly been keeping me in the fucking loop, have you? I come to yours the Wednesday I get back to sort it all because you’re still dithering around – only to find you’ve apparently already told him! One minute you’re ringing me and crying down the phone to, quote “let you live your life” … the next you’re in tears at the window, he gets back and I hear arguing! Then the next few days you are getting rid of the car, you are both off work … OK – I think – they’re splitting up. At last. Give her some space to get it all done … but then still you don’t call. And still he doesn’t actually go. I mean, what the fuck? How do you think that made me feel?’ He leans in towards me and instinctively I jerk back. ‘I tried to call you countless times and you didn’t pick up.’

  ‘I had to give my phone back. I lost my job,’ I say, dazed.

  ‘Yeah, I worked that out eventually, thanks,’ he says irritably. ‘Two weeks I wait for you to contact me and tell me what we are going to do. I’m not saying I wasn’t pleased that you told him, but I’ve been going out of my mind Molly. I honestly don’t remember you being this unpredictable, you’ve changed, you really have. I’ve got responsibilities! I know they’re not my kids, but Daisy and Millie are my stepkids, and Christmas is a big deal to them. I didn’t know whether I was going to be there or not, or what! On Christmas Eve I had to tell Helen I had to work late so I could come and check on you – Christmas Eve! She went fucking mental, do you know how hard that was for me to pull off ?’