by Peter Martin
‘Think maybe I’ll have to.’ She swallowed hard. ‘John …’
‘Yeah?’
‘I was sick today, in a client’s flat.’
‘Oh God. Was it bad?’
‘Could have been worse. Luckily, I managed to get to the bathroom in time, but I can’t tell you how embarrassed I was. At least it was a woman. John, what am I going to do? If this keeps happening, I won’t be able to do my job.’
pg. 14
‘Hey, calm down, Angie, you’re panicking. It’s very early days. It will pass. Talk to the doctor, get some tablets, then everything will get better.’
‘I hope so. Mind if I don’t come with you to see your parents? I still feel queasy, and I’m tired. It’s been a long day. I’m going to lie down for an hour.’
‘They’ll wonder why you haven’t come too. What shall I tell them?
Although, second thoughts, why don’t I not go at all? I’d rather spend the evening with you.’
She smiled at him, but he had the feeling she would prefer to be alone.
‘No, you go,’ she said. ‘Say I’ve got a headache. I’ll feel guilty if you didn’t, after all you only see them once a week, and they are getting older.
Anything might happen to them.’
‘Mid-sixties isn’t old! And they’re still pretty fit for their age. OK – I’ll go, but only for an hour. Be home in no time.’
‘And not a word about the baby – promise?’
‘I promise.’
John put on his coat, kissed her, and drove off to his parents’ house, five miles away in the village of Gladbury.
They lived in a detached bungalow, having moved when they both retired five years ago. His dad, George, had worked as a solicitor, while his mum, Susan, had been a legal secretary in the same firm. He often wondered how they’d got on so well, living in each other’s pockets like that.
Arriving outside, he saw the lights strung up all around their house, something his dad took pride in every Christmas.
John rang the bell, and the slight grey-haired figure of his dad appeared.
‘Hallo, son, great to see you. Come on in. No Angie?’
‘No, she says sorry, but she has a migraine.’
‘Oh dear, my mum used to get those and by God, when you get one, it certainly knocks you off your feet,’ George said as they went through to the spacious living room.
Susan, a plump woman with dyed brown hair, smiled at her son and got to her feet to give him a kiss and a hug. ‘How are you?’
‘Yeah, not bad, thanks, Mum. Yourselves?’
‘We’re off to the Bahamas in the new year.’
‘Oh, to be retired,’ John said, wondering whether they really ought to be going on two holidays abroad this year with Angie being pregnant.
‘Don’t wish your life away, son. It’ll come around soon enough,’ George said.
‘Drink?’ Susan asked.
‘A squash please, this is only a flying visit.’
She gave him a drink, which he sipped hurriedly.
‘Didn’t know Angie was prone to migraines,’ George said.
‘Yes … well, she doesn’t get them often … but when she does, it’s a stinker. And I can’t understand why.’ John hated lying to his parents.
pg. 15
‘How long do they last?’
‘Could be all day. So, are you still coming to us for Christmas dinner?’
‘Of course, if you’ll have us.’
‘Great. See your Christmas lights are up already.’
‘Yeah, it took me a while, but it’s worth the trouble when I switch them on at night. There’s only a few more final touches needed.[AB1] You’ll see them for yourself when you come over Boxing Day evening.’
‘Looking forward to it.’
‘Shame we haven’t any children in the family. Kids love the lights,’ Susan said.
‘Yeah, Christmas isn’t the same without children, is it, love?’ George said.
She smiled at John fondly. ‘I remember when you and Sheryl were young, we had such fun, especially with the elves. It would be so nice to have those times again …’
His heart beat faster, but a little voice told him to hold fire with his news; Angie was too emotional right now. It would have been a great Christmas present for them too – especially as Sheryl, his sister, couldn’t have children – but he’d promised her.
He was glad to leave.
<><><>
Angie lay on the bed and closed her eyes, hoping this sickness would leave her.
She wanted to take something but didn’t know what. If it affected the baby, she’d never forgive herself.
She tried to relax.
In fact, she did sleep, then woke with a start, sat up, rubbed her eyes and looked at her watch: two-fifteen. She’d been asleep for forty-five minutes but was still sick and frightened. Not wanting to worry John meant she had no alternative but to confide in her dad. He lived alone, a widower since her mum’s death fifteen years ago at the early age of forty. He had never remarried.
She took out her phone and tapped his number. It rang and rang and she was almost ready to hang up when he answered.
‘Dad?’
‘Hallo, Angie. How are you? Great to hear from you.’
‘I’m OK.’ There was a pause. ‘Actually, that’s not quite true. I’ve got something to tell you.’
‘Oh yes? What’s that?’
‘I’m pregnant.’
Silence. Had he heard what she said?
‘Dad? You still there?’
‘Yes, of course.’ She heard him sigh. ‘Pregnant, you say. Are you sure that’s a good idea?’
pg. 16
‘That’s exactly it – I’m not sure it is. It was an accident, Dad – I’ve no idea how it happened.’
‘So what are you going to do? You know what happened to your mum …
Does John know yet?’
‘Yes. I had to tell him, Dad. I’ve been sick a lot and he’d have noticed soon enough. And now he’s obviously thrilled to bits, but I can’t stop thinking about Mum, her bipolar and everything – what if I’m the same? What if the baby inherits it? I know I should think about getting rid of it. But I’m not sure I can.’
‘You’ll be taking a big risk if you don’t.’
‘Yes, but if the baby is normal, and I’m fine, then I’ll have aborted it for my own selfish reasons.’
‘But if there’s a problem with you, that will be much worse. Don’t get me wrong, Angie – no one wants a grandchild more than me. And if your mum was here, she’d be over the moon. But you remember what she went through. What if the same thing happened to you? That’d be horrible.’
‘Oh, Dad, I don’t know what to do. I worry over the baby too, that there might be something wrong, but surely the doctors could do tests or something.
They might spot something in the womb.’
‘I don’t think so, love. You’re clutching at straws there. But I’m not the one you should be discussing this with. John’s your husband, and he has the right to know.’
‘I can’t, Dad – he’d be devastated. He wants a child so much, it’d destroy him to know what having a kid might do to me. And there may be no need.’
‘OK. I’m not going to interfere, love, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
Angie was silent for a moment. The front door opened and John shouted,
‘I’m back.’
‘Dad, I must go. John’s come home.’
‘All right. Remember I’m always here if you need to talk. Love you.’
‘Love you too.’
She got out of bed and ran to greet John with a warm kiss.
‘Hey, what’s that for? I think I’ll go out more often if this is the reception I get!’
‘I missed you.’
‘I’ve only been away an hour. How are you?’
‘Been lying down. I think I slept a little.’
‘Are you feeling any better?’
‘A l
ittle. Want a drink?’
‘Sure, if you’re OK.’
They sat on the sofa.
John sipped his coffee. ‘Come with me the next time I go; I hate telling them lies. Mum even me gave me some tablets for you to take for that “migraine”
of yours. And they kept dropping hints about the patter of tiny feet. I felt so guilty.’
pg. 17
‘I’m sorry. I’ll tell them in my own time, though, not by them seeing me throw up. Don’t worry – it won’t be long and everyone will know, I promise.’
‘How about when they come over for Christmas Day? Wouldn’t that be the perfect time?’
‘Please don’t put pressure on me.’
‘Or New Year’s Eve?’
‘John, give it a rest.’
She got up and walked upstairs, where she lay on her stomach, crying her eyes out.
John came up a few minutes later, sat on the bed and took her hand. ‘Look, I’m sorry if I keep going on. I always wanted kids and now you’ve made me the happiest man in the world. That’s all.’
Angie looked up with tear-stained eyes. ‘I’m sorry. It must be my hormones playing havoc with my brain. Once I’ve seen the doctor, I’ll be better.’
‘Let’s hope so. Listen, will you be all right for Christmas Day? With Mum and Dad coming over for dinner, I mean. I can take over if you supervise me.’
‘No, they’ll know something’s up if we do that. I’ll get through it, but if I’m sick, we’ll have to cancel.’
‘Yeah, I suppose.’
‘Look, I can’t help how I feel. There’s always next year – the baby will be a few months old then. Sure they’ll enjoy that much more.’
He squeezed her arm. ‘It will be a big change for all of us – and hard work, too. But well worth it. Still can’t believe I’m going to be a father. Wow, the guys at work will pull my leg something rotten.’
‘Yes, they will.’ She smiled, but she wished he’d shut up. It got on her nerves. Please change the record, she thought.
pg. 18
Chapter 4
ngie sat in the waiting room that Wednesday morning, her nerves frayed, and she wanted to cry. She needed to pull herself together, to be in control A when she faced the doctor.
They were already running late and didn’t call her until nine twenty-five.
She worried about missing her first house viewing appointment at ten.
Dr Brodie was an overweight man with sparse black hair, in his early forties, she guessed; she’d seen him before, but only for minor ailments.
‘Hallo, Angela,’ he said, eyes twinkling through half-rimmed glasses. ‘And what can I do for you?’
She told him about the sickness.
‘Quite common, I’m afraid. But it usually passes after a few weeks. There are over-the-counter tablets that help, but if the symptoms worsen, I can prescribe another medication. I suggest you avoid spicy foods, eat dry toast or plain biscuits and drink plenty of fluids. And get lots of rest. Make sure that husband of yours looks after you, eh?’
‘OK. Thank you, doctor.’
By the time she arrived at her first appointment – she only just made it –
she was feeling incredibly stressed, but the young couple looking to sell their semi were friendly enough. The wife was expecting herself, but looked four or five months gone. Angie didn’t mention her own pregnancy; the last thing she needed was an excited mums-to-be discussion about prams and car seats. She wanted to stay away from that stuff for as long as she could. And the fewer people who knew, the better.
After work, she drove home. John was back early and Angie, relieved, slid easily into his arms and kissed him.
‘Glad you’re here.’
‘Me too. Got out on time, and the traffic was light. Fish and chips waiting in the oven. You all right?’
‘Yeah, not bad. Still sick even after taking one of the tablets the chemist gave me. But I’ve eaten better – at least that’s something.’
‘I hope you’re making sure you eat enough. You must eat properly for the baby’s sake, Angie – and for yourself.’
‘Yes, I’m aware of that, thank you. Don’t go on, John. I’m under enough pressure. I’m worried about work, too; if I can’t show clients around properties, what will they say? And what if I’m sick in front of someone? It was a near thing last week. I’ll be so embarrassed. And then there’s Christmas dinner with your parents …’ She sniffed back tears.
John lifted her chin and looked her straight in the eye. ‘Darling, let’s just take this one step at a time. Get through work for the rest of the week, and then it’s Christmas on Friday, and the weekend. We can just relax for a few days.’
pg. 19
She nodded. ‘Sorry. I’m getting in such a state, I know, but I don’t want to let anyone down.’
‘You’re not. Once everyone knows you’re pregnant, people will be understanding, I promise.’
‘You’re probably right.’
‘Now, let me get changed and we’ll eat, OK?’
<><><>
John climbed up the stairs to the bathroom, concerned at Angie’s anxiety. She’d always been confident in everything she did, at home and at work, and yet suddenly she was going to pieces. He needed to be strong for her, support her as much as he could.
He returned downstairs in more comfortable clothes and sat at the kitchen table. He tucked into his food but noticed that Angie was only picking at the edges.
Finally, she put down her knife and fork and sat back. ‘Sorry, John. I can’t face any more. This food makes me want to throw up.’
‘That’s fine. No need to apologise. I didn’t cook it, did I? And even if I had, I wouldn’t have taken offence. It’ll get better, I promise. Do you want anything else instead?’
‘Don’t know – a banana, maybe.’
‘Yeah, why not? Nothing better than a banana when you’re sick,’ he smiled.
‘Or a tin of fruit. I can’t face dairy products.’
‘Sure, coming up. No pun intended.’
As he watched her eat the fruit, John smiled. ‘Just think, Angie. Next year there’ll be three of us. Funny thought, isn’t it?’
She slammed her spoon into the bowl. ‘John, stop going on. All right, I’m having a baby, but can we please change the subject?’
John jumped at this uncharacteristic outburst of temper. Must be hormones again, he told himself. Better hold his own temper or else they’d have a row.
‘OK, let’s talk about something else. What are we doing about your dad over Christmas? I know he doesn’t like a fuss, but we’ll have to see him at some stage.’
‘I’ll see him on Christmas Eve to give him his present, and invite him to ours on Boxing Day. But I don’t think he’ll come. You know what he’s like – just wants to be by himself.’
‘Well, we can’t force him to come.’
‘No. I wish he’d make more of an effort, though. It’s like he’s never got over mum’s death. All those photos of her everywhere.’
‘I know. It’s almost as though he blames himself for the accident.’
Angie suddenly started to cry.
pg. 20
John put his arm around her, frowning. ‘Hey Angie, what’s wrong? Have I upset you?’
She shook her head. ‘What if I can’t cope with a baby? What if I can’t eat right, and it affects the baby – it’ll be my fault! I’ll never be able to live with myself.’
‘Angie, stop it. We should be celebrating this, instead of contemplating doom and gloom.’
She gave him a sad smile. ‘Sorry, I know you’re right. But these last few days I’m getting down over the most trivial things. Never experienced anything like it.’
‘Me neither,’ John replied.
‘Very funny. I can imagine what you’d do if you were in my shoes.’
‘Yes, well I’ll never be in your shoes. I’ve done my bit; the rest is up to you.’
‘John, you’re treading on very thin ic
e. I expect you to do more than your bit.’
‘I intend to, I promise,’ he said and got up. ‘Hey, time for an early night.
You need to conserve your energy.’
pg. 21
Chapter 5
ngie didn’t sleep well. The sickly feelings returned, and she rushed off to the bathroom while John was asleep. Although she retched over the toilet, A nothing came out. She needed to take another tablet, but the urge to vomit remained. Around five o’clock she got up and watched TV until she had to get ready for work.
She was in the kitchen eating a piece of toast when John joined her.
‘Hey, you’re up early,’ he said.
‘Couldn’t sleep. I felt sick. Oh God, this is going to be a nightmare.’
‘Well, if the tablets aren’t helping, go back to the doctor.’
‘I will, but it’s only been a couple of days. Maybe I should give it a bit longer.’
‘Better have my breakfast and get off. The sooner I’m in, the sooner I’m out. What are you up to today?’
‘I only have a few appointments, so I’ll be in the office for part of the day.
We’re supposed to be going for our Christmas meal at lunchtime; what if I throw up? How embarrassing would that be?’
‘Tell them the truth.’
‘Not yet.’
‘You can’t keep it a secret forever.’
‘No need to go on, John. I’ll do it when I’m ready.’
On the way to work, Angie kept thinking about lunchtime. Normally she revelled in these social occasions, but now she was almost tempted to ring in sick.
Having parked the car, she walked the short distance to the office. The weather was cold and windy and she shivered as she pushed the door open.
Bethany on reception gave her a warm smile. Young and pretty, she was wearing a sequinned Christmas jumper. Angie frowned; she wasn’t feeling remotely festive.
‘Anyone else in yet?’ she asked.
‘Peter and Duncan.’
‘Let them know I’m here if they need me.’
‘OK, Angie. Nice to see you in the office for a change.’