Authors: Andrea Hughes
Frank was still grinning smugly, “what? I go out of my way to help you and not a word of thanks?. I was sure you had better manners than that.” He squirmed on the seat, trying to get comfortable, “uncomfortable chairs, long hours of waiting, the risk of picking up some horrible, deadly disease, the –”
“All right, all right,” I smiled reluctantly, “thank you, Frank. I appreciate your help.”
Inclining his head towards me in acknowledgement, Frank touched my hand. “So? Everything okay?”
I shrugged, “I have to wait for the doctor.”
I turned as I heard the scrape of chair legs on my other side and smiled as my nurse pulled a chair to face us and sat down. She smiled, including Frank in the friendly gesture with a flick of her eyes.
“How are you feeling, Kate?”
“Fine,” repeated Kate, “are you ready for me now?”
The nurse nodded, “I just need to confirm some details we have on file.”
I sat back in my chair, answering the questions put to my by the nurse; all the usual personal details. Frank sat silent, watching.
“Okay,” the nurse grinned at me, “that’s the boring stuff over and done with. Now on to much more interesting things, how pregnant are you?”
I glanced at Frank then looked hastily back at the nurse, “around twelve weeks.”
The nurse made a note on my file, “any problems?”
“No.” I could feel Frank’s eyes boring into the side of my head and kept my eyes firmly on the pen in the nurse’s hand, concentrating so intently that I jumped at the sound of his voice.
“Could I ask a question?”
I wasn’t looking at him but I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Frank had not ceased his surveillance of me. The nurse was nodding indulgently, also staring at me, and I felt suspiciously like a prize exhibit in a freak show.
Frank paused and I felt a sudden coolness, instinctively knowing he had finally taken his gaze away. I risked a glance, relieved to find his attention firmly on the nurse who was now peering encouragingly back at him. I held my breath.
“I seem to recall hearing somewhere,” he spoke quietly, slowly, “that when working out the age of a foetus, you don’t consider the date of fertilisation as the first day of the pregnancy.” He looked down at his hands, clenched tightly together in his lap, “I was wondering –”
“Frank!” My voice was loud, making the nurse jump. A number of the other patients turned curiously to look at me and I forced myself to speak quietly. The only person who seemed unsurprised by my hearty interjection was Frank and he looked at me, eyebrows raised questioningly.
“Frank,” I repeated demurely, “the nurse is very busy. Too busy for all these questions.” I turned to the nurse, “it’s all right, you must have much more important things to do.” I stood up, expecting the other woman to follow.
“Oh, that’s okay,” she said amiably, waving me back down, “that’s what I’m here for.”
I sank back into my seat. It was going to be a very long day.
The nurse turned back to Frank, “you’re right. The average human pregnancy is forty weeks, measured from the first day of the mother’s last period. So Kate was considered to be pregnant even before she conceived.” The nurse laughed quietly. “We get asked about this a lot, especially from first-time fathers because, even though Kate may be twelve weeks pregnant, she would only have conceived around ten weeks ago.”
“Ten weeks,” Frank murmured.
The nurse enthusiastically studied a small calendar in my file, “ten weeks would be … around the end of September.”
“The twenty fifth?”
The nurse frowned in concentration, “oh … well, yes, around that date, anyway. Kate? Are you feeling unwell?” She’d turned back to me and saw me slouched in my chair, eyes tightly closed.
I shook my head and opened my eyes, “I’m just tired.”
The nurse stood up, “come on, I’ll take you through to the doctor.”
Pretending Frank didn’t exist, I followed the nurse, breathing a deep sigh of relief when the door swung closed behind us. I knew he’d still be there when I came out. I also knew there were questions I had to answer. Unfortunately, the answers would prove very difficult to find.
6 December
I rearranged my clothing and jumped off the bed. Doctor Bailey was making notes in my file and without looking up, waved me to the chair opposite her at the desk.
I grunted, relieved to be finished with the intimate poking and prodding. I had been told to urinate in a cup, had my breasts pounded by cold hands and given up so much blood that I felt like a vampire’s last meal.
Doctor Bailey put down her pen and looked at me. “Well, everything seems fine,” she smiled. “I notice from your file that you had an issue with raised blood pressure in your first pregnancy but the reading I took today is perfectly healthy. The abdominal and breast examinations showed no abnormalities and your urine is normal. You’re the picture of good health, Kate.”
“Everything feels good,” I confirmed.
Doctor Bailey gestured at Kate’s file, “it says here you have no family history of cancer or hereditary disease, but this file hasn’t been updated for a few years. Has anything changed?”
I thought hard, “no, I don’t think so.”
Doctor Bailey nodded and made a note. “And what about the baby’s father?”
I opened my mouth to answer in the negative; Will’s family were unnaturally healthy, not a niggle or ache between them.
But what if?
What if?
What if your husband isn’t The One? What if…?
“I … I’m not sure.”
Doctor Bailey looked curiously at me. “Your file suggests your husband has excellent family health. Has something happened recently?”
I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak. How was I going to tell this respectable, professional woman that I had no idea who the baby’s father was? Normally it wouldn’t be an issue but in this case I knew for a fact that cancer
did
run in Frank’s medical history. I had to say something.
“There … could be …” I took a deep breath, “cancer, maybe,” I finished in a rush, averting my eyes from the doctor’s gaze.
“Cancer,
maybe
?” Doctor Bailey sounded bemused, “what sort of cancer?”
“Leukaemia.”
“Your husband has leukaemia?”
I rubbed my face hard. The tablets the nurse had given my for my headache were just starting to kick in, but my temples were still throbbing. “Not my husband,” I said in a low voice.
She sat forward. “Someone in your husband’s family?”
The doctor’s voice was sharp, resonating through my head like a blow from a hammer. I could smell my own sweat, sharp and acrid in the small room, nerves jangling like a bell on a piece of string. I could feel the curious gaze of the nurse behind me and silently begged for a large hole to open up and swallow her.
“Not exactly,” I fidgeted madly in my chair.
“You’re not making a lot of sense, Kate. What are you talking about?”
It’s now or never. Time to advertise your wanton infidelities. Time to accept the inevitable title of Slut.
Slattern, trollop, HARLOT.
I shook my head, unsure whether to answer the annoying voice or the doctor’s question. Deciding on compromise, I answered both. “I made a mistake and now I don’t know who the baby’s father is.”
Doctor Bailey glanced quickly at the nurse, still standing behind Kate, a neutral expression pasted tightly onto her face. “Oh!”
*
For what seemed like hours, the nurse and Doctor Bailey had been muttering on the other side of the room. I glanced at the clock on the far wall but only a minute or so had gone by since my big announcement.
Slut,
said the little voice, filling in time.
The two medics had fallen silent and I risked a look over my shoulder. Doctor Bailey was coming back, a look of shocked sympathy on her face. I waited impatiently.
“There are a number of tests available to pregnant women,” Doctor Bailey began as she sat again. “Most are just simple blood tests which you’ll experience periodically through the term of your pregnancy. There’s the ultrasound, of course, which I’m sure you remember from your previous confinements.”
I nodded, a little confused. Were they just going to pretend the conversation regarding my baby’s paternity hadn’t happened?
“There are also other, more invasive tests that we can offer you. Generally these tests are used to check the foetus for abnormalities such as Spina Bifida and Down’s Syndrome and are offered mainly to older mothers-to-be.”
I nodded again, I remembered this from when I was pregnant with Tom. Were they insinuating I was getting old?
“One such test is the chorionic villus sampling test, CVS for short. We take a sample of cells from the outer membrane around the embryo, and test the sample for genetic abnormalities.”
I nodded yet again, feeling like one of those toy dogs people kept on the parcel shelf in their cars; nodding merrily as the vehicle bumped along the road. I cleared my throat, a sudden hope blossoming in my mind.
“Are you saying you can use the test to work out if the baby will develop leukaemia?” My fingers were nervously rubbing the short hairs on my knee and I forced them to still.
Doctor Bailey shook her head. “The cells taken have the same genetic make-up as the baby which means that the CVS can also be used as an antenatal paternity test.”
My mouth dropped open. “Paternity test? Before the baby’s born?”
“Actually in the next week or so,” Doctor Bailey confirmed. She held up her hand in caution. “You have to understand, like with any invasive test there are risks involved.”
I sat forward in my chair, “like what?”
“Infection, bleeding, miscarriage.” She thrust a bundle of leaflets into my hand. “these should give you some more information but, Kate, to do a paternity test, there are certain things we need. As well as the sample of cells from the baby, we need DNA samples from you and at least one of the potential fathers. We also need signed permission forms from both of you. Kate, if you are seriously considering having this test, you’re going to have to tell at least one of them.”
*
You’re going to have to tell one of them.
The words bounced around my head as I clutched the brochures to my bosom and followed the nurse from the room. They’d asked me to wait and have an ultrasound; all I wanted to do was run away. The nurse held the door open and I slid through.
Frank was still there. Waiting.
He looked up as I entered, eager with anticipation, impatient and hopeful. I walked slowly towards him. There was no choice; it was now or never.
It was time to tell the truth.
Chapter nineteen
14 December
She was beautiful, so beautiful, glowing with health and light. He stopped, entranced by her fragility; she would disappear in a puff of smoke if he touched her. Ephemeral. He almost turned away, almost ran, but she pulled him like a moth to a flame.
He couldn’t run away, all he could do was help.
Wrapped in an imbroglio of emotions, he continued his walk towards her, using every ounce of energy to hide the fear, the desire, the sadness and disappointment. And with his face carefully blank he closed the distance between them.
Neither said a word; conversation didn’t come easy. He looked carefully into her face, but with sunglasses covering her eyes she was giving nothing away. To cover the awkward silence, he leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek.
She was smiling as he pulled back, small dimples puckering the smooth softness of her skin then, finally, she removed her glasses, sliding them to the top of her head.
“I need to speak to you.” The words came in a rush and he stopped, not trusting himself to speak coherently. Her eyes were piercing deep into him and he turned away, suddenly afraid of what he might see beyond the surface.
She was touching his face, gently, like the touch of a dream at midnight, the light stroke of a butterfly’s wings. He suddenly felt alive once more.
“Are you okay?”
The simple words filtered slowly through his consciousness, forcing him to make a concerted effort to relax. He reached for her, taking both her hands in his own and squeezed gently.
It was time.
“I love you, Kate.”
She didn’t speak, didn’t move. Was that good? She hadn’t looked away, hadn’t pulled her hands away either. He swallowed, even though his mouth had suddenly gone dry. Too dry to speak?
Her tongue flicked out and he realised her lips were almost as dry as his. Nervous? Her hands tightened their hold as she appeared to fade before his eyes.
Don’t go! Please, don’t go.
“I love you, Kate.”
Now she must realise that he meant it. She was staring, an expression of such tenderness in her eyes that it almost broke his heart.
“What happens now?”
He was drawn to her; couldn’t stay away even if he’d wanted to. A sudden grin covered his face and he wrapped gratified arms around her body, pressing himself against her. He could feel her soft breasts on his chest, their bodies rubbing gently together. Her lips were parted, moist and waiting.