by Alison James
He slides off the wall he’s sitting on. ‘Okay.’ He shrugs. The bell rings for the first lesson and the group starts gravitating in the direction of the classroom block. ‘Not now. After school,’ she hisses at him. ‘I’ll text you.’ She isn’t about to arrange a meeting in front of the others: it will only increase the chances of them showing up too.
That afternoon, Charlie waits for half an hour in Memz, the Turkish café near school that they visit occasionally, as a break from the favoured fried chicken outlets or McDonald’s. She nurses a Diet Coke, desperate to eat something but not trusting the waves of queasiness being stirred by the smell of frying food.
Jake swaggers in, scuffing his shoes with an exaggerated motion. He slams his bag down on the table, spilling her Coke.
‘What is it?’ he asks. His deep-set blue eyes flash. He seems annoyed.
‘I need to talk to you.’
‘The thing is,’ he says, cutting across her. ‘I’ve been thinking about it, right, and I don’t think we should hang out any more.’
She feels her stomach plunge. ‘Why not?’
He shrugs. ‘It’s not working.’
‘But…’ She is genuinely confused. ‘We had sex. I thought we—’
‘So?’
That one, callous little word. Just the one syllable, containing a whole world of humiliation. She pushes her chair back, groping for her bag, unsteady on her feet.
‘What did you want to talk about?’
But she can’t tell him. Not now. Brushing tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, she shakes her head wordlessly and hurries out of the café.
Back at home, she shouts at Olly for going into her room to borrow her charger, swears at her mother and snaps at her father when he gets back from work.
‘I don’t remember her sister being like this,’ she overhears her mother saying to her father. Charlie has an older half-sister from her mother’s first marriage, who is now at university.
Her father murmurs something that sounds like assent, then: ‘I wonder what’s got into her.’
‘Probably boy trouble. I’ll try and talk to her.’
Charlie sits miserably on the edge of the bed, only half listening to her parents’ conversation. Her mind is on Jake. In a sudden burst of fury, she snatches up her phone and sends a message on WhatsApp, employing capital letters to express her rage and frustration.
I’M PREGNANT. JUST SO YOU KNOW.
Trembling, she lies back against the pillows, and waits for his reply. She thinks about how much she loves this room, painted in storm grey with a huge hand-painted sunset across one wall, built-in shelves painted white and overflowing with books, photos, athletics trophies, girlish memorabilia. She tries to imagine a baby in here, but it’s impossible. What will she do with a baby? Where will it go?
Ten minutes later, her phone buzzes with a text. She snatches it up, but it’s from Hannah. As ever, the message has no punctuation, very much like Hannah when she talks.
What’s going on with you you’re being weird
There are now two blue ticks visible on the message she sent Jake, so she knows he has read it. An hour later, there is still no response. She bursts into tears, burying her face in the pillow to try and disguise the noise of her sobs.
There’s a light tap on the door and her mother walks in. She sits down carefully on the edge of Charlie’s bed, resting a hand between her daughter’s shoulder blades. She says nothing, just waits for the sobs to subside. Eventually Charlie rolls over onto her elbows and hauls herself into a half-sitting position. Her mother is holding something in her hand.
Charlie squints at it, at first not quite recognising it, then realising with a jolt what it is. The packaging from the pregnancy test. She left it in the bathroom bin, meaning to go and dispose of it more discreetly later. Her eyes flick up to her mother’s face and she bursts into noisy tears all over again. Her mother holds her, patting her until the gulping and sniffing quieten.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ Charlie gulps. ‘It’s not like I want to have a baby. But after everything that… I can’t not have it. You know I could never give a baby away. Not like she did.’
Her mother strokes her hair and Charlie looks up at her, defiant. ‘Surely you can see there’s no way I’m ever going to put my own child through what happened to me?’
‘I know, darling.’ Her mother pulls her in for a hug. ‘But don’t worry, this doesn’t have to be the end of the world. We’ll sort it out.’
3
Paula
‘So, you’re coming with me to the pub quiz tonight, Paula?’
‘Whoa, give me a minute, Jode!’ Paula has only just arrived at the dental clinic where she works as receptionist and practice manager. She takes off her coat and hangs it on the peg on the back of the door, positions her bag underneath the reception desk and boots up her computer terminal. ‘What quiz, where?’
‘The Dog and Gun in Finsbury Park. Remember – I told you about it last week.’
Jody, the practice nurse, picks up a stainless steel tray of probes, mirrors and plaque removers and loads them into the autoclave in the sluice to sterilise them. She’s nearly a decade younger than Paula; a tall, slender girl with her auburn hair scraped up into a high ponytail.
Calum Whittaker, the senior dentist in the practice, arrives and goes straight into the staffroom to change into his white tunic, calling, ‘Any coffee going?’ over his shoulder.
Paula switches on the coffee machine in the little kitchenette behind reception and follows Jody into the sluice room.
‘So who’s going?’ she asks, watching as Jody pulls on latex gloves to sort the sterile equipment.
‘There’ll be loads of people there. It’s always really good fun. A couple of mates of mine are going, and we need a fourth to make up a team.’
‘I don’t know… the kids—’
‘—are old enough to take care of themselves for a couple of hours,’ Jody cuts in, briskly. ‘Come on, Paul, you said yourself you need to get out more! How long have you been single now?’
‘Four years.’
‘Exactly. Time you made a bit of an effort, girl.’
Paula opens her mouth to speak but Jody brandishes a drill bit at her. ‘No more lame excuses: you’re coming.’
‘Will you be gone long?’ Jessica asks as Paula comes down the stairs. There’s a hint of a whine in her voice.
‘I shouldn’t think so,’ says Paula. ‘It’s only a pub quiz. It’ll be an hour tops, and then maybe a drink afterwards.’
‘What are we going to eat?’ Jessica pouts, winding her skinny little body around the newel post of the staircase.
‘There’s a pizza in the fridge – Ben will put the oven on and cook it for you.’
‘But, Mum—’
‘It’s a pizza – not rocket science! I think the two of you can manage that. And there’s ice cream in the freezer for afterwards.’
‘But I don’t get why you have to go at all! You never go out on school nights.’
Which is exactly the point, Paula thinks, but she’s not about to tell her daughter that. She’s not going to explain that Jody thinks it’s high time she got herself out there and started meeting people. That having become a mother at only nineteen she’s never really had an adult social life, and she wants to try and make a start now. She appraises herself in the hall mirror before she grabs her coat, trying to see what the other people in the pub will see. A woman of average height, her build athletic rather than curvy. Wide-set, hazel eyes, fringed with the lash extensions which are her monthly splurge at a local beauty salon. She’s put on a pretty top and some red lipstick, and the mid-brown hair that used to be so unruly when she was young is now a glossy shoulder-length bob, thanks to the miracle of GHD straighteners. She looks all right. More than all right.
‘Don’t forget one of you needs to take Biscuit out for a wee,’ she instructs her daughter, then heads out into the night.
The Dog and Gun in F
insbury Park is busy, and noisy. Paula and Jody weave their way through the gaggle of demob-happy office workers to the area at the back of the saloon bar where the quiz is being held. Paula is introduced to Andy and Bhopal, friends of Jody’s who are making up their team, and someone fetches a round of drinks. Answer sheets and pens are passed around and discreet glances thrown at the other teams to try and gauge their own chances of success.
As Paula sips her Jack Daniel’s and Coke, she notices a man on one of the other teams who keeps looking in her direction. She tries to concentrate on the questions – ‘What is Ginger Spice’s real name?’, ‘What is the capital city of Lithuania?’ – but every time she looks up, his gaze is on her. Jody has noticed and nudges her, whispering that she’s made a conquest. There’s something vaguely familiar about him, but Paula can’t place it. Uncomfortable, she avoids eye contact.
‘It’s Paula Armitage, isn’t it?’
After the quiz is over, and they’re leaving the pub, he appears in front of her, blocking her path.
‘Paula Donnelly now,’ she says, nodding.
‘You don’t remember me, do you?’ He smiles down at her, and it all floods back. The older brother of Jason Shepherd, who was in her class at school. How could she have forgotten that smile, and those eyes, the colour of washed-out denim, that used to make her heart flip when she was a teenager?
Johnny Shepherd.
‘Oh my God! It’s you!’
Paula is grateful that in the dim light of the pub Johnny can’t see her blushing as she says this. What a moron I must sound, she thinks.
‘Well, well, well… little Paula Armitage.’
‘Donnelly,’ Paula repeats.
‘You’re married, then.’
‘Divorced.’
Johnny grins ruefully. ‘Snap.’
Paula remembered hearing that he’d eventually married his glamorous long-term girlfriend, Karen, but that it hadn’t worked out. They were a couple for so long that she’s having trouble getting her head around the idea of a single Johnny Shepherd.
‘Stay and have a drink with me?’
‘I should get back to the kids really.’ She hesitates.
‘Just a quick one. Then I’ll run you home: I’ve got the car here.’
Paula glances over at Jody, who is engrossed in conversation with one of the women from a rival team. ‘Okay, why not?’
‘How are the family?’ he asks easily, once he’s bought drinks and they’ve found a table. It’s as though they last spoke mere months ago.
‘My dad’s dead, my mum’s in sheltered accommodation, and Steve’s still working in the Middle East, on and off.’ Johnny’s looking at her intently, which makes her feel awkward. ‘So, where are you working these days?’ Stick to neutral topics, she decides. Nothing heavy.
Johnny tells her that he owns and runs an event staging contractor’s, and she tells him about her job running the dental practice. Then they talk about Ben and Jessica, and the fact that Johnny and Karen never got around to having children.
‘I would have bet my mortgage you and Karen would have a bunch of kids by now,’ Paula says. ‘You always seemed like such a solid couple. And Karen was so gorgeous. When I was at school, I wanted to look just like her.’
‘Karen’s great.’ Johnny smiles to indicate that he’s not harbouring a broken heart. ‘We’re still on good terms. We just grew apart.’
‘And you were never tempted to marry again?’
‘There’ve been a couple of relationships that both lasted around three years. But I was never tempted to tie the knot again. Once bitten, twice shy and all that. How about you?’
Paula swirls the ice cubes in her gin and tonic. ‘With Dave, it was just a case of me being far too young. We started going out when I was sixteen, married at eighteen, a mum by nineteen. I had no idea what I really wanted. No idea who I was. Dave was a bit older, had a secure, well-paid job in software sales, foot on the career ladder and all that. My parents approved. And I suppose I just wanted to do the sensible thing after…’
She allows her voice to trail off. Jody appears at her elbow. ‘Taxi’s waiting outside, Paul, we ought to get going.’
Paula stands up, gives Johnny a little wave and turns to go.
‘Wait!’ He’s following her out of the pub. ‘Just a minute, Paula, there’s something I want to talk to you about.’
Jody raises an eyebrow, but Johnny waves her on. ‘It’s okay, love, you get your taxi. I’ll give Paula a lift.’
‘No, wait, Jode, I’ll only be a second.’ She turns to face him, frowning, arms crossed against the chill of the air outside, after the warmth of the pub.
‘Paula, now I’ve bumped into you, I do really need to talk to you. I need to talk to you about Lizzie.’
For a few seconds, everything goes in and out of focus. Paula moves back towards the side of the pub, leaning against the wall to give her support. Her legs are shaking. A pool of light spills out of the front door every time someone pushes it open to leave, the shadows coming and going, coming and going, along with the inebriated chatter from inside. She gathers herself.
‘Lizzie died. Sixteen years ago now.’
Johnny nods as he lights a cigarette. ‘I know.’
Paula reaches for Johnny’s cigarette instinctively, taking a puff to calm her nerves, even though she doesn’t smoke.
‘Then what is there to talk about?’
‘Have dinner with me, and I’ll tell you.’ He hands her his phone. ‘Give me your number so I can contact you to set it up.’
Paula obeys dumbly, then stumbles towards the waiting taxi.
4
Charlie
‘It’s for the best.’
Charlie’s older sister places a freshly brewed cup of tea on the night stand, then stands there, next to the bed. Her tone is encouraging and she manages a smile, but Charlie knows that she thinks this whole situation is a disaster. A shit-show. She would never have ended up in a mess like this herself. Not the oldest child, the perfect golden girl.
‘I’ll come with you, if you like?’
Charlie shakes her head, biting her lip.
‘Okay, well the offer’s there if you change your mind. Drink your tea, and then try and get some sleep.’
But Charlie doesn’t sleep, not at all. Tomorrow she is booked in to have a termination at a private clinic. A couple of weeks ago, her parents came together to her room to talk to her. She knew straight away that this was not good. Her father rarely comes into her room, and a joint visitation is unheard of. He lowered himself awkwardly on her desk chair, and her mother positioned herself on a corner of the bed.
‘You’ve always done so well at school, Lottie,’ her father began. ‘Always been so bright, such a strong student. It would be a terrible shame to disrupt your education now.’
‘And at sixteen you’re really far too young to have to deal with the responsibility of parenthood,’ her mother said, picking at the silver-grey throw on the bed to avoid looking her daughter in the eye. ‘It’s not all smiley, chubby little limbs and adorable baby clothes. It’s dealing with all-night crying jags, and exploding nappies and toddler tantrums. It’s not something that’s always going to be… fun.’
‘I’m almost seventeen.’ Charlie had jutted her chin. ‘And I’m going to make it fun,’ she had said with more conviction than she felt. ‘I’m going to be a chill kind of parent.’
Her parents had exchanged glances.
‘Look, it would be one thing if you had any support from the baby’s dad,’ her father had continued. ‘If he was prepared to share the responsibility—’
‘He might. You don’t know that he won’t. He just needs some time to get used to the idea.’
‘Sweetheart…’ Her mother reached out and tried to squeeze her hand, but Charlie pulled it away. ‘We went and talked to Michelle Palmer, and it was pretty obvious to us that the family doesn’t want anything to do with the baby.’
Charlie already knew about this co
nfrontation, which had achieved nothing other than to ramp up the giggling and the sniggering at school. Because of course Jake had made sure to report the visit to his mates. It was so shaming.
‘It’s a very minor procedure at this stage,’ her mother was saying. ‘Over very quickly, and there should be no adverse effects. But it needs to be done soon. Obviously.’
‘It’ll be for the best, darling,’ her father urged.
‘Okay, okay,’ Charlie agreed, simply to get the pair of them off her back, to make them leave her alone. ‘I’ll do it.’
Her mother drives her to the clinic, which is in a broad, leafy street in Hampstead.
‘All set?’ she asks. Her smile looks forced, and she’s acting as though they are on some sort of girly day out. A treat: shopping or a trip to a spa.
‘I want to go in on my own,’ says Charlie fiercely, gripping the overnight bag she has packed. She almost certainly won’t need to stay in overnight, but was told to bring things just in case there’s a complication and she can’t be discharged.
‘I need to sign the paperwork, since you’re under eighteen,’ says her mother, patiently. ‘And to settle the bill.’
‘Okay, but I don’t want you to stay.’
‘All right.’ Her mother sighs. ‘If you’re sure. I’ll be on the other end of the phone if you need me.’
Once her mother has left, a nurse leads Charlie from reception and through to an area not unlike the women’s changing rooms at the local swimming pool. There is a strong smell of floral air freshener, underpinned with antiseptic. Somewhere on the other side of the door, Charlie hears a sound like surgical instruments clattering onto a metal tray. She flinches. The nurse hands her two blue cotton gowns and a pair of turquoise slipper socks.
‘Get undressed – everything off including your undies – and put these on. The second one goes round you like a dressing gown. There are lockers in there for your stuff. Keep the key with you, then come through to the day room and wait until you’re called.’ She gives Charlie an encouraging pat on the arm. ‘It’ll all be over with soon.’
