by Julia Green
She was trying to be kind.
‘I’m not sure,’ Mia mumbled through the curtain of hair.
‘What, dear?’
‘I still haven’t decided. Not yet.’
‘Oh. I thought we’d been through all that already.’
‘But I’m not sure. What to do.’
The nurse gave a tiny sigh. ‘Shall I get the counsellor back?’
Mia shook her head. ‘I want to think about it, at home.’
‘You haven’t got long, you know. The earlier the better. If I booked you in today I could probably get you a bed in two weeks, given your age. They try to accommodate girls like you. But if you leave it, I can’t guarantee a booking – you’d have to go private instead of NHS – and it’s getting late, you know. The earlier the better. You understand that, don’t you? Shall I get your father in?’
‘No.’
‘Take the leaflets. Talk to someone at school. Your teacher maybe. You can ring this number to speak to the counsellor.’
‘OK. Can I go now?’
The nurse sighed again. ‘Yes. But don’t forget. There’s not much time.’
This was awful. Worse than she could ever have imagined. Why wasn’t Will here with her? It wasn’t right that she was all alone.
Dad, stony-faced, watched her as she came back into the waiting room.
‘Well? Is it settled?’
‘No. I haven’t decided.’
She saw anger flush his face. Hers flared too, to match it.
‘I’m phoning your mother the minute we get back. Perhaps she can talk some sense into you.’
‘She can piss off. She doesn’t care about me anyway. And don’t tell anyone else. How dare you tell that woman!’
‘You watch your language. Don’t you dare speak to me like that! I don’t know what’s happened to you, Mia. Your attitude. This whole thing is just – unbelievable. I can’t believe it. That I’m here with my own daughter – who is fifteen, for heaven’s sake. How could you do this, Mia?’ He took a deep breath, trying to keep control. ‘What have I done to deserve this? How could you be so bloody stupid?’
‘Ssh. Keep your voice down.’
‘Don’t you shush me, young lady. You wait till we get home!’
Dad gathered up his things and started walking out of the unit. All the other people waiting seemed to have gone quiet, watching them.
Mia tried to keep up. ‘Don’t tell anyone, Dad. Please. Not Kate or Laura, or anyone, I can’t stand it. Please?’
He stopped for a second and looked at her pleading face. ‘I am trying, Mia, to understand. It’s the pits, isn’t it? For you, I mean. I admit I am very shocked – and I am very, very angry. That boy –’ his voice trailed off. ‘But – you’re my little girl. The baby of the family. I’m trying to think about you – what’s best for you.’
Mia winced. That word. Baby.
They turned the corner of the corridor. They had to cross through the Antenatal Clinic now, to reach the exit. Two very pregnant women stood at the desk. A toddler pushed his buggy into the back of his mother’s legs. ‘Ouch! You little beast!’ She smacked his leg and he started to cry. Mia pulled a face at him and he stopped bawling for a minute in surprise, then started tugging at his mum’s skirt.
Mia pushed through the doors into the car park. It was raining. She trailed after Dad, oblivious to the huge puddles spreading over the uneven tarmac. She sat in the car with soaked feet, silent. When Dad leaned over to turn on the radio she flinched, as if she thought he had been about to hit her.
CHAPTER NINE
October 4th
‘You may notice changes in your skin because of the pregnancy hormones in your system… The baby’s limbs are developing very rapidly, and fingers and toes are beginning to be defined on the hands and feet.’
Mia fished the envelope from behind the clock and held it over the kettle to steam it open. She’d done it so many times before she knew exactly how long to hold it before it went soggy and the writing ran.
This time, there was a different address at the top. Bristol.
Dear David,
Sorry it’s been a while. Lots happening here, as you’ll see from the new address. We moved in at the weekend and already it feels like home. We’ve started decorating already and the sitting room looks lovely – cream walls, pale carpet and sofa covers, deep blue curtains – books and flowers everywhere, like I always wanted. There’s even a garden! Not big enough for an ash tree, like we had at Whitecross, but I think I might put in a Morello cherry, for the blossom. It’s a bit late for planting stuff, but I’m going to put in loads of bulbs for the spring – snowdrops and narcissi – whites and creams. It will be lovely. We’ll be having a bit of a party next weekend and you could come if you wanted? Bryan’s fine about it. Bring the girls, of course – if they want to come.
Hope all’s well. I had a postcard from Kate, somewhere in France. She says they’re going further south, with the grape harvest, then on to Italy. No doubt she’s already told you. You must be thrilled with her A Level results. As I am, of course. I think a gap year is a very good idea.
One of the good things about the move is that I’ll be able to see Laura much more often. I’m not intending to cramp her style. She won’t want me around her when she’s busy being a student! I won’t have much time anyway, with me being full-time at the Centre at last. However, the odd cup of tea together – it’ll be more like a normal mother-daughter thing. We’ve lots to catch up on. Maybe now they are leaving home it will be easier for them to see me.
It’ll be strange for you and Mia, just the two of you left at home. I hope she’s not too lonely. Tell her we’ve got a spare room now so she’ll be able to come and stay some time if she wants to, although she probably won’t, knowing her! I suppose it’s probably hardest of all for her, because she was so little when I left. She’s always so angry about everything. Even when I try to talk to her on the phone –
The awkward silences, the heavy sighs, Mia’s moods. How’s school? Boring. How are you? All right. Would you like to meet up? No. Tell me what you’ve been doing. Nothing.
That was what Mum meant. Why she’d stopped phoning. If only she’d picked up the phone that day when it had rung and rung. Perhaps that had been Mum, sensing that Mia was in trouble, needed her. You heard about that, sometimes, didn’t you? A sort of telepathy between mothers and children.
Bryan is planning a special holiday for us –
Mia screwed the letter up in sudden disgust.
It was staring her in the face, Mia realized. The evidence. Why didn’t she just face it? What kind of mother was she, living far away in Bristol, with a new man and a new house and a new life? It was obvious really. Mum didn’t want anything to do with her past life in Whitecross, or with Mia, did she? She was starting all over again, with her lovely garden and her white cushion covers. Mia was nothing but a problem. And now a pregnant Mia?
The trouble with having time off school was that she was on her own too much. Dad didn’t have a clue. He’d cooked up this stupid plan with Miss Blackman, which was supposed to mean Mia got lots of rest and there were no pressures on her. She wouldn’t have to explain anything at school: they would say she had a virus. Afterwards she could come back and get on with her work and her life and no one need know anything.
Afterwards.
She wouldn’t think about that. Not now.
Mia dressed slowly. There were hours to fill. She stuffed a pile of dirty washing into the machine and turned it on. It hurt to bend: her jeans cut into her stomach. She found another pair in Kate’s room and put those on instead. She must be eating too much. All that pasta and toast. Better get some more healthy stuff. Fruit. Bowls of grapefruit and oranges and seedless red grapes and plums. That’s what she needed. Just the thought made her mouth water. She picked up the money Dad had left on the table for the shopping and went out.
She was almost as far as the village when the Shoppers Special bus rattled past her.
A crowd of people were waiting at the bus stop: market day. The last two people were getting on as she reached the stop; without thinking, Mia got on too. She might as well hang out at Ashton. More to do than at Whitecross, anyway. She kept her head down so no one would speak to her. The heating had been turned on; it blasted her legs from under the seat. The bus lurched and jolted along the narrow lanes and the voices of the passengers welded in her head so she felt sick.
‘All right, love?’ The driver tried to catch her eye as she got off. ‘Have one on me!’
What did that mean? Fat slob! She hated the way men did that, made stupid comments, looked you up and down like they wanted something. Mia slipped through the crowded bus station towards the precinct.
There were the usual market day crowds – blokes selling off cheap stuff, seducing the female shoppers with their banter, two thin lads playing the guitar badly and singing out of tune, two young women setting up their pitch. Mia watched them spread out an Indian bedspread and boxes of beads and cotton thread. The dark-haired one put out two handwritten signs advertising Hair Braids and Temporary Tattoos (not henna). She smiled at Mia. ‘Want one, love?’ Mia shook her head. She lingered for a while, looking at a beautiful embroidered bag with sequins and beads and tiny mirrors stitched in. Becky would love it. From time to time the woman smiled at her. Eventually she wandered on. There was nothing to do if you didn’t have any money. It was the same everywhere.
She watched three small boys with crew cuts and trainers sliding on the smooth precinct floor outside the supermarket. Their mothers were arguing about something. They didn’t look much older than her really. They turned away from each other and shouted at their children to follow. The children shouted back. One had chocolate all round his mouth. Mia walked on towards the steps at the far end.
As she approached the end of the covered precinct, Mia suddenly noticed a little girl. She hadn’t been there seconds before, Mia was sure, although the way she was standing, one leg resting on the wall, leaning up against it, made her look as if she’d been standing for hours, waiting for someone. Her fair hair was all dishevelled, spread out round her head. She was wearing a thin cotton dress, no socks, trodden-down sandals. She looked vaguely familiar.
Mia gave her a faint smile. The girl stared back. Then she turned and started to walk out of the precinct towards the river. Mia walked after her, slowly. The girl looked over her shoulder at one point. Mia stopped, waited, then followed on. She didn’t know why. It was something to do, wasn’t it? The child was too young to be by herself, Mia thought. She couldn’t be more than about seven or eight. And she looked cold in that thin dress. Old-fashioned. No coat or even a jumper.
The child walked over the bridge. Mia followed behind. Halfway across, the child stopped. She leaned against the parapet, stretched her arms up to pull herself higher so she could see over the edge. Mia’s heart began to thud. So that was where she’d seen her before.
This time, the girl lowered herself down again and walked on over the bridge to the steps that wound down to the river bank.
She was waiting at the bottom. Mia hesitated.
‘You’re following me.’ The child’s voice was thin and reedy.
Mia shook her head. ‘Not really. Just walking.’
The girl waited, as if Mia should say more.
‘I saw you before, didn’t I? On the edge of the bridge.’
The girl looked pleased.
‘I thought you might fall.’
The girl shook her head. ‘I never fall.’
They walked along the river bank to the bench. Mia sat down. The little girl crouched by the railings, watching the water. It swirled and raced today after the rain in the night. Mia shivered again.
‘Aren’t you cold?’ she asked the little girl.
‘Yes.’
‘Why don’t you wear a coat then?’
‘I don’t have one.’
‘Why not?’
She didn’t answer.
Mia tried again. ‘What’s your name then?’
‘Lainey.’
A long silence. Mia finally offered: ‘I’m Mia.’
A branch bobbed and swirled along on the current. Then an empty crate and a plastic sack. The branch snagged itself on the overhanging plants and caught there. It made a sort of dam, trapping bits of rubbish as they floated downstream.
‘What’re you doing then, Lainey?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Shouldn’t you be in school?’
‘Shouldn’t you?’
Mia laughed. ‘I’ve got time off, for real. I’m not skiving.’
‘Why?’
‘I’m having a baby.’
She listened to her own words hanging in the cool air. They’d come out by themselves. A little slice of truth. She felt lighter for letting them out.
‘I’ve got a baby,’ Lainey said.
Mia looked at her in surprise. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ve got a baby. At home.’
‘Oh. Your mum, you mean. A baby sister.’
‘It’s a boy.’
‘Brother then.’
‘Not a brother.’
‘What then?’
‘Adam. He cries all night long. Cries and cries and cries.’ Lainey straightened up. ‘I’m going now. See you tomorrow.’
Mia watched her skipping along the path until she disappeared from sight. It felt lonely without her, suddenly.
I’m having a baby. She’d said the words out loud.
But she wasn’t, was she? She was too young. It would mess up her entire life. She couldn’t possibly look after a child. They didn’t stay sweet little babies very long, did they? Crying babies grew into difficult toddlers and demanding school kids and they cost you money and you never had any fun ever again.
Last night, Dad had made her sit with him at the kitchen table. She wouldn’t look at him. She hated him, the way he went on and on. How stupid she was. How irresponsible. How thoughtless. Remember that book she’d read at school? Those kids had to carry about a bag of flour the weight of a baby and look after it as if it were real. It was supposed to make you realize what it meant, being responsible for this baby. All day. All night.
Well, this was it. The real thing. And she might as well get on with it. Making her mind up, that is. Yes, of course she had a choice. Well, sort of. It would be better if she made a proper choice, not drifting along like she usually did. But what were the options really? Honestly, Mia. This is not the time to start making silly statements about your choices. How could you possibly bring up a child? You can’t even look after yourself. Who is going to pay for it? That sixteen-year-old boy? With a paper round or something?
What could she do? Even with her hands over her ears she couldn’t shut out his voice. On and on. And when he said he was going to go straight round to Will’s house and tell his parents, she couldn’t take any more. So she’d finally said yes. And he went straight away and phoned the woman at the hospital. They’d given him the date for the termination.
Afterwards she could go back to being the old her. Mia. Whoever that was.
She waited on the bench by the river to see if Lainey would come back, but she didn’t. She’d better get the shopping and then the bus back to Whitecross before everyone came out of school.
CHAPTER TEN
October 11th
Lainey was waiting for her the next time she got the bus into Ashton. As the bus turned into the bus station Mia glimpsed her hovering by the flower shop, and then when she walked down the precinct Lainey was at the same spot as before. She had on a red jumper today, hand-knitted, like something from a charity shop, and old-fashioned leggings. Mia waved.
‘You’re late. Seven days late.’
‘Sorry. I didn’t say I’d be here. I can’t come in every day. Where do you live then?’
Lainey shrugged. ‘My house.’
‘Don’t you ever go to school?’
Lainey pulled a face. ‘Stop asking me questions.’<
br />
‘OK. Sorry. Are you hungry? I just thought – well – it’s cold. We could go to a cafe.’
‘If you want.’
‘I’ll pay. I’ve got money from my dad today.’
They perched on stools in the covered market cafe. Mia ordered hot chocolates and a bacon sandwich for Lainey. The little girl looked tiny, legs dangling from the high stool. She shouldn’t be out on the streets like this. It wasn’t safe. Close up, her face looked older than Mia remembered.
‘How old are you, Lainey?’ Then she remembered about the questions. ‘Sorry.’
‘My turn.’
‘OK.’
‘When are you having your baby?’
‘Oh.’ Mia’s voice came out small and scared. ‘I’m… not.’
‘Why not?’
Mia buried her face behind a curtain of hair. ‘I can’t,’ she mumbled.
‘Why not?’
Mia was silent.
‘But you said. You said you were having a baby? How can you not have it then?’ Lainey was persistent. ‘Where will it go? Will you give it away?’
‘You go to hospital. They take it away.’
Lainey looked confused. ‘And then where does it go?’
‘Shut up, can’t you?’
Lainey waited just a few minutes. She swung her legs against the wooden stool and hummed. Then she started up again. ‘Won’t it be sad, the baby?’
‘It’s not a baby yet. It’s just a sort of blob. It doesn’t feel anything.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Shut up!’ Mia snapped.
She sipped the hot chocolate. It was sweet and comforting.
They sat in silence together for a while. Lainey huddled over the counter top, her fair hair tangled over her arms. Eventually she looked up at Mia.
‘My baby’s sick,’ she said. ‘I’ll bring him next time to show you.’
