by Amy Cross
“If there's ever anything my wife and I can do to help,” Mr. Diebold replied as he led her to the door, “I hope you'll let us know. For the kindness you've shown tonight...” He paused again, as if briefly lost in thought. “It occurs to me that perhaps we shall want to go out again some time, in which case I hope you don't mind if I -”
“I'm probably not staying in the babysitting business,” she replied hurriedly, keen to nix any idea of another evening in the house. She was glad to have helped, but the sadness of the place had been a little overbearing. “Thank you all the same, but I'm sure you'll find someone else. If there's one thing this city isn't short of, it's people who're looking for work.”
He nodded, before starting to unlock the door. “I'm sure we'll have no trouble at all,” he told her, “and hopefully we shall find someone as understanding as yourself.”
“Are you leaving?” Vivian shrieked suddenly, hurrying down the stairs with all the subtlety of a hurricane. “Ivan is so happy and so sleepy! However did you tire him out like that?”
“I...” Jennifer paused, not quite knowing how to reply. “It's been a long night,” she said as Mr. Diebold opened the door. She quickly stepped outside into the cold night air, trying not to seem too keen to leave. “I'm sure Ivan is just tired,” she continued, turning back to see the expression of pure happiness on Vivian's face. “He's not the only one.”
“But you liked him, didn't you?” Vivian asked, with a hint of desperation in her voice. “You liked my little Ivan?”
Jennifer opened her mouth to reply, before realizing that she didn't want to lie. Instead, she simply nodded. “All children are adorable,” she managed to say finally.
“But -”
“You must stay for a drink!” Vivian continued excitedly. “We still have that bottle of wine!”
“My dear,” Mr. Diebold said, clearly understanding the awkwardness of the situation as he placed a hand on his wife's shoulder, “I rather think we should let Miss Griffith get going. After all, we've already kept her for longer than we promised.”
“You must come by and see us again some time,” Vivian continued, clearly a little disappointed. “Let us know how you're getting on, won't you? We receive so few visitors these days and, well, life can be dreadfully lonely, can't it? You simply must stay in touch!”
“Sure,” Jennifer replied with a smile. Now that was a lie. “Again, thank you for tonight.” With that, she turned and made her way down the steps, feeling an immense sigh of relief at the thought that she'd never again have to spend another moment inside such a strange and sad house. Once she reached the pavement, she glanced back and saw that the Diebolds were still watching from the doorway, so she waved at them and they quickly waved back.
Turning, Jennifer buried her hands deep in her pockets and made her way along the street, heading for the bus stop just beyond the next corner. She told herself not to look back, but finally she couldn't help herself. Fortunately, this time the front door was shut, and she realized with a sigh of relief that the Diebolds had gone back inside. For a moment she stopped and stared at the house, and she felt a twinge of sadness at the realization that she most likely would never again set foot in such a magnificent place. Still, at least it had happened on one occasion, even if the evening had taken a slightly strange turn.
Quickening her pace, she hurried to the bus stop and saw that she still had a couple of minutes to wait, so she leaned against the wall and started fumbling through her pockets for her phone and travel card.
It was only then that she found her night's pay, all one hundred and fifty pounds of it, neatly folded and tucked into the pocket of her jeans.
Part Two
Saturday Night
V
“Run it again,” she said firmly, her face filled with shock as she sat on the examination bench. “It's wrong. Do the test again.”
“There's really no need,” Doctor Carlisle replied, still holding the pregnancy testing kit. “Miss Griffith, the accuracy of these things is -”
“Run it again!”
“Miss -”
“Run it again!”
He sighed.
“I'm not pregnant!” she said again, her voice trembling slightly. “I'm not! I can't be! I haven't had sex!” She paused for a moment, her mind filled with conflicting thoughts. “I mean, I've had sex,” she continued, “but not lately, not since more than a year ago. And even then we used protection, so there's literally no way I could be pregnant.”
“Miss Griffith -”
“Your test is wrong!” she continued, aware that she was sounding agitated but unable to calm down. She felt as if she was being accused of lying, and of not knowing her own body. “If I haven't been with anyone in over a year, then on a physical level how can I be pregnant?”
“You can't.”
“So -”
“But you are,” he continued, interrupting her. “This is the second test we've done, and they both say the same thing. A third wouldn't change the facts.” He stared at her for a moment, almost as if he felt pity for her situation. “You're not the first young woman who's reacted to news of a pregnancy by insisting that it's not possible. Miss Griffith, please don't take this the wrong way, but I have to ask. Do you drink much, or take recreational drugs of any description?”
“What's that got to do with anything?” she asked. She was the kind of person who usually never argued, but a sense of panic was starting to take hold. “No. I barely touch alcohol and I've never taken anything stronger than an aspirin.”
She waited for him to reply, but he seemed to be eying her with concern, perhaps even suspicion.
“What?” she continued finally. “Do you think I got blind drunk, had sex with some random guy, and now I don't remember? Is that what you're suggesting?”
“I'm suggesting that there are instances where women might not want to admit that they -”
“I'm not that kind of person!” she hissed, feeling as if she wanted to run out of the surgery and hide. “I'm telling you, hand on heart, that I've not slept with anyone in over a year! That's a fact, okay? So whatever's wrong with me, clearly it's something that's confusing your test kits by, I don't know, by producing the same hormones, something like that. There's a medical explanation, of course there is, but it's not a baby!” She took a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts. “Unless you think this is a miraculous conception and I'm about to give birth to the next son of God.”
“Let's try to stay focused on the facts,” Doctor Carlisle replied. “I understand that you're concerned, and that this has come as a shock, but we have to deal with the situation as it has been presented to us. It's too early to do a scan to confirm the pregnancy that way, but given the circumstances we'll want to schedule one as soon as possible, to remove any doubts you might still have. Beyond that, there's clearly no point in us arguing about how you became pregnant. We simply have to move forward with the normal principles of care -”
“What about a brain tumor?”
He frowned. “I beg your pardon?”
“Maybe I have a brain tumor,” she continued, trying not to panic. “Can you check for one?”
“You show no symptoms of a brain tumor.”
“I have to go,” she said suddenly, getting to her feet and grabbing her bag from the chair. The air in the surgery was starting to feel thin, and she felt she'd suffocate if she didn't get out.
“Jennifer -”
“Your test is wrong,” she continued, hurrying to the door, “and you're going to figure that out at some point. I guess I just have to wait, and when there's no baby in nine months' time, I'll come back and you can try to work out what's actually wrong with me. Assuming I haven't collapsed and died from some undiagnosed sickness that you've missed. Until then -”
“Jennifer, can I just -”
“There's no point discussing it,” she added, interrupting him again. “You obviously don't believe me.”
“Can I just say one thing?�
� he asked.
She hesitated for a moment, before sighing. “What?”
“I want you to feel absolutely free to come back to me at any time,” he said calmly. “If you decide at any point that you remember... Well, what I mean is, if you get to the point where you accept that I'm right about this, you mustn't feel embarrassed or humiliated. Maybe something happened to you that you're not ready to talk about, but when the time comes, I can help you. Just make an appointment and come back to see me, and we'll take things from there. There'll be no judgment, no ridicule. I won't say I told you so, and it's not even my business how you came to be pregnant or who the father is. I'm a doctor and my sole job is to help you. I think and I genuinely hope that at some point you'll realize that and you'll come back.”
Silence fell in the room for a few seconds.
“Are you done?” she asked.
He paused, before nodding.
“Thank you,” she muttered, before opening the door and stepping out into the waiting room. As she headed past the reception desk, she felt certain that all the people around her were watching, that somehow they sensed her agitation. Feeling a little breathless, she hurried out into the parking lot and then she made her way quickly around the side of the building until – out of sight – she stopped and leaned back against the wall.
Finally tears filled her eyes and she crouched down, her whole body shuddering with a series of gentle sobs.
“I'm not pregnant,” she told herself over and over, as if the words themselves would be enough to ward off the truth. “I'm not pregnant, I can't be!” Reaching down, she put a hand on her belly, and for a moment she tried to imagine a new life forming in her womb. “It's impossible,” she whispered, sniffing back more tears. Whatever was happening inside her body, she knew for a fact that it couldn't be a baby.
***
“Or I could cut off their heads and put them on spikes next to my desk. I'm pretty sure if I did that, no-one'd ever come and bug me about a goddamn photocopier again. There's something to be said for sheer bloody-minded brutality in the modern workplace.”
Jennifer barely even noticed the voice as it babbled at her from the next desk along, against a background of phones ringing constantly in the distance. Instead, she continued to stare mindlessly at blinking cursor on her monitor, letting the hazy electric glow fill her eyes while her thoughts faded away to nothing. The cursor seemed to be lulling her conscious mind into a state of numb blankness, allowing her subconscious thoughts to churn in the depths. She couldn't shake the feeling that she'd forgotten something, that there was something on the edge of her memory, waiting to be remembered.
“Hey!”
Suddenly Jennifer felt someone nudging her elbow. Startled, she turned to see Lucy grinning at her with bright red lips and coffee-stained teeth.
“You are a total space cadet today,” Lucy continued, clearly amused by the blank stare on Jennifer's face. “I mean, you're kinda spacey most of the time, but it's dialed right up to eleven today. Don't take this the wrong way, Jenny, but are you sure you're not a recreational user of a certain illicit leaf?” She leaned closer. “I won't tell a soul. Scout's honor!”
“I was just daydreaming,” Jennifer replied, turning back to her monitor and seeing a customer database staring back at her. The cursor was still blinking, still waiting for her to input some data. For a moment, however, she couldn't quite remember what she was supposed to be doing. All she could think about was Doctor Carlisle's insistence that she had to be pregnant, and the sheer impossibility of that idea.
“Do you have any contacts?” Lucy hissed suddenly, having leaned closer. Her breath stank of coffee and gum.
Pulling away, Jennifer could feel her heart racing. “What kind of contacts?”
“You know,” Lucy continued, glancing around to make sure they couldn't be overheard, before leaning closer still. “Contacts! Ever since I moved to London, I've struggled to find someone who sells quality products. I'm just saying, if you know a good dealer, you could share. I mean, we've known each other for almost a week now, so we're practically best friends! I am in serious need of some good weed!”
“I don't do stuff like that,” Jennifer replied, turning to her monitor again. “Sorry.”
“So you're naturally this vague and confused all the time?” Lucy laughed. “You don't need chemicals to get there? Impressive.”
“I really have to get on,” Jennifer muttered, scrolling through a list of customer names. She knew that by her fourth day of this latest temporary position she should have the job down pretty well, but her mind had been increasingly unfocused for a while now, ever since her babysitting shift at the Diebolds' house five weeks earlier. The bruise above her eyebrow had faded, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she hadn't quite been herself since that night, and that somehow the world all around her seemed more distant. Several times a day, she felt her thoughts dropping out, replaced by a kind of blankness that filled her mind for a few seconds.
“You've got the wrong table open there,” Lucy said helpfully.
Jennifer frowned. “Um...”
“Do you know how to use pivot tables?” Lucy continued. “Pivot tables will save your goddamn life around here. I can teach you if you like.”
“I know pivot tables,” Jennifer replied, taking a deep breath as she typed some numbers on the keyboard. “I'm fine. I just need to try -”
Before she could finish, she heard more laughter from the next desk, and she turned to see that Lucy was shaking her head.
“You are so not with it,” Lucy muttered. “So out of your head. Maybe you need to relax a little. Why don't you finally come out with the rest of us tonight? We go to the pub by the train station every Saturday night. You know the one? It was in the news last year 'cause a guy got his eye beaten out in a fight, but it's not usually that rough, I swear. There's a quiz, which we never win, and then we get absolutely ratted. Sometimes we even go on to a club after. Does that sound good, or what?”
Jennifer opened her mouth to reply, to tell her that she wasn't a big fan of drunken nights out, but suddenly she felt a deep churning sensation in the pit of her belly. She muttered something about needing a break as she got to her feet and hurried across the open-plan office. Although she forced herself to keep smiling, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong deep inside. As soon as she reached the bathroom, she raced to one of the stools and got to her knees, just as her stomach rebelled and she began to vomit.
For the seventh day in a row, she'd failed to keep her lunch down.
***
The lights of the late-night grocery store were so bright, they almost burned her eyes. Heading along the aisle with a basket in one hand and a shopping list in the other, Jennifer stopped to grab a tube of toothpaste and then continued on her way, only to stop again when she saw a display of pregnancy testing kits. She hesitated for a moment, tempted to grab one so she could test herself yet again, before reminding herself that there was physically no way she could be carrying a baby. No way at all. Putting such a crazy idea out of her mind, she headed to the checkout line.
A few minutes later, as she waited for the bus, she tried to calm her racing thoughts. She was still angry about the way Doctor Carlisle had treated her, but she figured she just needed to make an appointment with someone else, someone who could actually look past the obvious explanation and work out what was really wrong.
Glancing along the street, she watched the late night London crowd for a moment. Just as her thoughts were wandering, however, she realized she could see a figure staring at her from the corner at the end of the street. When she tried to look at him, however, she found herself immediately looking away. She tried again, with the same result. No matter how hard she concentrated, she couldn't force herself to look directly at the man, as if somehow he was incapable of being observed. The most she could manage was to see him out of the corner of her eye, which was enough to tell her only that he seemed to be wearing dark
clothes, that his face seemed strangely pale, and that he was staring straight at her. Taking a deep breath, she tried slowly and steadily to look at his face, but at the very last moment her eyes darted to one side and she found herself looking at the window of a nearby store. She tried yet again to look directly at the man, but this time the effort made her feel nauseous and she gave up.
As the bus arrived, she made her way on-board and scanned her travel card before taking a seat near the back. She told herself not to look out at the strange figure, but as the bus began to pull away she couldn't help turning and peering out at the opposite corner of the street. As she was about to look at the man, however, her eyes suddenly darted away and she found herself staring at a nearby Boots storefront. Before she could try again, the bus took the next right turn and bumped along another street. Glancing over her shoulder, Jennifer looked out the rear window but realized the street corner was already out of view.
Figuring that her exhausted mind had simply been playing another trick on her, she leaned back with her grocery bag on her knees and took a deep breath. Deep down, she was starting to worry that something was wrong in her head. She took a look around at her fellow passengers, and she felt a rush of relief when she realized that at least she could look directly at their faces. The man on the corner, she figured, had obviously been some weird, brief wobble, something thrown up by her exhausted brain. Ever since her night at the Diebolds' house, she'd been finding it harder and harder to trust her own senses.
VI
Blinking suddenly, Jennifer realized she'd completely lost track of the show she was trying to watch on her laptop. She dragged the slider back a few minutes and gave it another shot, while taking another mouthful of the microwaved noodles that by now were going cold. After just a few seconds, however, her thoughts began to drift again, and finally she gave up. Closing the laptop's lid, she leaned back in the dark bedroom and listened to the sound of the city outside her window.
