Fifty Years of Fear

by Ross Greenwood

  Chapter 19

  1995 – Age: 29

  Popularity, for me at least, was like a sand sculpture on a beach: only to be enjoyed for a short period. After being bullied at school I'd become acutely aware when I was the focus of others’ attention. We had our honeymoon straight after the wedding and when I returned to work, the damage was done.

  I was back to where I started, yet things were different. For the first time in my life people were scared of me. I recognised my own responses from years ago in the faces of people I spoke to. They didn’t know what to say to me as they had concerns about how I would react. As though at any moment I might scream at them.

  It was insane. Men I had worked with for years, and barely spoken to, went out of their way to avoid me. Those I sat next to at the canteen would finish their meals in a hurry. Upstairs in the offices, conversations would go quiet as I appeared.

  At least Scott only worked there briefly afterwards and avoided me the entire time. Heaven knows what he and his friends had said about me. He soon left for a job at the steelworks up north. Some of the rumours filtered through to the league I played in, yet they were an enduring bunch there and the fact Scott never reappeared helped. I suspect my rising bowling average was also a factor.

  Clara seemed oblivious. She had a new focus, and this was all consuming. I’d never spent much time thinking about the future when I battled the present. Life happened and you dealt with things as they occurred. In that respect, I found it hard to understand Clara’s obsession. She wanted children. Immediately.

  In all aspects of life, that level of inflexibility and desire will cause problems if it isn’t resolved or satisfied. The possibility we might not be able to have children, for whatever reason, never entered her focused mind. That aside, we were content for the first six months of our marriage. The issues at work were forgotten as we became very inward-looking. We still saved what we could, for the time when Clara would be off with the kids, and we had lots of sex.

  To begin with, I enjoyed it. A whole new side to Clara opened up. Nurses outfits and role playing were her favourite way to get me in the mood. Even the pregnancy tests were almost fun. ‘Not this time,’ she would joke. Over a year of that was a long time for me. To Clara, nothing else mattered. Emotionally, she started to wobble.

  I’d confided in Kevin and he surprised me by saying he’d been married before. I realised again that I paid little attention to other people’s predicaments. He told me his story. I think it was supposed to encourage or inspire. No wonder he didn’t speak much.

  They had similar problems. Kevin and his wife were asked to wait a year to become pregnant naturally, but she couldn’t wait and they lied after six months. As the test for a man is quick, simple and accurate, he gave a sample. He reckoned there was only one porno magazine in the room to get him in the mood.

  It was entitled ‘Shaven’. For him, this was a big no-no. It made him think of underage girls. He liked Spanish women, he said. The hairier the better. Spanish beauty Penelope Cruz was his favourite; ever since that picture of her on a magazine with armpit hair appeared. He hid the porno and, despite trying to concentrate on Ms Cruz, couldn’t maintain wood.

  Apparently, his wife was less than supportive as he explained the issue to the doctor, and they had a big argument. His partner came from Morocco originally. They had to make another appointment and left. Kevin said they went home and he gave her such a seeing to that she was pregnant by her next period. I had no idea what the moral of the story was. Except perhaps not to go on holiday with Kevin to anywhere south of the Alps for fear of him losing control. I dared not ask why they got divorced.

  Initially, I was saved from the ‘giving a specimen’ experience on the same day Frank came home. It was the back end of the year and a pregnancy-free Christmas loomed like a rain cloud at a wedding. He knocked, which was unusual.

  ‘Vinnie, can I come in?’

  ‘Sure, Frank.’

  The plastic bag he passed to me had ‘HMP Pentonville’ on it. In fact, his tracksuit top and bottoms shouted prison on their own. He looked tired to the bone. He had to be helped to a chair, where he fell asleep within seconds. I made a cup of tea and busied myself. I was tinkering in the garage when he surfaced.

  ‘Sorry about missing the wedding.’

  ‘Were you in prison?’

  ‘Not then. Just the police station. That bitch had me arrested for domestic violence. All I’d done was walk out on her and gone for some fresh air.’

  ‘Couldn’t you have come after you got out?’

  ‘They wouldn’t let me go until they knew what the situation was. In case I returned to our house and killed her. She actually came in the following day and said it was all a misunderstanding, you know, relationships. Like an idiot, I went back.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘It happened once more after a drunken row and still I went back. It was like I’d lost control of my own free will. In the end, she became completely mad and unreasonable. Accused me of cheating on her with the neighbours. All of them are retired too. So, I left.’

  He stared at me then. I think to make the point he was telling the truth.

  ‘I only got as far as the pub. She must have known where I'd go. The police arrived just as I finished my second pint. She somehow made a load of marks on her face and told them I’d hit her. The charge was assault by beating. I spent two weeks in a hellhole of a jail I hope you don't get to know.’

  ‘When did you get out?’

  ‘This morning. I went guilty and was given community service and a fine. The bitch never even showed up. They were okay with me coming here. You’re the only family I’ve got. Can I stay?’

  What could I say? If you told that tale to strangers in the street, they would be suspicious. If Frank’s history was revealed, they would string him up below a strong branch on the nearest suitable tree.

  ‘Of course.’

  As he gave me an awkward hug, Clara came bursting through the door. She faltered and her face said ‘what’s he doing here?’ Luckily, I could have been caught having a gang bang with The Muppets, elbow deep in Miss Piggy, and it wouldn’t have mattered.

  ‘I’m pregnant.’

  She said it slow, then burst into tears, before sobbing with laughter. Frank and I weren’t entirely sure what to do. I picked her off her knees and squeezed her.

  ‘Well done, baby. Well done.’

  ‘I’m going to ring my mum.’

  She left us bemused. Frank turned to me.

  ‘Can I still stay?’

  That amused me.

  ‘You always have a place here, Frank.’

  ‘Great. Looks like you got plenty of food.’

  That mean throwaway comment didn’t pierce my mind but it should have at least made me look at Clara properly. Did I have a cold heart if my main hopes weren’t so much about being a parent but rather just wishing our lives could go back to normal?

  Chapter 20

  1996 – Age: 30

  The miscarriage happened an hour after I left for work, a month down the line. Clara had just got back from the shops and noticed blood in her pants. She flew to the hospital where they confirmed to her that the foetus had stopped developing at seven weeks. She told me afterwards it was the worst moment in her life. It wouldn’t be, but she didn’t know that then.

  They walked her past the other pregnant mums, some of them heavily so, and left her on her own for an hour in a small room. She was given options to get rid of what remained. Let nature run its course, surgical removal or take pills and pass it at home. She chose the latter and came back a changed woman.

  Our relationship became like a house on the seafront. We were taking a battering and the storm was doing its worst, but we repaired and maintained. I hoped we would be okay. The news was a terrible blow to her. I loved Clara and knew that I could survive us not having children. I wasn’t sure she could.

  I remember coming home that night and finding Frank ashen-faced, wait
ing at the gate. I still don’t know why Clara didn’t ring me at work and get me to go with her, or at the least come home. Instead, I found her in bed, fully clothed and curled up with her knees tucked in. I perched on the bed next to her. If there were words for those occasions, I’d never known them. I stroked her hair away from her face, and her blurred eyes refocussed.

  ‘Why, Vinnie? Why us?’

  ‘I don’t know, baby.’

  She was like a child too, sobs shuddering her body. I got in beside her, shuffled into the spoons position and kissed her shoulders. Eventually, she settled. I slid out from behind her and went to leave the room.

  ‘Vinnie.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘They told me I can still get pregnant. We just have to wait for a bit.’

  ‘That’s great news, we’ll do it.’

  As she closed her eyes again, I shut the door. The overriding emotion I felt wasn’t sadness. It was anger. All the scum in the world shelling out children without a thought to the process, and a good woman like Clara had to go through this. They weren’t in my house to face my wrath though. Frank would have left if he’d known what was coming down the stairs. Instead, he was making a cup of tea.

  ‘Still here, Frank?’

  I whispered the words, so as not to disturb Clara. He did the same.

  ‘Yes, anything I can do? You want a brew?’

  ‘I meant, why are you still here?’

  He paused, mid-stir, shocked.

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise I had outstayed my welcome.’

  The hurt on his face released some of my steam, but not all of it.

  ‘Good things happen to me, don’t they? When you’re about. Look at all the shit you’ve got me in. You’re a criminal. And a jinx. You pick a fight with my best man and then don’t show when you’ve scared him off. You’re great news.’

  ‘I had your back, Vinnie. I’ve always had your back.’

  ‘I don’t think I could do much worse on my own. Do you? I lost a good friend because of you.’

  Frank wasn’t one to hold his tongue. I watched him try and fail. He hissed the words at me.

  ‘Scott was not a good friend. He was a prick at school and he’s still one now. Do you want to know why we fought? Be careful, Vinnie, you might not like the answer.’

  ‘Spit it out. It’s not as though today could get any worse.’

  Then, however, it did.

  ‘I overheard one of his mates say, ‘What are you hanging round with him for, he’s a loser?’ and Scott replied, ‘I know, but he’s got the inside with the office birds from work.’ His mate said, ‘You’re the best man, aren’t you?’ and he said, ‘Yeah, I didn’t want to do it though.’ So, I told him not to bother, and he hit me. Then you arrived.’

  I would be thirty in June. Yet that quick sentence had me back at school. The person I thought I had become didn’t exist. I was Vincent Roach, nothing more. I backed away from Frank, not wanting him to see how exposed I felt. His face implored me to stay.

  ‘I’m sorry, but he was no good. He didn’t deserve to be your best man. You don't know how devastated I was that I couldn’t be there. I’ll make it up to you, Vinnie. I promise. Remember these words. I will make it up to you.’

  ‘Mum would have been so upset.’

  ‘Don’t judge your life by Mum’s standards. She wasn’t the person you think she was.’

  I had no idea where he was going with that comment and staggered from the house, like Frankenstein’s monster in a B-Movie. I found myself in a shop and stood at the counter, staring towards the vodka. Even then, I didn’t fancy it. I’d smoked on the odd occasion and so now bought a pack of twenty Berkeley, my mum’s old friends, and a lighter. Finding a bench, I inhaled deeply and felt myself relax.

  It wasn’t Frank’s fault, and it certainly wasn’t Clara’s. Bad things happen to me.

  Chapter 21

  1997 – Age: 31

  Needless to say, Frank stayed. It helped. He saw a succession of women, all of whom were normal. He got a job with an engineering firm in Spalding and seemed calm and content. Clara retreated into herself for three months. It would have been like living on my own without Frank. I didn’t know the doctor had told her to wait that long before trying again. Then, the sex started. As before, I enjoyed it at the beginning after her being so distant. However, with each failed pregnancy test, it became more functional.

  After a further six months, we returned to the surgery. As there had been a previous pregnancy, they examined both of us to see if we had any issues. I hoped I was the problem as any more pressure on Clara would have been unwelcome. It was a warm afternoon when we sat down in the consulting room for the doctor’s conclusions. The heat in there was stifling and I removed my coat. Although I think I was just looking to do anything to eat up a few more seconds of waiting.

  The lady came in with a smile and opened a window. I could hear birds and cars in the distance. The air smelt of summer. It didn’t feel like a day for bad news.

  ‘How are you both?’

  We smiled, too nervous to make a sound.

  ‘Right, well the news is mostly positive.’

  We breathed out in unison.

  ‘The results from the x-ray showed that one of your fallopian tubes is blocked. Therefore, the egg can’t reach the uterus and the sperm can’t reach the egg. The good news is that your other tube is functioning as it should and you will be able to get pregnant in the normal way. Vincent, your motility and count are excellent. Any questions?’

  Our silence continued as we tried to process the massive amount of information that she condensed into a short paragraph. Clara broke first and challenged her sunny demeanour.

  ‘Does that mean it will take twice as long to get pregnant, and can’t you unblock the other tube?’

  ‘The tube is blocked in such a way that surgery is unlikely to be successful. We don’t think it’s necessary as we hope you’ll fall within two years.’

  ‘Two years?’ I was sitting next to Clara and still got sprayed with spit. The consultant must have been drenched.

  ‘Yes. There are IVF options further down the line, but there are no physical reasons inside why you shouldn’t get pregnant. We can give you fertility drugs to increase the chances of ovulating on the side with the open tube. However, the ovary on the blocked tube side can migrate across to the tube that isn’t blocked, so hopefully it would be quicker. I should point out you are significantly overweight, Clara. Twenty-one stone is morbidly obese. It’s unlikely IVF would be approved without substantial weight loss. Every pound you lose now will assist you in getting pregnant naturally. If that fails, we could try IVF and you would already be more likely to get accepted.’

  Jesus Christ, I thought. Twenty-one stone. I knew glancing at her would be a bad idea, but unfortunately I couldn’t help myself. My head swivelled round, up and down, and then back again. She looked at me out of the corner of her eye. Her clothes disguised her size, that much was obvious. It wasn’t news to her though as she didn’t even blush. Another thought came.

  ‘Doctor, why is the tube blocked? Couldn’t the same happen to the other one?’

  The doctor’s cheeks bloomed.

  ‘Well, there are many reasons for that sort of thing.’

  ‘What are they?’

  As she reeled them off, I turned to look at Clara again.

  ‘Endometriosis, appendix surgery, previous ectopic pregnancy, a uterine infection caused by an abortion or miscarriage, or the most common cause of blocked fallopian tubes is pelvic inflammatory disease from a prior or current STD.’

  Clara flinched at the end of the symptoms. Involuntarily and guiltily. I’d never had an STD and Clara was a virgin when she met me. Or so she said. I didn’t need to ask the doctor what she thought the cause might be as the earlier symptoms had been ruled out.

  We were both quiet again as we drove home. It’s only as we neared our road that Clara spoke.

  ‘I’ll lose the weight, Vin
nie. I’ll get us a baby.’

  Other thoughts were swirling in my mind. Ones about lying virgins. I decided, there and then, not to look backwards. We had gone too far to dredge up the past. Clara’s happiness was my focus. Besides, now we both had blood on our hands.

  Some new neighbours were moving in next door to us as we pulled up outside our house. I was about to say we should introduce ourselves to them when I saw a woman come out of their front door. I think ‘about to drop’ is the phrase most often used. I didn’t need to look at Clara this time to see her reaction. I got out of the car and helped her inside. Then, I was scared.

  Chapter 22

  1999 – Age: 33

  Clara was true to her word, and the pounds dropped off. We got healthy together and I can say that, for perhaps the last time, we were happy. I thought the neighbours’ twins being born would be a constant reminder of our own predicament, but it spurred Clara on. When she hit fifteen stone, she miscarried a baby at eight weeks. Further tests revealed that she only had one functioning ovary, luckily on the side with the unblocked tube.

  I feared this news would cause her to fold, but she proved to be made of stronger stuff than I imagined. I could tell she was blaming herself, somehow thinking it was because she was too heavy we lost that child. However, her single-mindedness was inspiring.

  She got down to twelve stone near Christmas and then two lines appeared on the pregnancy tester again. The festive period was a flurry of fond memories. We put our old clothes on and giggled at how they hung. I kept mine due to my usual lack of confidence. Clara threw hers out, saying she would never be that big again.

  Even Frank got pulled into the celebrations. He wasn’t a big Christmas fan, but he laughed along at the Uncle Frank jokes. I’d not thought what his views were on the child thing. It was his family too.