A Proper Family Christmas (10 page)

‘Something’s happened,’ she said.

‘Oh God. What?’

‘No point beating about the bush. I’m pregnant.’

Richard gawped.

‘How did that happen?’

Annabel glared at him.

‘Fuck,’ said Richard, lost for better words.

‘I might be as much as three months gone,’ said Annabel. ‘I don’t know. That holiday in Turkey … I’ll have to go to the doctor tomorrow and find out and … get it sorted.’

‘What do you mean, get it sorted?’

‘Well, I can’t give Izzy a kidney if I’m pregnant.’

‘Annabel. What are you talking about?’ He was raising his voice. In the coffee shop! Annabel shushed him.

‘Izzy has to be our priority.’

‘And she is … but … Fuck’s sake, Annabel. We need a moment to think about this.’

‘It wasn’t planned. I haven’t had time to consider the possibility of another child. If we act quickly—’

‘We’re not
acting quickly
. You’re talking about a
baby
. We’re going to sit down and discuss this reasonably and sensibly just as we would have done were Izzy not unwell.’

Annabel was shaking with the magnitude of the decision she felt loomed before her.

‘Don’t say anything about this to Izzy,’ Annabel pleaded.

They went up to the ward. Izzy seemed a little brighter than she had been. She was pleased to get the cards that had been waiting for her at the Great House.

‘Are you all right, Mum? You seem a bit weird. I mean, more than usual.’

Annabel forced a smile.

‘What it stressful at the kidney place? Was your ultrasound OK?’

‘Everything’s fine, sweetheart. But if it’s OK with you, I’m going to go back home with Dad. There are a few things we need to sort out.’

‘That’s all right. I’m tired anyway.’

Annabel kissed her only child on the forehead. Her only child until now.

Back at home, Richard put the kettle on.

‘I feel like a proper drink but you can’t and I’m not drinking alone,’ he said.

‘I thought you needed to do some work.’

‘For God’s sake, Annabel. Work can wait.’

They sat across from one another at the kitchen table. It was such a big house and yet, as in so many homes around the world, the kitchen table was where the truly important things happened. This same table had been in their old house – the first house they’d shared as husband and wife – when Annabel told Richard she was expecting Izzy. They’d celebrated that night. No question. Richard had done a circuit of the old kitchen beating his chest like a silverback.

This time he was more subdued.

‘I thought you were, you know, taking care of things,’ he said.

Talk of things such as the Pill had always made Richard squeamish.

‘I came off the Pill a while ago. I wanted to see if I was menopausal.’

‘What?’

‘It’s not impossible. I was feeling a bit weird. I thought I should probably check. But the doctor said she couldn’t check while the hormones from the Pill were still in my body so—’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I didn’t think there was a hope in hell I would actually get pregnant. Do you know how hard it’s supposed to be for a woman my age to conceive? If you believe the
Daily Mail
, after twenty-three, you’re just an old crone, whose eggs are slowly – or not so slowly – going off.’

‘Well, yours are obviously still all right. As is my sperm.’

‘Don’t look so pleased with yourself,’ said Annabel.

‘But it’s something to be pleased about, isn’t it?’

‘Is it?’

‘Of course it is.’

‘It’s a disaster.’

‘Annabel, please. Don’t say that. We’re married. We’re financially stable. We live in this enormous house. We could have triplets and not even notice. So long as we got a nanny and put them in the west wing,’ he joked.

‘Richard, it’s not that simple and you know it. We’ve already got a daughter and she’s unwell. She needs a kidney. And if I have this baby, I can’t give her one of mine. Not until the baby’s born and that’s half a bloody year away.’

‘There’s no need to panic. Izzy can still have one of mine.’

‘You need to work.’

‘Fuck work,’ said Richard. ‘They’ll understand. I won’t be out that long.’

‘I can’t have this baby,’ Annabel insisted. ‘What if there’s some reason you can’t donate?’

‘There won’t be.’

‘But if you can’t, we’ll be stuffed. I’ve read about it, Richard. Pregnancy could change my immune system. Even after I’ve had the baby, I might not be a match for Izzy any more.’

Richard raised his voice. ‘You can’t let that influence your decision about this child,’ he said. ‘What would you do if Izzy weren’t in hospital? What if she were perfectly fine? What would you do then? Is this really about Izzy or is it that you don’t think you can go through the baby years again? It’s different now. You do know that, don’t you? You could have all the help you wanted for a start.’

Annabel knew what Richard was getting at. Part of the reason Izzy was an only child was because those early years had been so tough. Richard was working all hours in his bid for partnership at the law firm. Annabel was often alone. And she doubted her ability. Though Richard didn’t yet know it, Annabel had good reason to suspect that mothering might not come naturally.

‘And I’ll be here too. I can take that sabbatical I’m owed.’

‘I thought you wanted to go to Australia and follow the cricket if you took a sabbatical at all.’

‘Forget that. I can’t think of anywhere I would rather be than at home with you and my children.’

Children
. He’d said it. In his head, Richard’s family had already grown.

‘But what about Izzy? I’m letting her down.’

‘You’re not. I’ve got a feeling this is all going to work out.’

Richard got up and walked round to her side of the table so that he could put his arms around her. Annabel let her head rest against his chest.

‘It will be all right,’ Richard cooed.

Annabel so wanted to believe him.

The following week, Richard went to be tested for his suitability as a donor for their daughter. They had little doubt that Richard would be a blood and tissue match but all the same they decided to hold off for a while on telling Izzy about the developments regarding Annabel and the baby. Once Richard got the go-ahead, it would be so much easier. So far, apart from Richard, Annabel had only told her mother Sarah about the pregnancy. Sarah had, of course, been delighted to hear the news.

‘Your luck is changing,’ Sarah told Annabel. ‘I just know there’s going to be more good news to follow soon. Izzy will have that transplant before you know it. And she’ll have a little brother or sister!’

Annabel hoped so. But the hours she spent sitting by Izzy’s hospital bed and the effort involved in seeming cheerful whenever Izzy was awake; the pregnancy itself – it was all taking its toll. Annabel was far from blooming. Now all of a sudden she was sick too. Forget morning sickness. Annabel wanted to throw up all day long. She needed a miracle.

While Richard was at the clinic, Annabel went into the cathedral for the first time since Izzy’s last junior school Christmas concert and lit three candles. One for Izzy, one for Richard and one for the tiny tadpole that flickered inside her. She had been to see her GP and a scan was arranged for the end of the month. A proper antenatal scan.

Annabel’s phone rang while she was walking out of the cathedral. In the vast silence of the house of worship, the ringtone seemed especially loud. Annabel apologised to everyone she passed as she rushed into the car park to take the call. Several people frowned at the ringing but sod them. This was important.

It was Richard.

‘I can’t do it,’ he said without preamble.

He sounded angry.

‘I can’t fucking do it.’

‘What?’

Richard took a big gulping breath. Was he crying?

‘I can’t give Izzy one of my kidneys.’

Richard’s high blood pressure had ruled him out. With his increased risk of a stroke or heart attack, the transplant operation would pose too great a challenge to Richard’s own health.

‘That can’t be right,’ said Annabel.

But it was.

Richard’s condition was largely hereditary. His father had died of a heart attack before he was fifty years old. But that didn’t stop Richard from being furious with himself for having failed to pass the criteria to be a donor for his daughter. When Annabel next saw him, in the car park of Izzy’s hospital, Richard was in a terrible state.

‘I’ve let her down,’ he said. ‘I’ve let our Izzy down.’

This time it was Annabel’s turn to be strong.

Annabel got into Richard’s car alongside him and gave him an awkward hug over the gearstick. She tried her best to comfort him. But Annabel was every bit as distraught as Richard was. The idea that Richard would give their daughter one of his kidneys had seemed so obvious. They shared genes. They shared a blood type. Annabel and Richard hadn’t even thought that Richard’s high blood pressure could stand in the way. Sure, Annabel had seen high blood pressure mentioned as a reason why people were turned down as altruistic donors but could it really prevent a father from helping his own child?

It seemed it could. And now they had to let Izzy know.

‘Mum? What about you?’ Izzy asked when they told her the verdict on Richard. ‘You didn’t tell me what the scan showed.’

They had to tell her about the baby now. Annabel took Izzy’s hand. ‘Sweetheart, I can’t do it at the moment either.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I’m pregnant.’

Izzy said she was happy. Of course she did. They’d brought her up to be thoughtful. But Annabel was sure she could see a sliver of fear in her daughter’s eyes as the news sank in. She knew that Izzy had been convinced that one of her parents would be able to help her. Now that opportunity had fallen away. Or had been
stolen
away by the baby Annabel was carrying.

‘Do you know what it is yet?’ Izzy asked brightly.

‘We’ve got a scan booked in,’ said Annabel.

‘I can’t believe I’m going to have a little brother or sister. All those years I asked for one and it happens now.’

Why now? Why now when I need my mother most? That was the subtext.

‘Whatever happens, you’re still our number one priority, Izzy. This doesn’t change that. We’re going to make sure you get better,’ Annabel insisted.

‘I know,’ said Izzy. She didn’t sound convinced.

‘There are other avenues for us to go down. Donors don’t have to be an exact match these days. Remember what Dr Devon was telling us about plasma exchange?’

Dr Devon had explained all about ‘plasmapheresis’, a blood-separating process, which could enable a transplant patient to receive an unmatched kidney by removing those parts of the patient’s blood that would otherwise cause a catastrophic immune reaction. It would mean spending yet more time hooked up to a machine but it could work.

‘But she said that’s not ideal,’ Izzy reminded her mother. ‘Not for someone as young as me. It’s still better to have a tissue match. A relative. That’s what she told us.’

‘We’ll find someone,’ Annabel promised. Never had she and Richard, who were both only children, wished for siblings more. Meanwhile, Izzy was getting a sibling at the worst possible time.

That evening, back at the Great House, Annabel couldn’t even bear to talk to Richard. She was afraid that if she opened her mouth, she would wish the baby away again.

At the end of the month Annabel had her appointment for a scan. Richard came with her. Sarah stayed with Izzy at the hospital.

Now it was Annabel’s turn to be the centre of medical attention. When she and Richard arrived at the antenatal clinic, she was relieved to see that she didn’t appear to be the oldest woman waiting to be seen. She had dreaded walking in there and looking for a seat among all the glowing twenty-somethings, who would make her feel like a freak.

When Annabel lay down on the table, she was briefly furious with herself for having forgotten that she’d need to expose her belly. She was wearing a dress. If she’d thought about it properly, she would have worn a separate top and skirt so that she didn’t have to strip off altogether or flash her knickers.

The technician applied gel to Annabel’s abdomen.

‘This will be cold,’ she said.

It always was.

It had been a long time since Annabel’s first scan for Izzy but the memory of it came flooding back. Annabel had waited for that scan alone and she thought she would have to go through it alone too. Richard had called to say that he was really snowed under at work. Annabel had told him it didn’t matter. She could go through it without him. But she had been disappointed. Especially since it seemed that every other woman in that waiting room had someone to hold her hand. She began to wish she’d taken her mother up on her offer but Sarah would have had to make a two-hour journey to be there.

On that day, seventeen years before, Richard came rushing in at the last moment. He arrived just as Izzy materialised on the screen. A strong heartbeat. She was on her way.

‘There you go,’ the technician smiled, now. ‘That’s lovely.’

Annabel and Richard stared at the screen that showed their new baby curled like a fern waiting for the summer.

‘Everything is exactly as it should be.’

Izzy was still on dialysis when they got back to her hospital ward.

Annabel sat down on the chair next to her bed.

‘How did it go? Is it twins?’

‘It’s not twins,’ said Annabel.

‘Can you tell what it is?’

‘A baby?’

‘I mean, what flavour, Mum? Boy or girl.’

‘It’s a bit early.’ Annabel hesitated. She wasn’t sure whether Izzy really wanted to talk about this or not. Was she just being polite? Making conversation? ‘Do you want to see the pictures?’ Annabel asked.

‘Of course.’

Annabel fished them out of her bag and handed them over. Izzy turned the Polaroid-sized prints round and round as if trying to make head or tail of them.

‘It just looks like static, I know. But the baby is in there. That darker patch there. That’s its heart.’