Breeding Ground (3 page)

Once in the impersonal office, I sat in a chair against the wall as the doctor weighed her, took her blood pressure and temperature, making all the expected noises, before finally peering into her nose and throat. She sat back down next to me and he took his leather chair on the other side of the desk, scribbling some notes down before speaking. With his head bent forward to write, I could see the bald patch that was growing at the back of his head, its edges flecked with dandruff. Dr. Judge had been here just about forever, and I supposed it was starting to show. I don’t know why I was surprised. I guess I just expected him to stay the same forever.

He put down the pen. “So, you say you haven’t eaten anything for over a week, and you’re still putting on a few pounds?”

Beside me, Chloe nodded, her bottom lip trembling slightly.

“It may be that your blood pressure is fluctuating a little. Nothing to worry about. Quite common in many women. It should settle down by the fifth month and then everything will go back to normal.” He moved

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some papers around on his desk, and for a moment I was dumbfounded.

What had he just said? I couldn’t believe it. How could he say that this was normal? I’d expected something, but not this. I was no doctor, but even I knew that what was happening to Chloe was far from normal. Sitting there beside me, she seemed larger than she had been when we’d left the house, and that was just plain crazy.

She leaned forward, her eyes wide. “Really?” She sounded as shocked as I was. Shocked and relieved. “It’s just that I’ve been feeling really strange recently.”

Dr. Judge smiled at her. It was an almost genuine smile. “You really shouldn’t be worrying. Just go home and relax. If there’s no change in a month or so, then come back to see me and I’ll give you something to sort out your blood pressure. Okay?”

“Great. That’s great. Thanks, Doctor, I was beginning to worry. It’s just all this weight and feeling so odd inside…” God, she was even beginning to sound a bit different. She sounded…older. That was the only way I could describe it. Perhaps there was a more gravelly pitch to her voice. Something.

“Like I said, nothing to worry about.”

He already had the door open and before I realised it, we were ushered outside, my head spinning. He hadn’t even checked the baby. Surely he should have put a stethoscope against her stomach or something. It wasn’t right. It just wasn’t right.

I stopped where I was in the corridor. “Chloe, I think we should get a second opinion.”

She had already reached the stairs, and flashed an angry look at me over her shoulder as I trotted to catch up.

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“He said it was normal. Perfectly normal. Are you trying to find something wrong with me, Matt?” Her tone was biting. God, her moods were changing so fast these days. A moment ago she’d been fine. Worried and upset, but not this new aggression that was rearing its ugly head again. Chloe was never aggressive. It was her cool head that made her such a good barrister.

“No, I just think we should be certain that he’s right, that’s all.”

She snorted, tugging the outside door open and stepping outside. “You think I’m disgusting, don’t you? You’re repulsed by me. I see your face when you look at me.”

I grabbed her arm and spun her round, my face flushed with searing emotion. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but I love you, Chloe. I could never love anyone but you, and I could never be repulsed by you. I just think we need to double-check his opinion with someone else. I’m worried about you. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

It was true. Standing there in the rain, I ached with worry. I wanted her back. The her on the inside. I didn’t care about the weight, and yes, maybe she was right, sometimes its strangeness did revolt me, but never her, I was never repulsed by her. I couldn’t be. Raising my arms in a gesture of peace, I made one more vain attempt to get through to her.

“Didn’t you find it odd that he didn’t check on the baby?”

Taking three steps backwards, she sneered at me. “That’s all you care about, isn’t it? The fucking baby.”

Again, her non-Chloe words stung. “That’s not true! What’s got into you? Why are you being like

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this?” I wanted to shake her until I got some sense out of her.

Her face was truly ugly as she reached into her purse and chucked a twenty pound note at me. Whoever it was that was talking, it wasn’t my Chloe. It was whatever disease was growing inside her. The money landed at my feet, soaked in a puddle instantly. I stared at it, not wanting to look at her. God, I was tired.

“Go to the pub. I want some time to myself.” She turned and started walking away and I couldn’t help but yell after her barely recognisable outline, “That’s all you ever seem to want these days!”

I waited until she had passed through the small archway at the end of the cobbled road, turning left and vanishing, before letting my shoulders slump forward. Jesus, what a day. How long had it been coming? How long had we been on the slow downward slide leading to here? I guess you just don’t notice so much when the decay is gradual.

Is that how it is for all those old couples out there, still together but not knowing why, lying awake at night and wondering just how different it could all have been if they’d just been brave enough to leave? Or was I just judging the world by my own parents’ standards? When your mother tells your father, as he’s dying, that she’d spent the best part of the last forty years trying to build up the courage to murder him in his bed, it tends to leave a stain on your soul. But Chloe and I weren’t like them and we never would be. We never argued. Not ever. This wasn’t Chloe doing this.

The water invading my clothes through every gap, and feeling less than proud, I leaned forward and

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retrieved the soaking money, shaking it in a vain attempt to make it slightly less wet. If she wanted some time to herself, then so be it, and I couldn’t think of a better place to spend that time than in the pub.

Tugging my jacket around me, I headed for The Crown, a hundred yards from the doctor’s. It used to be a proper pub, all cosy snugs and alcoves, used in movies and that kind of thing, but recently it had been sold and was now a classy bar with a small restaurant. To be honest, I normally preferred somewhere more traditional, but Chloe liked it, and we probably spent a couple of hours a week sitting in their comfortable Chesterfields.

Aside from its proximity, I chose it because it wasn’t a place I was likely to meet anyone I knew that well, as most I knew preferred the warmth and spit and sawdust arrangements of The Vaults Bar on High Street. Not that I’d been out with the boys too much recently. Adulthood meant we’d all become too busy. In fact, I hadn’t really seen any of them since the pregnancy had got underway. Not since all this fat business had really started. Nearly a month. God, didn’t time fly when your world was falling apart.

I was glad to see that they had the small open fire lit, adding not only heat, but also life and warmth to the clinical whiteness of the decor. Once I had my pint in hand, I pulled up a chair close to it to dry myself out. The place was nearly empty, which suited me fine. I was in no mood for polite conversation. Instead, I sipped my drink and stared into the flames, lost in my own world of circling thoughts, veering from calm to gloom, but coming up with no answers for a problem that had yet to present me with a definite question.

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I was just emptying my glass when out of the corner of my eye I saw a familiar figure sitting quietly on a bar stool, sipping a large glass of whiskey. My arm froze for a second, and then I slowly lowered it back to the table. It was Dr. Judge. Well, well, well. He didn’t look so cheerful now, and he was drinking too fast for a man just relaxing after a hard day’s work. Maybe it was time to get another pint.

He didn’t notice me until I placed my empty glass on the smooth black marble bar beside his and placed my order.

“Evening, Dr. Judge.”

Looking up at me from beneath his hunched shoulders, his eyes were momentarily glazed, then frightened.

“You.”

“Yes, me.” His reaction to me fuelled my need to speak. “I’d like to talk to you about what you said to my girlfriend, if that’s okay with you.”

He sighed. “The surgery’s closed. If you’re not happy with my diagnoses, then feel free to consult with one of my colleagues in the morning. I’m tired and I’m really not in the mood to get into a discussion.”

The barman took my money and gave me my pint before moving away. I had a sip before ignoring the doctor’s advice. I didn’t really give a shit what he wanted. I needed to talk to him. I lowered my voice, but couldn’t keep the desperate edge out of it.

“She hasn’t eaten for a week and is still putting on weight. How can that be normal? How could you say that’s normal? I’ve never heard anything like it, and trust me, I’ve been reading all the books.”

Draining his large spirit in one gulp, he laughed and signalled for another, shaking his head into his empty

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glass. “Of course it’s not normal. How is any of this normal?”

Confusion threw me into silence for a second, and then that same confusion made me angry. Angry and loud.

“Then for God’s sake why did you say it? Surely you should be running some tests or something, whatever it is you do to find out what’s wrong-“

His weathered old hand moved fast, grabbing the collar of my jacket and pulling me down so that my head was level with his. Spit hit my face as he hissed at me. “There are no tests. Not for this.” His eyes were on fire. “Do you live with your head up your arse, son? Look around you. What are you seeing? Look at the women.”

My heart chilled in my chest. I stepped slightly backwards, letting his hand drop away, and I glanced around the room. There were no women in the bar, just a few men. Some drinking quietly, mainly by themselves, others paired in awkward silence. I didn’t get it. I couldn’t get it. What did he mean?

He was watching me with impatience, but the anger had gone out of his voice. “You think it’s only you this is happening to? Poor Matthew Edge and Chloe Taylor?” He nodded his head in the direction of the busier side of the curved bar.

“Look at them. This is happening to all of them. All of us. And I can’t do anything. I don’t understand it. No one does. And when I say no one, I mean no one in the whole world, Matt. We’re all just going to have to wait and see. That’s all we can do. Wait and see.”

He pushed back his bar stool, a little unsteady on his feet, and leaving his untouched drink on the bar, left me there. The world seemed too bright as I fought

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to get my breath, my eyes again running over the people around me. They all looked tired. Tired and frightened, just like me. Could this really be happening to all of them? Were there women like Chloe all over town? All over the world?

The landlord was cleaning glasses. He wasn’t much older than me, maybe midthirties, but despite his wine bar surroundings, the lifestyle was taking its toll, and he was developing the red-nosed, large-bellied look, so typical in his profession. What was his name? Bill? Bob? Something like that. I caught his eye, and tried to keep my tone light.

“So, where’s the missus tonight?” Normally, there was a blond, trim woman darting around beside him, making sure everything was running smoothly.

His eyes met mine for a moment before sliding away. “Upstairs. She’s not been feeling herself lately.” He moved to the far shelves and began taking bottles down to polish them. Well, whatever was wrong with his wife, he certainly wasn’t in the mood to talk about it.

Taking a few long gulps of my beer, needing it to help calm me down, I took another look around at all the men who were concentrating on not meeting each others’ eyes in the close confines. They were nearly all over fifty. Where were the young drinkers? At home looking after their women as best they could? Shit, the doctor had given me the heebie-jeebies. Despite the emptiness of the bar, it suddenly felt claustrophobic, and leaving my half-full glass behind, I stepped back outside.

The rain had stopped, the clouds clearing to let through some evening sunshine, but after what the doctor had said, it seemed that even that wasn’t going

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to lighten my mood. The world suddenly seemed different, as if I was seeing it for the first time in ages. Maybe I needed to take the plunge and do what he said. Look around me properly. Look at the women. It wasn’t as if there were any answers to be found anywhere else.

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Chapter Three

I started right there and then, on the way home. It was amazing how much detail we ignore in our day-to-day lives, how much we lazily omit seeing because we don’t think it’s important. I wondered how much longer it would have taken me to see the bigger picture of what was going on without the doctor’s prompt. I wonder how long old Judge had known. I guess I’ll never find out. I never saw him again after that.

Beneath the clearing skies, I wandered slowly out from Market Square to the main road. Normally, I’d just turn left and walk the couple of hundred yards to the cottage, but I wasn’t ready to go back yet and I wanted to take a good look at my hometown.

The first thing I noticed was that there were no women about. I didn’t see a single one. Stony Stratford High Street had a lot of restaurants, serving up food from all ethnic varieties, something for every taste, from Italian through Thai to Indian and back again, but each one I passed was either empty or closed. I paused for a moment, needing to try and take it all in,

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staring through the large glass window of The Passage to India into the unmanned darkness. My breath left a misty stain on the clean surface. Stepping back, I read the sign on the door. It said simply, closed due to

ILLNESS.

The only nights that restaurants closed around here were Mondays, and this was a Friday, normally a busy evening with all-you-can-eat buffets dragging people in from all over Milton Keynes. How many staff needed to be ill or have sick relatives to close a restaurant? I gazed back down the deserted street and corrected myself-to close several restaurants.