Bums on Seats (18 page)

“Josie!! Can you hear me up there? How much longer you gonna be in that bloody bathroom! You’ll be late for work again.”

“Just coming, Mum.” She turned her radio off, flushed the toilet again and sprayed the air freshener about, to cover the smell of puke. It was no good, she decided, she’d better get on with it and do a pregnancy test. You can’t pretend and hope forever.

After work that evening she drove to the other end of town and found a chemist where no one knew her. She bought two test packs and drove the old Volvo to a nearby Little Chef. Ten minutes later, in the loo, she cried at the positive result.

When she got into bed that night she compounded her feelings of despair by fidgeting about, thinking, wishing and hoping. ‘Eighteen years old and single is no way to be pregnant. Perhaps I’m not really pregnant? Sometimes you got a wrong test indication. I’ve bought a spare test pack in case. I’ll do another test in the morning and it’ll be all OK. But it’s nearly twelve weeks since the start of my last period. My periods are always irregular but I’ve never gone more than 8 weeks. Perhaps I should wait a few more days? Nothing shows, my tummy’s still flat. But I’ve felt other changes this time, tinglings, tenderness and bouts of giddiness as well as spewing up each morning.’

Josie put on the bed light and reached in her handbag for her diary to check again.

When was her last period?

Who had she seen since then?

It was the week before she’d had that unbelievably awful experience at Julie’s 21
^st
party so it couldn’t be him. Suddenly it became clear. The enormity of the discovery shocked her into complete wakefulness. The only possibility had been in the old Volvo with Simon McGuire.

She propped herself up on the pillow, wide awake. Her thinking took a completely different direction. ‘Mrs Simon McGuire!!! That sounded very nice and Simon had a lot going for him. He was nice, good looking, fun and a good earner. She also judged that he took responsibility seriously. A delightful series of mental images followed. Josie standing at the door of a detached house waving Simon off to work … The two of them holidaying on a tropical beach somewhere … Josie and Simon hosting a personal dinner party with an immaculate table, flowers and pure white linen.’

Josie’s flight of fancy ended as quickly as it started. She had a young girl’s romantic notions, but these in the end always resolved to a realistic view of life and her place within it. We live different lives … He’s aiming to become a Dean or something, I’m signed up to do nursing training in the Autumn … We’d be OK in bed but what about the rest of the time? … We like each other, but we’ve never even had a proper date. Even so, if she was pregnant, Simon was the father to be. Unexpected things sometimes happened in life.’

At five in the morning she switched off the light and managed a couple of hours’ sleep, before waking and dashing for the bathroom.

By ten o’clock next morning, the second test kit had also given a positive result.

In her lunch break she went to a telephone booth at the railway station and asked Directory Enquiries for a number. A few minutes later, she’d booked an initial appointment at the Marie Stopes clinic.

*************

On Thursday morning, Simon felt more with it and enjoyed a productive class session with a group of first year students. They were a nice set, optimistic and keen to learn. At 11.00 am he made for the Staff Common Room and his appetite for bacon butties had returned. Josie, instead of her cheery self, looked pale and unhappy. She was alone at the counter.

“Hi Josie, you look miserable today; is something wrong?”

“Hello Simon. I’m a bit worried about some paperwork I’ve to fill in for my nursing course place. I can’t seem to cope with it. I’m having great difficulty. Simon do you think you could help me, after work?”

Nursing course, he thought, what nursing course? Simon realised he knew very little about the girl. He said, with a touch of gallantry, “I’d do almost anything to bring your smile back, Josie. How about the Greystones wine bar at the end of the High Street? I can make it at five o’clock, if that’s any good?”

He was being so helpful; she fought back a tear and gave a wan smile. “Thanks, Simon. That will be great.”

Simon, pleased with his Good Samaritan persona, made off to the armchairs with his coffee and baps.

*************

“Hello Josie, I’ve only just arrived myself.” He stood up in his well-mannered way. “What can I get you?”

“I’d like an espresso, please.”

“Would you like a pastry or a sandwich?”

The very thought made her blanch. “No, just coffee, thanks!”

Simon returned to the corner table with a red wine and a coffee. “It’s nice down here. I guess they used to be storage cellars.”

Josie was pleased to be in the shadows. She felt bad and probably looked worse. “Yes, I like it. There aren’t many customers though, are there?” She was pleased to talk trivia. It gave her time to pluck up courage, and Simon time to settle.

“I expect it will start filling up soon, when people drop in for a drink on the way from work.” He changed tack. “I was worried about you today, Josie. You looked a bit out of sorts and not at all your sunny self. How can I help you?”

At this display of kindness, Josie felt control slipping. “Excuse me Simon, just got to visit the loo.” She stood abruptly, face contorting and hurried off to sob in private.

In her absence Simon reflected. What strange creatures women are. They’re delightfully sensitive, but often on the very limit of self-control. They’re capable of dealing with a number of separate tasks all at the same time, but seem often floored by some single, simple, event. How fortunate to be a man, able to focus and face up to whatever fate may bring. He put the saucer on top of her cup to keep the drink warm and waited, relaxed and in command of life.

The girl returned, face recomposed, sat and sipped her coffee. She took a deep breath. “Simon, I wasn’t telling the truth about the paperwork. I’ve already been accepted by a hospital to train to be a nurse. I’m sorry. I just needed an excuse to talk to you, by ourselves.

He waited.

“Simon … I’m pregnant.” She gave a little sob as the words left her lips.

So that was it. He felt sad at her predicament and reached out a hand in creature comfort. “Oh Josie. Don’t upset yourself. It’s not the end of the world. It will help if you talk about it … Does the father know?”

She paused, then said with a rush, “Yes, Simon, he does now … It’s you! I haven’t done it with anyone else since my last period.” The girl started to cry again.

Simon, member of the strong, coping, sex, felt gobsmacked and sick. This couldn’t be real – must be an elaborate joke surely? Wasn’t it? One look at Josie’s unhappy face dispelled the thought. He asked the typical male question, “Are you sure you’re pregnant?”

She masked a flash of impatience. “I’ve tested twice and had two positive responses. My body’s changing as well and I keep on being sick in the mornings. Yes, I’m sure, Simon.”

He struggled for time to think. She’d had weeks. He’d had two minutes. God, how a perspective can change in two minutes!

“Excuse me, Josie; I must just get another glass of wine. Would you like more coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

When he returned and sat down she reached under the table and clasped his hand. “Are you cross with me, Simon?”

“Of course I’m not!” In truth, he didn’t know what he felt. She was more than a stranger, but less than a close friend. She’d been irresponsible, but he’d enjoyed the experience. His cosy existence might shortly be shattered. But she was in obvious distress. Simon had enjoyed a loving and warm relationship with his mother, and with her mother, his granny. One result of this was a clear and instant affinity with Josie now. He could no more have abandoned her, in her predicament, than he could have turned down the chance of their sexual encounter in the campus car park, in the first place. Eventually he said, “What would you like us to do about it, Josie?” He sipped his wine and held his breath for her answer.

“I don’t know,” she sobbed again. Simon passed across a reasonably clean hankie and waited. “I like you, Simon. And I know I could like you a lot more.” She struggled for control. Simon cast his eyes about the place. There were still lots of empty tables and he recognised no one. She continued: “But I’m just eighteen and haven’t been anywhere in the world. I want to be a nurse.”

“Have you told your Mum, Josie?” He held his breath again. “No, she’d go mad and cry for days. My Dad would kill me!”

“Is there anyone else you could talk to?”

“Yes, but I wanted to talk to you first. It is YOUR baby as well as mine! What do YOU want, Simon?” Compared with him she was uneducated, but she had some wit about her. He should be sharing the decisions, not just leaving her to make the running.

Simon, to be fair, recognised his failing and set out to make up for it. “Josie, I want you to be happy in life. Not just now, but in the future too. What we must do is consider all the possibilities. Shall we talk about them?”

“I’m sorry if I sounded ratty, Simon. I’m not sleeping much. When I do think slowly about it, I know you’ll help me … How would you feel if I had an abortion? … I’m a lapsed Catholic, but our priest would have said it’s a mortal sin. Are you a Catholic?”

“No, Josie, I’m not at all religious. I think that at this stage of a baby’s development, personal wishes take absolute priority. One day, I’d like children. But I hadn’t planned on it being just yet.” Simon’s heart thudded with the suspense of what the girl might say next. He’d only lately had thoughts of that sort and, to his surprise they’d been coupled with Chloe. But he couldn’t say that, could he?

“I’m not ready to have a baby either, Simon. I wouldn’t know what to do with it. I think I’ll go to the Marie Stopes clinic in London. They offer expert counselling and if you want they arrange abortions by appointment.

Simon quietly released his breath. “How far gone are you, Josie?”

“Twelve weeks. You can have an abortion up to twenty-four weeks.” She clutched his hand again, under the table.

“Counselling sounds a good idea from an organisation like that, Josie. When would you go?”

“I could go next Tuesday afternoon, after work. But Simon, I haven’t enough money. I had to stay on at school and resit an exam. And I get rotten pay, so I only just manage. Would you be able to lend me some?”

“Josie, of course. And I don’t mean a loan. You were right. This is our problem. Do you know how much you need?” He looked around before discreetly fishing in his wallet. The place was beginning to fill.

“I think the first appointment is fifty pounds and I’d need the train fare to London.”

Simon pressed seventy-five pounds into her shaky hand. “Make an appointment, Josie. Be ready to talk everything through with the counsellor. Don’t worry; you’re not alone now.” He stopped short. She looked as if she might howl any minute.

They left the wine bar a few minutes later. Not before time. He saw a chap from the rugby club as they climbed the stairs.

At home, Josie went to her room to cry, pleading a headache. Simon sat in his recliner, drank half a bottle of wine and a large brandy and went to bed with a genuine headache.

*************

“Good afternoon!” The receptionist beamed her put-you-at-ease smile.

“I’m Josie Withington. I have a four o’clock appointment.”

“Let me see. Ah, yes. You’ll start with Dr Atkins in the Primrose room and then see her colleague Dr Adebola. Take a seat and I’ll say you’re here.”

There were two others waiting: one a girl of her own age, the other a woman of forty or more. They all exchanged forced smiles. She wondered what their stories were.

“Josie Withington? I’m Jennifer Atkins. Come in and sit down, do. Would you like a drink?”

She sat. “No thank you, Doctor, I’m all right.”

The session lasted about twenty minutes. For the last ten they were joined by Dr. Mary Adebola. They were very helpful and pointed up all the considerations as the meeting progressed. Was she in a permanent relationship with the father? Had she told her parents? Would they be supportive? Did she have financial resources? Did she enjoy good health? Did she want a baby? Would she be able to care for a baby and earn a living for them both? Where would she live? Did she have any plans for her life?

By the end, it was crystal clear to Josie that she wanted an abortion; She went off to an examination room with Dr. Adebola who confirmed her pregnancy and its details. At its conclusion, the doctor advised her that she and her colleague agreed with her and felt an abortion might be in her best interests. Further, that this would be best done as soon as possible.

They went back to reception and made an appointment for termination on the following Saturday, when she would be thirteen weeks. The procedure would be carried out under a general anaesthetic and she would be at the clinic for about three hours, to allow for recovery. The cost would be £300.

*************

Josie telephoned from the station. “Hello Simon, it’s me. I’ve just got back.”

“Hi Josie. How did you get on, then? Are you OK?”

“Yes, fine. Everything was good. They were very nice and helpful … Simon I’ve booked to have it done this Saturday coming, at eleven in the morning!”

Simon, sitting at home at his computer, gave a silent prayer of thanks. “Josie, I think that’s best for you. You’ve made the right decision if you think so and the clinic agrees. Have you any more details?” It was the politest way he could think of saying how much do I need from the bank.

“I hope I’m doing the right thing, Simon? I have to have a general anaesthetic … I’ll be in the clinic for about three hours to allow for recovery. They charge three hundred pounds.”

He was shocked into remorse and caring mode. General anaesthetic made it sound a full-blooded operation. He must do more than provide money. Bugger the money!

“Josie I want to take you and see you’re all right afterwards.” He heard her little sob down the telephone.

“Thank you Simon … I would feel better if I didn’t have to worry about getting there. Half of me would rather do it on my own. The other half is not so sure.”