The Two Week Wait (22 page)

‘You’re staying with Mike and Sukey?’

‘Er . . . Probably not, actually.’

‘Oh dear, still a bit tricky there, then?’

‘You could say that, yes.’ He avoids being drawn. He’d like to repair the rift with Mike and Sukey but it’s unfair to enlist his parents-in-law as peacemakers. Cath
remains unwilling to bend, and this is her family, she could well accuse him of interfering. ‘I’m hoping it’ll blow over if we give it time,’ he says.

‘Probably wise.’

There’s a silence while they both ponder what to say next. Put the two of us on such personal terrain and we’re pretty awkward, thinks Rich.

‘Is that Rich?’ Judy must have come into the room.

‘Yes,’ says Peter.

‘Have you told him about the money?’ she says.

‘Ooh, no,’ says Peter.

‘Silly old man,’ says Judy, her tone one of affection. ‘Let me have a word.’ She comes onto the line. ‘Hi, pet. We just wanted to let you know that we’ve
cashed in a few savings to help you with that funny itsy thing.’

‘Itsy?’ Rich is puzzled.

‘You know, the extra thing in the IVF. Cath said it was £800 and you were both having a bit of a problem raising the money.’

‘Ah, you mean
ICSI
.’ Rich smiles to himself. Then he frowns: he’d no idea Cath had asked her parents for assistance. He’s at once perturbed, grateful and
embarrassed. Again he has the sense they should be helping their elders, rather than being bailed out by them. He’s annoyed with his wife for not consulting him. Though maybe she thought
he’d say no. And the truth is they
could
really do with the cash. Now is not the moment to be macho.

‘Wow, that’s wonderful,’ he says. ‘Thank you so much.’

‘No problem,’ says Judy. ‘We’ll pop a cheque in the post.’

But it is a problem, thinks Rich, once he’s rung off; now there are even more people with an investment in the treatment. He’s just considering giving Cath a piece of his mind when,
again, he stops himself. Don’t be a fool, he realizes. Judy and Peter would have an investment in this IVF whether they contribute financially or not. It’s a possible grandchild
they’re all talking about.

It’s Karen’s birthday tonight,
says the text,
and she’s got a babysitter, so I’ve lured her out for bangers and mash at the
Shakespeare’s Head. Realize it’s late notice but be great if you could join us. I’m bringing my new beau and I’d like you to meet him. Plus I worry it’s a difficult
day for Karen without Simon – perhaps we can take her mind off it. Ax

Oh dear, thinks Lou. She’s been up to London for a scan and is on the train home, but her head is still thudding. She’s supposed to take her medication at the same time each day and
her syringes are at the flat, so she’ll have to go home first; she is very tempted to make her excuses. On the other hand, she wants to be there for Karen, and she’s curious about this
new man – Anna met him online and seems very taken with him. Karen’s told Lou that from the photos he didn’t appear as good-looking as Steve, Anna’s ex, and they’re
both keen to check he seems likely to treat their friend well.

Lou shifts in her seat, trying to get comfortable. Her abdomen and breasts are tender; she’s bloated. Whereas the initial drugs shut off the supply of oestrogen, now she’s taking
hormones to make her body produce more eggs. So in less than a fortnight she’s gone from menopausal to premenstrual; neither has exactly made her feel genial.

Don’t be so self-pitying, she scolds herself. Celebrating a birthday can’t be easy in widowhood. I’m not even pregnant yet, and I don’t have to get up early as it’s
the school holidays. I should snatch this chance to socialize.

An hour later, she arrives at the Shakespeare’s Head. The wooden tables on the pavement out front are heaving with people; Lou guesses many are students who are staying in Brighton over
the summer. There’s a young man strumming a guitar, two Indie kids smooching, a group backslapping congratulations to a guy who sounds to have landed a new job, the usual crowd of smokers,
and a few commuters in suits en route home. By the door is a couple with a bewitchingly beautiful Weimaraner dog who is wagging his tail, relishing the attention of customers going in and out.

Inside, it takes Lou a moment to locate her friends; they’re not in the main room, with its rowdy board-game players and even louder music. Instead they’re in a small candlelit room
at the back.

‘Ah, here you are,’ says Lou. ‘Happy birthday!’ She hands Karen a bouquet.

‘Hello!’ Anna and Karen rise to greet her with a kiss.

‘Was getting a bit cold outside,’ explains Anna.

‘Bit noisy next door,’ says Karen.

‘Another year older, another year more middle-aged,’ says the man next to Anna, raising his glass. The three of them chink drinks, then he gets to his feet. ‘Hi, I’m
Rod.’ He shakes Lou’s hand. ‘What can I get you?’ In spite of his vertically striped shirt, he can’t hide the fact he’s overweight. Lou takes in a cloud of white
hair, ruddy face and thick black eyebrows. Karen was right: he is not especially handsome, but he seems confident.

‘Well?’ says Anna, while he’s at the bar. ‘What do you think of him?’

Lou laughs. ‘Goodness! I need a bit longer to make my assessment.’

‘You didn’t even introduce her,’ chides Karen, admiring her flowers.

‘Didn’t I?’ says Anna. Lou can tell she’s flustered. It’s strange to see her friend this way; normally she’s guarded, inclined to play it cool. On first
impression she can appear intimidating, icy. But there’s a skittishness to her tonight and Lou can see she is blushing.

Lou turns to Karen. ‘Anyway, have you had a nice day?’

‘I have. The childminder helped Molly and Luke make me this.’ She puts down the bouquet, reaches into her bag and pulls out a large card. There is Karen, dressed in a triangle skirt
and giant earrings and shoes, with an even bigger smile. Lou guesses Molly drew this. Alongside is a more painstaking rendition of a cake laden with candles. ‘Forty-three exactly. I counted.
So now the world knows.’ They must be Luke’s contribution.

‘That’s gorgeous.’

‘And this afternoon Anna – bless her – paid for me to have some beauty treatments in town.’

‘Sounds great,’ says Lou. There’s a beat’s silence, while they all think that it should be Simon pampering her. But will it help to say so? It’s a fine balance,
giving Karen the space to express her grief when she needs to, taking her mind off her loss when she’d rather not focus on it.

As if she reads Lou’s mind and wants to steer her, Karen says, ‘Look, I had my nails done,’ and proudly brandishes a set of startlingly bright red talons.

‘Wow,’ says Lou. They don’t seem Karen’s style at all.

‘They’re not real,’ confesses Karen, leaning in close. ‘They’re extensions,’ she whispers.

‘Oh,’ says Lou. Well, if they make Karen happy.

As Rod returns with Lou’s lime and soda, Anna looks up, then suddenly pales.

‘Shit.’

‘What?’

She shrinks down in her seat. ‘Steve.’

‘Oh no,’ says Karen. ‘Where?’

‘The bar,’ mutters Anna, sliding lower. ‘You can see him through the hatch, straight across, there.’

‘Has he seen you?’ Karen edges forward and lets her curtain of chestnut hair fall to one side so as to shield her friend from view.

This is all we need, thinks Lou. She’s never met Anna’s ex in person but they’ve spoken on the phone – Lou tried to persuade him to get help with his drinking. She
wonders which of the men at the bar he is. She suspects he’s the one with straw-coloured hair and a tan – because yes, he’s handsome.

‘I’m not sure,’ says Anna.

‘Well, if he causes any trouble I’ll sort him out,’ says Rod, immediately puffing up like a threatened tomcat.

‘I wouldn’t,’ says Karen.

But it’s as if Rod has given off some pheromone alerting Steve to the presence of a sexual rival – at that moment he clocks them.

In a flash he has made his way over to them, swaying. ‘Who’s this?’ he leers.

Doubtless body language has betrayed that Anna is with Rod: if Lou could read it, Steve certainly will.

‘I’m Rod,’ says Rod, and holds out a hand. Steve doesn’t take it; Rod lets it fall.

‘You’re ancient,’ Steve says.

‘It’s Karen’s birthday,’ says Anna quietly. ‘Don’t ruin it, Steve.’

Steve leans down to Anna’s level. Lou can smell the booze on him. Perhaps he isn’t so good-looking after all; his grimace is not attractive.

‘Leave us alone, mate,’ growls Rod. ‘Can’t you tell she doesn’t want you bothering her?’

‘Oh, it’s your birthday, is it?’ Steve says to Karen. ‘Well,
happy birthday.’

‘Thanks,’ she mutters. Lou can see she is flushed with embarrassment and nerves.

‘This all looks very cosy. So this is your new boyfriend, then? Nice to see you’ve gone for someone your own age this time. And who’s this? I don’t think I know you . . .
You a boy or girl or what?’

‘Oi, that’s enough.’ Rod pushes back his chair. The atmosphere sparks with aggression; those sitting nearby sense it and bristle. Lou can see this escalating into a full-blown
fight, chairs flying, any moment. But she’s not scared; she’s used to dealing with threatening behaviour. She’s more worried about Anna and Karen. It’s a significant night
for them both.

‘I’m Lou.’ She is pointedly friendly. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Steve. We’ve spoken, actually, on the phone.’

He looks confused.

‘You’ve had a bit too much to drink,’ she says gently, and stands up to face him.

‘So?’

‘Come outside. I’d like to talk to you.’

‘Why?’

‘Just follow me. I can’t chat to you about it here.’

‘Lou—’ Karen catches her arm.

‘I’ll be OK.’

Out front, she takes a seat next to the couple with the Weimaraner. With such a big-jawed dog on hand, she calculates Steve is hardly likely to lash out. She pats the wooden bench alongside her
to indicate he should sit.

‘Is she with him?’ He jerks his head back inside.

Oh dear, thinks Lou. She can sense his pain. But she can’t lie to him. ‘Yes.’

‘Who is he?’

‘His name is Rod. Anna’s not been with him long, though really, this isn’t about him: this is about you.’

‘He looks like a cunt,’ says Steve.

Lou refrains from wincing. ‘I don’t think he does . . . But I don’t think it will really help you to focus on Rod right now.’

Steve looks at her. Behind his anger and bewilderment she can see a glimmer of interest. ‘What you want to talk to me about, anyway?’

She reminds him that she was the one who recommended he try AA. ‘It was a long while back, on the phone. I just wanted to ask you, why did you stop going to meetings?’

‘How d’you know I stopped?’

‘’Cos you’re drunk, my friend.’ She shakes her head. She’s seen this often in addicts – the denial, the rage, the hatred. She wants to get past these
defences. ‘It’s OK, I’m not going to judge you or anything; what’s done is done. Though it might be an idea not to have any more booze tonight.’

‘Don’t you go telling me what I can and can’t do!’ he says. His voice is loud; too loud. People close by turn and stare, wary.

It’s as if he senses general condemnation; something in him seems to shift. He mutters, ‘I can’t manage it . . . I was doing all right, and then . . . it all went
wrong.’

‘What went wrong?’

‘I dunno . . . ’ He looks at his feet. Lou notices the dog’s lead, wound around the leg of the table. It’s thick black leather, with a chain. ‘It’s so boring,
not drinking.’

No point in saying that intoxication hardly makes him riveting company. ‘Do you have a sponsor – someone to support you?’

‘Yes, but I’ve not seen him in ages.’

‘Why not?’

‘Oh, he got fed up with me.’ At once, it seems as if he’s about to cry. Still, it’s better than having him all fired up. This lurching of emotions is also familiar.

She lowers her voice. ‘Look at his colour,’ she says, admiring the dog’s silver-beige coat. ‘Here,’ – then she strokes his long floppy ears –
‘feel. They’re so soft.’ Soon they’re petting the Weimaraner together. His owners keep a close eye, but the dog, unaware of the role it is fulfilling, obliges without
fuss.

After a while Steve seems to forget about drinking, his maudlin mood, Anna and Rod, completely. Finally he gets up, announces he is leaving.

‘Bye,’ he says.

Lou has no idea where he is going, but doesn’t try to change his mind. He veers off down the road.

Back inside, Anna and Rod and Karen are relieved to see Lou return alone.

‘Gosh, thanks for that,’ says Anna. ‘How did you do it?’

Lou shrugs. ‘Used to it, I guess.’ She’s like Adam with the injections, unfazed.

‘I thought he was set to ruin another evening,’ says Karen. Lou suspects she’s remembering her husband’s funeral where Steve caused a dreadful scene.

‘Me too,’ says Anna.

‘Well,’ laughs Karen, slightly hysterical, ‘I don’t know about you, but I could do with another drink.’

‘I’ll get them,’ says Rod.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of laughter and conviviality. They’re joined by a few other local friends of Karen’s, and Rod pulls out the stops to charm them all.
It’s only on her way home that Lou is free to consider what has happened.

Steve is a hazard to himself, she thinks, picturing him staggering from the pub, and not just because he might get knocked over. Odds are he will carry on drinking – Lou doubts he’ll
go back to AA in the near future. She can tell. What has made him susceptible to the allure of alcohol, why can he not stop when others, like Karen and Anna and Rod, can? She wonders if his parents
got it wrong somehow, if he was abused in some way, or if they were alcoholics and he had a genetic predisposition. Who knows? Even after all the counselling Lou has been through and practised, she
doesn’t have any neat answers.

What a muddled up – and muddling – world I’m bringing a child into, she thinks, rubbing her tummy as she walks. She recalls the images she saw that afternoon on the scanner;
the honeycomb of follicles developing around her ovaries. Apparently when they get to 18mm they’ll be ‘ripe for harvesting’, as the sonographer put it, as if she’s a fruit
tree. Each follicle has the potential to become an egg; each egg could then become a baby. So which, if any, of the blurry dark shapes she saw on the sonogram is destined to become her child? If
she is that lucky, and does get pregnant, will she and Adam be able to care for a child adequately, nurture it so it doesn’t end up on a self-destructive path like Steve? Or can no amount of
loving insure against that? And what about the other baby, the one she won’t see? Which of the blurry shapes she saw is destined to become
that
baby, and what sort of parents will that
child be born to?