Chapter Five

Chapter Five
         Janice Farnell parked her Landrover outside the Greenwood Health Centre for another afternoon’s session with two very different but equally complex clients. She felt it impossible to categorise them, the pain they felt, the difficulties they were fighting in their lives. You cannot rank pain and put it on a scale of one to ten, she often said to her husband, Jimmy. And of course, they knew all about pain, she and her Jimmy. That was what had catapulted her into this line of work in the first place. Having had a wonderfully competent counsellor at their beck and call when they were grieving for the loss of their thirteen year old son was pretty much the only thing that had got her safely through to the other side. That, and the support of their friends and family, of course, but your close ones often don’t know what to say to you. Skirting around the subject, freezing up with terror at the thought of saying the wrong thing and in time, they end up doing so anyway.
         ’Life must go on’ was a classic line, expressed with puppy eyes full of sympathy. Of course it must go on but she simply couldn’t see how or what sense it would make to go on without her Sammy.
         As she walked the corridors of the Surgery towards her makeshift office, she shrugged off her thoughts and effortlessly went back into her professional mode; a skill she had learnt to master over the years. She sat down on Dr Miriam Brown’s swivel chair, moved a stack of notes to one side and retrieved her own two client files from her black leather briefcase. Anthony Metcalf and Lucy Cox.
         Anthony had lost his wife two months earlier to cancer and was clearly traumatised. She could relate to his profound sense of loss and knew how little words could comfort him in this sad time. The only thing she could do – as was mostly the case – was to be the proverbial shoulder, and he did cry plenty. Less now, after four sessions. He was starting to get a grip on the situation, making holiday plans for him and his teenage daughter. Small, tentative steps.
         Lucy on the other hand, was still ‘raw’. For an attractive and by all accounts successful young woman she, too, had her share of burdens. Not uncommon, her situation but then most situations weren’t – after twelve years in the job Janice had sat through most forms of personal trauma and anguish. However, it didn’t stop her from applying the correct degree of sympathy while not diverging from the task at hand: to help the client. Becoming too emotionally involved didn’t serve either of them any purpose yet she had to grow to empathise with the clients, get to know them and understand them. For while circumstances, bar a handful of extreme cases, rarely differed, people were very different and each client had to be treated with varying levels of gentleness and interference, however the guidance she gave was crucial.
         After an hour in the company of Anthony Metcalf, Janice gently closed the door behind him, sat back in her chair and swivelled it around so she could look out of the window. Watching people park their cars, loading them with shopping, helping young children or elderly relatives in and out of the cars helped her return from the difficult session with Anthony to reality. If that was in fact the correct expression. Perhaps Anthony’s life was more real than those of the people out there in the car park.
         Although he had been making some progress in the previous two months, Anthony had taken a severe knock-back since their last session. His teenage daughter, enraged and distraught by her mother’s death, was lashing out in any way possible. She was blaming Anthony, shouting at her father that if he had cared for Mummy better, she would still be alive. Anthony had found his daughter going through his private emails, his post and photographs. It was as if she was looking for proof that her mother’s death was brought on, sped up or directly related to something her father had done.
         When the young girl had observed her daddy talking to the mother of one of her classmates, she had blown a fuse and accused him of having an affair all along at worst, of betraying her mother’s memory at best. It appeared as though the holiday was off, as young Lillian was now refusing to be seen anywhere with her dad. Janice suggested that Anthony brought along his daughter to the next session. He said he would try but couldn’t promise anything.
          “It will take time. She is grieving and you are an obvious target for her anger and confusion. You need to reassure her that you love her while also looking out for yourself. You must not allow her anger consume you but help her channel it properly. Going through your stuff is not the solution.”
          “I know,” he said, loosening his tie and removing his glasses so as to wipe the tears from his eyes. “Lillian is all I have left now and she is pushing me away. It feels like I am grieving doubly, if you know what I mean.”
          “Of course. At a time such as this, we need a support network around us. If that support removes themselves from us or places false accusations at our doors, then that can be extremely painful.” That was when she had suggested the joint-sessions.
         Anthony shook his head, “I doubt she’ll come.”
          “From where I am sitting, it’s worth a try.” And that is where the session had ended.
         Janice sighed as she watched a young mother placing her little girl in the car seat. The girl was clutching a red balloon on a long piece of string, and as the young woman was about to close the door, the little girl let go of the balloon. Janice watched it rising high and disappearing behind the trees. The little girl wailed as the mother shook her head. She put her head into the car, seemed to talk to the little girl, closed the car door and they drove off. Normality. Just another normal, everyday occurrence.
         Sammy would have been thirty this August – Janice wondered if he would have been a father, a husband by now. She felt irritated with herself for allowing thoughts of Sammy to slip into her mind on a working day. She rose briskly and went to make herself a cup of tea.

         Grace arose to another beautiful autumn day. It was already late in the morning; she had called Laura to tell her she would not be in til late in the afternoon. She and Tammy had been out the night before, eaten at the Shanghai Nights and then carried on to a trendy bar where they had remained til the early hours of the morning. Unlike most people, Grace rarely suffered with hangovers and so she swung her legs out of the bed, pulled back the covers and opened the curtains. She slipped on her dressing gown and slippers and headed for the stairs. Pausing briefly outside the guest room, she decided to let Tammy sleep a little longer.
         The house was soon filled with the smells of frying bacon, toast and fresh coffee. Tammy stretched sleepily in her bed, looked around the Green Room with a smile on her face. She held onto her head, which still seemed to be spinning. Yawning, she got up, ran a brush through her hair and put it in a ponytail. Downstairs, Grace was singing along to a Four Tops song, and not too out of tune either. Locking the bathroom door behind her, she sat for a long while on the seat of the toilet, feeling quite awful. She retrieved her toiletry bag from the cabinet and searched it frantically for her painkillers. Pressing two tablets from the silver wrapping, she gulped them down with a glass of water, then returned to the toilet seat where she sat for several minutes, her head buried in her hands, before turning on the shower.
         The bathroom was soon filled with steam from the hot running water, and she slipped out of her boxer shorts and t-shirt, her sleeping attire, hoping she would feel refreshed after a power shower.
          “Tammy, are you up yet? Breakfast is ready”, Grace called from the bottom of the stairs some minutes later.
          “Just drying myself off and then I’ll be down”, she replied. As she brushed her teeth, she had a nosy peek inside Grace’s cabinet. She was not surprised to see Grace used good quality toiletries, and also had good taste in perfume. Tammy pulled on her black Nike sweatpants – previous lovers told her it made her bum look even sexier – a bra, and cropped top. She was proud of her toned body, at the age of thirty-five she could easily compete with women ten years younger than her. She applied some of Grace’s moisturiser, sprayed on her perfume and smiled at her own reflection, then headed down for breakfast.

          “So, how have you been since we last met?” Janice asked Lucy as she sat down on the chair opposite her, giving her a small smile and trying to glean from the expression on her face what her reply might be. Her eyes were puffy and she looked tired, much less in control than she expected her to be. People are so very different, she thought once more; she had expected Lucy to take on board a lot of what they discussed during the initial assessment. And, she also expected Lucy to have made some headway since then.
          “Honestly? I don’t know how I could be any worse!” Lucy exclaimed and grabbed one of the tissues from the box on Janice’s desk. The counsellor watched the young woman in front of her blowing her nose, trying to regain her composure. In many ways, she reminded her of herself and this only increased her liking of her. They gelled as some people might call it, and at times she resented the professional distance she had to retain between herself and Lucy. She wanted to cross that barrier, to put a motherly arm around her and tell her everything would be ok. Of course, that was not her job nor was it deemed appropriate.
          “Why don’t you tell me what has happened?” she asked instead.
          “I found out last week that I am pregnant. It’s Adam’s baby” Lucy began, and after a long pause she continued, “He doesn’t want us.”
         They discussed at length the phone conversation with Adam as it had taken place. Much as Mandy had done, Janice suggested that perhaps the baby had come as too much of a shock to Adam and that he might yet change his mind.
          “I doubt it. He hasn’t exactly been communicative. He is shutting me out, showing me quite firmly that I am on my own. All contact has been instigated by me.”
          “What do you mean?”
          “Well, I sort of expected him to call me, maybe even stop by for a visit, or send a text message at least, to ask how I am. He’s done nothing of the sort, as if he couldn’t care less.”
          “Maybe he is worried about your reaction?” Janice suggested.
          “Worried I am going to keep the baby and spoil his perfect little world, more like!” Instead of getting up to put the sodden tissues in the bin, Lucy screwed them up into a ball, twisting and turning them in her hands.
          “That sounds quite harsh. Do you really think that is the case?”
          “Well, yes! Why else would he say I am the love of his life, that he wants us to be together forever and to have a family one minute, and the next minute he acts like I am only dirt off the bottom of his shoe. I feel as if it was all lies, you know, that he deceived me all along. That he never meant any of it and that his intention was always to go back to his wife. He was only out for what he could get in the meantime.” Lucy struggled to believe the words herself as she was saying them. She didn’t really believe this to be the case but nor was she one hundred percent sure it wasn’t true. Her grieving heart filled her head with so much doubt it was difficult for her to know what to think.
          “Have you thought about what you are going to do?”
“I have thought of nothing else. Every waking minute of every hour I think about it. I hardly sleep because I lay awake, thinking about it. I am so torn. On the one hand, I have been here before, pregnant and the father doesn’t want me to keep the baby. Well, in Adam’s case I suppose it’s not so much a case of not wanting me to keep it but not wanting to be involved. Amounts to the same thing, I suppose. I feel so let down!”
          “Well, you are bound to feel let down. Twice now the men that you have loved have rejected the child you are carrying for them. That must be very hurtful.”
          “It is,” she said quietly. “I am also very torn about what to do. The first termination still haunts me, whenever I think about it I feel wrenched with guilt, it is so painful. In a way, now that I have the boys, it makes it even worse because now I know what it’s like to be a mum and I love it. In moments like that, I want to keep the baby. It’s a brother or sister to my twins. This isn’t the baby’s fault, you know. But then I think about the next eighteen years and I wonder whether it wouldn’t be best for everyone if I didn’t keep it. I mean, I am not exactly setting the boys a very good example, am I? And how am I supposed to be moving on with my life, pregnant with the baby of someone who doesn’t appear to give a toss? Nobody would touch me with a bargepole, would they?” Her hands shaking, she wiped tears from her bloodshot eyes.
          “I think about midwife’s appointments, on my own, choosing clothes, toys, furniture et cetera for the baby, all on my own. And the birth…” she paused, grabbing fresh tissues from the box and finally discarding the drenched ones, now in tatters.
          “It’s a very tough decision but one that only you can make” Janice felt her heart bleeding for Lucy and more than ever wanted to cross the professional barrier to give her a hug.
          “What are you going to do in the near future? I mean, how far gone are you?”
          “Five weeks. I am seeing my GP after this session. He confirmed the pregnancy last week, I am going to ask for a referral to the Clinic; I think I am going to have a termination.”

         Dr Clive Chen, the eldest son of a second generation Chinese family originating from Hong Kong, looked at the young patient in front of him. His unfailing professionalism meant he saw not just an illness or a patient, but the person. He always tried hard not to just hand out prescriptions and be done with it, and it was a characteristic his wife did not appreciate. He often took his work home, even if he did not discuss it with her.
         They had been married for three years. So far, it was a childless marriage, and Megan had never worked a day in her whole life. She, too, came from a respectable Chinese family although her parents were somewhat obtuse and old-fashioned. Some of their views were positively Victorian although they were far too young to have lived in that era. Megan had thus had very little experience of love and affection, and her ignorance of other people’s feelings often frustrated and angered him.
         As well as seeing the patient, the symptoms, the pain and the complications for the woman in front of him, he also saw just that: the woman. She is beautiful, he thought and wondered how anyone would not want to be with her. She had explained in great detail the nature of her predicament, that she was pregnant with the child of a married man who had now returned to his wife and didn’t want to be involved with the child. The wife must be some heck of a woman, he concluded, pushing to the back of his own mind the commitment, the ties that comes with marriage. Come hell or high water, there was no way he could ever get divorced. Then again, Megan kept the reins so tight that he didn’t have much of a chance of meeting anyone else.
          “You are only five weeks gone, Lucy. The procedure can be carried out safely up until you are twelve weeks gone. Some private clinics offer procedures up until the pregnancy is sixteen weeks.” He took great care not to use the terms ‘termination’, ‘baby’ or even ‘foetus’.
          “I doubt I could go to sixteen weeks and then still have a termination. I would be far too attached to the baby by then”, Lucy replied.
          “All right, well, the next step is for you to see the Family Planning Clinic at Riverside. They will explain your options to you; I think they also have an onsite counsellor. After the consultation they will then send you an appointment for the actual procedure.” He scribbled away on his pad as he made the referral to the Clinic, and then looked up at Lucy.
          “It’s not too late to change your mind. You’ve got seven weeks’ thinking time.”
         Lucy sighed heavily. “I know, but if we could set up the appointment with the Clinic then that gets the ball rolling. I don’t want to leave it too late and find I have run out of time or become too attached.”
         He nodded, understanding what she meant. “Right well, the waiting time for consultations with the clinic is usually a week to ten days. They will send a letter to your home address – is that all right?”
         Lucy nodded.
          “In the meantime, if you have any questions please make an appointment to see me, or give me a call. The receptionist will put you through.” He gave her a small smile, knowing how little his words must be of comfort to her.

         Mandy knocked on the back door and bounded in, not waiting for a response. She found her friend and the two boys in the kitchen, eating a junk food takeaway. Lucy appeared to be picking at her chips, and Mandy thought she looked as though she had lost weight rather than put any on.
          “Auntie Mandy!” the boys shrieked as she put her handbag on the kitchen surface. She got down on one knee and embraced them both.
          “Hello, you monsters! What are you eating?”
          “Burgers and chips!” Georgie shouted.
          “I am having fish fingers and chips!” James said, squirting more tomato sauce onto his plate.
          “Well, aren’t you lucky! Can I have some, please?”
          “Have mine” Lucy said, “I am not really hungry.” She pushed her plate away.
          “No you have it, Lucy, you look like you could do with it. Besides, I am on a diet!”
          “Since when?” Lucy asked, turning to look at her friend.
          “Arh, since this very minute! Now, how about a brew?”
         Lucy made to get up but Mandy pushed her back into her seat.
          “I know where everything is, you stay there and eat! Do you want a cuppa, too?”
          “All right, then” Lucy replied, then chattered with the boys as if this was just another normal day. Mandy admired her for having the strength to keep up appearances at least in front of the boys. They were old enough to be perceptive but too young to be involved or fully understand.
         Mandy jumped onto the worktop as she waited for the kettle to boil. From this position, she could reach the mugs and the stainless steel tea bag container. On her immediate right, the fridge was also within reach and she poured a small amount of milk into the bottom of the two mugs.
          “Have you heard anything from Adam at all?” she asked over the sound of the boys chatting about England’s latest defeat against Australia. Cricket, she thought. What is it with men and bloody cricket?
         Lucy rose and started clearing the table, throwing the food wrappings into the bin. The twins had now finished their dinner, and she ran the tap, holding a flannel into the water with which she washed the boys’ hands. They ran into the living room and switched on the television; Lucy closed the door behind them for privacy as Mandy poured the boiling water into the mugs.
          “Well, has he been in touch?”
          “No. Not a word. I tried calling him after I saw my GP but the phone went to answer phone and I didn’t want to leave a message. He knows now that I tried to call, it should be up to him to call me back. If he can be bothered, that is”, she said, fighting back tears.
          “Come here, give me a hug.” Lucy approached her friend who was still sat on the kitchen worktop. She flinched as Lucy put her arms around her waist.
          “What’s the matter?” she asked, pulling away from Mandy.
          “Nothing. I went kickboxing last night, got kicked in the back.”
          “I told you it’s a dangerous pursuit,” it didn’t sound like the reprimand it was supposed to be, she didn’t have the strength to give Mandy a full-blown telling off.
          “I know, but never mind about that. What are you going to do?”
          “I wish I knew”, she said, sitting down by the kitchen table and lighting a cigarette from Mandy’s packet. Since giving up smoking when she was trying to get pregnant with the twins, Lucy had become an occasional social smoker. She blew out the smoke and sipped her tea.
          “I’ve made an appointment to go to the clinic. After an initial assessment they then give me an appointment to come back for… you know. From what Dr Chen was saying, it could take about two weeks before it’s all over.”
          “So, Adam has two weeks to change his mind” Mandy said, also lighting up a cigarette.
          “I suppose you could look at it that way. I doubt he will though.” She was interrupted by the sound of her mobile phone ringing. The digital display showed it was Adam calling.
          “It’s him.”
          “Well, pick it up. You stay here, I’ll go look after the boys.”
          “Thanks” she mouthed as she took the call.
          “Lucy?”
         She cleared her throat. “Yes?”
          “Hello, it’s me.”
          “Hi.”
          “I am sorry I couldn’t take your call earlier, I was in a meeting.”
          “That’s all right.”
         After a long pause he asked, “how are you doing? Or is that a stupid question?”
          “If I said ‘yes’ to the last question, would that answer them both?”
          “I am sorry. I just don’t know what to say…”
         She felt his awkwardness and couldn’t help but feeling sorry for him. She knew this must be a difficult time for him, too. At least, if he was the man she thought he was, he would be finding it difficult.
          “I am ok, considering,” she finally said. “I ehm… I went to see Dr Chen today. I have been referred to the family planning clinic.” She paused for a response from Adam but received none. “I should get an appointment for the consultation in a couple of days time. If I… if I decide to go ahead then it should all be over in a couple of weeks.”
          “Right.”
          “Please don’t let this happen, Adam. I love you, I want to save this baby. Please.” She was pleading, begging, exactly how she had promised herself not to behave.
          “There’s nothing I can do, I am sorry.”
          “Yes there is, you can take responsibility for this!”
          “No, I can’t… I just can’t.”
          “Why not? You told me you loved me!”
          “I know, and I do’, he insisted, ‘but it’s not enough.”
          “But this makes us a family, we can still make this work!”
          “I already have a family. I can’t have any more children.”
          “Well, you’ve changed your bloody tune! That’s not what you were saying when we were planning a future together!”
          “I know. Look, I am sorry,” he said quietly. “I will support you financially but I cannot get emotionally involved, and I am not coming back. You are on your own. It’s up to you, Lucy.”
         She disconnected the phone, stunned once more at how cold he was, this loving, warm human being she had loved with intensity beyond words. Correction, loves beyond words. She still could not bring herself to hate him. Perhaps in time. Perhaps hating him would make this whole thing easier. No, it was hoping which was her downfall. While she retained hope for them she was doomed. She knew it, yet clung to every microscopic amount of it. A hope which now seemed to dwindle into the distance, beyond her reach.
          “What did he say?” One look at her friend told her all she needed to know. Closing the kitchen door behind her once more, she hugged her and they stood like that for ages, holding on to one another. “I am so sorry”, Mandy whispered as Lucy sobbed into her shoulders.
         After a while, she told Mandy exactly what Adam had said. Listening intensely, she felt angry with this man who had wrecked the life of her best friend, hated him even if Lucy refused to. But it wasn’t just the mess he’d left Lucy in which so angered her; he was also recklessly throwing away an innocent life. And to think that people like she and Mike, good people, were desperate for a chance at parenting yet for the sake of sheer potluck were prevented from doing so. A lottery, that’s what her consultant had called it. People like Adam deserve to pay, she thought. Who the hell was he to play God like this. I’ll make sure he pays, she decided as she led Lucy into the lounge and lit her friend another cigarette.

         Much, much later, Mandy sat for a long time in the darkness of her car, parked on her driveway. She listened to a romantic tune on Jazz FM, then turned the key and locked the car. She walked with heavy feet to her front door and let herself in. She took off her shoes by the door and flicked on the bathroom light, with a strip of light spilling into the lounge. A large bouquet of lilies adorned the dining table. She walked on tiptoes and read the card. “I am sorry,” it said.