Babyville Page 0,69
stood up and is holding a hand up to silence me.
“It's all right, Maeve,” he says, and my explanation has had exactly the desired effect. It's female, it's gynecological, and therefore he doesn't want to hear any more about it. “I completely understand. Do you need any time off? Is there anything we can do?”
“I'm fine,” I say, grinning on the inside. “I may need a couple of days but I'll give you good warning. They'll probably want to do a laparoscopy to investigate the—”
“Fine, fine.” He's already halfway out the door. “Just take whatever you need.” And with that he disappears back up to the safety of his office.
It's Nat's birthday and we're all off to lunch to celebrate. I tell the others I'll be along in a little while, tell them I just have some stuff to do in the office first, and I sit at my desk for a few minutes, bracing myself before I pick up the phone.
“Viv, it's me.”
“How are you, love?”
“Nervous. I'm going to phone the clinic now. I just wanted to talk to you first.”
“Do you think that maybe you're not doing the right thing?” Again there's hope in her voice.
“No, Viv. I am doing the right thing. It's just so scary, having to actually do this. Look, I'm fine. Sorry. I'd better go now, just to get it over and done with.”
“Good luck,” Viv says, but her voice is flat. “You'll be fine. I'll come with you.”
“I know, Viv,” I say. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Well Woman Clinic. Hello?”
“Oh hello. I wonder whether I could make an appointment to come and see you?”
“Of course. Is it a smear?''
My voice drops. I can't help it. Admitting it to someone else feels so shameful. “No. An abortion.”
“Of course. Can I ask how many weeks pregnant you are?”
“I think eight weeks. Maybe nine.”
“That's fine. You'll need to come in and have a consultation first. How about this Friday? At three P.M.?”
I quickly shuffle through my diary. “Yes, that's fine.”
“Do you know where we are?”
“Yes.” My finger traces the address in the Yellow Pages. Station Road.
“And if I can just take your details.”
I give them to her, feeling as if I'm making an appointment with the dentist, because this seems so ordinary, and I put the phone down, swivel my chair round and smile the first proper smile I've smiled all day.
Until I see Stella.
We just look at one another for a while.
“I'm so sorry.” She looks at the floor. “I came back to get my mobile and I walked in on your conversation and I tried not to listen but . . .”
I don't know what to say. I feel a bit shaky, so I keep sitting down, and I just look at Stella, who eventually looks at me.
“I suppose that explains the Mad Bitch from Hell?” She attempts a grin, and suddenly I want to tell her everything. I want to be able to confide in someone other than Viv, and something about Stella just tells me I can trust her.
“Don't tell anyone?” I whisper. “Please. Swear you won't tell anyone.”
“Oh God, of course I swear. I swear on my life. But are you okay? How do you feel?”
I hesitate for a second, but I need to talk about this, I have to talk about this. “Other than mad, and bitchy, I'm fine. Oh, and angry, and tearful. And generally as if I'm completely losing the plot. But other than that I'm fine. Can't you tell?”
We both laugh.
“Have you ever had an abortion?” I venture, and Stella nods.
“It was a long time ago. I was at university and we were stupid and I had to have an abortion. I came back to London and had it done in the holidays.”
“How was it?”
“It was a long time ago, and I think when you're young you don't process things in the same way. I was eighteen. A child. It probably bothers me more now than it did then.” She stops, thinking she's said the wrong thing.
“I'd rather you tell me the truth,” I say to reassure her. “You don't have to censor yourself.”
“It's difficult. I do think about it now. A lot. But I know that there was absolutely no way I was ready to have a child at eighteen. I guess you're not ready either.”
“No. I'm not ready for a child. I don't want a child. Never have. I want a career. Independence. Freedom. I don't want to be trapped by a baby. Plus