Page 21 of The Three of Us
‘That’s fine. And your last period was…?’
She wouldn’t normally remember the date but this time, ever since she’d found that diary and started counting, it’s been imprinted on her brain.
‘The tenth of June.’
The girl is holding a thing in her hand. It looks like some sort of computer mouse, and she is moving it around in the stickiness, rolling it back and forth over Molly’s slightly rounded belly – when had that happened? – and the pressure is making her want to wee. ‘Yes, that sounds about right! Do you want to take a look?’
Molly turns her head towards the screen and there it is. A baby. Small, grey, hardly more than a blob, but it is moving, and it has a shape, a head. The girl is twiddling with her equipment, bringing up different images and close-ups on the screen, almost as if she’s editing a photo, looking for the best angle or adjusting the light. For a few moments she says nothing, just concentrates on doing her job.
‘Is everything all right?’
‘Well, from these measurements, I would say you are around eleven weeks. First trimester almost done already. And everything looks fine, honestly. I don’t think your fall has done any harm at all. Babies can be very resilient, and of course, he or she is very well protected in there!’
Molly nods. She doesn’t know what to say, it’s all so unexpected, so unreal. Eleven weeks! How can she not have known, not even suspected, for so long?
‘You will need to check in with your own GP and get yourself into the system. There will be midwife appointments, some antenatal classes, and you’ll be given all the paperwork so you can have free prescriptions and dental care.’ She is handing Molly a big piece of paper, like a chunk of thick kitchen roll. ‘There. All done. You can give yourself a wipe clean and pull your gown back round now.’
Molly sits up and adjusts her clothing. ‘Thank you.’
‘All in a day’s work. And I’m sure you’ll be back here for more scans, scheduled ones, including the twenty-week one, of course, where we will be better able to tell you the sex… if you want to know, of course.’
‘That may have to be at a different hospital actually. I’ve recently moved, to London. I was just here visiting when I had the fall.’
‘That’s fine. Just make sure you register somewhere. And, in the meantime, congratulations, Molly. It’s lovely to meet your baby for the first time, isn’t it? Would you like a picture?’
Molly stands on the steps outside and takes in a big breath of fresh air. There’s always that strange chemical smell in hospitals, like someone has tipped a big bottle of bleach over everything, which they probably have. She had given in and allowed them to X-ray her, with all precautions in place, and it is a simple break, one they have assured her will heal well, and quickly. Her wrist has been plastered and her arm is in a sling but that hardly seems to matter anymore. It doesn’t hurt, even though she has refused any sort of pain relief. She may not be able to write or clean her teeth, or even wipe her own bottom, without learning to use her left hand, but it’s temporary and it could have been so much worse. All she can really think about now is the baby. The baby is okay, healthy, unharmed.
The first person she wants to tell is Jack, but the look on his face when he stormed out has made it pretty clear he’s not in the mood for celebrating. But he will come round, won’t he? They’ve been married for five years. They are not teenagers anymore. They have a home, an income. It’s not unusual to start a family at this stage of life, is it? So, okay, it wasn’t planned, they hadn’t talked about it, and she should have told him the minute she suspected, but none of that can be changed now. What’s done is done.
She looks at her watch. It’s already half past two. Their train back to London leaves soon. She wonders if he has gone already, grabbed his stuff and left without her. Or would he have put it off, waited to switch to a later train so they can go together?
She takes out her phone and hesitates. Will he even answer? Possibly not. So she dials home instead. Well, her parents’ home, technically, although it will always feel like home to her.
Her mum answers on the second ring. ‘Molly! How are you, love? We’ve been so worried.’
‘I’m all right. It’s broken, but not too badly, and I’m all plastered up and ready to come back. Is Jack there?’
‘No, love. We assumed he was with you. He took the car and headed off to the hospital a couple of hours ago. Didn’t he turn up?’
‘Yeah, he did, but he didn’t stop long.’
‘Really? Well, where can he be then?’ Her mother sounds puzzled. ‘Can’t you call him and get him to come back for you? You’ll be needing a lift home.’
‘I’ll do that. Don’t worry. I’ll see you soon. And get the kettle on. The stuff they give out here is awful!’
She hangs up and walks across to a bench, perching on the end and turning her back to avoid the smoker in a dressing gown and slippers who is occupying the other end. She could call a taxi, or Ralph, but she has to speak to Jack at some point, and if he’s got her dad’s car, he will have to go back to the house anyway.
It takes him a while to pick up, but he doesn’t speak. ‘Jack? Are you there?’
‘Yes.’ His voice, when it comes, is clipped, abrupt. ‘So? Are you done? Both of you okay?’
She doesn’t like the way he emphasises the word both. There is something grudging about it. Cold. There is a lot of noise in the background and it’s hard to hear him at all, but she hears that.
‘Yes. The wrist’s broken. Baby’s all right. I’m ready to leave. Jack, where are you?’
‘Just out. Having a drink. Taking in the news. Wetting the baby’s head.’ Sarcasm hangs heavily in every word.
‘A drink? Is that a good idea? When you’re driving?’