Reaction
Reaction
ON FRIDAY, LEO ARRIVED AT THE FLAT TO TAKE HER out. Claire had already disappeared for the night, and Ellen had her speech ready.
He kissed her cheek. ‘You look wonderful. I’ve missed you.’
‘Me too. Let’s not eat out,’ she said. ‘Let’s stay here. I’ve got a casserole that just needs reheating.’
‘You OK?’
‘I’m fine, just . . . feel like staying in.’
Since her conversation with Claire she’d been anxious, her head full of what-ifs and buts and maybes. Every possible scenario had played out in her head, and she’d realised that she wasn’t sure after all how her news would go down.
‘Fair enough. Should I go out and get wine?’
‘If you want some,’ she said. ‘Not for me.’
He smiled. ‘Not for you? Why not? Don’t tell me you’re on a diet.’
‘No, no diet.’ She took a breath. ‘Because, um . . . I’m pregnant.’ And just like that, he was told. After the eloquent, heartfelt words she’d been rehearsing all week, out it tumbled, landing with a thump between them like a wet sponge.
He froze, his smile growing glassy. He stood for a minute, his eyes on her but his thoughts in a place she couldn’t reach. ‘You’re pregnant? How?’
‘Well, it might have been that tummy bug, or food poisoning or whatever, on the way back from Ireland. That could have messed up the pill. But it’s not foolproof – Joan got caught, remember?’
Still no sign of how he was taking this. ‘Are you quite sure?’
‘I’m sure.’
He studied her. ‘And how do you feel about it?’
‘I’m happy, if you are.’ She began to be afraid. ‘I know it’s a . . . surprise.’ She’d been going to say shock.
‘It certainly is.’
Now there was no sign of a smile. His face was tense, a gathering of lines between his eyes. He didn’t look happy. Not remotely.
She thought of Ivan, and his clear blue gaze, and the way he’d wrapped his tiny hand around her finger the first time she’d seen him, and how it had caused a corresponding little tightening inside her.
Her speech arrived belatedly. ‘I’m going to have it, Leo. I’m going to keep it. I want to be a mother, and I think I’m ready. I’d like you to be a father, and for us to raise it together, but—’ she broke off, her voice threatening to break – ‘if it’s not what you want, I’ll understand.’
It would kill her. Losing him would destroy her – and still some instinct told her not to put pressure, not to make him feel trapped.
He looked down at his hands. A car passed in the street below. ‘We didn’t plan it,’ he said.
‘No. It was nobody’s fault.’
He lifted his head. ‘Ellen,’ he said, ‘I’m not sure I want to be a father.’
Everything in her plummeted to the floor. Her hands were suddenly cold. ‘But we’ve talked about children.’
‘We decided nothing.’
‘You’d be a good father,’ she said urgently. ‘You’re a good man, Leo.’
He gave a faint smile. ‘Not the same thing – and anyway, I’m not sure how good I am.’
‘What do you mean? Of course you are.’
‘I need to think,’ he said. ‘I need to be alone, Ellen.’
She had to resist an urge to grab him, to hold on to him. Not to allow him to go. ‘What about dinner?’ Stupid. Stupid. What did dinner matter?
‘I need to think,’ he repeated, already walking away. ‘I’ll call you.’ And he was gone, pulling the door softly closed behind him.
In a daze, she sank onto the futon. She spent the night there, curled up tight, too shocked to cry, too anguished to do more than fall into moments of sleep, only to jolt awake again and again to the fresh realisation of what had happened. All the next day she remained where she was, wrapped in a blanket, shivering with cold.
‘Look,’ Claire said, putting a mug of tea into her hands when she got home from work, ‘these things happen. I’ll help you,’ she said, setting a plate of beans on toast before Ellen. ‘You won’t be alone,’ she said, going for a shower – but Ellen didn’t want Claire, she wanted him. Were they over? No, no, no, no, no. She couldn’t countenance it, couldn’t see her life without him in it. Couldn’t lose someone else.
‘You want me to stay in tonight?’ Claire asked, already dressed to go out.
Ellen shook her head. ‘I’ll have an early night.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m sure.’
‘It’ll be OK. It’ll work out, Ellen. I’ll see you later,’ she said, pulling the door closed behind her, and Ellen tried not to feel abandoned by her too.
She sat as the light left the room, imagining her mother’s face when Ellen told her she was pregnant and single. Far worse than Joan, who’d had Seamus willing to marry her. And Frances – would Frances disapprove of single motherhood? Ellen couldn’t be sure of her reaction. But even if the world in its entirety turned its back on her, she knew she wouldn’t be able to do what Claire had done. She couldn’t put an end to something conceived in love; she couldn’t do it.
Just before ten o’clock the doorbell rang, snatching her out of a half-doze, making her heart thump. She looked out the window but couldn’t see who was there. She pressed the buzzer and waited, telling herself not to get her hopes up. Telling herself it could be anyone.
She heard footsteps approach the door. She opened it.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, Ellen.’
She looked at him dumbly. She didn’t know what he was sorry for.
He stepped inside and caught her hands and squeezed them. ‘Let’s do it, Ellen. Let’s have a baby.’
She couldn’t speak. No words came. ‘My darling,’ he said softly. He put a hand under her chin and kissed her lightly. ‘I don’t want to lose you. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.’ He gathered her into his arms and she leant against him, breathing herself calm.
At length they drew apart. ‘I need to eat,’ she said, suddenly starving. No dinner the previous evening, nothing all day today.
‘We can go out’ – but she was in no condition to dress up. She dumped Claire’s beans on toast, untouched and cold, and put more bread into the toaster. She cut cheese and placed the slices on the toast and slid it under the grill while he made tea and set out crockery, and she felt tender as a convalescent, and still half afraid to believe he was staying with her.
‘You’ll move into my house,’ he said, pouring tea into two cups. ‘Right?’
Breathe. Move in with him.
She put half a slice of toasted cheese on a plate and slid it across to him.
‘I know my house isn’t the most child-friendly, but we can work on that.’
‘Yes,’ she managed.
He stirred in milk for both of them. Gradually, she felt the tightness inside her beginning to loosen. They ate toasted cheese and tossed names about. He liked Oliver for a boy and Juliet for a girl; she preferred Adam or William for a boy, but liked Juliet too.
Marriage didn’t come up. It wasn’t mentioned. One step at a time, she thought. This would be more than enough for now.
She asked how he felt his mother would take the news, and he said, a little too enthusiastically, that he was sure she’d be happy. Ellen imagined again telling her mother: that would need serious courage, even with Leo still in the picture. A baby, but no wedding. No, that would not go down well.
They washed up. She showered and dressed, and wrote a note for Claire. They went out to the street and found a taxi to take them to Battersea. Lying in his arms later, listening to the little puff at the end of his sleeping exhalations, she thought about how quickly everything could change, and how terrifying that was.