Chapter 16 #3
‘How much blood?’ she asks briskly. ‘And what kind of weird?’
‘I’ve been off all day, but now I’ve got stomach pain. And there wasn’t too much blood, but we both know what it means, don’t we? I always knew this would happen, deep down. I was stupid, letting myself hope, letting myself get carried away like this…’
‘No, we’re not going to do that,’ she tells me, standing up and getting out her phone.
‘We’re not going to assume the worst, all right?
I know that assuming the worst is natural, and maybe it feels like a talisman – like if you expect the worst, it won’t actually happen.
But this is what we’re actually going to do – we’re going to get you to the hospital, and have you checked out.
There are lots of reasons for this to happen that don’t signify a serious problem.
This could be entirely harmless, and there’s no point thinking anything else until we know. Are you hearing me, Suzie?’
I nod, trying to believe her. Trying to see the logic in her words, the sense in her thought process. I’m not doing very well at that and just feel flat and grey.
‘I can take you,’ she says. ‘I just need a few minutes to make some arrangements. I can cancel my afternoon surgery, and I’m sure Connie will watch Kitty. It’ll be fine.’
A slight edge of stress seeps into her voice, much as she tries to hide it. It’s enough to chase away at least some of my stupor.
‘I’ll be okay to get myself there,’ I tell her. ‘I can maybe get a cab?’
I don’t sound very convincing, which is not surprising as it’s hard to get taxis in Starshine Cove.
‘No, you won’t be getting a cab, Suzie. Just let me sort a few things out, and I’ll drive round and collect you, and we’ll go to the maternity unit together.’
For some reason, it’s this that pushes me over the edge.
The thought of being at the maternity unit.
The last time I was there it was such a stressful but ultimately joyous occasion.
Guy came with me, and it was the first time I saw my baby.
The first time I heard its heartbeat and saw its tiny waving limbs.
The first time I believed this might actually be real. But what if it’s not?
Tears spill onto my cheeks, and I feel like my heart is breaking – crumbling inside my rib cage. My body is made of jelly, weak and shaking and insubstantial, and my mind is barely functioning. This is the ultimate SOS situation.
‘Can you ask Guy to come too?’ I manage to say, even the sound of his name on my lips making me feel calmer, allowing me to take the next breath. ‘I know he’s probably in the pub by now, but he won’t be drinking, and—’
‘And he won’t mind,’ Ella finishes for me, nodding. ‘Of course. Give me a moment.’
‘Ella? Please don’t tell anyone else, not yet. Not until we know what’s going on. I don’t want to upset my dad…’
She agrees, patting my arm in sympathy. She leaves the room, and I try my best to pull myself together.
I need to get a grip, to stay calm and not let my heart crumble.
I am overreacting, I know. Even though it is understandable and forgivable, bearing in mind my history, it is also not helping me or my baby.
If the Bad Thing is happening, then I need to know.
There might be something that can be done to stop the Bad Thing, or it might not even be the Bad Thing at all.
Either way, staying in my bedroom and crying isn’t the right way forward.
I swipe my tears away and realise that I yet again need the toilet.
I am scared of going, and I even consider keeping my eyes closed when I do.
I see a few more smears of pinkish blood on the tissue and bite my lip so hard I bleed there as well.
It weirdly helps, the sudden pain dragging my mind into the here and now.
I go back to my room, throw a few things into a bag just in case I need to stay in the hospital.
I’m surprised my hands do what I’m telling them to do, because I am completely hollow and scooped out. On autopilot.
I hear voices downstairs, then feet pounding up the steps.
The door to my room flies open, and Guy closes the distance between us in a second.
He wraps me up in his arms, murmuring soothing words as he kisses the top of my head.
I sway in his embrace, my body melding into his, accepting his warmth and his comfort and the way that he makes me feel better just be being with me.
‘It’s going to be all right,’ he tells me, and for some reason I start to believe that could be true.
His voice, his words, they all calm me to the point where I can breathe again.
I cling on to him for a little while longer, then pull away.
I’ve left tear stains on his T-shirt. He smooths my hair back from my face and leans down to kiss the tip of my nose.
‘Come on. Let’s get you checked out. I’m taking you there, and Ella’s going to meet us. ’
I nod numbly, and he looks inside my bag. ‘All you have in this are bed socks.’
I shrug. ‘I was distracted. And I hate having cold feet.’
‘Fair enough. It doesn’t matter. If you need anything else, I’ll get it for you.’
We take Bettina, and I feel comforted to be inside her familiar curved cocoon. He’s driven her a few times, so he knows how to handle her as we make our way towards the hospital, driving as carefully as usual. I sit beside him, my hands on my belly, staring out of the window.
The sun is shining, the landscape is lush and green, the sea a blue ribbon running alongside us on the coast road.
It’s a beautiful day, and that somehow feels wrong.
If I am losing my baby, I don’t want it to be a beautiful day.
It is a day for thunderstorms and cyclones and tornados that tear the world apart.
Guy stays calm and cool and focused for the whole drive, which is exactly what I need, and ushers me inside the unit. I thought I felt stressed the last time I was here, but this is a whole different world – I am made entirely of dread, barely aware of my surroundings.
Ella has called ahead, and we are greeted by a nurse who is exactly the right combination of kind and professional.
She takes us through to a consultation room and takes down all the details of what has been happening.
I feel smothered as I speak, answering her questions in a dull monotone, Guy’s hand holding mine the only thing keeping me present.
‘Okay,’ the nurse says, once we’re done.
‘Well, we need to do a few tests. We’ll take some blood, urine, test your hormone levels, and do a scan to start with.
I know this sounds impossible, but please try not to worry too much at this stage.
I do understand how hard that is when you’ve suffered a loss before, but don’t assume the worst. Let me go and get things started for you. ’
She leaves, and Guy crouches down in front of me so he’s on eye level. He holds my face between his palms and forces me to look directly at him. ‘Suzie, it’s going to be all right. I’m here with you, and I’m not going anywhere. We’ll get through this together, okay?’
I manage a weak smile and nod slightly. He looks so strong, so real, so determined.
Like he can make all of this right through sheer strength of will.
I let some of that belief seep into me, let it work its magic.
He kisses me briefly on my trembling lips, and wraps me up in a comforting hug, holding me close.
I feel terrible, drained and empty, but he is helping – he always helps.
‘I love you, you know?’ I murmur, letting myself unravel against him. I have no idea where that came from, and I don’t even regret it. Love comes in many shapes and sizes, and what I feel for this man is undeniably love.
‘I know. I love you, too. We’ll get through the next hour, and the next day, and the next week. One foot in front of the other.’