Seventeen Years Ago
Eleven and a bit weeks pregnant.
‘Are you warm enough?’ Jackson takes off his jacket and wraps it around my shoulders. The sun’s out, but there’s a swirling breeze coming in off the sea.
‘We have to make a decision, you know,’ I say, pulling his jacket up around my neck and leaning into him as we walk along the shoreline. ‘I feel like it’s easier now though, after seeing it. The baby.’
‘Yeah. I know what you mean. Feels real now.’ He pats his pocket where he’s put the scan picture.
In between the rows and uncertainty we have done some talking. One option has always been easy to rule out.
Adoption.
I can’t bear the thought of a stranger bringing up our baby. And Jackson feels the same. If we are going to do this, then no one else is becoming our baby’s parents.
So that’s left us with two options.
We’re at Daisy now and he opens the door easily. He’s really got the hang of her dodgy lock; you’d never know we were breaking in. We go inside and sit together on the right-hand bench.
‘What do you think?’ I ask.
‘I guess it comes down to having a baby or not,’ Jackson says bluntly, his voice strangely devoid of emotion. ‘What do you think about an abortion?’
Nausea dances at the back of my throat. I know that’s what Mum wants. ‘Is that what you want?’
‘No. Yes. I don’t know.’ His chin drops to his chest. ‘If you want that, then I do.’ Out of the corner of my eye, I watch him run his fingers through his floppy fringe, pushing it away from his eyes.
‘Shit, Ellie. Let’s look at the other option then.
Having a baby means both our lives would change a little. ’
I raise an eyebrow at him. ‘You think?’
He gives me a glimpse of a smile. ‘OK. A lot. But you could still just about fit in your GCSEs.’
‘What happens if Dad throws me out?’
‘Surely your mum wouldn’t let that happen. It’d be his grandchild. It’s not like we murdered anyone.’
‘Hmm.’ I think I might get a warmer reaction from Dad if that’s what I had done. I glance out of the open door and follow a seagull soaring on a thermal, not a care in the world. ‘If that’s how Dad reacts, I don’t think Mum would go against him.’
‘We’d think of something.’ He leans his shoulder into mine. ‘Stay with me.’
‘Where would we sleep? It’s not like you live in a mansion and you have the box room. You can barely fit a single bed in it, never mind a cot. And I can’t see Milo giving up his room and taking a smaller one.’
‘Mum said we could have her bedroom and she’d take mine.’
I turn my head to look at him. ‘You’ve talked about it with your mum?’
He shrugs almost apologetically. ‘Not really about the moving-in stuff, more about our row. I was in a mess after I’d fucked up with you.’
‘What did she say?’ I ask, curious.
He shifts sheepishly on the bench. ‘She gave me a flea in my ear. Told me I was insensitive.’
I raise my eyebrows at him.
‘And told me if I was going to be having sex without thinking it through, then I had to be mature enough to deal with the consequences and not throw my toys out of the pram when it suited me. That I had other people to think about now.’ He rolls his eyes at me.
‘She basically gave me a dressing-down and told me I needed to grow up. And then she gave me a huge hug and told me whatever happens it’d be OK. ’
‘I like your mum.’
‘Hmm. I like my mum too.’ He runs his fingers along the grain showing through the worn, painted wooden seat. ‘If we’ve ruled out adoption, then we’re left with the option of you moving into mine or …’ His voice peters out.
I squeeze my eyes shut and take in a breath. ‘… no baby and life goes on as normal.’
There. I’ve said it and the words hang in the air between us.
If I am totally honest, and I can barely even voice this in my own head so there is no way I am saying it out loud, I’d love there to be no baby.
I want to wake up tomorrow and not be pregnant.
Not have to think about cracked nipples and stitches down there and not being able to sit down and shitty nappies and no sleep.
To be able to get rid of it, the baby, and feel no guilt.
Not have a worry in the world about having made that decision and following it through.
But then there’s the baby’s heartbeat which I now can’t get out of my head and the little flickering blip of life that we saw on the screen earlier.
I swivel to fully face Jackson and hold his golden eyes in mine.
‘I don’t think I can do it. Get rid of it. Get rid of our baby.’ I bite my lip hard. ‘I think we should have it.’ I don’t know if I think that at all, but we have to make a decision somehow.
‘Are you OK with that?’
I give an unimpressed laugh. ‘I don’t know if OK is the right word. But yes, I think so. Are you?’
His eyes bore straight into me and a quiver zigzags down my spine. ‘I don’t think I wanted to get rid of him or her either.’
I take a breath and the edges of my mouth tip up. ‘We’re really doing this then. Being responsible for a mini human being.’
‘It looks like we are. I know this isn’t how we thought life would go.’ He runs his finger down my profile, over my forehead, nose and chin and my insides explode with fireworks.
‘You think?’ I interrupt with a smile. ‘Does Milo know he might be about to become an uncle?’
Jackson scoffs. ‘He’s only eleven, I don’t think he has a clue.’
I sigh and pull at the waistband of my school skirt. I don’t think I’ve put on too much weight, but it’s definitely getting tighter to wear and it’s causing me to feel little sharp darts of pain.
‘Are you OK?’
I put my hand on my hip and arch my back. ‘Yes. I’m tired, that’s all.’ I pull the cushions towards me and try to relax into them.
‘I want to look after you and the baby.’ Jackson pulls a shiny silver screw out of his school blazer pocket and begins twiddling it between his fingers.
‘I’m never leaving you. You know that don’t you?
’ His eyes are soft and send a surge of heat through me.
‘Mum doesn’t want me to leave school early to get a job though. ’
My brows crease. This is news to me. ‘You were going to leave school?’
‘We’d have a family. I wanted to earn some money so we could live, but Mum thinks we can both still go to uni like we planned, we’ll just need help along the way.’ His shoulders drop and he stares straight ahead. ‘Oh, I don’t know, Ellie. My head’s fucked. What’s your mum think?’
‘She doesn’t want me to have it. She wants me to have an abortion so she can avoid having to tell Dad,’ I say bluntly, because I don’t know how else to say it.
Jackson stiffens beside me. ‘Bit late for that advice. Anyway, I thought we’d decided.’
‘We have, haven’t we?’ I say angrily. I sneak a look at him, but he’s staring down to the side of him furthest away from me. ‘I need to find a way to tell Dad.’
I need him to say something. Anything. But he’s still fiddling to the side of him.
‘Are you even listening to me? What the hell are you doing?’
‘Come here, silly.’
I think he’s pulling me to him, but he’s not. He’s pointing to the bench the other side of his leg. I lean over to look. He’s etched something into the surface of the wood. A love heart with an E and J either side of it and 4eva underneath.
My mouth tips into a smile. ‘Do you mean it?’
He does our thing again and runs his forefinger down my forehead, nose and chin and then pulls me to him to kiss me on the lips.
I lean into him. His body is warm and solid and I lay my head on his shoulder.
I can only sit like that for a minute though until I have to shift around to get comfy again.
I sigh. ‘Will you still love me when I’m fat and ugly? ’
‘Of course.’ His lips tilt up in the tiniest of smiles and it pisses me off.
‘What the hell are you smirking at? This isn’t funny.’
‘I’m not laughing.’ He grabs my hand and I try to pull away, but he won’t let me. ‘You’ll never be ugly to me.’ His face splits into a full-on grin. ‘You will however get fat.’
I slap him on the arm. ‘Oi.’
‘We will always be 4eva. Promise.’ He winks at me and my inside cartwheel. ‘I got you something.’
I watch him, puzzled, as he goes to the back of the hut and wrestles with something which has been squashed into the corner behind our fold-out table. It’s scarlet and huge. I don’t know how I missed it when we first came in. He drops it in front of me and it settles into a squashy heap.
‘Oh my god you bought a beanbag.’
‘I’ve seen how you can’t get comfortable. I thought this might help.’ He looks almost embarrassed.
‘How the hell did you get it here? It’s huge.’
He laughs. ‘On the bus. It was a bloody nightmare. I knocked some old fella’s cap off his head and he wasn’t impressed, and shoved a lad flying when I tried to get out of my seat. But it’s here now. Do you think it’ll help?’
I love the fact he’s noticed that however I position myself on the benches and however many cushions I hog, I can’t get comfortable. I’m not sure if getting down on the floor when I look like a beached whale is going to be very practical, but I’m not going to tell him that.
‘I’ll give it a go.’
I lower myself down into it and wriggle. The beads settle around me like a cocoon. ‘Oo. It’s lovely.’ I nestle my head back into the cool soft fabric. ‘I might fall asleep here. There’s one drawback though.’
He looks a little crestfallen. ‘Oh.’
I giggle. ‘I don’t want to be down here all alone. This thing’s huge. Do you think it’ll take both of us?’
He grins and drops down to join me, squishing in behind me. We spoon, his arm lying gently across my tummy, and I close my eyes and smile.