Previously published in Southlight Magazine and in Biscuit International Competition Prizewinners anthology. Set in an imagined future.
Currently writing a play version.
The
day after tomorrow!
No, not this time. Especially
‘ You to.’ He’d said. ‘Ready? One two…’
They’d both starting singing,
badly, Stuck In The Middle With You.
Not this time though. This time
they had made the one mistake they couldn’t make. The one thing that wasn’t allowed with
She washed her face and stared at
herself in the mirror. How could they be
so stupid? One mistake and everything changes forever. At last they’d found a half decent place. By their standards anyway. Okay the cottage was damp and looking its
age—the farmer had told them it was going on fifty years. Michelle reckoned you could double that.
She didn’t mind though. It was theirs. And she was slow but sure getting the place
like she wanted. She had to work on
What was she going to do with all
that paint?
The farmer had even put in newish
windows in the living room. A gale still
blew through the cracked brick work on either sides but they wore jumpers and
scarves and laughed.
And they danced to keep warm
The farmer liked them. He’d told them. Glad of good reliable tenants after that last
lot, that’s what he was forever telling them.
She had asked but never got a proper answer why ‘that last lot’ were so
bad. Maybe they had made the same
mistake as them?
A gale still blew through the
cracked brick work on either sides but they wore jumpers and scarves and
laughed.
And they danced to keep warm
A gentle knock came at the bathroom
door.
‘Michelle.’
She stared at the blue. ‘ Nothing yet.’
She heard him lean against the
door.
One silly, stupid, bloody mistake.
She thought about that April night.
The both of them curled up, fully clothed, in bed, the heating gone again, and
the farmer promising to get there before the country chill set in but never
making it.
They were warm though. They were together. And she had said it.
‘I think we’re going to be okay.’
Stupid bitch that she was for
saying something like that. Tempting
bloody fate.
They had made love that night
without a thought and…now it was July. Outside
she knew the sun would be weaving patterns across the gathered haystacks. Outside everything literally was coming up
roses.
Another knock at the bathroom door.
A hesitant voice. ‘Michelle.’
She could lie of course.
No, she couldn’t. They lived enough of a lie without lying to
each other.
The bathroom squeaked open.
‘Michelle.’
Staring in the mirror she saw his
eyes searching her reflection for any clue.
He found it.
‘You’re pregnant.’
She didn’t nod, or say
anything.
No need.
They’d never stopped talking in the
three years they’d been together since that late night at the bookshop,
Michelle taking Frank Kafka’s ‘Metamorphosis’ from him, and asking. ‘ Do you ever read anything else?’
He had been coming into the shop
every day for a week. He had bought
nothing but Kafka.
‘I don’t read.’ He told her. She’d waited.
He said. ‘I thought it might impress you.’
She laughed and that was that. He walked her home every night when she
finished work. Occasionally they would
go to a café and talk.
She told him all about studying Law,
and now not being sure, how she was thinking of giving it up, but she only had
a year to go.
He persuaded her to carry on.
He told her he wasn’t allowed to go
to University. He’d told her why. He’d
watched her when he’d said that. She didn’t
hesitate. ‘ Like I said not all it’s
cracked up to be.’
She’d got her degree but never
practised. She couldn’t after they were
married and she knew that.
‘ But I want to get married.’ She’d
said.
‘ But…’
‘I know.’ She said. ‘Will you marry me?’
Now the silence between them.
For three days they had tried test
after test and all with the same result.
The blue stayed blue no matter how many times they closed their eyes and
prayed together quietly for a miracle. For
three days they lay quietly together in their high ceiling bedroom, eyes gazing
through the skylight, numb to the stars gathering and fading into the blue of
the morning.
During the day
What were they going to do?
As it turned out they didn’t need
to. For there were plenty of other
people who could talk for them, or more particularly about them. The
lady at the Chemists for instance. When
the knock came at the door Michelle knew at once who had told. After all there was money to be had for
telling. That first time Carol from the office had
bought the kit for her. But you can only
say false alarm once. After that she had
shut off thoughts of getting caught and gone to chemists herself. She had to be sure. She had hid the kit of under
aspirins and shampoo of course but she couldn’t hide it from the lady behind
the counter.
One swipe of her card and it would
have flashed up.
An illegal purchase. There they would be on the system.
Mr and Mrs Sandy Williams.
One phone call from the lady in the
chemists and she would be in the money. She would say she had no choice but to
report them of course.
For the briefest of moments thoughts
crept up from Michelle’s belly and gathered like bile in her throat. They threatened
to spill over the policeman taking notes from her third hand green baize couch.
She had done her best with the
cushions but the springs in the couch had long ago hardened like ancient
arteries. The policeman shifted every
few seconds and she was glad.
No she wasn’t. For he was young and embarrassed to be asking
the questions he had to ask. They could
have least sent a woman.
All the time the questions were
getting asked
Eventually he had.
Once the pacing had turned into
silence and the boy policeman had glanced upwards and he had changed into law
enforcement man before her eyes.
She had to say. ‘He’s upset.
But he won’t do anything. That’s
all in the past.’
‘So you know all about his past?’
The policeman said.
‘ He was a wee boy at the time.’
She said.
‘Sixteen.’
‘Yes, a wee boy.’ Said Michelle.
The boy policeman was gone for good
now and law enforcement man glared across at her. And Michelle hated him for her having to
apologise, to explain her own husband.
My God but was he right?
No, no, no.
The policeman handed her the blue
appointment card.
And with that he was gone with a
parting glance at Sandy who now stood at the top of the hallway stairs.
‘When?’ He asked.
His voice was angry.
She hesitated. ‘ Tomorrow.’ She
said. ‘ There’s still a chance. There is
She said. ‘Those tests are not always right. I’ll go myself.’
He turned back into the bedroom and
closed the door.
She patted her stomach.
They went together to the hospital. At reception
A box of colour and well worn toys
stood in the corner. Smiling faces smiled up at them from magazines scattered
on tables.
Then the unsmiling face of the receptionist
was looking down at them.
‘Not here. Blue tickets are down
the other end of the corridor.’
Heads snapped up. Eyes met theirs. Heads were buried in
magazines.
They got up and hand in hand walked
the long bare corridor. Behind them murmurs
and mumblings grew.
They were the only ones at their
end of the corridor but it was an hour before the doctor appeared and led Michelle
into the small examination room.
When Michelle returned still in her
blue hospital gown she sat down without a word.
She stared at the wall.
Two hours later the doctor ushered
them into his small but cosy looking office.
Plaques on the wall told you he was a proper doctor. Photos on his desk told you he was an upright
citizen—three children, two boys and a girl grinned up at them.
Michelle so wanted to lay the photo
flat on the desk. To throw it against
the wall.
Two printers sat on a table behind
the doctor. One with blue paper, one
with white.
The doctor was writing notes, and
then he looked up at
‘ What was it then?’
‘Sorry.’ Said
The doctor waved the blue ticket. ‘
These tickets never tell you anything.
Just being curious. Hope you don’t mind.
Nothing violent I hope. I have
got a panic button here you know.’
And all with a smile and the
writing of note after note.
‘ Okay then.’ Said the doctor. ‘ It’s just I had a shoplifter in here not so
long ago. She just blurted it out.
Couldn’t get her to shut up. Some
people. ’ He looked up from his notes. ‘
The thing that gets me is I can never tell.
Five years doing this you’d think…I mean, you look so normal.’
‘I am normal.’ Said
Michelle squeezed his hand, she
could feel it pulse. She thought again
how she had never seen him angry.
‘Did she keep her baby?’ Asked
Michelle.
The doctor almost laughed as if it
was the stupidest question he’d ever heard.
‘Course not.’ He said.
He said it like a doctor. He said it as a printer buzzed into life
behind him. It spewed out their future in blue paper.
The doctor told them in that matter
of fact doctor way that they didn’t have any.
‘ Confirmed. You are pregnant Mrs Williams. It is my duty to inform you that it is an
offence to be impregnated by a criminal.’
‘ I was sixteen.’ Said
‘Sit down Mr Williams. We have
security.’
‘ Now.’ The doctor went on. ‘ You
know the choices you have to make.’
She knew. Abort or the baby taken into state care.
‘ Now?’ Asked Michelle. ‘ I have to
decide…’
‘ No, no. Don’t worry Mrs
Williams. It used to be like that but…We’re
not barbarians are we? No. I understand that this is a traumatic
experience for you.’
‘And tomorrow you force us to
separate?’
‘ It’s not me Mr Williams. It’s the law. ’
‘ What happens to the babies when
they’re taken into care?’ She asked.
‘ They are regularly tested for any
criminal tendencies that more than likely have been passed on.’ Michelle felt sick. ‘ If they have such tendencies then…the state
takes care of them.’
‘ What does that mean?’ Said
‘ It means the state takes care of
them Mr Williams.’ The doctor closed the file.
‘ But that is not your concern.’
‘It’s our child.’ Said
The doctor sniffed loudly. ‘You have made your wife a criminal that’s
what you should be thinking off.’
‘ Goodbye.’ Said the doctor.
It was raining as they were
escorted to their car. Passing the
chemist on the way home Michelle had an urge to turn the car and smash right
through the counter. If she was a
criminal now anyway.
But she didn’t. Instead she turned the car like the good
official person she no longer was into the lane that led towards their cottage.
They hadn’t spoken all the way
home.
That night they lay and cuddled,
and as the night turned to day she said.
‘ I’m going to keep it.’
‘ You can’t.’ Said
‘ It’s my…our baby.’
‘We can’t even be together anymore.’
Said
She turned to face him. ‘ It’s my fault.’
He kissed her. ‘ Mine.’
She said. ‘We could make a run for it. We could have the baby and…’
He kissed her.
‘
We could still meet. In secret.’
She said.
‘ Maybe.’ He said.
They kissed.
‘ I love this cottage.’ She said.
They fell asleep as the sun hit the skylight.
They woke to harsh knock at their
front door.
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