Breeding Ground (2 page)

Staring at me, she pulled back slightly. “Are you sure about this? Are you sure you’re happy about it? I thought you might…well, I thought you might want me not to have it.”

For a moment, the fear crept back into my heart. I’d never really thought about children, not in any imminent way, but now that circumstances had overtaken planning I knew that I wanted this baby to come. It would cement everything that we had. But maybe she didn’t feel that way. After all, it was a bigger step for her. It was she who had the big career ahead of her. Maybe she felt that her job was more important than a baby right now. The laughing stopped.

“Why? Don’t you want to keep it?”

She smiled hesitantly, flashing her perfect white teeth. “Yes, yes, of course I do, I was just worried you might think it was too soon, that we should be married or-“

My mouth silenced hers and we kissed until the gentleness turned to passion right there on the leather, our child only a few weeks old inside her, our perfect day ending as it had begun.

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Chapter Two

The first month after that pretty much flew by in a whirl of baby name books and paint charts for the soon not-to-be-spare room. We laughed a lot that month, mainly over her strange food choices and what she considered my strange baby name choices. And there were a few strange choices according to her, although I still wonder how anyone could consider George an odd name. Even the fact that it had been my grandfather’s name wouldn’t sway her, but just made her laugh even harder, curled up on the sofa, her hand darting from the jar of pickled onions to the box of chocolates beside her, some old movie playing in the background.

She was nearly three months and the pregnancy was fine and so was Chloe. Apart from the weight gain. Which was odd, because she was still working hard, often not home in time for dinner, claiming to have eaten at work, and once the cravings had worn off, it seemed that we never ate anything together. And I know that pregnant women put on weight. I may be a

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man, but I understand the basics; however, this weight wasn’t going in the right places.

One morning I found her standing in the bathroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her greasy hair hung lankly over her shoulders, exaggerating the puffy face with dark bags around the eyes. In that grey light of dawn I could see the fat she’d accumulated on her thickened hips and thighs, looking lumpy and swollen under her pale skin. Her arms were dimpled and flabby, too, and I fought a wave of revulsion. There was something disgusting about the almost translucent texture of her skin. What the hell was going on with her? Surely this couldn’t be right? Yes, she had a small firm bump at the front, but it was almost unnoticeable within the rest of the flesh she’d gained. And some of the lumpy fat seemed to be covering that, too. Her dressing gown was on the floor beside her and I picked it up, gently putting it over her shoulders. I looked into her sad eyes in the mirror in front of us. God, I loved her.

“Are you okay?”

Keeping hold of the dressing gown, she turned away from me. “I’m tired. I think I’ll stay at home today.”

“Good idea.” And I did think it was. She needed to rest, to eat some healthy food and get her energy back. This pregnancy was obviously more difficult than she was letting on, and at last there was something I thought I could do. I followed her into the bedroom.

“Why don’t I stay with you? I could be your servant for the day. I’ll spoil you.”

She kept her dressing gown on and pulled the covers almost over her head. Her voice was muffled. “You’ll be needed at work.”

“I’m sure they won’t mind. Things are a bit quiet at

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the moment, anyway.” That was an understatement. It seemed that there had been a citywide slump in the housing market. For whatever reason people had just stopped selling and buying over the past couple of months. Although I was planning to work from home once the baby was born, it was beginning to worry me that there wouldn’t be enough business out there to make it worthwhile. We’d agreed I’d be the house husband, but I had wanted something to do that would at least bring in some money. Male pride and all. Still, I consoled myself with the thought that these things never lasted. As soon as the good weather came it would be business as usual.

“I’ll go and call them, shall I?”

She yanked the covers down, her eyes raging at me. “Go to work, Matt, and stop fussing. I just want to be left alone!”

Jolting backward a bit, not used to her being like that, I tried to touch her. “Look, babe…”

“Fuck off, Matt.” Spitting the words at me, she buried herself back down into the bedding.

I sat there for a few moments waiting for her to start crying or come out and say she was sorry, but there was nothing but cold silence. Eventually, my heart aching and confused, I got up and did the only thing I could. I went to work.

The day passed slowly, with no business to speak of, just the odd follow-up call to clients. I spent most of the time staring at the small clock on my desk or watching the rain hitting the big glass front window. I didn’t feel like talking and neither did old Mr. Brown it would seem, so we pretty much sat quietly, pretending to be doing something on our computers, drinking coffee and waiting for the day to end. I thought about

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calling her at lunchtime but left it. Maybe she’d be asleep. That’s what I told myself, but really I just didn’t want to hear her being angry again. I wasn’t sure I could take it. Whatever was wrong with her, it was taking its toll on me, too.

At ten to five, I started shutting the system down and got my coat from the small kitchen at the back of the office. Mr. Brown was leaning against the draining board, holding a cup of coffee. It had a dark film on the surface, as if it had cooled untouched. How long had he been standing there? I’d been too lost in my own world to notice what he’d been up to.

“I’m off home now, if that’s all right.”

He looked up at me a little shocked, as if he’d only just realised I was in the room. “Oh. Right. Yes, of course, off you go.” He attempted a smile, but it only heightened the wrinkles on his face, new wrinkles, the kind you get when you’re tired; really, really tired.

“I suppose you’ll be cooking something delicious for that lovely girlfriend of yours when she gets in. Tell her to take it easy. She should be relaxing in her condition.”

I wondered if my own smile looked as awful as his. “She’s at home today. Not feeling herself.”

He shook slightly, and put the cup down on the drainer. “Peggy’s not too well, either.”

I pulled my coat on. There was an awkwardness in the air and I wasn’t sure exactly why.

“Well, I hope she feels better soon. Give her my love.”

“Yes. And to Chloe. See you tomorrow.”

Opening the back door, I stepped into the drizzle, the ghost of the downpour not long past. “You will.”

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I considered buying flowers on the way home, but figured that would be extreme blokeism in Chloe’s eyes and so decided on nothing. If she was feeling up for it, I’d get her a takeaway, or just cook her some soup. I just hoped that nasty anger was gone. It had had a tinge of hate in it, I was sure, and unwell as she was, I didn’t want her to hate me. Selfish that might have been, but then all lovers are selfish.

I found her in the bathroom, under the glaring white light, standing on the scales and sobbing, hugging herself. Her tears were coming thick and fast, and as I appeared in the doorway, she literally fell into my arms, burying her head into my shoulder, soaking it. Her crying was coming from deep down in her chest, really terrible tears, and I squeezed her tight. What now? What now?

“What is it? What’s the matter, Chloe?” Her matted hair smelt sweaty as I pressed my face into her neck. I thought of the baby. Had something happened to the baby during the day? Why hadn’t I come home for lunch? Oh god, what had I done?

Her voice was thick. “I’ve put on a stone. A stone in two weeks. That’s nearly three stone in the past two months.”

Tensing slightly, I was shocked. I knew she’d put on weight, but I hadn’t guessed nearly that much. That was about the amount all the baby books said she should put on in total, and she was only a third of the way through. Jesus. But still, I rationalised as I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves, it didn’t mean anything. Maybe her body was just settling down. Maybe from now on, some of the excess weight would drop off. More than anything I just wanted her to calm down. I caught sight of myself in the mirror. Short

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blond hair and wide, frightened blue eyes above a tight mouth. Who was I kidding? I was as confused and scared as she was. Or nearly. I rubbed her arms and back.

“Well, you are eating for two, babe. You’re bound to put on weight.” It was lame, but it was the only thing I could think of to say. I didn’t expect her reaction, the mix of laughter and tears that poured out of her. She stepped back from me, shaking as the fits of emotion took her.

God, I felt useless. She seemed like a stranger in front of me, and I wanted it to stop.

“What? What is it?”

I knew that whatever it was that was making her laugh so hysterically, it wasn’t going to be funny, and for a small fraction of a second, I wished she’d never got pregnant, I wished we could just go back to how it was before and I wished I didn’t have to hear her dreadful desperate laughter through her tears. It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t natural. And I couldn’t deal with it.

Slowly, she calmed down and wiped her eyes, her breathing irregular. A last giggle escaped before she met my gaze.

“That’s priceless, Matt. Eating for two. Oh, that’s funny.” She paused and sighed, rubbing fresh tears away with the sleeve of her dressing gown, leaning back against the sink.

“I haven’t eaten anything for over a week. Not a single thing.” A tragic laugh hiccupped out of her. “And I haven’t even been hungry.”

My legs were like jelly beneath me. What had she said? I could almost feel the colour draining from my face, my hands instantly cold.

She looked at me almost pityingly and whispered,

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“So how can I still be putting on weight? How can that be? How can that be?”

We stared at each other for what seemed like hours, and in that moment we were closer than we’d been in a while. Both just looking and wondering if this was the thing, the thing that was going to end us, finally arrived. I bit my cheek to stop myself from crying. I looked at her face, still beautiful despite the weight, despite the fear, and I pulled myself together. There were a million reasons for something like this. There must be.

I haven’t eaten for over a week. Pushing her words away, I straightened myself up.

“Get dressed. We’re going to the doctor.” I could see her about to protest. “And no arguments.” The strength in my voice surprised even myself, and within ten minutes we were leaving the house. Whatever this was, we’d deal with it. Nothing was taking her from me without a fight. Not her, nor our baby.

The rain was falling heavily, dripping from the eaves of the old houses and trees, and by the time we’d got into the surgery just off Market Square, only five minutes or so from the house, we were both soaked. They still operated on an “emergency surgery” policy, so as long as you turned up after four p.m. and were prepared to wait awhile, you were pretty much guaranteed to get seen by a doctor.

Heading up the stairs, I wondered how long we would have to sit around for. The last thing we needed was for Chloe to catch a chill on top of everything else.

Surprisingly, the dimly lit building seemed pretty desolate, and the elderly receptionist gave us a plastic number and brought Chloe’s details up on the screen

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before telling us to take a seat. From behind her bifocals, she watched Chloe carefully, almost warily, to the point where it was becoming uncomfortable and I was glad when we got into the waiting room. Maybe she remembered Chloe from a previous visit and was shocked by the change in her, but whatever her reason, the staring was just plain rude as far as I was concerned.

Far on the other side of the large open space lined with low chairs, an old man, easily in his eighties, coughed and shuffled in his seat. Apart from him, we were the only patients waiting. The rain beat at the windows steady and uncompromising, and I figured that must have been what kept the rest away.

There was no background music to break the tension, and feeling suddenly awkward and out of place I sat us down on a long row against the far wall, next to the magazine table. Neither of us picked one up. The air barely moved and I resisted the urge to whisper.

“Must be our lucky day, Clo. We’ll be in and getting you sorted out in no time.” I smiled at her, almost believing myself now that I was in the surgery, surrounded by anything-is-curable-if-you-catch-it-in-time leaflets. She smiled back, but it was almost lost in her bulging cheeks, less convinced.

A buzzer went off, a light flashing on the board in front of us declaring Dr. Carney was ready for his next patient. The old man pulled himself slowly to his feet and hung his number next to the doctor’s name before disappearing down the corridor. It was number three.

We were seeing Dr. Judge, and I thought our number two meant that he had started late, but obviously it was just a very quiet night for the surgery. Spookily quiet. I’d never come to an emergency surgery without having to wait at least forty-five minutes, not for as

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long back as I could remember. Even as a child, when the town was smaller, you still had a good long wait ahead of you if you came after four. I tried to shake off my feeling of disquiet. There was nothing too odd about it. Out of thirty years, they were bound to have the occasional quiet night. This was just the first one that I’d ever encountered.

Chloe was quiet beside me, and with just the pounding of my heart in my ears, I was glad when the buzzer broke the silence and called us to our appointment.