Forget Me Not (7 page)

It was as though I’d stepped into a crevasse.

A blue cross in the second window means that you are
pregnant
.

I stared at the blue cross in mine – so strong it seemed almost to pulsate. With trembling hands I retrieved the carton from the paper bag and reread the blurb. Then I sank on to a chair and closed my eyes. Now I suddenly remembered what I’d said to Xan the night we met:
I’m about to start a
new life
…

Xan … I’ve got something to tell you
…

I couldn’t tell him something so huge over the phone. But he was filming in Glasgow and was then going to Spain to see his parents, so I wouldn’t get to see him for five days.

In the interim I tried to imagine his reaction. He’d be shocked. Not least because he’d said no pressure. I laughed darkly. No
pressure
? So, no – he was hardly going to be overjoyed. But if he could just be accepting – however grudgingly – that would be more than enough.

But what would I do about my course? I’d wonder, and my new career. The anxiety would make me feel sick. Then my mood would lift and I’d be entertaining a pleasant fantasy in which Xan was putting his arms round me and telling me that although, yes, it
was
rather soon, it would all be fine and we’d buy a house together a bit further out, with a nice big garden. And I was mentally landscaping said garden with a glorious play area complete with swing and slide, and a tree house – yes, a really great tree house – when the phone rang. My heart surged.

‘Anna … ?’

‘
Xan
…’ I sank on to the chair with relief.

‘I’m back and, well …’ He sounded tired but then he’d been travelling.

‘I missed you, Xan.’

‘I missed you too,’ he said, with a kind of surprised sadness. ‘But … look … I need to see you. Can I come over?’

‘Yes… Yes, I’ll cook. Come at eight.’

He arrived at half past, carrying a huge bunch of pink roses. He kissed me on the cheek, which struck me as oddly formal. He seemed remote, but I put it down to fatigue.

‘You’ve gone to a lot of trouble,’ he said, almost regretfully, as we ate our risotto.

I looked at his plate. ‘But you’ve eaten so little.’

‘Yes …’ he said distractedly. ‘So have you.’

‘Well … that’s because …’ Adrenalin burned through my veins. ‘Xan …’ I put down my fork. ‘There’s something I have to tell you …’

So I did.

Xan froze, as though someone had poured liquid nitrogen over him. In the ensuing silence all I could hear was the hum of my computer.

‘You’re
pregnant
?’ he whispered. ‘But
how
?’

‘Well …’ I shrugged. ‘In the … conventional way.’

‘But …’ He was shaking his head. ‘We’ve been so careful.’

‘Not the first time. We weren’t careful then.’ I remembered rummaging in my bedside table, mid-passion, for a stray condom that had been at the back of the drawer for ages.

‘The first time?’

‘I think that’s when it happened. In fact, I’m sure.’

Xan had gone white. ‘Oh.
God
…’ He was blinking at me uncomprehendingly. ‘Are you saying you got pregnant the night we
met
?’ He emitted a burst of mirthless laughter. ‘But – we’d known each other
two hours
!’

‘Yes …’ I nodded nervously. ‘I suppose we had.’

‘So that was … ?’

‘Seven weeks ago.’

‘Seven weeks?’

‘That fits with what my GP said. And I had an early scan on Monday. I don’t think there’s much doubt. They date it from two weeks before, which means I’m actually nine weeks.’

Xan’s grey-blue eyes were staring wildly. ‘But … this is … terrible.’ My heart plummeted. ‘It couldn’t be
worse
.’

‘Well, actually, Xan, it could be – it really could,’ I stuttered, taken aback by his hostility. ‘Because, OK, it’s very serious – I’m not denying that for a minute – but far worse things happen every day, don’t they, really terrible things that people can never get over, like what happened to my mother for example, there’s no getting over that. But with this at least … at least no one’s …
dead
, are they?’

‘No,’ Xan said grimly. ‘But someone’s
alive
!’ He got up and walked over to the window. ‘Oh
Jesus
, Anna …’ He turned and stared at me, his smoke-blue eyes blazing with wounded fury.

‘Look,’ I said, ‘I … understand that you’re … shocked. I was incredibly shocked myself.’

‘
Were
you?’ He was staring at me with naked scepticism.

‘Yes. I was! I didn’t do it deliberately if that’s what you mean! But’ – I lowered my voice, anxious to keep the conversation as calm as possible – ‘I’ve had five days to think about it all and I believe it’ll be OK. I really do.’

‘No, it
won’t
! It’ll be a
disaster
!’

I was taken aback by his vehemence but tried to stay calm. ‘Look, Xan, I’ve thought it all through and of course I don’t expect you to marry me or even live with me if you don’t want to.’

‘Well, that’s big of you,’ he said bitterly. ‘Because I can tell you right now I’m not going to be doing either!’

I felt a stab to the stomach. ‘All right,’ I breathed. ‘If that’s how you feel.’

He threw up his hands. ‘Of course it’s how I feel – I’ve known you for less than two months! And how do I even know that it’s mine?’ At that I felt a pain in my chest, as though Xan had physically injured me. ‘You say it happened the night we met. But how do I know that you hadn’t thrown yourself at some other poor sod the day before?’

I stood up. ‘There’s no need to insult me. Of course it’s yours.’

‘How the hell do I
know
?’

‘Because for one thing I wouldn’t lie about it.’

‘Why not?’ he spat. ‘Plenty of women do!’

‘And for another I hadn’t slept with anyone for six months before I met you. But we’ll do a DNA test if you don’t believe me.’

Something in Xan’s softening expression told me that he did. He dropped on to the sofa, his head sinking into both hands. I heard him inhale deeply, as if trying to steady himself.

‘An iceberg,’ I heard him murmur. ‘I said you looked like an iceberg, Anna, the night we met. And I wish I’d been more wary. Because now I’ve been holed by you and this will sink me.’ I heard him emit a low groan.

I came and sat on the chair near to him. ‘Please don’t be like this, Xan,’ I tried again, my voice catching. ‘There’s no need. We’re both in our thirties, we both have resources and I repeat that you don’t have to make any kind of commitment to me. But the reason why I feel reasonably optimistic about the situation – although I agree it’s not ideal and I’ve been sick with worry myself – is because we live so near to each other and …’

‘Anna …’ he interjected wearily.

‘Please let me finish – and that’s the key thing, that you’ll be close.’

‘But …’

‘As for the responsibility,’ I went on, ‘I won’t expect you to go halves with me on that, or even on the money. I’ve always been independent and that won’t change. All I’d want …’ My throat was aching now. ‘All I’d want’, I tried again, ‘is for you just to be there. To play
some
part, however small. To be a
father
…’ I felt my eyes fill. ‘Even if our relationship ends, which, judging by your very angry reaction I think it might …’ I pressed my left sleeve to my eyes. ‘You only have to
be
there.’

‘But I
can’t
be,’ I heard Xan say. I looked at him. He seemed stricken now, rather than hostile. ‘That’s the whole problem.’

I stared at him non-comprehendingly. ‘Of course you can. We live less than two miles apart.’

‘Yes,’ he said. Hope rose in my chest. ‘We do now. But as of next week … we won’t.’

I stared at him. ‘What are you talking about?’

Xan heaved a profound sigh. It seemed to come from his very depths. ‘I’ve got a job, Anna. That’s what I was steeling myself to tell you this evening.’

‘You’ve got a job? Oh. But that’s …
great
.’ I stared at him. ‘Isn’t it?’

‘Not in every way.’ He sighed. ‘No. Because this particular job means I’ll be leaving London. In fact,’ he added quietly, ‘I’ll be leaving the UK.’

I suddenly felt as though I was slithering down an icy incline. ‘You’ll be leaving the UK?’ I repeated. ‘But
why
?’

‘Because I’m going to be a foreign correspondent.’

‘A foreign correspondent?’ I echoed blankly. ‘Where?’

Paris? I wondered in the two seconds before the axe fell. Or Rome? Rome’s not that far. We could have weekends together if he went to Rome. Madrid would be OK too – or Frankfurt for that matter.

‘Indonesia,’ I heard him say.

From outside I caught the distant wail of a police siren.

‘Indonesia?
Oh
. But that’s … far.’

‘Yes. It’s very far, Anna. I’m sorry.’

‘But … Indonesia’s nearly Australia.’

‘Yes. And that’s why I won’t be there for you – if you go through with this.’

If you go through with this
…

I stared at Xan. ‘For how long?’

‘Two years.’ He sighed. ‘Renewable. Or what’s more likely is that I’ll be posted somewhere else after that.’

‘And when do you go?’

‘Next Thursday. They’re arranging my work permit now.’

‘But … you didn’t tell me you were applying for jobs overseas.’

He shook his head. ‘Because I wasn’t. This has come completely out of the blue. The guy who was due to go has had to pull out because of family difficulties. They needed to fill the post quickly, preferably with someone who knows the region well – and they knew that I do. I lived there when I was a teenager – my parents had a posting in Jakarta; and I did business there when I was based in Hong Kong.’

‘Oh,’ I said faintly. ‘I see.’ I went over to the table, picked up our plates and carried them into the kitchen.

‘And I told you, Anna – I’m a nomad. I could easily live abroad.’

I banged down a bowl on the worktop. ‘But I want you to live here. Near me. I’m going to
need
you, Xan.
We’re
going to need you.’ Tears were streaming down my cheeks.

‘I’m sorry,’ he groaned. ‘I can’t do that.’

‘Say you can’t take it,’ I wept. ‘Tell them your circumstances have changed. Tell them
you’ve
got “family difficulties”!’ I sank on to the chair.

‘But it’s agreed – and the point is I want to go.’

I pressed a napkin to my eyes. ‘You came here tonight to break up with me,’ I whispered. Xan looked out of the window. ‘That’s why you brought me the flowers.’

‘I’m … sorry, Anna, but don’t you see? I’m lucky to have got this – it’s a fantastic break. But yes, I knew it would spell the end for us, so I’d been bracing myself to tell you because I really like you and I felt sad at the thought of not being with you, but now …
this
… ?’ He was shaking his head. ‘
Please
, Anna,’ he said. ‘Please
don’t
do it. We’ve been together for less than two months. It’s not long enough.’

‘It is for me!’ I shouted. My hands sprang to my face. ‘It’s more than long enough for me to have fallen in
love
with you!’

Xan emitted a frustrated sigh.

It was more than long enough for my parents too, I reflected. The same thing happened to them, in much less liberal times, but my dad had just done the right thing.

‘Let me come too,’ I croaked. And in the split second before Xan replied, I saw myself rocking a wickerwork cradle on a veranda, on a hot, humid night, beneath a slowly rotating fan.

‘No,’ I heard him say softly. ‘It’s out of the question.’

I stared at a tiny mark on the carpet. ‘Yes,’ I whispered after a moment. ‘You’re right.’ I’d only just started my course and my father needed me – I couldn’t abandon him now. I looked at Xan. ‘I can’t possibly go. Even if you wanted me to, which you probably wouldn’t.’

‘Anna – we haven’t been seeing each other long enough to make any plans – let alone have a child together. A
child
?’ he repeated. ‘Jesus Christ!’

I thought of my parents’ wedding photo – my mother’s conspicuously large bouquet of red roses not quite concealing her burgeoning bump.

‘And what if you weren’t going abroad?’ I asked. ‘How would you feel about it then? If you were staying here?’

Xan looked at me. ‘Exactly the same.’

‘Oh,’ I said quietly. ‘I see.’ I stared at the carpet again, scrutinising the little mark. I now saw that it was shaped like an aeroplane.

‘Don’t do this, Anna,’ I heard Xan say. ‘You’ll wreck both our lives – and the child’s …’ – he seemed unable to say the word ‘baby’. ‘It’s so unfair on it, not having a father from the start. Children have the right to be born into a stable family unit, with two parents to love them.’ I stared at him. ‘Please, Anna. Don’t. I do want children one day, but I want to be a father to them – not some absent stranger.’ His eyes were shining with tears. ‘It’s still early days and you have a choice. Please, Anna,
don’t
do this.
Please
…’ he repeated quietly.

I stared at Xan, too shattered to reply. Then he picked up his bag and walked out of the house, closing the front door with a definitive click.

THREE

The private clinic I’d booked myself into a week later was called the Audrey Forbes Women’s Health Centre and was in a rain-stained sixties office block in Putney High Street, next to a bookshop. I glanced in the window at the colourful pyramid of children’s books:
We’re Going on a Bear Hunt;
The Gruffalo; The Very Hungry Caterpillar
. I wasn’t in the least hungry myself, I realised, even though I’d been told to have nothing to eat or drink.

I gave my name to the receptionist on the ground floor, then pressed the button to summon the lift. To my disappointment it arrived straight away. The interior smelt of stale cigarette smoke and cheap scent, which added to my nausea, which had been increasing daily. I arrived at the fifth floor with a stomach-lurching jolt.