A Merry Little Christmas. Julia Williams
know) had started to stare quite pointedly at her, Cat bought the kit. She fled home as fast as possible, feeling vaguely guilty and paranoid someone might have seen her. This was ridiculous. A pregnancy scare at her age. Because that’s what it was. A scare. She’d just wasted seven quid because she and Noel had behaved like irresponsible teenagers. She’d laugh about it with him later.
Getting home, Cat found herself putting off the moment. There was no point rushing to take the test, it could wait. Never the most assiduous of housekeepers, she found herself impelled by the urgent need to tidy Ruby’s bedroom. Two hours later, knee deep in plastic bags of tat, unfathomable amounts of string, pieces of paper and broken toys, Ruby’s room looking better than it had done in months, the floor actually being visible, and the desk under the high sleeper bed being clear, Cat felt she could put the inevitable off no longer.
She went back downstairs, picked up her handbag and walked straight into the bright modern ensuite she and Noel had had installed when they moved in.
Best get it over with. No time like the present. Cat had forgotten how ridiculous it felt to pee on a little white stick, or how very long it felt to wait for the result. She sat on the edge of the bath, staring at the blue and white patterned bathroom tiles, realising that not only did they need a damned good clean, but it was about time she got rid of the spider’s webs. Anything to stop herself staring at those two windows. They were both blank every time she peeked anyway. Good. False alarm.
Cat decided that rather than staring at her filthy tiles, she should really do something about cleaning them. Nearly ten minutes had elapsed since she’d taken the test. Time for one last look …
Oh God. Oh no … Five minutes later Cat was sitting on the edge of the bath, reeling in shock. She looked again at the blue line in the window. Two blue lines. One immensely strong. She’d only taken the test to prove to herself how immensely stupid she was being. She couldn’t be pregnant. Not at her age. She couldn’t possibly be. She felt sick to the pit of her stomach. Ruby was nearly nine; Mel would be off at university in a couple of years, the others following on fast at her heels. Cat’s career was going really well, and she and Noel were finally beginning to find some time for themselves occasionally. How could she go right back to the beginning again and have a baby? She’d be ancient by the time the baby went off to college, and Noel would be retired. She knew she was being selfish. But a baby – it would ruin everything.
She turned the test over slowly. But what was the alternative? To get rid of it? Once upon a time, she might have been able to do that, but not now, not after four children, not after seeing the twelve-week scans, and seeing a little person, or hearing the heartbeat, or feeling that silverfish darting movement for the first time. She could no longer kid herself it was a collection of cells, or a blob. To her now, the baby was a future Mel, James, Paige or Ruby. By her calculations she must be at least eight weeks pregnant. By then babies had fingernails. How could she get rid of a blob when it had fingernails? There was no choice.
Bloody hell. Another baby, at her age. A horrible vile thought came into her head. What if there was a problem with it? She’d been lucky before having four healthy children. But she was older now. What if her luck ran out? Cat thought about her visit to the Sunshine Trust. All those children with their complex needs. Cat didn’t think she could be as calm or capable as Pippa was in the face of that kind of difficulty. She could barely manage her rowdy family now, how would she and Noel cope if their new baby had special needs? What would it do to the family dynamic? Would that be fair?
Stop! Cat admonished herself. She was letting her imagination run riot. First things first. She was eight weeks pregnant. She needed to tell Noel. She needed to see her GP. And then they would have to take it from there.
Mel
FACEBOOK status Birthday. Woooo!!!
Andy: Happy Birthday, to my legal babe.
Kaz: Happy Birthday to my bezzie xxx
Kyra16: Hey Mel, happy birthday Join the legal club!!!!
Ellie: Happy Birthday to the Melster! You’re hot hot hot!!
Fi: Happy birthday, babesxxx
Jen17: Have a great day, Melx
Jake: Happy Birthday Melanie
Mel: Oh I am so hot and gorgeous. But not as hot as Andy.
Mel: Red face. That was my little sis fraping me. Soz.
Kaz: ha ha
Andy: What you don’t think I’m hot?
Mel: Andy BBM ME NOW
Mel: Thanks for all the birthday wishes everyone! xxx
Teenage Kicks
My sixteenth birthday. What a let-down.
It’s not like I thought it would be at all. Mum and Dad kind of forgot. Well, they got me a present – a laptop since you ask – which would be great but they want me to use it for studying. BORING. And Dad’s put some crappy filter on it which means I can’t use the internet after a certain time. GREAT.
But today, they were in such a hurry to go to work, they forgot to say happy birthday.
And they won’t let me have a party in case I trash the place. It wasn’t my fault last year that the Chav Queen found out on FB and came with loads of her mates and got pissed and threw up in the flowerbed.
I did have loads of birthday wishes on BBM and Facebook which was cool. But Best Mate was the only one who remembered to buy me a present.
And as for The Boy. I’d kind of hoped for a bit more. He sent me a text saying, Happy Birthday to my legal babe, then VILE Little Sis put something really embarrassing on my BBM status and we had a chat, but that was it.
Why does he keep doing this to me? Making me feel all churned up and stuff. Is it always going to be like this?
I was thinking about sleeping with him. I kind of hoped we might do it on my 16th. But he hasn’t contacted me. Mum always said boys are after one thing. I thought the Boy was different. Maybe I was wrong.
Marianne was whizzing round the house gathering up toys and discarded toddler cups, while the twins had a late morning nap. It wasn’t going to be long before they dropped it altogether, so she was making the most of the time while she could. It always amazed her how much chaos two small children could create in a matter of seconds, and the place would be untidy again as soon as they were up, but she did like to have the occasional point in the day when the lounge was pristine.
Marianne plumped up the faded cushions on the sofa, and moved it out so she could start hoovering. Although she and Gabe had brightened the lounge with a cheerful makeover when she’d moved in, they’d made a deliberate choice not to get a new sofa or carpet when they found out about the twins. Which was just as well, as Marianne had lost count of the number of times they’d been sick and spilt drinks over both.
As she moved the sofa back into position, Marianne glanced once more at the envelope on the mantelpiece, practically burning a hole in it. Addressed to the parents of Steven North, with a postmark from Middleminster, there was no mistaking the letter that could change their lives forever. Marianne was dying to open it, but she and Gabe had promised Steven they would let him do it. She’d been staring at it on and off all