A Grip

I went to the toilet, brushed my teeth, and changed into pyjamas, after checking my mobile to see if Martin had called to say he was on his back from Truro. I usually silence the ringer when the baby is sleeping but there was no message. It was pushing ten o'clock and I wasn't worried, exactly. Martin was never too keen on driving, and I knew it was about 35 miles and hour away. Still, I'd have thought the man could call me when he was on the road.

I stepped into the hall and stopped. If I went right, I'd go to my bedroom, where the cot was set up and Philip was sleeping. If I turned left, I'd go to where Martin beds down. I turned left. The room was small, and the walls were an awful gray-green I always meant to paint over. Martin, who never noticed such things, never mentioned the sickly color – at least it made me sick.

I sat on the lumpy bed and bounced a bit. Not a great mattress either and this is where the poor man is sleeping. When I pushed with my hand it wasn't bad, but when I bounced up and down, I wiggled too much, partly from my full breasts which make me wobble and sway. Ah to be a B cup again… someday.

I lay back on the bed and thought about when I'd gone home, that special Friday in London.

There's no doubt I was surprised, shocked, bemused, and frightened about being pregnant. As I sorted my feelings, I put them into various mental buckets.

The one labeled Surprise was very obvious. I hadn't planned on it, neither had Martin, and if I'd known this I'd have stayed in Portwenn. Well would I have? Here I'm just another face in the crowd, but there, I'd be that tosser, Louisa, who's got a bun in the oven.

The Shocked bucket held all my 'what am I going to do?' stuff. Money worries, long term help and support, what about Martin, will he care, and so on. Up the spout fit squarely here as well.

Bemused was the funny bucket. I'd laughed out loud for a few minutes when I got onto the pavement outside the doctor's building. I thought of what a laughing stock I'd made of myself, in spite of being so careful, after all the 'help' I got from dear old dad, Terry. I'd spent years trying to regain the trust of the village, after all the stunts my dad pulled. Now this.

But it was funny in a devilish sort of way. I chuckled again and two women passing by gave me a funny look, likely thinking I was drugged or drunk. I was in a way – drunk on irony – or maybe hysteria.

My frightened bucket held far too many dark things that overlapped the Shocked and Surprised buckets, so I just dumped all the shocked things into this one as well. Money and help were the largest things in this one. And another – would I keep the baby – either end it now or let it be adopted?

I thought also of my mum who jumped ship when I was ten years old.

I was at school, and came home to an empty house. Dad was off somewhere trying to work a deal, as he always was up to, but I had a key and mum worked days at a hotel.

So I made a bread and butter sandwich, opened a book and read. Mum was usually home around six, but not that day. Dad wandered in about seven and stomped through the house. He came into the kitchen where I was reading. "You seen your mum?" he growled.

"No, dad. She's late today. Something wrong?"

"I don't know." He dashed upstairs and I heard him slamming doors. Then I heard a shout. "Dad? You ok?" I called. He didn't answer so I ran up to their bedroom, where I heard odd noises.

My dad, Terry Glasson, a man who was big across the shoulders and in ego, was sprawled on his back on their bed with tears running down his face. He clutched a crumpled piece of paper to his chest. I stood in the doorway, shocked. My dad didn't cry – not ever. The drawers were pulled from the clothes chest and bits of clothing were on the floor and bed. There was a pile of shoes too, all mixed up, mum and dad's, scattered about.

"Dad?" I crept to the bed and touched his foot. "What's wrong?"

He put his fists to his face and sobbed openly. "She's gone, Louisa! Cleared out," he blubbered with a racking choking noise, and then threw the paper to the floor as he managed to sit up and wiped his face on a sleeve.

"Right." He sighed. "Mum's gone, Louisa. She… uhm… said she needed a bit of break." He punched the bed a few times, then slowed and stopped. "Ok, Terry get yourself a grip," he said to himself then paid attention to me again. "We'll do fine, won't we, love?" and he smiled.

Carrying my bag of pamphlets, notes, broadsides, and vitamin tablets I cruised down the street. I hopped on the Tube, traveled to the market near the apartment and took myself home after a short walk.

My flat mate Liz was asleep since she worked nights at club. So I crept into the apartment trying not to make any noise, as she usually got in around 4 AM. Liz was tall, blonde, blue eyed, and willowy with big tits and a come hither face plus a laugh that would take your ears off when she got it cranked up. She was sweet to me, poor little girl from Cornwall as she'd christened me when I called about the flat.

The hostel where I'd stayed for a few days was expensive, dirty, and busy. Here it was quiet and affordable, with four rooms and a bath, in an old building with tall ceilings and leaded glass windows. But the floor squeaked. I tip-toed along, but there was one monster board that squeaked if you were within three feet of it. It made a loud noise as I neared it and I heard a muffled shout from my flat mate's room.

"What? Who's there?" she yelled.

"Just me, Liz! Louisa." I called out.

The larger bedroom door swung open and a bleary eyed Liz appeared, wearing nothing but panties and a worn cami. "Gawd, Louisa, you scared me!"

"Just home early."

"Jesus, Louisa, it's barely noon."

"Half past actually."

Liz looked at me all squinty eyed, as she wore contacts, so she was trying to focus with out of shape eyeballs. "You don't look too good, girl."

I breezed past her into the kitchen. "I'm fine."

"Bullshit. Don't give me that," she said padding after me into our kitchen. "You're white as a sheet!" She stepped onto the cold tile floor and screamed. "Gawd, why can't the landlord put some heat into this place?" She hopped onto the counter putting her bum next to my groceries.

"Well, if he did, Liz, we'd pay more rent so we'd be living somewhere else."

"Yeah, you're right." She yawned and stretched and her threadbare camisole came within an inch of its life.

I looked at my gorgeous roommate shivering in her underwear. "If you're cold, you could wear more clothing," I suggested.

"Ha! What's the fun in that? You gonna make coffee? I'm dying."

I considered. "No, think I'll go off it. I've been at it too much." At least I could dodge this discussion for a time.

Liz started pawing through my market bags. "What you got in here? Oh, goody, lot's of fruit, juice, rice, veggies, and a chicken. Yum." She finished with a finger into her mouth along with gagging noises.

I went into the lav, used the toilet and washed. As I was drying my hands I heard a shriek. Oh, God, I thought, why does Liz have to be so darn theatrical? Then it hit me and I ran back to see Liz holding up magazines and a book I'd bought at the chemist down the street. She'd pulled them from the shopping bags.

"Louisa?" she asked accusingly as she pointed to the titles. The book was 'You and Your Foetus,' and the magazines were 'Working Woman Maternity,' 'Making the Most of Motherhood,' and "Pregnant and Fit.'

Liz's eyes boggled at them and at me. "No! You're not. No!"

I breathed deep, which I was doing a lot that Friday. I thought about my bucket sort of issues. The one I'd not thought about was Proud. Was I going to be proud or not? The other pregnant lady on the Tube, what an honored sorority I was in now, had wished me luck. I would certainly need it.

Liz next held a package. "And these?" She was holding clearly marked pregnancy vitamins. "Louisa?"

Was I proud? My mum ran away and I was not about to. I was going to keep this child, mine and Martin's, no matter what! I think I had a grip – just like my dad had to. Was I serious?

In an adrenaline surge I felt I got my grip. "Yes! I am PREGNANT!" I shouted.

So Liz grabbed me and shrieked once more.