Part One Hundred And Forty
George had spent all day on her own, and she knew that this had definitely been the right thing to do. She had needed that time to get used to the sight of what she had left. Once Karen had gone, George had looked in the mirror until she could just about stand to see herself without throwing up. It had taken a while, but she had finally forced herself to come to terms with the fact that she now only had one breast. She hadn't cried, the shock and subsequent mental battle having temporarily robbed her of all the usual emotions. She didn't seem able to cry, such a normal reaction not feeling quite right for this totally abnormal situation. But now, in the middle of the evening, she was lying on the couch, listening to the haunting tones of Tori Amos, and drinking Martini. She wished so badly that she could cry, because in shedding the tears that were clogging her throat, she might be able to release some of the anguish she felt. She kept seeing her flat expanse of chest behind her eyes, the waste of space and the ugliness of the scar barely allowing her room to think.
Karen had been worried about George all day. She hadn't wanted to leave her on her own, but George had insisted, making it very difficult for Karen to do anything else. But by the time she returned home at the end of the working day, she felt that a call to John was probably in order. "It's Karen," she said when he answered the phone. "I thought I might be hearing from you," John said as he returned to his chair. "Did George give you the same speech as she gave me?" Karen asked, thinking that she almost certainly had. "She did ask both Jo and myself to leave her alone for tonight. She said that time on her own was what she needed. How did it go at the hospital?" "Oh, the hospital was fine," Karen informed him. "Ric took the stitches out, and they fitted her with a false insert for her bra." "And when you returned home?" John asked, sensing that this was the main source of George's hiding from even him. "That, wasn't so good," Karen told him quietly. "She insisted on looking at herself in the mirror." "Why now?" John demanded sadly. "Why today?" "It was something she needed to do, John," Karen tried to tell him. "If she'd left it much longer, it would have been even more difficult than it already was." John was silent, trying to sort out his own feelings about what he should do. He partly agreed with Karen in that George probably shouldn't be left on her own, but he also thought that only George could decide what was best for her at the moment. "What do you think I should do?" He eventually asked, needing Karen's advice more than he ever had done before. "If you want my honest opinion," Karen said carefully. "I think you should go and see her, now, because I'm really not happy about her being left to her own devices. Neither myself nor Jo would really get to the heart of the matter, because it's the thought of you and your reaction that frightens her most." "Then that's what I'll do," John said decisively. "If my reassurance is what she needs, then that is precisely what she will get."
When John arrived a little after nine, George's house was in total darkness. He knew that she was definitely in, because her car was still in the drive. Letting himself in and quietly shutting the front door behind him, he walked through the downstairs rooms looking for her. He could tell by the full ashtray and empty glass on the coffee table in the lounge that she had probably been drinking. As the cold chill of suspicion swept over him, he moved quietly up the stairs, hoping against hope that she hadn't taken the opportunity to do something stupid. That was the euphemism, wasn't it, doing something stupid or something silly, when in actual fact, doing something terrible would be far more appropriate. As he reached the slightly open door of her bedroom, the sound of her grief reached his ears, making him partly relieved and partly saddened. He was relieved that she was quite obviously still alive, but deeply saddened to hear such heartrending sobs coming from the woman he loved.
She was submerged under the duvet, lying on what he used to think of as his side of the bed, clutching a pillow to her and crying all the tears that had been kept at bay for the last few hours. She wasn't trying to restrict the sounds she made, because she didn't think there was anyone to hear her. It almost brought tears to John's own eyes to hear the sobs that were wracking her whole body, causing it to tremble and shake with the grief that was swamping her. Moving round to where she lay, John gently detached her from the pillow she was clutching, and turned her to face him. She said nothing as he drew her up into a sitting position and held her against him, because she was barely capable of forming a coherent sentence in her current state. Her arms went around him, clinging to him as a marooned sailor would cling to a piece of driftwood, anything that would prevent her from drowning entirely. Her body shook as he gently rocked her, murmuring soft words of comfort to try and calm her down. But she didn't at first seem able to stem the flood, her terror and anguish having been suppressed for far too long. Only a fair-sized amount of Martini had been able to give her the release she needed, not something she was particularly proud of, especially considering the problems Jo had been having of late. But once she had started, she didn't seem able to stop, the tears coming thick and fast until she could barely control her own breathing, never mind her emotions.
"What are you doing here?" She said, eventually trying to get herself under control. "I decided that disregarding your wish to be left alone, was perhaps a sensible idea," He told her, gently brushing her hair back from her face. "I didn't want you to see that," She said, reaching for a handful of tissues from the box on the bedside table. "George, that's what I'm here for," He told her earnestly. "I want to help you through this, in any way I can." "I looked at my scar today," She said after blowing her nose. "And?" He asked, wondering how she would describe her reaction to seeing it. "It's, it's so ugly," She said in utter despair. "It's utterly repulsive, and makes me feel so old, and completely over the hill." "None of us are getting any younger," John tried to placate her. "I don't care!" She replied vehemently. "I used to look pretty sexy on a good day. Admittedly, nowhere near the calibre of Connie Beauchamp, just to pick a name totally at random. But now, I just look, well, awful doesn't really describe it." Holding her against him again, and gently rubbing her back, he asked, "Will you let me see it?" "No!" She said in horrified response, pulling out of his embrace and hiding all but her face back under the duvet. "Is it really such a terrifying thought?" John asked, hoping that her extreme reaction would fade with time and persuasion. "Yes," She insisted vehemently. "Allowing you to see how ugly I look is the last thing I want to contemplate." "Okay," He said quietly, trying to calm her down. There was a slightly tense silence between them, until George voiced her most immediate concern. "Please will you stay with me?" "Of course," He said, glad to be able to actually do something she wanted of him.
After removing his clothes and cleaning his teeth, he slipped beneath the duvet on her right, assuming that it was far more comfortable for her to lie on her right side than her left. She moved into his embrace without a second thought, and when he kissed her, he could taste the Martini she'd been drinking this evening. Her need for him surprised him, as he had assumed that she would need him to be gentle with her, but her kisses became steadily more passionate, though he could feel a slight sense of restraint hovering just below the surface. "John," She said a little hesitantly. "I know you might not want to, but please would you make love to me?" "George," he said affectionately. "When have you ever known me to say no at the thought of making love to you?" "I know," She said with a nervous laugh. "I think my self-confidence is right at rock bottom tonight, that's all." "George, if you want me to make love to you, if you're really sure that's what you want, then nothing would give me more pleasure." "You might not say that if you could see me," She couldn't help saying. "If it is at all possible," He said very carefully. "I want you to forget about how you look, because right now, it is not what is uppermost in my mind." "All right," She said after a moment's thought. "But don't even think of going anywhere near my breasts, breast. I think I want to forget that part of me even exists." "I promise I won't," He assured her beginning to kiss her again, and wanting to make her forget her current situation, if only for one night.
As his hand crept under her cotton nightie, one of her hands dropped to his semi-erect penis, deftly coaxing it to full arousal. Her wondrously lubricated flesh confirmed her hunger for him, and it took him very little time to bring her to a pleading, gasping need to have him inside her. Pushing her nightie up around her waist, he moved over her, careful not to aggravate any lingering tenderness in her scar. "Forget being gentle," She said as he entered her slickly supple depths. "I need all the passion you have to give." Taking her word for it, he met her thrusts with his own, their combined need for each other surging higher and higher, taking them to the skies and back before they crashed back down to earth with an enormous emotional as well as a sexual release. There might not have been much preliminary touching as was usual between them, but that made their loving no less special, with their combined climax showing their love to be as strong as it had ever been.
As they lay afterwards, drowsily drifting between sleeping and waking, George had a sudden thought that caused a cold feeling of fear to course through her entire body. "What?" John asked sluggishly, feeling her stiffen in his arms. "I've just remembered," She said in horror. "I'm not on the pill any more. Zubin took me off it before the operation." "Ah," John replied, understanding her fear. "Don't worry," he said, trying to reassure her. "I'll get you the morning after pill tomorrow. It's not a problem," He told her firmly, trying to assuage her concern. "All right," She said, settling down again. "But we'll have to do things a little differently for the time being." "I'm sure that can be managed," he teased her affectionately. "With a little imagination." "You want to let my imagination loose on your body?" George quipped with a predatory smirk. "Sounds positively dangerous to me." "You're not the only one who can come up with something new," he replied, kissing her lingeringly, his brain already going into overdrive.
For the first time since George had returned home from hospital, they both slept relatively soundly, cuddled closer than they had been for far too long. But when John awoke the next morning, feeling thoroughly rested and refreshed, George was no longer with him. As his senses rose to meet the new day, he became aware of the sound of the shower running in the en suite bathroom. Well, at least she wasn't far away from him, something he desperately didn't want at the moment. If he was honest with himself, he wanted to skip court and spend the whole day with her, but he knew he couldn't. The public was as usual demanding justice, and it was his role to ensure they received it, with whatever results the jury might choose to throw back at him. As he yawned and stretched, the noise of the shower ceased, and not long after, George returned to the bedroom wearing a clean nightie, showing that she intended returning to bed for a while. "Are you all right?" He said, as she brushed her hair. "Fine," She said as she returned to bed. "Oh, and there's no need for the morning after pill. I think my body wants me to have a baby even less than I do." "Ah," He said, understanding her euphemism. When he put his arms round her, she snuggled up to him, her fiercely cramping abdomen causing her to wince. Putting his hand down, John encountered the rigid muscle of her knotted belly, and he tenderly tried to massage away some of the pain. "That is definitely one of the things I missed about you during all those years that we weren't together," George said as she felt his hand on her. "Oh, I'm glad that I'm useful for something," he replied mockingly. "But unlike you, I have to leave this bed and get ready for court." "Well, I can't stay here too long," She said regretfully. "Karen's coming to see me this morning, and I sense an idea up her sleeve that I'm not necessarily going to agree with." "That always was your prerogative," he said affectionately. "To disagree with anything that those who love you might think is a good idea." "Of course, darling," She said, kissing him lingeringly, and knowing just how lucky she was to have John, Jo and Karen taking care of her interests, even though she wasn't always in the mood to agree with them.