Then there had been the loss of her baby and the great blow it had dealt her marriage, and Rich’s dad with his coldly confident, ‘I’m sure it’s for the best,’ and ‘There must have been something wrong with it.’
Wrong?
Beatrice turned the key in the lock before racing up the ladder and onto the towering princess bed, burying her face in the pillow so she could scream the word. ‘Wrong! I just wanted my baby breathing in my arms, no matter what.’
Clasping her hand to her mouth, she let herself cry into the soft down, knowing no one could hear.
At the time, although she hadn’t been able to fully process why she had kept the words inside and she was unable to anticipate the disastrous consequences of bottling up her most painful feelings, she had made a decision. She decided to channel the hurt that shefeltinto something that she coulddo.
She couldn’t be nothing but grief and loss and failure. Instead she would do what she did best – make a plan and put it into action. She would do research, write a list, consult the experts, and she would find out how to fast-track herself and Rich back to happiness. She was going to get pregnant again and quick.
Beatrice groaned to think of it and the emotions buried deep within her shifted. ‘Again with the clarity,’ she murmured into the pillow before rolling onto her side. She could see it all.
She had awakened one morning in May feeling oddly brighter; the first day of her second proper period since the miscarriage – day one of a new cycle. Her head buzzed with the hope and excitement of it all. Potentially, she could get pregnant that month. Even though she knew they could have gone for it the previous month, and she’d been dying to, what with Rich steering clear and looking so sad, she had held off mentioning it. Talk about willpower.
But now she was ready – or that’s what she’d told herself. She’d started taking her folic acid again, inspired by the online baby forums about mums who got pregnant in the months after losing a baby and how they got to full term and a take-home baby. Rainbow babies, she had learned they were called – babies made after miscarriage.
She’d discovered there were certain foods that could aid conception – Brazil nuts and pineapple cores – and she had gorged on them in secret and Rich hadn’t thought to ask why she was carrying four pineapples back from the shops in her backpack.
She’d confessed her action plan to Angela and Vic one night over dinner at their place while Clara slept on Vic’s chest and Vic tried not to dribble rogan josh over her slumbering daughter. Beatrice told them all about how she’d surprised Rich with the idea, now a fully formed, bullet-pointed action plan.
‘So, I made Rich his favourite dinner last night and told him about how we could start trying again any day now – in fact I’ll most likely be fertile in about two weeks, but he was horrified. He said he wasn’t sure he wanted to try again, and I burst into tears over the profiteroles and asked why, and he said he didn’t think he could go through it all again, if the worst should happen. And I ended up shouting, “Youcan’t go through it?Youcan’t?” and storming out, and the whole time he was looking at me like I was nuts. A bit like you are now, Angela, come to think of it!’
And Angela had replied, ‘Of course I don’t think you’re nuts; you’re grieving. It’s only natural you’d want to try again.’
‘I get it,’ Vic had chipped in. ‘When we were trying for Clara, in between all those failed rounds of assisted insemination, we were the same. It was a huge rollercoaster of hope then despair then hope again. I understand the desperation. I really do.’ Vic looked down at Clara and the worddesperationrang in Beatrice’s ears over the sound of Angela snapping a poppadum and squirming in her chair.
‘I’m not desperate.’ Beatrice had looked between her sister and Vic. ‘You think I’m desperate?’
‘That’s not what she’s saying, is it?’ said Angela. ‘We just know those feelings, and they’re a lot to deal with, that’s all. They can overwhelm you if you’re not careful. Consume you, even.’
Beatrice saw the wary glance Vic threw Angela. They’d spoken about her before, clearly. What was this? An intervention?
‘Well, if you’ve been there, you’ll understand why I want to do this quickly and efficiently.’
‘This is Mother Nature you’re talking about. You can’t rush these things. Even with the best fertility doctors our money could buy, it took us so long to get Clara.’
Three pairs of eyes fell upon the sleeping child and Beatrice sighed.
‘So where is Rich now?’ Vic asked.
‘At the pub.ApparentlyI’m obsessed with getting pregnant again. It was all my talk about ways of increasing cervical mucus to aid conception that did it.’
Vic let her fork settle on her plate with a queasy look on her face. Beatrice didn’t let that put her off.
‘But he did ask what was with all the pineapples and really he needn’t be so flaming squeamish. He turned so grey I thought he was having an aneurysm. I can’t help thinking of Charlotte onSex and the Citywhen she’s in couples’ therapy with Trey, her drippy, mummy’s boy husband. You know, Kyle MacLachlan? Yum!’
Angela shrugged.
‘Never mind. Anyway, Charlotte taunts Trey for being sex-shy and shouts about how at all costs shemustn’t scare the penis!’
Angela and Vic screamed with laughter at this, making Clara wriggle and squeak but she didn’t awaken.
‘Aren’t you glad you didn’t have to scare any penises to conceive Clara?’ Beatrice had blurted, before seeing the look of shock on their faces and immediately feeling guilty because the memory of all those injections, blood tests and scary procedures Angela had had to endure – as well as all the expense and the waiting – must still be so fresh for them both. ‘I’m sorry! What I’m saying is, I know you had a really hard time of it and I know I’m not the only one who’s struggled, but you three just go to show that with the right planning and a lot of effort you can get your take-home baby in the end. And that’s what I want.’
‘OK, we get it, just please give yourself some time too, OK?’
‘Ange, the last thing I have is time. I’m thirty-nine, this might be my last chance.’
