The night wears on and there’s still no sign of our moving from the field. We pass the time chatting about silly things – James Bond, old TV shows – nothing of consequence, but enjoyable nonetheless. I have no idea how late it is; I just know that I’m very cosy under my blanket. Charlie claimed he didn’t need an extra layer.
‘I can’t believe you took April to music group,’ Charlie says. ‘Would you really take her again if I didn’t?’ he pries.
‘Yep.’
‘You’re so funny,’ he says, shaking his head.
‘What did I say?’
‘You’re an enigma,’ he states.
I’m liking the sound of this cool, mysterious me until he continues.
‘I can’t believe you don’t want kids. This whole search for proper love – it’s crap. You don’t even know what real love is until you have kids,’ he continues as my smile fades. ‘Is it because your mum wasn’t very maternal? Has she put you off?’
‘No, it’s not that,’ I reply.
‘What is it, then? Elliot?’
‘When did the night turn all serious?’ I’m wondering how I’ll handle it if he pushes this.
‘Are you going along with what he wants?’ he persists.
‘No, I want the same things he does.’ I say this with conviction, but, if Charlie takes it much further, I know I’ll cave.
He stares at me for a long, uncomfortable moment. ‘I don’t buy it.’ He has a small disbelieving furrow on his brow. ‘I don’t know what you’ve been telling yourself, but it’s bullshit. You’d make agreatmum.’
He has no idea of the turbulence raging within me.
‘I can’t have children.’ My admission comes out in not much more than a whisper.
His eyes widen. ‘What?’
‘Whoa, downer alert.’ I throw off the blanket and stagger to my feet. ‘Do you reckon the bar’s still open?’
‘They packed up ages ago. Stay,’ he says firmly, grabbing my hand and tugging me down beside him.
I sit with my elbows on my knees, staring ahead disconsolately.
‘What do you mean, you can’t have children?’ he asks me gently, sitting up beside me.
I shrug. ‘I can’t.’
‘Have you tried?’
I let out a bitter laugh. ‘It’s a long story.’
‘We’ve got all night.’
I turn to look at him. He’s staring back at me, his eyes glinting in the darkness. I look away. And then I begin to speak.
Chapter 30
It started when I was with Freddie. Or, rather, it stopped. My periods.
I thought I was pregnant the first time I skipped a period. Freddie and I had the most horrendous argument. He was furious at me for this one time we’d run out of condoms and I’d persuaded him to use the withdrawal method. He was adamant it was my fault, but there was no way Freddie wanted to bring up a kid.
That was how he put it: ‘I’m not bringing up a kid. You get an abortion or you do this on your own.’
