‘With my oxygen tank in tow,’ she said, shooting a begrudging glance at the black cylinder beside her. Then she flipped the mood completely by adding, ‘Which I’ll only be bringing along because you’re going to take Nick’s breath away when he sees you.’
*
I hadn’t known what to expect from my first counselling session, although the image of lying on a couch while someone scribbled away on a clipboard beside me had been hard to shake off. The reality was very different.
The first surprise was discovering that genetic counselling wasn’tactuallycounselling in the psychological sense of the word. It was more of a learning process where I’d be given all the facts and options so I could make an informed decision about whether I wanted to go ahead and get tested.
I attended the first session alone, but Nick came with me to the second one some weeks later. That was the day I learnt about preimplantation genetic testing, a complicated type of IVF that gives couples like us the chance to have children, if they want them.
‘I feel I ought to have known about that pre diagnosis thingy before now,’ I admitted as we walked back to Nick’s car.
‘PGT,’ he said, the abbreviation slipping easily off his tongue.
‘You knew about it already?’
‘Most vets are science nerds,’ Nick said with a sheepish shrug. ‘And we use something very similar with cattle.’
‘I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or worse.’
Nick smiled and paused halfway through reversing out of the parking space to squeeze my hand. ‘PGT doesn’t and shouldn’t alter whether you decide to get tested. It’s still one hundred per cent your decision. Have you told Amelia about the counselling sessions yet?’
I shook my head. ‘I want to wait until I’ve decided one way or the other. I don’t want to get her hopes up only to disappoint her.’
‘You do know that nothing you do will ever disappoint your sister, don’t you?’ Nick said gently.
In the end, the decision was easier than I thought it would be. I wanted to know. Not for Amelia, or Mum, or even for Nick. I wanted to know for me. I’d never understood people who skip to the end of a book because they need to know how it ends, but perhaps now I was starting to. Knowing would bring its own kind of comfort. Pandora’s box was right there in front of me and even though I was terrified, I still wanted to open it.
I told Amelia my decision two days before the wedding, and I truly don’t think she could have been more ecstatic if I’d won the lottery.
‘It’s going to be alright, Lexi,’ she cried, reaching for my hands and gripping them. ‘I just know your test will come back negative.’
‘You don’t know that, hon. No one does.’
‘Ido,’ Amelia insisted. ‘It’s the same as how I knew you and Nick were destined to get together.’ It seemed inappropriate to remind her that initially she’d ‘seen’ him asherhusband rather than mine. ‘And now I’m just as certain that the faulty gene will have skipped you. You and I were in a Petri dish lottery when Mum and Dad had IVF, and the only thing that makes any of this bearable is knowingIwas the one who inherited this thing and not you. I don’t think I could’ve coped if it had been the other way around.’
Welcome to my world,I thought sadly.
*
‘This is a very tame hen night,’ Mum observed as she squeezed a sachet of vinegar over her chips.
I looked around at the beach, which, although a little chilly, looked particularly beautiful this evening.
‘What had you been expecting, Mum?’
‘I’m not sure. Perhaps something a bit livelier?’ she suggested tentatively.
I’d been to plenty of hen parties that were lively enough to raise anyone’s blood pressure, and I wasn’t sure how Amelia or Mum would have coped with an evening of baby-oiled strippers and bottomless cocktails.
‘Well, this is exactly what I wanted,’ I said, munching contentedly on a particularly long chip. ‘My favourite takeaway, in one of my favourites places, with my two favourite mother hens.’ I picked up the bottle of chilled Prosecco that I’d planted in the sand and waved it aloft in an unspoken question.
‘Better not,’ Amelia said, answering for them both. ‘If you get Mum tiddly, I’m not going to be able to help you carry her back to the cottage.’
Beneath the joke was an ever-present reminder. Amelia’s home was only about fifty metres away, but that was about as far as she felt comfortable walking these days.
We stayed on the beach until the sun slipped slowly into the sea and then gathered up our belongings and threw our leftovers on the sand for the waiting gulls.
‘Better hope Tom doesn’t find out you did that,’ Amelia teased, knowing it was sure to bring a blush to Mum’s cheeks. I hid my smile and resolved that tomorrow, when I threw my wedding bouquet, she would be the one to catch it.
