‘I did say to bring the car.’
My stomach dips with guilt. James had suggested driving to the surgery but I deemed it too unsafe given the icy roads. Now it seems my newborn is in the first throes of hypothermia and as usual it’s too late to take a different course. ‘He’ll be going into shock soon. You’ll have to walk back and get the car while I’m in the doctor’s.’
‘ He’s fine, Lou…stop fretting.’
‘You haven’t even looked at him!’ I pick up the pace, the snow squelching beneath my feet, my toes numb despite wearing thick woolly Ugg boots. The wheels of the pram jam up continuously as I push it forward, my panic intensifying until I actually consider calling the emergency services to rescue us.
It’s now the 23rd December, three days since my husband declared me insane and demanded I see a doctor. ‘I really don’t think this is necessary,’ I say, annoyed I’m being forced here against my will. I hunch up against the cold, the wind howling around my ears, wet, damp flakes still falling like confetti from the sky. I look up, see trees, fences and rooftops all swallowed up in white. The morning light struggles to poke through the thick white clouds. ‘And anyway,’ I add, ‘I’m not depressed, I feel fine.’
James sighs. ‘It’s best to get checked out. We’re lucky to be seen this close to Christmas.’
‘Do you think Doctor Roberts will know if it’s possible for a sperm donor to track down a child?’ I ask cautiously, finally seeing the surgery up ahead, its roof buried under a three-inch blanket of snow.
‘Not this again. Can’t you just leave it?’
‘No, I can’t.’ I blow out an agitated breath of air, then watch as the wind sweeps it up and carries it away. Over the past three days I’ve tried countless times to discuss Cory’s donor, to try and make James see that I’m anything but mad, despite the supposed ‘evidence’ to the contrary. It’s almost as if he doesn’t want to believe me, like a part of him simply can’t bear to think about Cory’s real father. I understand it, of course I do. But, ultimately, protecting James’s feelings is nothing compared to protecting my son’s safety. ‘I’m asking the doctor, James, I have to.’
‘Whatever you want, Lou.’ His words hold a degree of finality, like an invisible full stop has been jammed into place.
‘You could be called in by the hospital at any moment,’ I continue, desperate to keep the conversation open now it’s begun. ‘I don’t feel safe without you. I need some advice on the matter. You have to understand that?’ For the past three days James has been ‘on call’, meaning he’s been able to stay at home with us. Despite his occasional pitying glances and passive-aggressive demeanour, I have felt safer with him around. Unfortunately, he is due back in work on Boxing Day and to say I’m dreading being left alone is an understatement.
‘You can ask her if you like,’ he says. ‘But she won’t have any insight because the donor hasn’t tracked us down!’ He strides in front of me, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets, turning his head after a second or two, presumably to have another go. ‘And anyway… you haven’t had anything strange happen for days. No peculiar cards, no nicotine-starved ghosts.’
‘Don’t be sarcastic.’
‘Okay, I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. But you must realise the absurdity of it all?’
‘Whatever you say,’ I snap, purposely throwing his earlier words back at him.
The doctor’s surgery is now upon us, the icy driveway marred with black tyre marks. Light shines out through the front bay window, the waiting room already crammed with people despite it not even being nine o’clock. ‘And anyway,’ I say, wanting one final snipe before I’m swallowed up by the hushed silence of the waiting room. ‘Just because there haven’t been any other incidents doesn’t mean he isn’t still out there.’ A part of me is annoyed that everything has stopped. I almost want another card to materialise so James will believe me.
I push the pram up the ramp which leads directly into the surgery, convinced I’m going to slip and land on my arse at any moment. James pushes past me and proceeds to pull open the glass door, gesturing with his hand for me to pass. ‘Let’s just see what the doctor says, shall we?’ he says again, a smattering of arrogance in his voice. ‘We’ll do whatever she suggests.’
The receptionist barely looks up at us as she takes my name and gestures for me to take a seat in the waiting room. Behind her, next to several grey filing cabinets, a small Christmas tree tilts over to one side, its feeble branches littered with baubles which have seen better days. ‘Doctor Roberts will be with you shortly,’ she mutters, already bashing her manicured nails on the keyboard of a clunky desktop.
The waiting room is warm but not comfortably so. I take off my cashmere coat and drape it over the back of a blue plastic chair, indicating with my hand that James should sit in the empty seat to my left, buffering me and Cory from an elderly gentleman who is currently regurgitating the lining of his lungs into a stiff handkerchief. In front of us, a child, no older than two, ransacks a paint-chipped toybox, seemingly finding nothing of interest as he discards each tatty item noisily on the floor. His mother, I assume, flicks her eyes over to him before wordlessly diverting her attention back to her mobile phone.
‘This is pointless. We should just go. Cory’s going to end up ill in this place.’ I make an attempt to stand.
‘Not so fast.’ James reaches out and grabs my lower arm, pulling me back down. ‘You need some help, Lou. I’m only trying to protect you.’
‘Hmm, if you say so.’
‘Louisa!’
I jump at the sound of my name, thinking for a moment that the doctor has personally called me in.
Magda stands in the archway which separates the reception area from the waiting room. In her hand she clutches what looks like a prescription.
‘Hey,’ I say, slightly flustered to see her here. ‘I’ve got a bit of a cold.’
She bats away my response with her hand, as if she knows I’m lying but doesn’t mind. ‘Just collecting Helen’s repeat,’ she says through a small smile, by which I assume she means antidepressants. ‘Poor love isn’t doing great. Still, we’re both excited for Christmas Day.’
Shit! In all the goings on I’d completely forgotten about hosting Magda and her sister on Christmas Day, not to mention Annette and Ron. I haven’t even told James about our extra guests! ‘Brilliant,’ I say, my voice sounding much friendlier than I feel inside. ‘We’re looking forward to it.’
‘Net and Ron wanted to know what time?’
Beside me I sense James stiffen. ‘Tell me you’re joking?’ he whispers through gritted teeth.
‘About midday all right?’ I say to Magda, gaining some sort of warped pleasure from James’s misery.
‘Perfect.’ She sticks the prescription between her teeth and pulls on her coat. ‘See you in two days then. I’ll tell Annette and Ron. Although you’ll probably be seeing them in a moment, won’t you?’
‘Why’s that?’
She pauses, a small, almost embarrassed smile sneaking onto her face. ‘In the pharmacy. To pick up the prescription for your… cold.’
I swallow loudly. ‘Yes, of course. See you Christmas Day then.’
‘Mrs Carter to room two.’
The sound of my name over the intercom makes me jump for the second time in as many minutes. I look over at the archway but Magda has already gone.
‘Come on then,’ says James, jumping to his feet.
‘No.’ I turn to face him, my eyebrows knotting together. ‘You’re not coming in with me, I’m not a child.’
‘ I think it would be better if I were there.’