Rosie Lewis - Unexpected: A True Short Story

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Certain details in this story, including names, places and dates, have been changed to protect the familys privacy.

HarperElement

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First published by HarperElement 2015

FIRST EDITION

Rosie Lewis 2015

A catalogue record of this book is

available from the British Library

Cover image Alicia Mick/Arcangel Images (posed by model)

Cover layout design HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2015

Rosie Lewis asserts the moral right to

be identified as the author of this work

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Ebook Edition August 2015 ISBN: 9780008113049

Version: 2015-07-17

All things considered, it couldnt really get any worse. Or at least thats what Ellen told herself when she woke to find Marks side of the bed cold and last nights awful, heavy sensation still pressing on her midriff. As she blinked in the darkness, the memory of their final conversation seemed to bounce off the walls like an echo, with stress making her windpipe burn and her hands tremble. What she couldnt work out was why her body was reacting to his exit with such shock. Hadnt she known that hed scramble for the door as soon as he discovered the truth?

While other women worried about infidelity, Ellen regarded Google as one of the greatest threats to her happiness, with old newspapers coming a close second. Christ, if anyone should have been used to abrupt endings it was her, but with Mark somehow she chewed away at her jagged fingernails as she thought about it shed imagined that he wouldnt freak out like the others. For the first time in her life she had felt safe, but then the dream imploded after a single, ill-thought-out confession. It was her own stupid fault. After his proposal, shed told herself it was only fair to tell him that she would never have kids. But why hadnt she just concocted some story about blocked tubes or faulty eggs?

Did she really believe anyone in their right mind would tie themselves to a liability like her, once they knew the full story? Not a chance, she thought, with another angry gnaw at her reddened fingertips. Thats why shed always been careful about contraception, even asking her doctor about sterilisation. The GP had refused, declaring that, at twenty-eight, she was too young to make that sort of decision. But she could see by his wavering gaze that he understood why she wanted it done. Of course he did he knew her history.

Whatever it is, nothing will change between us, Mark had reassured her, when she told him she had something important to say. Ive never loved anyone the way I love you, hed said. A small, hopeful part of her had dared to believe him then, until she saw the doubts bleeding into his face. The next two months passed awkwardly, and it was as if they were stuck in a cold departure lounge waiting for a flight to some far-off place she knew the parting was coming, she just didnt know when.

Its you, El, hed said last night as he stuffed unfolded clothes into a suitcase. Why must you push everyone away? I dont give a monkeys about all that other crap. Youre your own worst enemy, you know that? Fixing his gaze anywhere but on her pale, stricken face, he hadnt even stayed long enough to pack up his beloved rock CDs. Do you think Id stick around if I didnt have to? Ellen had wanted to scream, sorely tempted to hurl one of the Metallica CD cases at the back of his head. Instead she had folded her hands in her lap and sat quietly, with unseen tears rolling down her cheeks.

It was strange to think that she might almost have felt relieved if Mark had run off with someone else or if not relieved, then at least normal. Shed belong to the same club generations before her had unwittingly joined. After all, there was no shame in being tossed aside for someone richer, sassier or fitter, was there? Why, she could go into work today, wail about Marks callous disregard and wallow in the kindness of her colleagues; some might even take twisted pleasure in raking over the sordid details and tearing him to shreds. Oh, how shed love to oblige them.

Her body protested as she trudged to the bathroom, Bow nudging his damp muzzle into her hands as she went. She leaned over and stroked his velvety ears, breaking into a sweat when she straightened up. Massaging her lower back with her knuckles, she groaned as she stepped into the shower, the sad ache in her chest weighing her whole torso down as she washed her hair and then afterwards, standing heavily at the sink to brush her teeth. Bow yawned and sank to the floor, resting his chin on her toes. He looked up at her with a mournful expression, the whites of his eyes visible below a deep molasses brown. With Mark gone, Ellen was worried about the elderly dog being in the house on his own all day. She felt bad for him, but shed never taken a sickie in her life, and anyway, Bow was going to have to get used to being alone they both were.

At the thought of the office and the inevitable questions awaiting her, her stomach flipped over again, this time so violently that her ribs actually hurt. Beads of sweat appeared on her forehead and, feeling light-headed, she leaned forward and rested her hands on the cold enamel. She trusted Mark not to tell anyone her secret, but non-committal answers from her would surely leave colleagues puzzled, suspicious even.

Half an hour later, Ellen jogged towards the tram station, the smell of diesel from a passing taxi making her feel sick. Dust swirled up from the street and she turned her face into her coat, gripped by the conviction that, on top of everything else, she was about to come down with a bad dose of flu. She took a deep breath, the icy February air doing nothing to dispel the overwhelming gloom inside her.

If shed had any real notion of what was about to happen, though, she might have thrown herself under the blasted 7.36 a.m. tram, instead of careering full pelt after it.

Weve started little one on a four-dose course against hepatitis, the stout midwife, Ciara, whispered as she parked a wheeled metal trolley between the nearby incubator and my chair. It was February 2006, and although I had been registered as a foster carer for almost three years, I had never fostered a newborn before. Captivated by the tiny clothes folded on my lap (pink vests, no bigger than the palm of my hand), it was a moment before I looked up. So far shes tested negative, Ciara continued, glancing around the Special Care Baby Unit to make sure no one was near enough to overhear, but without the usual prenatal tests, weve no idea of Mums status. My guess is that her lifestyles been anything but organised.