‘So, how was it? Tell me… please… you are a Russian princess and there’s a shitload of Fabergé eggs in your future?’ Lissa was already one wine down when Charlotte met her in the pub. She was scanning through her laptop, Charlotte could see over her friend’s shoulder, at an internet search of the best bars in Amsterdam.
Good old Lissa; she could always be relied on to make damned sure a great time was had.
Which wasn’t going to be hard, to be honest. Because the journey from Carol’s had been a blur of tears and emptiness and Charlotte needed a diversion. Thoughts whirled around her head. If she’d been expecting a fairy tale she’d have been pretty disappointed. As it was, she just felt overwhelmed, and suddenly very tired. And now soaked through, too from a sudden downpour that hadn’t been forecast.
‘My real parentage is pretty dull, really. Just the usual teenage mistake. She didn’t even know who my father was.’ And that was fine. Actually. She was glad it wasn’t anything horrid but the whole meeting had left her more upset than she’d imagined it would. As she put her handbag on the table she realised she was shaking, and it had little to do with getting wet and cold in the rain. ‘I need a drink, though. A bloody big one.’
‘Coming right up. Bourbon and coke at the double.’ Lissa waved to a waiter who came over and took the order, because every man did whatever the heck she asked, and then reappeared minutes later with a glass.
The wonderful thing about Lissa was that she didn’t judge. She didn’t ever really tell you what you should or shouldn’t do. After fifteen years of friendship she just accepted. Nodded. Understood. Supported. There was an easy telepathy, no need for explanation. Thank God for girlfriends, Charlotte thought as she finished describing the café, her mum and the story surrounding her conception. Lissa’s hand covered hers and she smiled reassuringly. ‘Well, it’s a lot to take in. What did you think? First impressions?’
There had been a connection, Charlotte was sure of it now. A deeper one than strangers meeting, and different to pen pals who usually had at least shared a whole load of stuff before meeting in the flesh. There was something there and she did want to pursue it, but she wasn’t sure she knew how. Or when. You couldn’t cram a lifetime into one meeting. And… what if, after everything, they didn’t like each other? How would she deal with that? Rejection didn’t seem appropriate, but then again, what was?
Nothing in Charlotte’s life to date had prepared her for this. ‘I think she liked me. I mean… I don’t know. I think she was impressed by everything I’ve done. She seemed nice, just a bit sad.’
‘Well, so she should be, she gave you up. Look at you… you’re amazing.’ Lissa nodded and took a big gulp of her wine. ‘That came out wrong. I mean, she had good reason, and everything. But she’s missed so much, right?’
‘Yes. We both have.’
‘So, have you scratched your itch?’
Had she? ‘I don’t know. We didn’t cover genetics or relatives. It didn’t seem appropriate to ask at first and then we got interrupted, so I didn’t get a chance to find out about any familial skeletons in the closet.’
‘So you need to see her again. Do you want to? How’s that itch for knowledge going?’
‘I said I’d be in touch, but I don’t know what to do now. How long do I wait? I don’t want to seem too eager and needy, but I do want to find out more. I promised myself I’d learn things so I can pass them on to any kids I have.’
Lissa shuddered involuntarily. Allergic to even the mention of kids.
Charlotte grinned. ‘Not something you’ll ever have to worry about, right? But on reflection I’d say, yes, I want more information, so I’m still itching.’
‘There’s a cream for that, I’m sure.’ Lissa twirled a beermat under her fingers. ‘Now, what about Eileen?’
Immediately, the mention of her mother’s name made guilt raise its head, worming through Charlotte’s gut. ‘What about her?’
‘What does she think about all this? Is she bothered? Threatened? She’s sensible, right? She wouldn’t feel bad about this, surely? She knows you love her and all that.’
That guilt kept on squirming. ‘I haven’t told her yet. I never quite found the time or the right words.’
‘This is a big secret to keep from her, Charlie.’ Lissa’s eyebrows rose.
‘It’s not really… well, it is. I’m trying to protect her in case she feels hurt.’
‘But if she finds out somehow, without you saying anything first, she’ll be even more hurt.’
This was true. But she’d only kept silent about it for good reasons. ‘I’ll tell her. I just need to find the right time and that’s harder than you think these days.’
‘I know. You’re very busy. Keeping secrets from me. Your mum.’ Lissa winked, showing she wasn’t hurt by this, but had noticed nevertheless. ‘Whatever next?’
‘Don’t be silly. I’m just digesting things inside and trying to figure stuff out before I blab my mouth off. Isn’t that called growing up?’
Another shudder. ‘Eugh. Who wants to do that?’ Lissa pulled a face and took a drink and Charlotte noticed her friend’s hands were shaking. Very unusual for Miss Uber Confident 2017. It wasn’t particularly cold, just a damp squib of a June day. Looking closer, Charlotte noticed her friend’s eyes were a little sunken too. She didn’t look great.
‘Liss, are you okay?’
Lissa tugged her dark-grey sweatshirt closer across her stomach. ‘Me? Yes. Of course. I’m fine.’
The wrong answer. Fine and nice weren’t in Lissa’s vocabulary, too ordinary when she could use words like spectacular and brilliant. ‘No, you’re not. Is it me? I’m sorry. Did you feel like I left you out of things? Because I didn’t mean to. To be honest I feel a bit pulled in all directions. I’m the one with the problems but I feel like I have to tiptoe around people – my mum mainly, and Ben – just so I don’t upset anyone.’
‘No. I was pulling your leg. You’re entitled to privacy. We all are. Forget it.’ But the tone was wrong. Something was wrong.
‘So, what’s going on? How’s Ryan?’
After that long-ago phone call and Lissa’s description of the sexy DJ, Charlotte expected her friend to gush. She didn’t. She looked sheepish. And uncharacteristically scared. ‘Dunno. He’s actually very cool and everything, but he was talking exclusivity and I’m not sure I can commit to that.’
Situation normal then. Lissa was just being Lissa with a little dash of drama. Charlotte started to relax. ‘At some point you are allowed to ditch the single-girl tag and actually like someone enough to spend two dates with them. Is this that guy? Is he nice enough for a second chance? A third?’
‘I have seen him a couple of times, to be honest.’ Lissa’s hands were still trembling and now she was starting to fidget in her seat.
‘Ooh, you never said a word. Now who’s got the secrets?’ Charlotte tried to make it sound funny instead of mirroring the tight pain in her chest because she’d clearly been too concerned about her own life and stepped out of the loop of her friend’s.
‘I tried to tell you. But it didn’t seem fair to be all gung-ho about a sex life when you were going through shit. And it’s not as if… I mean… I can’t commit to dating anyone. I think… it’s… oh, it’s nothing.’ The trembling hands shot up, hit the glass, which spiralled across the table, covering Charlotte in a pretty decent chardonnay. ‘Shit. Shit. Sorry.’
Lissa jumped up, ran to the bar, came back with a dishcloth and a fresh glass of wine, and started to dab at the drips falling from the tabletop. ‘Sorry. Clumsy. Sorry.’
‘I’m fine. It’s fine. Stop it. STOP IT! SIT.’ Charlotte stood, stared her friend back to sitting. Took the cloth, wiped down her own jeans and top, then sat down. She’d rarely… in fact never… had to speak to Lissa like that. She was usually so together, so very cool and collected. Whatever was bothering her was possibly not as dramatic as a breast lump or meeting a birth mother for the first time, but it was bothering Lissa, right to the core. Charlotte had had her fill of her own drama and owed it to her friend to put her own problems aside. ‘Right. Talk. What is it? There’s something wrong and you’re making me nervous.’
Lissa shook her head. Opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it. Shrugged.
Scary. This was so unlike her. Maybe it was as big and dramatic as finding a birth mother or a lump. What the hell could be worse than that? Charlotte’s own hand shook as she patted her friend’s. ‘Whatever it is, we’ll fix it. You’ll be fine. I promise. Whatever it is… what is it? What’s the matter? Oh my God, you’re crying? Now I am really scared.’
A tear slid down Lissa’s cheek and she swiped it away as if it were an irritating fly. Crying didn’t happen to Lissa either. ‘I missed my period.’
‘Oh.’ Okay, breathe.
‘Yep. Oh, indeed.’
‘That doesn’t mean anything bad. Could it be stress? Do you need to take some time out? I can give you sick leave, you know that. No problem.’
‘No. It’s not stress… well, it probably is now I haven’t had a period. And you know me, regular as clockwork. The Pill’s been my friend for a long time but… something’s not right.’ Lissa ran her palms across her boobs the way Charlotte had for the last few weeks… but not for the same reason. Nowhere near. ‘My boobs are still tender and no period happened. You remember at the dress fitting I was all hormonal? Well, I still am. Plus, I’m starving and heaving at the same time.’
‘So, you think you are pregnant.’ Of course she did. There couldn’t be any other explanation. ‘I mean… you’ve had sex, right? Recently?’ Unlike me.
‘Yep. Ryan. A couple of times. But I am on the Pill.’
‘It’s not one hundred per cent safe, you know that. No condom?’
‘I can’t remember the first time very well – we were pretty fresh. Okay, we were drunk. But I don’t think we used anything. Aaargh. I don’t know. Let this be a lesson, Charlie… don’t drink and sex. Things can get messy.’
Thank God for the simplicity of married life. Although, things had become a little less simple recently. Sex hadn’t been high on the agenda and they’d fallen out of the habit. Which was no one’s fault, it was just a reaction to the stress. Things would get better.
They would. They couldn’t start married life with a sketchy sex habit. ‘Can Ryan remember? He must know, surely?’
Lissa’s mouth turned up at one corner. ‘I haven’t asked him. I haven’t mentioned anything because I didn’t want to encourage him. I think he likes me. A bit too much.’
‘Poor deluded man.’ It was a poor attempt at a joke, but it did raise a smile.
‘I know. He’ll get over it. But I don’t want him to know, or anyone… promise me you won’t say a word? Not even to Ben.’
Another secret. They were coming thick and fast at the moment. ‘Of course I won’t. Don’t be silly. But it could be anything, right?’
‘I love your optimism. But I’d had that horrible stomach bug the week before – dodgy bloody Mammoth burgers. Maybe that did something to my Pill?’ Lissa’s head hung. She looked so fed-up Charlotte just wanted to bundle her into a hug, which was a bit difficult across the table, so she just tipped her friend’s chin up and looked her straight in the eyes.
‘Okay. There are so many things I should say to you right now about unprotected sex, but I love you, so I won’t. And you know all of it already. Have you done a test?’
Lissa shook her head out of Charlotte’s fingers and smoothed down her sweatshirt, nervously running her hand across her belly. ‘No. I’m waiting.’
‘What for?’
Lissa shrugged again, looking as if all her vibrancy had been sucked out of her. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Until it all goes away.’
Like my mum. Carol. A shiver of something she couldn’t describe ran down Charlotte’s back. Cold. Mixed up.
Be positive. ‘You can’t keep ignoring it. If you are pregnant you’ll need to make some decisions. This isn’t like you, missy. You usually meet problems head-on.’ Charlotte dipped her head to look Lissa in the eye, the cold around her washed away by a rush of affection for her friend. ‘It’ll be okay. You’ll be fine. Remember what you said before – we’re fighters.’
More tears swam in Lissa’s eyes. ‘I don’t want a baby.’
‘I know.’ Charlotte’s heart squeezed.
‘I don’t like them.’
‘I know.’
‘And I don’t want to be fat.’ Lissa smiled. She looked all kinds of sad. ‘Yeah. I know. Selfish. Very, very selfish. But that’s me and I don’t want to feel bad about being me. I don’t want to grow up, Charlie. It sucks. I like doing my own thing.’
Charlie tried to look for some more positives, but thinking of Lissa with a baby, she couldn’t find many. ‘But you’d be growing a whole new life. That’s good, isn’t it?’
‘No. That whole life? That’s someone to be responsible for. To be grown-up for. I can’t even look after myself. I don’t understand children. You’ve seen me with the Toddler Tap group – I don’t know what to say to them and half the time I want to scream why the hell can’t you count to four? What’s wrong with you? I don’t have an ounce of patience and I don’t talk their language. Not even a little bit.’ Lissa took a breath that shuddered through her body. ‘And I can’t backpack round the world with a baby.’
The barman came over and took away the empty glasses and brought two more full ones. It was a lot to drink for a Saturday afternoon. But they needed it after this. It had been a day full of huge emotions. They sat, not speaking, letting things sink in. The chances of Lissa ever wanting this baby were pretty slim. Charlotte had to admit this was a problem. ‘Are you thinking you might get rid of it?’
Lissa sighed. ‘I don’t know. I just don’t know. I don’t know if I could. I was thinking… maybe…maybe…’ She gave Charlotte an unsure smile. ‘…Adoption.’
‘Oh no. No.’ Having watched Charlotte walk on eggshells over the years, known her fears and seen her manage Eileen’s emotions, how could Lissa even think adoption was an option? Charlotte gasped then realised she needed to calm down – this wasn’t her life they were talking about. ‘I mean… well, you know what I went through… all those doubts and worries.’
‘Still going through them really, right? That’s what today was about, underneath it all. And yeah, we’ve played the Guess Your Heritage game so many times, and to me it was a bit of daydreaming, but to you it’s not a game at all. I also know you still wonder whether Eileen thinks she made a mistake. But I can tell you, categorically, she did not.’
But Carol might have. Charlotte thought about the café and the stilted conversation and twenty-odd years of wondering. The feeling of loss that seemed to be there more now than ever before and the burning need to know. To meet. To fit a lifetime into an hour and failing. And now, the uncertainty of how to proceed with someone she should, given the natural order of things, have a relaxed, happy relationship with.
Sure, many adoptees had happy lives and bore no grudges at all against their birth mother, but many were left with psychological scars. Some adoptees went on to adopt or foster, having had such positive experiences they wanted to give others the chances they’d been given. But often it was a gamble.
Was Lissa’s reaction the way Carol had reacted? Had she thought only of how much she wanted to get rid of this thing inside her? Lissa knew she might regret that, surely? And how much hurt she could cause. But, on the flipside, it could be a chance for a happier upbringing for the kid. Possibly.
This wasn’t Charlotte’s life, none of this was about her, so she had to keep her own emotions out of it and support Lissa in whatever she chose to do. ‘Okay, so don’t make any rash decisions about anything until you know for sure either way.’
‘I thought you’d say that.’ Lissa straightened up, grabbed the glass by the stem and gulped like a parched man in a desert. ‘Yes. Let’s not worry about it. I’ll be fine. I’ll work it out.’
‘Should you be drinking that?’ Charlotte pointed to the wine glass. Half full.
‘What? In my condition?’ Lissa’s eyes widened as she shuddered once more. ‘Probably not. But save the lecture, Charlie. I’m on the edge here and I need this. I haven’t touched a drop since the moment I realised, until now. Believe me, that was hard. It’s all bloody hard.’
Sitting around getting drunk wasn’t a solution. They needed to do something. A plan. Charlotte suddenly had a thought. ‘Okay. Right. Well, neither of us has the information we want and there’s an easy fix involving a little cash and a couple of needles.’
Finally a smile broke out on Lissa’s face as she teased, ‘You want to do… drugs? You? Charlotte Evans? The just say no advocate? Isn’t the alcohol bad enough?’
It felt good to be laughing even if it was black humour. ‘You are seriously sick, woman. No, no drugs involved. We’ll get blood tests done and get some answers. Then we can plan.’
‘I don’t want to know.’
‘Yes, you do. You can’t hide from it for ever.’ Someone had to be the grown-up here and it clearly wasn’t going to be Lissa. Charlotte owed her friend so much for all the support she’d given her over the years, for the tight friendship they had, for never ever judging her. ‘We’ll go together to that private clinic Dr Carter told me about. No one will know us. Let’s do it. Let’s go. Then we’ll both get some answers. You want to know if you’re pregnant and I want to know about my genes.’
‘Aren’t you going to just ask your birth mum? That’s the plan, right?’ Typical Lissa to remember that.
‘And how long will that take? It took twenty-five years to find her. Who knows when we’ll get together again and whether I’ll feel like I can even ask her, anyway. That’s a very intimate conversation and we’re not ready for that yet. We only just managed a coffee and hello, how are you?’
‘But won’t Ben be pissed off? Didn’t you tell him you’d wait until after the wedding?’
Ah. Yes. That.
Charlotte sighed. Tried to make sense of the thoughts swirling in her head, weighed up her options, looked at her friend, who was in the worst state she’d been in for a while. Their friendship had spanned decades and had ebbed and flowed between the helper and the helped, and in the middle of all that there’d been fun and laughter, shared secrets, shared hopes and a multitude of tears over roles missed out on, broken bones, illnesses and break-ups. Always, always, they’d fought everything together. So, helping Lissa would be the only possible thing she could do, and finding some things out for herself was just a side effect, really.
Besides, there were some things she could just keep to herself. She could find out the DNA information then tell Ben later, once they were married. Or never. More than likely she’d find nothing much out at all, just that she was descended from Africans and Nordics or whatever. A quarter Italian with some Asian influence from way back when. A tendency to weight-gain perhaps, because that had been a constant struggle in her professional life. High cholesterol maybe. A hodgepodge of history, like most people these days, with nothing startling or even interesting.
But deep down in her heart she knew going for the test right now was taking a step in the wrong direction as far as relations with her boyfriend were concerned, and that she was simply justifying it with altruism. There were more secrets now. Ones she kept from her mum. One from her best friend. And now one from her fiancé. Was there no end to it?
If Ben knew she was even thinking of this he’d tell her to wait. To save money. To focus on the wedding. To not worry about things she couldn’t change and that she was perfect regardless of any haematology result.
But she didn’t want to wait. She wanted to know who she was. More so now she’d met the woman who’d given her away. ‘Ben thinks I’m spending way too much time thinking about all this. He wasn’t keen on me finding Carol, so he definitely won’t be keen on me getting a test. But what he doesn’t know won’t kill him, right?’