Jemma’s Version
Winter has a single colour: grey.
Everything is sombre, toned down by the constant fog and rain; even the smells are grey.
Sitting at the window, I look at the rain drops running down the glass, and I follow them with my finger.
I don’t know how long I’ve been here. If it wasn’t for my mother, who comes in carrying lunch and dinner trays, I wouldn’t even notice the passing of the hours.
“Come on, Jemma, you must eat something.”
“I don’t feel like it, Mum,” I say, pushing the bowl of quinoa away.
“You can’t fast. If you want to go through with this pregnancy, you must do it responsibly.”
I gently touch my belly, which is taking on a sweet round shape. “I don’t even know if this is the right thing to do.”
“I can’t give you the answer. You have to figure it out by yourself, but if you ask me, I love the idea of becoming a grandma. And so does your father.”
“I’m all alone.”
“You’re not,” says my mum, stroking my hair. “We’re here for you.”
*
I took three pregnancy tests, and all three gave the same result: positive.
I didn’t even consider termination.
I thought that, for a change, someone up there has given me a chance to be loved unconditionally and forever.
I will never be alone again. Yes, maybe it will be harder for this baby and me than for others, as we will only have each other, but I’ll give him all my love, the love that everyone else has always rejected. Ashford will never know. I won’t allow him and the negativity of his world back into my life.
I’m looking for the strength to go on, but it’s not easy. I can’t help thinking about the good times we had when it all seemed to be true, when it seemed that it was really happening to me.
And so, I’m here, watching the days go by, in this house I’ve rented to live in with my parents, who look after me with loving care.
It’s very different from my dark basement or their ramshackle flat. In the end, I reconsidered my decision and, not without embarrassment, I confessed to my mum and dad that I’ve received Catriona’s significant inheritance, omitting the tiny detail that I had to marry Ashford to take possession of it.
I can’t deny that at first they were pretty astonished, but resentment is an unknown feeling to them.
Finding myself at home, waiting for time to pass with nothing to keep me busy, is quite hard to manage. At Denby Hall, I was always preparing for some event, trying to hide from Delphina, or studying following Lance’s precious lessons.
Here, I’ve got nothing to do. This perennial idleness torments me. Last week, I even went back to the theatre to see if they needed me for anything, even sweeping the stage for free, just to keep myself busy. But the theatre has closed down and, as I predicted, the company has folded.
After that, I went back home, stopping by at a second hand bookshop to look for copies of Pride and Prejudice and The Taming of the Shrew.
I did my best to get Ashford out of my life, I changed my number, broke off my friendship with Cécile, I even left Derek without any means of contacting me. The tickets for the football match between Barcelona and Arsenal are fading, as they lie forgotten in some drawer; however, he constantly and inevitably reappears in my mind and, with my belly growing bigger and bigger, I’ll soon have the memory of our short and shallow relationship right in front of my eyes.