Now what will Karen do?
Chapter
Thirty-five
The
moments passed slowly. Karen was afraid to move, wondering whether
he was coming back for more. Eventually pulling herself up, she
leaned against the wall, waiting for her heart to calm to a steady
rate. The blood still pulsed through her ears like a bass drum, her
face stung where his hand had made impact. The back of her head
hurt. She reached and touched where it had hit the wall and winced
as she felt the lump growing there. But it was the pain inside that
was worse and the fear of what would happen next.
Not
wanting to think about it any more, Karen went to the bathroom,
splashed her face with cold water and left the house, snatching up
her bag on the way.
It
was probably habit that made her go to Margaret. She was the nearest
to a mother that Karen had. She kept her head down as she walked,
avoiding eye contact with the people she passed on the way. By the
time she reached the front door, she was shaking, wondering why she’d
come. Margaret opened the door before she could find her key. Karen
flew into her arms, sobbing into her shoulder. She felt Margaret’s
warm arms wrap around her.
‘Whatever’s
the matter?’ She drew the young woman into the house and ushered
her into the sitting room. They sat together, Margaret holding Karen
close to her. The gentle touch of Margaret stroking her hair opened
the door to all the emotions Karen had been holding in for so long.
She sobbed until her nose was streaming and her eyes were swollen and
sore, an uncontrollable gulping noise coming from her throat.
Margaret held her until the sobbing subsided. Finally, Karen
found the courage to speak.
‘I’m
pregnant,’ she said. ‘Please don’t be angry with me,
Margaret.’
‘Why
would I be angry?’ Margaret was smiling as she handed Karen a box
of tissues. ‘That’s good news, isn’t it? I know you didn’t
want a family just yet, but surely it’s not that bad.’
‘You
don’t understand.’ Karen blew her nose. ‘It’s not Peter’s
baby,’ she blurted before she could stop herself. ‘I’ve done
a terrible thing and now I’m pregnant. It’s the last thing I
wanted. I’m sorry.’ She braced herself, expecting Margaret to
push her away, be shocked or angry. Instead, she just held her
closer and stroked her hair again.
‘I’m
sorry,’ Karen repeated. ‘I don’t know what to do.’
‘Does
Peter know?’ Margaret said at last.
‘I
told him today,’ replied Karen. ‘He took it pretty badly. He
wants me to get rid of it.’
Margaret
said nothing for a moment. Then she sighed. ‘Well, I suppose you
can’t blame him. What are you going to do?
‘I
can’t kill my baby.’ Karen was crying again, unable to stop the
flow. ‘I just can’t.’
Margaret
let go of Karen and leaned back. There was a long pause before she
spoke again.
‘How
far gone are you?’ she asked eventually.
‘About
nine weeks - the baby’s due in March.’ Karen watched the
sunlight flooding through the window onto the carpet by her feet.
‘Look
Karen,’ Margaret said. ‘I know this will be very difficult for
you, but it’s hardly a baby yet. If you keep it, think about how
life would be for you.’
Karen
looked at her. ‘I couldn’t even think about getting rid of it.’
She was horrified at what Margaret was suggesting.
Margaret
seemed to struggle to find the words. ‘It would be the end of your
marriage if you don’t,’ she said at last. ‘You know that,
don’t you? Peter would never be able to cope with someone else’s
child.’
‘I
know,’ Karen said miserably.
‘And
if you decide to keep it - you’d be on your own.’
‘Then
I’d have to get on with it - on my own.’
‘How
would you manage on your own with a baby?’ Margaret asked.
‘I
don’t know,’ Karen wailed. ‘But if it’s the only
alternative, I’ll do it - somehow.’ Her eyes were filling again.
She wiped them furiously.
Margaret
stood up and walked to the door.
‘Well,
I can tell you from my own experience, it’s hard.’ She went into
the kitchen and Karen could hear her moving about, wiping the dishes
she’d recently washed, filling the kettle.
Karen
got up and went to stand in the doorway.
‘He
hit me today,’ she said.
Margaret
stopped what she was doing and froze. She turned to Karen, a mixture
of pain and a hint of disbelief in her eyes.
‘Well,
I’m sorry Karen,’ she said. ‘Forgive me if I don’t have too
much sympathy with you. After all, you have slept with someone else
and got pregnant. What did you expect?’
Karen
stared at Margaret, shocked at the sudden change of allegiance. ‘I
thought you’d understand. And whatever I’ve done, there’s
never a reason to hit me like that. No-one has the right to do
that.’
‘Are
you sure that he did hit you?’ Margaret asked. ‘After all, it’s
not the first time you’ve been hurt, is it?’
‘What
are you talking about?’ Karen asked.
‘When
you had that black eye and said a patient had done it,’ Margaret
explained. ‘Peter told me about that.’
‘That
was at work.’ Karen was puzzled. ‘What has that got to do with
this?’
‘Are
you sure you’re not hurting yourself?’ Margaret was leaning
against the sink with her back to Karen as she spoke.
Karen
didn’t answer. She turned and fled the house.
*
Margaret
heard the door slam while she was still waiting for Karen to speak.
She ran to the door, looked out and saw Karen’s back disappearing
down the street. Feelings of remorse flooded through her as she
turned back into the house. She caught a glimpse of herself in the
hall mirror and wondered who this woman looking back at her was and
where the young girl she’d once been had gone, the echo of Karen’s
footsteps running away, pounding in her memories.
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