then she started to cry. ‘I’ve just done it again.’
‘It’s okay,’ Freya said. Whatever Emily had done, it wasn’t the point right now, but that she’d called was so, so important that Freya wasn’t going to waste time questioning her for details. ‘It’s okay,’ Freya said, and gradually the sobbing stopped.
Freya just listened as Emily told her that she’d had a massive binge and purge and her mother, who was already worried sick about her sister, had found her and was now upstairs, crying.
‘She doesn’t need this,’ Emily sobbed.
And Freya thought of James, who had tried so hard to be a parent for her, and the anguish she had caused him, and how relieved he’d been when she had accepted help.
‘Are you going to tell her that you’ve called me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, I think she’ll be very relieved to know that you’re talking to someone about it. So that might be something you can tell her when we’ve finished chatting.’ They spoke for a few moments until Emily had calmed down. ‘Why don’t you go to bed now?’ Freya said, knowing how drained Emily would be. ‘Tell your mom that you’re coming in to see me tomorrow at nine. Would that be okay?’
‘It’s a Sunday.’
‘That’s okay,’ Freya said.
They spoke a little more, but Emily really was exhausted and Freya was glad that her plan for her to tell her mom and meet tomorrow seemed to have given her some measure of relief.
‘I’ll see you in the morning, Emily,’ Freya said, and then the oddest smile came to her lips as she realised Zack was right and she had her voice, as he called it, on. ‘I’m looking forward to meeting you,’ Freya said, more normally. ‘Go and speak to your mom and then get some rest.’
Of course Freya did some major overthinking on the drive to her apartment, wondering if she should have seen Emily straight away, but there was no real point speaking at length with Emily tonight.
And she wasn’t going to be available every time her clients had a binge.
Emily needed to rest and recover and get some fluid into her...
Tomorrow.
They would start this journey tomorrow. She just hoped that Emily didn’t cancel, because that first reaching out was the hardest, Freya knew.
She had fifteen minutes to get ready when she had hoped to have thirty and Freya quickly peeled off her clothes as she turned on the shower, and then everything stopped.
There was a flash of blood in her knickers and when she saw it, Freya was convinced she was losing her baby.
Everything in her world just stopped and the panic that hit had her frantic. She felt like a cat with its tail on fire and yet she was crouched, kneeling on the bathroom floor, and, she was sure, losing her baby.
‘No...’
And it was all her fault, for not eating, for running, for riding and for believing for a second that she could be a mother. She felt as if she was back to being seventeen and being told her bones would one day crumble and she’d never be able to have babies. Freya was sobbing so violently she couldn’t breathe.
She could hear someone knocking at the door and then they started to knock louder.
Realising that it must be Zack, Freya pulled a towel from the rail and, barely covered, wrenched open the door. Zack saw her red face and angry eyes and this time there were tears streaming down, and because she was scared she hit out with words.
‘Panic over!’
She never cried, never, ever, but they were pouring out now. ‘I’ve lost it,’ she shouted to him, ‘so panic over.’
‘Freya...’ He was so calm that it angered her further. ‘I’m not panicking.’
‘Because you don’t care!’ she screamed. ‘You didn’t want it anyway.’
‘Tell me what’s happened.’ His voice was normal and it made hers sound all the more mad. ‘Are you bleeding?’
She was holding up a towel and Zack looked down at her legs and there was no blood that he could see.
‘Yes, I’m bleeding!’
‘Come on.’ He led her to the bedroom.
‘I knew I’d never be able to have children, after all I’ve done to myself, I don’t deserve them, you don’t want them...’
And he remembered her ‘I shot my ovaries’ comment and knew that all the loathing was aimed at herself.
‘How much are you bleeding?’
He was still so completely calm, like a doctor, only he wasn’t the doctor, he was the father, and she hit out at him but he caught her wrist.
‘Freya.’
She’d lost her towel on the way to the bedroom and Zack sat her on the bed. ‘How much bleeding is there?’
He looked at her and she seemed fine and he heard the shower and went in and the relief that hit when he saw the tiny amount in her knickers was something he kept to himself.
She was a mess.
He looked out towards the bedroom where Freya was sobbing and curled up in a ball on the bed. Whatever he had intended to say over dinner would just have to wait now. He turned off the taps in the shower and went back into the bedroom.
‘Have you got any cramping?’
‘No.’
‘Everything might well be fine...’
She couldn’t believe it.
He tried to unfold her tight body but she wouldn’t relax and he got onto the bed beside her and brought her cold body against his warm one. ‘Match my breathing,’ he said. It was like he was breathing for her, and she tried to get hers as slow and as deep, and then he spoke.
‘Freya, a lot of women get bleeding. You’re eight weeks pregnant—’
‘Six.’
‘Eight,’ he corrected her, and smiled because sometimes he forgot she had studied brains, not bodies. ‘You add two weeks.’
How was he smiling and talking, all calm and normally? It wasn’t because he didn’t care, she knew that because he was lying on the bed beside her and she was curled into him.
‘Did you lose anything in the shower?’
‘I didn’t get into the shower,’ Freya said. ‘I just saw the blood and I freaked...’
‘I know,’ Zack said. ‘Well, I don’t exactly.’
How was she, Freya wondered, breathing
