I just knew it was perfect.’
I traced my fingers over the writing. It was neat and well-formed – nothing like Luke’s actual writing which was chaotic and sprawling. I flipped through the pages and found a poem called ‘Captive.’ It made me smile. Luke leant over my shoulder and read it.
I did but look and love awhile,
‘Twas but for one half-hour;
Then to resist I had no will,
And now I have no power.
Luke laughed. ‘Ha ha, brilliant. That’s you and me.’
‘Is it? Wow.’ I closed the book and stroked the cover. ‘Just … wow. You’re unbelievable.’
‘Too much?’ Luke’s shoulders hunched and he screwed his face up. ‘I know you hate surprises.’
‘No. No, it’s not too much. It’s perfect. Just … perfect. You’re …’
I was overwhelmed.
‘I love how you crumble in the face of anything truly romantic,’ Luke said, placing a hand on my neck. ‘It’s one of the most adorable things about you.’
Against my better judgement, I started to cry. What an idiot. Buy me a soppy book with an achingly romantic inscription and I become a dribbly mess. Well, in fairness, my tears weren’t just about the book today, but I was still mortified.
Fear gripped my insides in an icy vice. I thought about the vitamins, the acupuncture, the doctors, the therapy, the alcohol avoidance, the hope, the joy and the disappointment. And about what might be ahead for us if nothing else worked.
‘It will happen, Luce,’ Luke said, reading my mind as he gripped my shoulders. ‘We will have a baby.’
I couldn’t meet his eyes. When we first met, eight or so years ago, I wouldn’t have questioned our chances. Eight years ago, I didn’t know the half of it. At the beginning of our relationship we’d been reckless about contraception, because we both wanted children from the outset. We’d been rewarded with an early pregnancy that we hadn’t expected … and then punished when the dream had been cruelly snatched away. And that hadn’t been the only time our dreams had been trodden underfoot.
Luke lifted my chin and kissed me. ‘It will happen. Without a shadow of a doubt.’
He was emphatic. I was cautious. It was how we rolled. He was the carefree optimist; I was one of life’s natural worriers. My extreme need for tidiness and order led my best friend Dee to introduce me as ‘Monica from Friends and then some’ to new acquaintances; accurate, but not the most charming of introductions.
Luke placed a warm hand on my neck, ducking his head so I had no choice but to meet his eyes. ‘Don’t even think we won’t succeed at this, Luce. Because we will.’
‘But we’ve already lost … What if we can’t …’
‘We will.’
‘How do you …?’
‘I just do.’ Luke kissed my forehead and drew me closer. ‘I love you and you love me. There is nothing we can’t achieve together.’
I leant into him, inhaling his strength, breathing in his positivity. He was right. We could do this. I clutched my beautiful book and I held on to Luke and, in that moment, I knew everything would be all right. It was Valentine’s Day and I had a thoughtful husband, an amazing gift – and I had the most important thing of all; I had hope.
September
A woman strode efficiently into the consulting room. I felt panic set in. I didn’t recognise this person. Where were the other ones, the ones who knew what we’d been through, how much this meant to us? Someone had obviously decided that today we should come face to face with the only fertility consultant in Bath we weren’t on first name terms with.
I shifted in my chair, unequal to the challenge of dealing with a stranger. The consultant began hastily perusing our file to familiarise herself with our case, allowing us a brief smile.
A professional smile, I observed with weary expertise. Non-committal, reserved. Not so different to the other consultants, then. They were able to produce an entire repertoire of smiles for each occasion – cautiously hopeful, compassionately apologetic, not-sure-yet-neutral. I studied this consultant. It was a game I had taught myself to play during the agonising waits we were always subjected to when it came to IVF appointments. Don’t get me wrong, the NHS has been superb, but waiting is de rigueur. Bad news might be on the horizon – or not, as the case may be. Either way, sitting patiently wasn’t in my nature.
I settled back in my chair. Did this one have children? Her well-cut suit was spotless, the shoulder pads decorated with shiny buttons rather than milk stains. One tick for non-parent. The freshly-dried mane of dark hair looked as though it hadn’t ever had clumps of Weetabix mashed into it – not this morning or any other morning.
Another tick, I thought with a sinking heart. Unlike most of the others, this consultant bore zero tell-tale signs of a hasty exit from home. It shouldn’t matter but, for some reason, it did, very much. Because if anyone was going to snatch my dream away, I would prefer it to be someone who knew how utterly crucifying it was. How it would feel like the end of … well. I didn’t want to think about that.
As the minutes ticked by silently without a word from the consultant, I felt a strange, silent scream building inside. I’d been behaving irrationally recently; I knew that. I’d been distracted, emotional … that and probably far, far worse. I was spiralling inside, chaotic. I glanced at Luke. His jaw was tight and his hair was messed up, but as he turned to me, he managed a grin. The man actually managed a grin. He had put up with so much from me I wasn’t quite sure how he had coped. The mood swings, the hysterics, the anger … a lesser man might have crumbled. Or, at very least, run a mile. I guess the fact that he wanted this as much as I did saved him.
Sometimes, I wondered what Luke saw in me. Unlike him, I wasn’t especially funny. I mean, I could be highly amusing after a few glasses of wine, but only moderately so without.
Looks-wise, I had dark hair, direct, brown eyes that needed several coats of mascara to bring them out and a slim but rather boyish figure. Based on comments made by friends, I had deduced that I was pretty enough, but in a non-threatening way. Meaning, presumably, that the boyfriends/husbands of my female friends enjoyed my company – may even have found me vaguely attractive – but they didn’t necessarily feel obliged to bend me over the kitchen counter passionately if caught alone with me by accident.
I rubbed my forehead, my fingertips weirdly cool in the sultry heat. And what about all the baby stuff? I reckon the baby stuff had made me seem a little crazy. More than a little crazy.
I watched Luke drumming the fingers of his other hand on his thigh. He was apprehensive, maybe even more so than me.
