Janice Malone unknotted her school tie and took a deep breath before she turned over the pregnancy tests. All three of them. Just in case.
Blue cross. Smiley face. Double lines. Positive. All positive. No mistake.
She knocked them to the ground in her urgency to throw up in the toilet. Nothing came up except a dry retching sound but it felt like her insides had spewed out of her mouth.
Tears came. Self pity. How unfair was it all? Raped by a scumbag. Ditched by her best friend. And pregnant. Selina Davis was shagging a different fella every weekend but Janice – the one everyone called a frigid because she wouldn’t sleep around – was pregnant because some old, fat bloke raped her.
Janice imagined his evil DNA growing inside her, a black, cancerous toxin spreading through her bloodstream, choking her organs, seeping from her skin, infecting her baby. His baby.
Oh, Jesus.
She dug her palms into her eye sockets and saw colours, pretty ones, but not enough to distract her from her life ending. It was all over. School, college, any hope of a job and getting out of the shithole she lived in. And her ma. Janice’s stomach turned. Her ma would kill her. Kick her out, probably. The one thing, the one thing she’d always said – don’t come home with a baby.
But it wasn’t her fault, it wasn’t, not really. She still had the faintest shadow of a bruise from where he’d held her down. The bruises lasted longer than she expected and the consequences would last longest of all. How could she have a baby? His baby, worst of all. An ugly, horrible man who plied her with drink and has until she wasn’t capable of stringing a coherent sentence together. She said no, though. Of everything, she remembered that. Who would believe her though?
The shame of it. The absolute horror. She hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in the three months since it happened. She felt like she never would. What was the point in living? Everything had gone to hell. Solemn now, Janice made a decision and hurried around, looking for pills and alcohol. Quickly, before her mother came home from work.
She laid out the pills on the floor of the bathroom. Who cared about germs? She took a sip of vodka and shuddered as it burned her throat. It brought back memories of the funeral, of the first time she’d drank vodka straight, of the night Graeme Moore had forced himself on her while she screamed in pain. The memory forced her to throw up, for real this time. That was no good. The pills wouldn’t have an effect if she puked them back up.
She took deep breaths, steadied herself, forced the memories out of her brain. She picked up a pill, swallowed, washed it down with vodka – more of a pleasant heat this time. Janice looked at herself in the mirror and liked how mournful her eyes looked, how grownup she seemed holding the vodka. Black eyeliner streaked her cheeks and she watched herself with a grim smile as she picked up more pills to swallow.
She played her favourite songs as loud as she could, and popped more pills, half enjoying the drama, never really considering what it meant to die. She only wanted to end the pain she was in. She only wanted to end the trouble she was in.
Wendy came home early and took the scene in. A split second to understand – the pregnancy tests, the alcohol, the pills, her daughter’s face.
Disappointed. That’s how her mother looked. A lump formed in Janice’s throat and she couldn’t swallow any more, she choked on vodka and sobbed. Vomited when Wendy reacted by sticking her fingers down Janice’s throat and holding her over the toilet.
Afterwards, when they had both cried and Janice’s stomach was empty of tablets, she sucked her thumb while Wendy held her, gathered her in her arms and let motherly love rush over her.
“I’m sorry, Ma. It wasn’t my fault, I swear. I said no,” Janice whispered to her mother who held her tight.
“I believe you, love. I believe you.”
For some reason, that made Janice cry all the more. Her mother let her, hoping all of her sorrow would release itself and fly away.
“Who was it?” she asked when Janice’s sobs quietened. “We’ll go to the police, get him charged.”
“We can’t. He’s a scumbag, Ma. He’ll kill us first, he promised me that.”
“Nobody’s above the law.” Wendy’s statement was firm but Janice rolled her eyes.
“It was Graeme Moore. You know about it, even the police are scared of him.”
Wendy let out a hiss. “Don’t worry, love. We’ll fix this. One way or another.”
Janice swallowed down her shame. “I thought you were going to kill me.”
“So you decided to save me the job? Don’t ever try anything like that again, Janice. I mean it. Nothing’s worth that.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do. My life’s over.” Fresh tears rolled down Janice’s cheeks.
“It’s not over. It’s a baby, not a disease. There are lots of women who would love to take that baby for you.”
Janice thought of handing over a baby. “What kind of person gives away their baby?”
Wendy made Janice look her in the eye. “Listen to me. Smart people want to give a child the best start. Sometimes that means sacrifice. You could give someone the best gift ever, Janice. Imagine it that way.”
“What if it’s evil? It’s his. He was evil. What if it grows up just like him?” Janice bit her lips, wanting it out of her before it corrupted her.
“It’s not evil. No baby is. Do you want to . . . get rid of it?”
Janice imagined his baby growing inside her. Imagined if nature was stronger than nurture. “I don’t want it inside me,” she whispered. “I can’t sleep knowing it’s in there. I can’t do it.”
Wendy nodded, her mouth a tight, grim line. “We’ll go to England. Get it sorted.”
“Can we afford it?”
“Of course, don’t you worry about that. I’ll take care of you. Promise.” Wendy tried to sound cheerful but she hadn’t a clue how she was going to come up with the money. She was barely making enough to support them, never mind taking trips to England for an abortion that wasn’t legal in Ireland.
She kissed Janice’s cheek. “We’ll keep it a secret. Just you and me. We’ll get through this. Then we’ll move. I swear to you, we’ll get out of here. I’ll give you a future, even if it kills me.”
Janice relaxed against her mother and felt all of her worries float away as her mother took control of the situation. They hadn’t been as close in years. Graeme Moore thought he’d won but really, he’d given her a gift – she had her mother back.