‘Mrs Mullet, what can I do for you?’
‘I need a prescription, please.’ Elsie folded her hands over her lap and smiled at the doctor. ‘For the contraceptive pill.’
Doctor Boyd frowned as he flicked through her file. ‘How old is your baby?’
‘Millie has her first birthday in a few weeks.’
‘Surely you must want more?’
Elsie stomach churned. ‘Maybe one day, but not right now.’
‘Why not? Doesn’t Mr Mullet want more children?’
Unsure what else to say, Elsie gave him another thin smile and clutched her handbag tighter in her lap.
‘You’re only –’ he peered down at his folder ‘– twenty-three.’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘Plenty of fertility left. Why wait?’
‘I’m not ready for another one right now, what with Millie still so young,’ Elsie lied.
The doctor leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. He gave her a long stare. ‘It seems a pity. Respectable folk like you.’
Elsie waited to hear if there was more to that sentence, but ostensibly the inference was hers to draw.
‘How nice of you to flatter us, Doctor,’ Elsie said, ‘I’ll be sure to pass your recommendation on to Mr Mullet.’ She let that hang as suggestively as his own comments.
The doctor picked up his pen, shaking his head slowly as he scribbled. ‘Birth control has its uses, I’ll admit. Some ladies, I see them after five, six, seven babies. They’re desperate, terrified of going near their poor husbands. But you? Seems a shame.’ He ripped off the sheet and handed her the prescription. ‘Still,’ he added, ‘at least you’re not one of those promiscuous young single girls, wanting the pill but without a husband. Wanting all the perks, but none of the responsibility.’
Thanking him, Elsie took the prescription and left his office.
*
When she got home, Elsie took the pharmacist’s package from her handbag, and placed it into Aida’s hands.
Aida said, ‘Thank you,’ at the same time as Elsie said, ‘Are you sure . . . ?’
‘Else . . .’
‘I know you want to be safe. But it doesn’t happen without . . . you know.’
Aida lifted her eyebrows.
‘You don’t usually enter that situation without me . . . I suppose I’m saying I feel responsible.’ Elsie didn’t know quite how to articulate the matter. It was oddly mechanical and perfunctory, standing in the hallway discussing the pragmatics of sex like a recipe for a good lamb casserole while Millie crawled about their feet. Aida’s intimacies with Thomas were inextricably linked to Elsie’s – in that if there was a chance Aida could become pregnant, Elsie would be right there, essentially encouraging that one necessary element of proceedings, that final act. In other words, Thomas didn’t orgasm inside Aida unless Elsie, in the heat of the moment, suggested it.
It was all very erotically well managed.
Aida smiled at Elsie’s squirming. ‘We’re all adults,’ she said.
Elsie couldn’t help but laugh. She pushed Aida’s hair off her shoulder; the strands slipped heavy between her fingers. Elsie was acutely aware that they were feeling their way in the dark. No advice columns could guide them; no written articles could offer safe and proven counsel. If she was feeling uncertain or confused, Elsie couldn’t simply pick up the phone and ask her mother. They were alone in their relationship, but in its own unexplainable way that was the greatest solace. They had each other. That is how they forged their way forward: by being together. Working it out as they went.
Elsie watched her walk down the hallway to the bathroom, parcel clutched at her chest, and felt the soft, barely there cramp that gripped low between her hips. Her monthly had arrived yesterday. She had been hoping, praying, that it wouldn’t.
Standing at the pharmacist’s counter, handing over the money for the contraceptive pill, Elsie felt the ludicrous irony of it. Still, she thought of the relief, the peace of mind, it would bring Aida, and she was grateful for its mercy.