Daisy offered to go to her brother’s house to fetch the essentials needed for a couple of nights in hospital, and wished she knew her sister-in-law better, as she stared around the bedroom. She felt like a burglar, or an unwanted guest, having been upstairs in this house only once before, and that was when David and Zoe had shown her, Mum, and Nan around when they’d purchased it. The couple had been given the keys the day before, so the place had been empty and rather soulless. Now it was so obviously Zoe’s domain that Daisy felt uncomfortable being here on her own.
Quickly, she gathered what she thought the patients might need, stuffing the items into two separate bags, while trying not to think of the couple’s misfortune and grief. All the while, she couldn’t help but wonder about her own situation. Was she, or was she not, pregnant?
Giving in to impulse, she darted into the spotless en-suite and opened the cabinet above the sink. It was unlikely but you never know… ah. Found one! Not one, but several pregnancy testing kits sat neatly on the top shelf, and underneath was a whole pile of ovulation kits. She realised Zoe and David must have been trying to get pregnant for some considerable time. Daisy imagined each barren month must have brought its own share of misery, when Zoe realised she hadn’t caught. Zoe had been going through her own version of hell, and probably David had too, if his joy on Christmas Day, when he finally shared their good news, had been any indication.
She picked up one of the little boxes and held it, imagining Zoe’s impatience and desperation, her sister-in-law not wanting to wait until her period arrived, but wanting to know as soon as possible after ovulating whether she was, in fact, pregnant. She also imagined Zoe’s despair when no little blue line appeared next to the test one, and Daisy thought back to her own relief when the exact same line had failed to develop that time when she’d thought she might be pregnant several years ago. She also thought she’d been doubly careful since that scare, but had she?
She thought about her own lack of trying, and how she could be pregnant without even knowing, as shame stole over her. Zoe and David had tried for what might have been some time, and now they’d lost one of their precious babies.
Daisy’s tears finally came, and she perched on the edge of the bath crying for the nephew or niece she’d never get to know, for her brother and sister-in-law’s pain, and for David’s near miss with death.
She only regained control when she reached for yet another handful of loo-paper and spotted the test kit still clutched in her damp hand. She knew what she had to do.
Her fate was going to be decided by a little stick of plastic and the magic it contained. It seemed like this week was one for discovering secrets in toilets. She knew how she felt about Melissa’s nasty little secret (Daisy made a mental note to go back to reading the contract when she had five minutes), but she had no idea how she felt about the little human who may, or may not, be growing inside her.
For a brief moment, she didn’t want to know. If she ignored it, she could pretend everything was the same as it had been this morning, when she was getting ready for work, in happy ignorance about what the day held in store for her. If she didn’t do the test and she was expecting a baby, then she could apply for jobs with impunity, able to say that she honestly hadn’t known she was pregnant once she started a new position.
Tempted though she might be, she understood how unethical it was. Anyway, if she was indeed pregnant, she had a responsibility to the baby, and needed to make an appointment to see her GP in the next few days. Soon, Daisy could be listening to her own child’s heartbeat, and the thought filled her with an odd mixture of excitement and trepidation. More trepidation than excitement, if she was honest.
Though she’d used a pregnancy test before, it was a long time ago and each brand may be different, so she peeled off the cellophane and read the instructions carefully.
Pee on stick. Wait two minutes. One blue line = not pregnant. Two blue lines = oh shit!
Her stomach felt distended and bloated, and when she put the leaflet down and pressed against her flesh with slightly trembling fingers, it felt firmer than usual. She stopped pressing, terrified of harming anything which might be in there.
She read the instructions again, just to make sure, then she dropped her knickers, took her future in her hands, and peed on the stick.
It was the longest two minutes of her life. For the first ten seconds she gazed fixedly at the two little windows. For the next ten she gazed out of the real window, counting in her head. The sky was a dull December gunmetal grey, heavy with the promise of more rain to come. The sky is pregnant, she thought slightly hysterically. Zoe pregnant, sky pregnant, me pregnant. Or am I?
She risked a quick look. One line, the test line, had emerged, faint but clearly there. She scrutinised the other window for several long seconds.
Nothing.
She looked away again this time catching her reflection in the mirror above the sink. The woman staring back at her was a frightened stranger.
She looked at the test again.
Still no second line.
How long had it been? She’d forgotten to keep counting and she hadn’t thought to time it, using her watch.
She started over: one, two, three…
Seventy-five.
One hundred and thirty-six.
Five hundred and ten.
Still no second line.
Daisy Jones wasn’t pregnant.
A wave of relief, then sadness, followed by relief again, swept over her.
She didn’t know whether to fist pump the air and do a happy dance, or whether to curl up in a ball and cry.
She did neither. Wrapping the evidence in one of those bags for used sanitary towels, Daisy went downstairs and stuffed it in the kitchen bin, taking care to shove it down deep. Then she picked up David’s and Zoe’s overnight things, and returned to the hospital.
All the while, the only thought in her head was “not pregnant, not pregnant, not pregnant”.