CHAPTER TWENTY

October 27th

You’re going to be all right. Hang on in there, little bean.

Mia chanted the words like a mantra. It’s a good sign that the sun’s shining. If that bird stays on the fencepost until I reach the next tree it means everything’s going to be fine. She willed the little bird to stay. It flew off just as she reached the tree. What does that mean?

It felt good to be walking along the sunny towpath instead of being crouched up on the boat. The bleeding seemed to have stopped; she’d rested all the day before, and Joe and Shannon had looked after her. She’d felt better as soon as she’d woken up this morning.

Shannon had said to go gently, not too fast, but Mia couldn’t stop herself hurrying along the path. She could see the pub buildings across the field now; soon she’d be making the phone call and then maybe she could stop worrying for a while.

She’d only packed a few things in the rucksack: the book, and a change of clothes, and her notebook. She’d let Evie think she’d be coming back. But maybe Shannon had guessed. She’d encouraged her to go, after all, first thing that morning.

‘Goodbye,’ she said as Mia left the boats. ‘Good luck.’

Mia had been surprised; she’d had that horrible dream again in the night, where the two boat women snatched her baby from her and then dropped it, so that it slipped over the edge. She’d half expected Shannon to stop her getting off the boat in the morning, instead of encouraging her. Keeping her prisoner. Now, in the bright morning light, it all just seemed like some silly night-time fantasy.

She only had one twenty-pence piece. And a ten-pound note that Joe had given her. That meant just one phone call. It was one of the old-fashioned red boxes outside the pub. Mia went inside. She knew the number off by heart. She hesitated, staring at the laminated display of local numbers next to the national dialling codes. She took a deep breath. I want to manage on my own: her words to Evie. Or will your dad keep on bailing you out?

It must still be morning. The pub wasn’t open. Dad would be at work. So would Mum.

She dialled the number for a taxi, and sat down on the stone bench to wait.

The driver made her pay up front. Didn’t trust her. She saw herself through his eyes: white-faced, dark hollow eyes, unwashed spiky hair, muddy trousers, stinking of smoke. Hands blackened from soot. He didn’t speak the entire journey, deposited her at the hospital gate and drove off with a melodramatic squeal of brakes, as if he couldn’t get rid of her fast enough, muttering obscenities under his breath. She’d better get used to it, Mia thought. The hospital staff might treat her the same way. She pushed her way through heavy swing doors and into the Accident and Emergency department.

A blonde-haired woman at reception stared at her. Mia walked up to the desk, wishing she was not blushing as the woman took in her muddy clothes and unwashed hair.

‘Name?’

‘Mia.’

‘Spelt?’

‘M – I – A.’

‘Second name? Address?’

‘Kitson. No address. Well, a boat. It moves about.’

‘You have to have an address.’ The woman was determined not to smile. She seemed to think Mia was being deliberately difficult.

Mia thought fast. ‘My mum’s then.’ She rummaged through her bag, searching out the letter with the address in Bristol.

The woman frowned as she wrote it down. ‘And you’re here for what?’ She stared at the form she was filling in, refusing eye contact.

‘Threatened miscarriage.’

The telephone rang. The woman waved towards the rows of chairs. ‘There’ll be a long wait. You’re not exactly an emergency.’

Mia could guess what she really thought. It would be better if Mia lost the baby. Some stupid teenage dropout who should have been in school. A waste of space. Waste of NHS money.

She sat down next to the window and looked around. A few old dossers sleeping in chairs. A woman with three kids, one of them crying on her lap. A man holding his finger in a wodge of tissues. Sunlight streamed through the tall window and lit up the fur of dust on the sill and the floor. You’d expect a hospital to be clean, but this one wasn’t. Mia watched the blue sky through the windows, and the way the squares of sunlight moved across the floor. People came and went; phones rang. An ambulance arrived, sirens squealing, and for a moment the whole hospital seemed to come alive with people in white coats running with clipboards and machines.

Finally it was her turn. A male nurse took her to a small room and told her to take off her shoes and lie on the high couch. He smiled at the mud on her trainers. ‘What’ve you been up to then?’

Mia tried to smile back. ‘I’m living on a boat.’

He listened while she told him about the fire. ‘The doctor’ll be here in a minute. She’ll sort you out. Don’t worry.’ His voice was kind.

Mia lay on the couch. The nurse went out into the corridor. She heard feet tap tapping along the corridor, and then low voices. She supposed he was telling the doctor about her. The cubicle door opened and the nurse came back in with a young woman, short dark hair.

She held her hand out and smiled at Mia. ‘I’m Dr Sabir.’

She felt Mia’s tummy and asked questions. Mia lied when she asked her age. Said she was sixteen. You could leave home at sixteen. Have sex. Get married even, if you were that stupid.

‘How many weeks? Twelve or thirteen? It’s quite normal to have little bleeds like this in pregnancy. Sometimes around the time you would have been having a period. But we’ll get the portable scanner in here to check the baby out and reassure you. And you’ve been through quite a hard time, Mia, so I think we should check you out too.’ It was a relief to be spoken to as if she was an intelligent human being after all.

They left her for a while, to drink a whole jug of water. A full bladder made it possible for the ultrasound to create images of the baby in her womb.

Back on the couch, Mia lay anxiously while the doctor rubbed a jelly-like substance over her tummy. ‘Sorry it’s a bit cold. They normally warm it up if you have a scan in Antenatal. OK, Mia? Try to relax.’

She felt the firm circular movements as the doctor moved the transducer over her belly, pressing down too hard over her bladder so she squeaked.

‘Sorry.’

Mia watched the doctor’s face, searching for signs. She frowned, and Mia’s mouth tightened. She held her breath. Her heart pounded. The doctor seemed to go over and over the same place, pushing at her abdomen until it felt almost sore. Mia’s fists clenched at her side, and she felt the nurse reach out and uncurl one hand, holding it in his. What could they see? Why didn’t they say something? For a wild moment Mia wondered if there was perhaps nothing at all. An empty womb. Or a shrivelled-up foetus, died long ago, a hard walnut of blackened tissue.

‘OK,’ the doctor said. ‘Everything’s fine. Want to see?’

The doctor swivelled round the small screen so Mia could see it if she strained to one side. A fuzzy black and white scrabble of lines on a screen. The doctor showed her the head. She smiled. ‘And that’s the heart. Beating fine. And something else moving. An arm, I think. Hard to see on this small machine. You’d get a better picture down on the full-sized machines in Antenatal.’

But it was enough for Mia. Tears trickled down her cheeks and pooled in her ears. She tightened her grip on the nurse’s hand. There was little bean. That blur on the screen was her baby. Alive. She’d seen her baby. Everything was all right.

They wouldn’t let her go home. They wanted to book her into the ward, let her have a shower, get cleaned up, and have a bit of a rest, they said, and they could do a few checks. Blood tests. Make sure she wasn’t anaemic. The antenatal ward was full so she would have to go up to Gynaecology. And she’d have to wait a while for a bed there. They asked her again how old she was.

Mia sat on the toilet, trying to think. Shannon’s words ran through her head like a stuck CD. ‘Once they’ve got you in the system…’

What could they do? They would phone her mum, for sure. She’d given her address at reception. So stupid. She’d have to do a runner again. Now she knew the baby was OK. And that would be the second escape from a hospital. She’d be getting into deeper trouble. Where could she go? Back to the boat? Evie’s semi-unconscious face swam before her. Shannon frowning. Better off out of here. Had it been a warning? That dream she’d had: Evie’s plan to get a baby for Shannon. Her baby.

She walked slowly towards the exit. Think of little bean. The voices chattered in her head, confusing her. She hesitated, turned, saw the male nurse watching her from the end of the corridor. She looked right at him and he looked directly at her. He shook his head slightly, sadly. But what did he know? He’d soon forget her. She was one of thousands. He’d shrug, move on to the next case. They couldn’t make her stay in hospital. She was sixteen, wasn’t she? – as far as they were concerned anyway. Old enough to make her own choices.

Mia turned away and kept on walking. She already knew what she wanted to do.