Escape From Evil - Cathy Wilson [78]
We went down to the Royal Sussex together and Peter was put in a bed to be prepared for his op. Doctors and nurses flitted in and out like waiters bursting through kitchen doors. Several of them smiled at my obvious baby bump and then one commented on it.
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I was really worried I wouldn’t be able to conceive before the operation.’
‘Why was that so important?’
‘Because of the side effects. The fact that he won’t be able to have children anymore.’
The doctor stared at me like I was speaking in tongues. ‘What do you mean, this operation will stop him having children? It won’t do anything of the sort.’
Now it was my turn to look confused.
‘Peter said that after you laser his testicle, he’ll be sterile.’
‘No, no, that’s completely wrong.’
‘Well, that’s what he thinks.’
The doctor puffed out his cheeks and scratched his chin. ‘I can assure you, Mr Tobin has had it explained to him half a dozen times. He knows as well as I do that, at worst, he’ll be one or two per cent less fertile. I promise you, he’ll be able to conceive as well tomorrow as he would be able to today. And,’ he nodded again at my tummy, ‘there are obviously no complaints in that department.’
The doctor disappeared again and I was left to mull over his words. He must have been trying to cover his mistake. Peter obviously hadn’t been told what the procedure would entail, otherwise we would never have tried so hard for a baby. Or would we?
Was there a chance that he did fully understand everything? No, of course not. I was angry at myself for even thinking it. What possible reason would he have for tricking me into getting pregnant? We were going to be together forever. There was plenty of time for a family.
The doctors were happy with the operation and, when Peter was finally allowed out, I raised the subject with him. I thought, I’ll know from the look on his face whether he was conning me or not. But he responded as I knew he would: with utter incredulity at the doctor’s claims.
‘That’s not true, hen. They told me it was all over for me and kids. Why would I lie about something like that?’
I didn’t know. It was too far-fetched an idea to entertain for a moment longer. But I was still left thinking, I’m seventeen years old and pregnant when I don’t have to be.
There was no way I could ever reveal that to my grandparents.
I was so confused about Peter, I didn’t know what to think. Whether he’d lied to me or not, I knew my options were vanishing by the day. In particular, I realized, without money, I was trapped. Peter was as fastidious about bill-checking as ever and as I wasn’t allowed to work, I had to think of a new solution. That’s when I hit upon the idea of teddy-bear kits. I was familiar with all the craft shops in Brighton, so I spent an afternoon buying equipment to sew a teddy bear from scratch. By then I’d designed a cute-looking bear, but that was only half the story. I then deconstructed it and made a pattern of the pieces. Once I’d replicated that a dozen times, I had twelve kits containing wadding, eyes, little bow ties – basically everything you needed to make the bear of your dreams. No more going into a sewing shop for two metres of fabric when you only needed one. I’d done it all for you.
I loved doing that. I was a real craft junkie. Once I’d finished, I gave them to Peter and he flogged them to the doss-house residents for their grandchildren. It didn’t bring in a fortune – and Peter kept every penny anyway – but it kept my brain active and it showed me I did have the power to take back some control of my life. Unfortunately, I would need to do that sooner than I’d hoped.
Without the fear of his operation to occupy him, I honestly thought Peter would be a changed man. One day, then two, then three passed without incident.