Second Chance - Jane Green [119]
She doesn’t want to have a growing bump, to have everyone ask her when the baby is due, only to turn up after nine months with no baby. She doesn’t want to – oh horror – throw up for the next seven months.
But can she deal with an abortion? She has never had any particularly strong feelings about abortion. It’s never been an issue that she’s had to consider. Of course, she must know people who have had them, but if they have, they have never turned to her for help. It has never been a factor in her life until in a few weeks ago.
She has tried not to think about it. Not to think about what she will be doing – that there is a life growing inside her which she has the ability to end. She hasn’t thought about that but has merely thought of the one thing she wants, and the quickest way to achieve it – to turn the clock back.
‘I don’t know,’ she repeats, thinking for the first time about carrying a baby to term, what that would mean, giving birth and then giving a child away. ‘I didn’t seriously think… hadn’t thought…’
‘We realize you’ll need to think about it. Obviously,’ Paul interjects. ‘And we don’t want you to feel any pressure or to do anything you don’t want to do, but if you did decide to go through with the pregnancy and put the baby up for adoption, we would love to adopt your child.’
‘And think,’ Anna knows she is too eager, too excited, but she can’t help herself, ‘you would still be around, still be part of the child’s life.’
‘I need some time.’ Olivia looks first at Paul, then at Anna. ‘I think it’s an incredible offer, but I need some time to think about it.
‘Of course,’ Anna says. ‘Take as much time as you need.’
Under the table, Will strokes Holly’s hand. They are sitting next to each other. They have barely been able to function throughout this meal, have certainly not been able to keep their hands to themselves.
Their hands have been clasped the entire time. Will lays down his knife and reaches down to where no one can see, resting his hand on Holly’s leg, or running a finger stealthily around her wrist, sending shivers of electricity up and down her spine, an electricity she hasn’t felt in years. An electricity she never expected to feel again.
The others may not see, but they know. The air around Holly and Will is fizzing. Holly may think she is being subtle by not looking at Will, not giving any indication that anything has happened, but there is now a thread joining them, a thread that may not be visible but can clearly be felt.
Saffron sees. She clears the plates, and on the way back from the kitchen her eyes are drawn to Will’s hand drawing quickly back from Holly’s lap. She already knew, of course, but she is too caught up in her own troubles to give it much thought.
For Saffron did think she could handle the alcohol. She thought tonight would be like all those other nights when she could happily sip her water or her juice and not feel the taste of alcohol on her tongue, not feel the happy buzz as the vodka loosens her up, makes her warm and silly.
But as the evening progresses it is becoming harder and harder to think about anything other than alcohol. Her mind is barely focused on the conversation; she loses herself in a fantasy of everybody leaving the room so she can grab the bottles of wine, tip her head back and pour them down.
It is so real, she has to physically stop herself from reaching for a bottle, grabbing it and drinking the contents, there and then, in front of everyone.
She can’t sit still. She keeps jumping up from the table, her body suffused with an itch for which there seems to be only one cure. And yet there is the part of her that doesn’t want to and knows she shouldn’t, but she’s pretty certain she doesn’t have the strength or the willingness to fight.
*
When Saffron stepped into her first AA meeting,