Under the hospital window stretched the iron roof of the entrance porch. The raincold, sharp, autumnalhammered down noisily, ugly and relentless.
Marina woke to the sound of it, lying there and listening to her own body. Shed been operated ona cyst removed, and with it, an ovary. Was it just her age? Though in truth, women of all ages lay in these beds.
A dull light seeped in through the half-open corridor door. The smell of antiseptic and something medicinal hung in the air.
Then, beneath the metallic drumming of the rain, Marina heard a whimper. She strained her earsnothing. Then, again.
She sat up in bed, realising at once that it was the girl opposite, no older than sixteen, crying softly. She already knew about hercomplications from a backstreet abortion. Shed done it herself, with a knitting needle. An old trick
Marina got up and sat on the empty bed beside the weeping girl, who was curled up tight, only her sharp, bony knees and tangled hair visible. Marina pulled the blanket from the unused bed and draped it over hershe was shivering.
The girl peeked out, wiped her nose childishly with her hand. Shed only been operated on today. Five hours under the knife. The orderly had whisperedan abscess. Theyd taken her womb.
“Does it hurt?” Marina asked aloud. No need to whisperthe rain drowned everything out.
The girl shook her head.
“Need anything? Thirsty?”
“Maybe”
Marina went to her bedside table, poured lukewarm sweet tea from her flask.
“Here. Sit up a bit,” she said, helping prop her up.
“Thanks,” the girl mumbled, taking three small sips.
“Dont cry. Whats done is done.”
A lecture burned on Marinas tongue. What were you thinking, you silly girl? Youve ruined your whole life! No children now. Nearly killed yourself! But not now. The girl was already in hellthe anaesthesia wearing off, reality crashing in.
“No one needs me,” the girl sighed.
“What dyou mean? Your family needs you. Your mum. Whats wrong?”
“Not him. Hes not thinking about me.”
“Oh, so its him youre crying over? Thats rich. You should be thinking about yourself, your health, getting better.”
“I dont want to get better. Maybe I want to die. I cant live without him. I love him,” her face twisted, lips blue with misery as she curled away, sobbing again.
The rain echoed her, drumming against the window in bursts.
Marina laid a hand on her shoulder, silent. What could you say to a girl like this? What words could possibly reach her?
That teenage love was just foolishness? That if hed truly loved her, this wouldnt have happened? That he was a coward, a rat, knowing she was pregnant and leaving her to this?
But would she believe it?
“Tell me,” Marina said, grasping at the only thing she could think of to calm her.
The girl turned, wiped her nose, and began speakinghaltingly, jumping from one thing to another, making excuses to herself and the whole world.
Theyd been in the same athletics club. He was from another school, the next village over. Handsome, a promising runner, rode a motorbikeall the girls swooned. She never dreamed hed pick her. But he had. That summer, theyd gone to a competition together, stayed in a local schoolgirls in one classroom, boys in another.
She talked and talked, lost in useless details.
It happened in an empty classroom. It was beautifulthey even lit a candle. A dream come truehed chosen her. How could she say no? Hed been so insistent.
“He said he was being careful, I remember. Then he kissed me after, it was so perfect. You cant even imagine.”
“Im sure I cant. And then?”
“Then he wanted to again, just before we left. But the coach walked past in the corridor, we hid under a desk. We were laughing so hard,” the girl managed a faint smile. “It was so fun. But nothing happened then…”
“And after?”
“After?” Her voice cracked. “After, I dont know what changed. He was different. Our training schedules didnt match, so I went when he was there, and he acted like he didnt even see me. Pulled his hand away like I was disgusting. Then the girls told mehe was with Kristina Mikhailova now.” A tear slid down her greyish cheek.
“Did he know about the baby?”
She nodded.
“And?”
“He tapped his head, like I was mad. Said I should think before I spoke. Then I went to his house weeks laterI knew for sure by then. Thats when he panicked, started shouting. But I love him, dont you understand? I dont want anyone else! No one!” She buried her face in the blanket, sharp shoulders shaking. “I sterilised the needle with alcohol. I didnt know itd be like this,” she added between sobs.
Marinas chest ached at the sheer innocence of it. A child. She didnt even grasp what shed done. Crying over lost love instead of what shed lost. What love? A schoolgirl crush on a cold-hearted boy. And her story wasnt even newjust painfully ordinary.
“Whats your name?”
“Lucy. Lucy Rosen.”
“Rosen? Youre not from Little Barrow?”
She nodded.
“Is your dad called Steve?”
The girl froze, then nodded again, eyes wide. “Buthe and Mum split ages ago. Please dont tell her, okay? She doesnt know. She thinks Im at my friends in Millford. Please, dont tell her!”
“She doesnt know? Good grief! How could you”
Steve Rosen had been in Marinas year at school. She remembered his wife tooAnna, a sharp-featured girl a year or two younger.
“Lucy, your mum has to be told. How can she not”
“No! Shell kill me! Shell kick me out! Dont tell her!”
“I wont, dont worry. Try to sleep now. Its still dark. You need rest.”
“Okay. Just dont tell Mum.”
Lucy obediently turned on her side, hands tucked under her cheek like a child, and closed her eyes. Marina tucked the blanket around her and returned to her own bed. The others were probably awake, had likely heard everything.
The doctors would inform Lucys mother soon, if they hadnt already. But no need to say that now.
Outside, the sky lightened faintly. The rain was washing away the night, fading with it.
Such a shame Such a shame shed lost what mattered mostthe joy of motherhood.
By morning, Anna was at her daughters bedside, weeping. She sat hunched on the creaking hospital bed, swaying back and forth, bent double with grief.
“Why? Whhhhy? My baby How could this happen? How did I not see”
Marina pulled the covers over her head.
The rain outside dripped its last, as if to saywhats done is done. The waters gone, only the damage remains.
Marina never forgot that night. Women remembered hospital stories. Maybe because being there was trauma enough to sear everything into memory.
Five years passed, and shed nearly forgotten it. She taught primary school in town now. Her marriage was solidher younger son at military college, the elder in the army after trade school. She rarely visited Little Barrow, where her younger sister lived with their mum.
Then spring brought newsher nephew Charlie was getting married. Marina adored Charlie. He was younger than her boys, sweet-natured, bright.
During the Easter break, she and her husband drove to Little Barrowpartly to visit, partly to hear wedding plans.
Despite the joy of seeing family, Marina grumbled. Too young, she thought. Charlie hadnt even finished trade school yetarmy still ahead.
Was it a shotgun wedding?
The fields stretched flat with crops, the woods waking from winter. Home always stirred something in herjoy and sadness tangled.
They arrived by evening. The house looked smarter nownew porch, brick extension. Her brother-in-law and Charlie had clearly been busy. No surpriseCharlie was training in construction.
Hugs with her sister Natalie. Mum wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. Then tea, chatter.
“Its lovely here. Really lets me unwind. So, Charlies sure about this?” Marina reached for last summers strawberry jam. She had a sweet toothhence the extra weight.
“Weve booked the café with Armen. Eighth of July, right after the festival. Lucy from the community centres organising a concert too.”
“Well, well. Just in time for Alexs break from uni. Shame Gene wont get leave. But honestly
