The Night of the Cobra - Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The next day, she sat on the terrace, staring at the test and its two blue lines. She had checked the instructions umpteen times and still the answer was the same.

She reached for a cigarette, lit it, took a puff, remembered and stubbed it out, glancing around guiltily to make sure no one had seen.

Stupid, she chided herself. No one else knows you’re pregnant and you’re in your own garden. Somewhere in her churning mind was a question she knew she would have to answer but for now, she refused to even think it.

She sat in a kind of shock, repeating under her breath “I’m going to have a baby.” Two green parrots were squawking in the mango tree. The pool’s filter was humming and lizards were skittering across the hot concrete around the water’s edge. Somewhere, someone was hammering, an annoying, slow dull thudding.

She felt as though her blood was shaking, a kind of internal earthquake. She realized she was clasping her hands over her stomach.

The test on the table was the third she had done that morning and they were all positive. She picked up her mobile phone and started dialling Tim’s number in Monrovia. But she changed her mind and instead rang Emmanuel.

“Hi Emmanuel. It’s Nina. Listen, I need to see you. Can I pop into your clinic this afternoon?”

“Sure, can you come at six? It’s not urgent is it?” he asked.

“No, no. It’s more for advice. Six is great. Thanks Emmanuel.” She hung up quickly, detecting a queue of patients in her friend’s sharply professional tone.

A baby. It didn’t seem real. When she first found out, she had thought vaguely of having an abortion. But that didn’t really fit her personal moral code of accountability and what if this was her only chance?

She was 34 afterall and even if she was unsure whether she wanted children or not, surely she should not turn the chance down. In some dark, suspicious part of her mind, she felt such interference would be severely punished.

She had often imagined what she would feel if she became pregnant, wondering if it would bring the unalloyed joy of movie scenes. But it was more complicated and down-to-earth than that.

Yes, she felt a kind of primal happiness. A child was growing inside her, she was a mother. She also felt a sense of relief. Here at last was the final piece of her personal puzzle. The debate that had droned on in her head about whether and when to have children would finally be turned off. It had been taken out of her hands.

Tim would be delighted, she thought, allowing herself a few moments of innocence. He so desperately wanted children.

She let her imagination play with ways of breaking the news to him but soon she found she could no longer ignore the question throbbing in her brain. She pulled the calendar to her. It would be hard to tell. They had only made love once since she came back from Monrovia – that time in France. Tim had used a condom as usual.

With Shaun, she had used nothing. He probably assumed she was on the pill, which she had been until a few years ago. She stopped when she hit 30 because of her smoking and Tim had used condoms since.

She dropped her head on her arms. Why hadn’t she insisted Shaun use one? It was so irresponsible. But they had been so carried away.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she muttered, banging her fist lightly on the wooden table. She forced herself to calm down, unballing her fists and spreading her fingers wide, breathing deeply.

There was no need to panic, she told herself. It could easily be Tim’s. There was no reason to assume the worst and in any case how would anyone ever be sure. Doctors couldn’t be that certain.

Later, as she drove to Emmanuel’s clinic, thousands of bats made their daily trip from the centre of town to the green suburbs to hunt. They darkened the sky as they glided over the murky lagoon that lay sullen and brooding after a grey day of thunder and heavy clouds.

She crossed the bridge to the other side of town. Young boys peered hopefully through her window at the traffic lights, holding up bags of toilet paper, chopping boards, small packets of tissues and kitchen clocks stamped with pictures of Jesus.

She stared straight ahead. One skinny boy dressed in a faded check shirt over red football shorts held up a child’s pink bicycle painted with cute long-haired ponies. She felt a lump in her throat and fumbled for her sunglasses.

She was so emotional at the moment. She had thought it was just Shaun’s death but clearly her hormones were running riot as well.

Her parents were sure to spoil the baby, she thought idly, remembering the dolls, plastic earrings, nurses uniforms and other gifts they showered on her. It would be their first grandchild. Her brother’s dancer girlfriend of seven years was still only 29 and in no rush to have children.

So her parents looked to Nina and every so often her mother would make none-too-subtle references to clocks ticking, time running out and women not being able to have everything. The news would thrill them she thought sadly.

The boy was still standing at her window, holding the bicycle and looking straight at her with a face devoid of enthusiasm or hope. The lights changed, and she roared off, blinking furiously.

Emmanuel opened the clinic door himself. His receptionist had already left for the day. He ushered Nina into his office, then sat behind his desk and stared at her.

“So my dear, what can I do for you? Are the sleeping pills not working? Do you need some more?”

“Oh no, I’m sleeping fine now. Which is good, because if the reports are true I won’t be getting much sleep in a few months’ time.”

Emmanuel looked puzzled. “I’m pregnant,” she said, feeling a jolt of pride as she said the words, finally out loud. She rushed ahead.

“Well, I think I am. I’ve done three tests and each one has been positive so I guess that is that.”

“Ah,” Emmanuel’s tone was studiously neutral and only a sharp movement of his eyebrows betrayed his shock. “Were you trying?”

Nina shook her head. “No. We had discussed children a little and I know Tim really wanted them, but no, we were not actively trying. I guess a condom burst.” She shrugged her shoulders trying to keep her tone light.

“But are YOU happy?” Emmanuel asked, leaning across his desk.

“Oh yes, now I am. It’s great. A little unexpected,” and she giggled too nervously, “but great.”

“Well, that is okay then,” her friend said, very obviously breathing a sigh of relief.

Emmanuel leant back in his chair and for a moment all that could be heard was the sibilant hum of the air conditioner and the faint shouts of the vendors on the street somewhere outside.

“I hoped you would be able to recommend a gynaecologist. I’ve been to one at the Lebanese hospital but I don’t really like her. Do you know anyone?” Nina asked.

“Of course. Just a moment. Let me get you a number. This woman is one of the best, very sweet, very helpful and doesn’t fuss unnecessarily. Call her and say I gave you her details,” Emmanuel said, scribbling on one of the prescription sheets.

“You will have to take care of yourself now you know. No more cigarettes and no more whiskey. Lots of vitamins and rest.”

She smiled at his mock-severe tone. “Let’s start anyway by taking your blood pressure,” he said, rising from behind his desk.

As he wrapped the band around her upper arm, he asked “What does Tim think of all this?”

Nina flushed and looked away. “I haven’t told him yet.” She could feel Emmanuel’s eyes on her. “It’s hard to get hold of him at the moment. He’s been upcountry in Liberia. I was planning to call him this evening. He should be back in Monrovia by then.”

There was silence.

“Well, your blood pressure is fine. You should also stop those sleeping pills though,” Emmanuel said, adding hastily as he saw her scared look “They won’t have done any harm in just a few days but it’s wiser to stop them now.”

He gave her a sharp look. “You know Nina if you want to talk at any point, let me know. Now is not the time for dealing with problems on your own. I am here for you if you need someone to listen.”

He knew or at least had guessed something, Nina thought, feeling herself flush. She kept her voice steady.

“Well, I did wonder how easy it would be to determine exactly when the baby was conceived.”

Emmanuel dropped her arm abruptly. “Nina, what the hell is going on?” he barked. “Is this baby Tim’s?”

She hung her head. “I don’t know and I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to know the answer to my question.” She looked defiantly at her old friend. Emmanuel raised his hands in despair.

“Well, it’s not an exact science. The best idea you will have is from the ultrasound, which combined with some measurements can be pretty accurate. But everyone knows there is some margin for error.” He paused. “Nina, child, what have you done?” he said softly now, stroking her hair away from her forehead.

Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she did not answer. She could not. After several minutes, he sighed.

“I hope you can work it out. I won’t ask any more questions but I’m here if you need me. You need to get some vitamins and folic acid so here’s a prescription. I’m giving you some iron as well and you’d better start taking some malaria pills.”

Nina nodded wordlessly. She kissed him twice and left the clinic.

Night had fallen and traffic was heavy. Cars snaked across the bridge, heading home from the neon-lit shabby business district of Plateau to the suburbs. At the traffic lights, Nina played her old game, almost subconsciously.

“It’s Tim’s. It’s his. It’s Tim’s. It’s his.” The lights changed. She froze, feeling nauseous and rubbed a hand across her clammy forehead. The cars behind her were beeping angrily. She pulled herself together and drove on but she felt as if she had received a warning.

As she crawled onto the bridge, she glimpsed a light bobbing in the traffic. Soldiers with torches had set up a roadblock – as they often did – making the rush-hour traffic worse in the steamy, humming heat.

Orange-and-black taxis dodged in and out of the lanes, trying to avoid the armed men in fatigues. Three had failed to escape and had been pulled over. Their drivers stood forlornly beside their battered vehicles as a soldier leafed through their torn and tattered papers.

Suddenly, Nina realized that she too was being waved over by a young soldier. She stopped carefully, cursing under her breath, and waited. In the rearview mirror, she could see the soldier sauntering up to the car. His rifle was slung over his shoulder and despite his self-consciously arrogant swagger, his uniform was shabby and it hung badly on his skinny frame.

“Papers!” he barked as Nina rolled down the window. She glared at him coldly, and pointedly said “Good evening.” Then she handed over her licence and residency permit with a slow, bored gesture.

The young man screwed up his face as he read her details by the light of a torch. “Where’s your passport?” he asked. Resisting the urge to give the teenager a clip around the ears, Nina replied “I live here. I have residency papers. I don’t need to carry my passport around.”

This was a regular annoyance since civil war had broken out, although the questions varied. Sometimes the soldiers were polite, but often they were surly and occasionally, they were drunk, pumped up with alcohol and bravado and extremely dangerous.

Night-time stops always left her feeling a little shaken although she knew it was unlikely they would dare do anything to a white woman. The local taxi drivers had no such protection. Several had been killed already for failing to stop quickly enough at the ad-hoc roadblocks that had sprouted up around the city.

The young man brusquely thrust her papers at her and with an indistinct, angry muttering, he let her be and strode off to flag down another motorist. Nina drove off, her mind already on the phone call she would have to make when she got home.

In a way, she dreaded the thought of Tim’s delight. But even more frightening was the thought that he might be suspicious. However, she doubted that would happen. His joy would be so overwhelming he was unlikely to question what he would consider an overdue blessing. And it was not like they had not had sex at all.

She dialled his number as soon as she got into the house. She desperately wanted a drink.

“Hello?” Tim sounded very far away. The line was crackly and a part of her wondered if she should not wait until they were face-to-face. But a cautious voice whispered “this is better”.

“Hi honey, it’s me. How are you?”

“Tired and wet. It’s been raining all day here …” As Tim talked, Nina studied her reflection in the French doors leading onto the garden.

She saw a slight woman with blonde hair held back by large tortoiseshell sunglasses. Her eyes were big in her tanned face, wide and scared. She thought she looked old and worn. She turned sideways but there was no sign of a bump. Idiot, she thought, it’s early days yet.

“Tim, listen, I’ve got some good news. At least I hope you’ll think it’s good. I think I’m pregnant.” She waited for her words to reach him through the crossed lines and static. When he said nothing, she thought maybe he hadn’t heard. Had the line dropped?

“Tim, are you there? Hello?”

“I’m here. Just a little shocked that’s all. I wasn’t expecting this.” He fell silent. “I mean, it’s great. I’m delighted.”

She cursed the bad line that made it impossible for her to gauge his reaction. The words were so banal but then what did she expect?

He was shocked and there could be no new, unique reaction to the news. It had all been said a million times before.

“How do you know and how … I mean, how did this happen. We were still taking precautions.”

“I’ve done three tests and they were all positive. I am going to see a gynaecologist tomorrow. I guess a condom must have split. I don’t know when exactly. I guess they won’t be able to be that accurate.”

She paused and then asked in a small voice “Are you sure you’re happy?”

Even as the words left her mouth, Nina knew she was guilty of the worst kind of manipulation. She was trying to make him feel guilty, to question his reaction to divert his suspicions, to give him something else to worry about. She felt cheap and unclean but she couldn’t help herself.

And then there was her pride. His lukewarm reaction had upset her. He should be delighted. They were going to have a child together. She had made the ultimate sacrifice. Why wasn’t he pouring out endearments and promising her the earth?

“’Cos you don’t sound very happy.” She couldn’t help the sullen tone. It was out there now and he would be unable to mistake her meaning, even with the static.

He babbled his reply. “Of course, I am darling. I’m sorry. I’m just tired and wet and confused and surprised,” he said. “It’s great news. Are you OK? Do you need anything?” he asked.

After a few more minutes, they hung up. Nina sank into the sofa, flinging her head back and closing her eyes. That was that. It was over. It seemed she had got away with it. If indeed there was anything to get away with.

The baby could still be Tim’s. That would be the best outcome, she thought. They would pull together, have this baby and her life would resume its tranquil course.

But instead of feeling happy, she felt dirty. Instead of relief, she felt guilt. Instead of joy, she felt anxious and she wondered if things would ever be right again.