FICTION : Camomile Crescent - Danielle & Marc

For the previous instalment of 'Danielle and Marc' click here


Danielle strummed her perfect French manicured nails rhythmically on the arm of the sofa.  Her mobile phone sat poised next to her.  She stared into dark depths of the original Victorian fireplace glancing, occasionally, at the screen of her phone.  She knew she wouldn't miss the call, the ringer was set to the loudest it could be, but she couldn't help checking just in case.

She had been sat in the same place for about an hour, dressed immaculately, and ready to go.  She had been unable to sleep.  Marc was due home from his latest business trip to the States and she had never been so anxious to get the call to say she should leave to collect him from the airport.

She had discovered she was pregnant two days earlier.  She had been called for a routine Cervical Screening.  Due to her busy schedule it had been sometime since she had actually booked the appointment and she remembered they would ask her when her last period had been.  She was shocked to see it was about three months previously.  This did not alarm her at first, she had carried her contraceptive pill over a couple of times, due to travelling and busy events for work.  Even so, she did realise that she had taken the break this time, so she should have technically had, or be having her period. 

Again this had not phased her, she conceded that since she had messed with her body clock, quite considerably, it might just be confused and decided to continue with her next packet of contraception, normally, for a couple of months to allow her body to adjust.  The snooty nurse had frowned at her when she explained what had happened.  She had felt herself redden as she was made to feel like a chastised school girl.  The nurse finished her lecture about misuse of the contraceptive pill with words that felt like bullets.

"We had better do a pregnancy test."

"What?  Why?"  Danielle had snapped.

"Just to be sure." the nurse replied wheeling her chair across the floor to a large unit of trays.  Rummaging around in one she produced a wrapped test and small instruction leaflet.

"I'm not pregnant - surely I will be super protected because I haven't had a break."  Danielle tried to quip.

"Better to be safe than sorry.  I am not happy to carry out a screening until you have taken the test or had your next period."  This nurse was no nonsense, Danielle could tell.  She sighed, it had taken multiple changes of bookings to get this appointment fitted in, she couldn't face trying to juggle another one.  She took the test, rolling her eyes. 

"Fine, where do I need to go."  she asked curtly, making a show of straightening her expensive charcoal pencil skirt with her free hand.

"Along the corridor, on the left." the nurse replied not looking up from the forms she was completing.  "I'll leave it up to you if you want to find out the results in private or if you want to come back here and wait." she stated, glancing up as Danielle reached the door.

Danielle smiled tightly "Thanks." she said closing the door "I know what the result will be though." she muttered to herself as she hurried along the dimly lit corridor.  She found the toilet cubicle vacant and locked the door behind her.  She read the instructions, balanced them on the small sink and unwrapped the pregnancy test.  As she sat down to urinate on the tester she decided she actually felt quite affronted by the nurse and the dressing down she had given her.  Next time she would go private she thought, Marc was always saying she was crazy using the NHS when she had private health care at her fingertips. 

Standing up she cursed as she noticed she had wet her own hand as well as the testing stick.  She looked around for somewhere to put it down but found a lack of ledges "Well I am not holding it between my teeth." she griped and it took her several attempts to get it to balance on the sink.  As she flushed, she turned to use the wash basin and knocked it on the floor.  She tutted and soaped her hands.  At least there was a mirror she thought studying her skin and eyebrows.  She felt tired and it was showing.  She was going to start using a night-cream she decided.  Her eyes caught sight of her nails as she moved them over her cheeks.  She would ring her beauty therapist and ask for an early morning appointment for before she started work.  She would book in for a full body massage at the weekend as well, maybe Marc would even want one with her she considered.  Yes, a complete relaxation weekend for just the two of them was in order.

The thought of Marc made her smile.  He had been away for several weeks but he would be home in a few days.  She had suggested the idea of a holiday to him and he had said they could discuss it when he returned.  She was hoping that they might be able to take a longer break than normal and perhaps try one of the Caribbean islands.  Really splash out.  She could not wait to sink her bare feet into some hot, white sand rather than uncomfortable designer shoes.  As she was daydreaming, she realised that the few minutes needed for the test develop must have passed.  She bent down and picked the test up off of the floor.

Flicking her hair back she turned the test over.  Two lines clearly stared back at her.  She felt panic rising.  "OK" she mumbled "Is two lines positive or negative?" she thought she knew but she had to be wrong, she had only read the instructions briefly she reassured herself.  Grabbing them up out of the wet sink she scanned the small black print:

The tester will show one blue line as a test line.  This indicates that the tester is working.  If you see a second blue line, this indicates a positive result.  If only the test line is visable, the test is negative.

Danielle suddenly felt hot and sat heavily on the lid of the toilet.  Two lines was a positive result?  She looked again at the tester.  Well, it was certainly showing two.  There was no mistaking that.  She looked away quickly, like if she couldn't see it, then it wouldn't be true.  She sat trying to think of any possible way she could have fallen pregnant.  Marc had hardly been here for the last six months so it was damn well against the odds of happening she thought bitterly. 

She wasn't sure how long she had been sitting on the toilet, but she suddenly realised she needed to return to the nurses room.  She stood and glanced in the mirror.  She couldn't remove the pale, ashen look she now sported.  Taking a deep breath she unlocked the door and found her nurse waiting patiently outside.  Seeing her, she burst into tears.  The nurse put her arm around her and guided her back to the privacy of the medical room.

Together they had tried to guess how far along she was.  Danielle had recalled the week when she had severe food poisoning and how sick she had been.  Despite this Marc had been going away on business and had made quite a show when she had said she wasn't sure she felt up to their usual goodbye sex session.  As he had stomped about upstairs she had felt guilty and given in, after all she would regret it in a few days when she was feeling better she was sure.

The nurse had suggested that this was mostly likely when it happened.  She informed Danielle that vomiting could reduce the effectiveness of the contraceptive pill.  She had noted that the instructions, available in every packet, clearly stated that in the case of illness other forms of contraception should be used.  At seeing Danielles face crumple again she said it was surprising at how many women was not aware of this.  The nurse had given Danielle some literature about all the options available. 

"I know what I need to do."  Danielle started.  The nurse put up her hand.

"Danielle, you need to go home and think about things.  Talk to your partner.  Really give the situation some thought."  Danielle nodded but knew there would be no discussion needed on the matter.  Marc would pay for her to go private so she could get things sorted quickly she presumed.

After thanking the nurse, she left the surgery and been surprised to find it was dark outside.  She had not realised how long she had been in the surgery.  She drove her bright red sporty two-seater home without her mind on the road.  When she pulled up outside 19 Camomile Crescent she couldn't remember the journey.  She decided the sooner this was sorted the better. 

The next day she had gone for her early nail appointment and been so busy at work she didn't have time to think about it all.  At least now she knew what was making her feel under par and she wouldn't be feeling like it for much longer.  She would be back on top form at work and maybe have the energy to stamp on a few of those back stabbing colleagues who were not on her side when she needed them lately. 

On the other hand the thought of having to go into medical institution made her feel extra sick.  As it was now.  Sat at home waiting for Marc to call.  She wasn't looking forward to telling him she had messed up with the contraception.  He would be tired and ratty from his long day, followed by the flight.  She hoped everything had gone smoothly, otherwise she might not even be able to talk to him about it until tomorrow.

At that moment her mobile belted out its all too familiar ring tone.  Marc.  She picked it up and took a deep breath "Hi!" she answered enthusiastically "Great!  OK, can't wait to see you!  Love you! Be there soon!"  She ended the call and realised she was shaking.  Had she been too perky?  Had she covered the news of 'I am pregnant with your child.' sufficiently? 

She shook her head, he would have been too preoccupied with getting off of the flight to have noticed anything, they only spoke for a matter of seconds.  If she wasn't driving she would have made herself a drink to calm her down a bit.  Even though it was only 7am.  It wasn't all bad nerves she decided, there was the excited anticipation of seeing the man she loved after weeks apart mixed in. 

She slipped her black patent four inch heels back on, wincing slightly.  She grabbed her car key from the 'key bowl' in the hallway.  Then she remembered herself and swapped it for Marc's.  He had a new swanky four door Saloon.  As she never knew if he was bringing anything back from his apartment in New York she thought it was for the best.  He was so annoyed with her last time as they had to try and cram everything in the tiny space her car afforded.

She hoped he was in a better mood than on that occasion.

It didn't take her long to reach the airport and as it was still early she navigated her way to the pick up area quickly.  She got out of the car, her stomach more swirling than ever, and took a deep breath of fresh air to try and help with the nausea.  She soon saw the familiar shape of Marc making his way to the automatic doors and she scurried over to greet him.  He was still wearing his suit and shirt from his day at the New York office and she thought he looked tired, but swarve.  If they had decided to have children she would have hoped they would have his height and jet black hair - not that it was ever going to happen.  They had made that decision early on in the relationship. 

Danielle threw her arms around his waist and sunk her head into his chest, taking in the familiar aftershave.  She had missed him.  He held her tight and kissed the top of her head as she clung on tight.  She looked up to him.

"I am so glad you are home."

"Me too."  He replied "I need a decent cup of tea."  Danielle laughed.  She was sure when he got to the States he said the same about coffee.  They made there way to the car.  "I'll drive if you want." he said as he watched Danielle open the boot and struggle to put his luggage in.  She stuttered, worried that if she was a passenger the car would make her even more sick.  She needed something to keep her mind focused.

"No, no." she interjected "You've had a long day."  He shrugged yawning and opened the passenger door.

"Whatever you want sweetheart."  Danielle decided to tell him as soon as they set off, she wanted to get it over with and then when they got home he could cuddle her in bed and tell her it was all going to be OK.  She didn't mind if they spent the whole of Saturday having a duvet day.

"So, we need to talk about," she paused, toying with how to word it "some things."

"Yeah," Marc replied settling his seat back and closing his eyes "I've got a mad schedule coming up that I need to go through with you.  I don't think I will be able to fit a holiday in at the moment."  Danielle deflated, she had hoped he might be around for a couple of weeks, she was going to need him.  And a holiday.  "I've got to go off to Ireland for a couple of days tomorrow." He continued "Then I will be back for a day, maybe two, then back to the States for a couple of weeks."

"Again!"  Danielle startled.  She hadn't meant for her reaction to slip out, but he was in the UK less and less.  Marc opened his eyes and looked at her.

"Sorry Danielle, you know how it is.  The US Client needs me in person and things are really picking up out there."  She sighed. 

"I know.  I would just like you here a bit more."  He moved his hand across to her leg and rubbed it gently "Just be grateful for what we do have.  Remember we are doing all of this work now for a better life in the future.  When we are in our forties life will be one long holiday."  She was getting a little sick of hearing the same statement but turned and forced a smile.

"So," she began again "We need to talk about something."  Marc had laid back again.

"Hmmmm" he replied.

"I, er, I.  I found something out while you were away."

"Hmmmm" he responded again

"I'm pregnant." she kept her focus on the road and could feel Marc had frozen.  He sat up, pulling the chair back into a sitting position.

"What the..." he began. 

"I know."  Danielle cut in "I was stunned too.  I went for my cervical screening, the nurse insisted I do a test and Bam, it came up positive!" she was talking too fast, she knew.

"I've barely been here Danielle." She didn't like his tone so explained about the contraceptive loophole after stomach sickness. 

"Have you booked in to deal with it?" he asked her in a tone usually directed at his Personal Assistant. 

"Not yet, I wanted to tell you first." Danielle started but was cut off.

"Well, you better do it first thing in the morning.  Go private, they'll be able to do it straight away.  Pay whatever you need."  Although she knew that would be their decision she was taken aback by his frank attitude.  She opened her mouth but nothing came out.  "Hopefully it'll be done by the time I get back from Ireland eh."  He leaned the chair back again, crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes. 

Danielle continued to look ahead feeling irked that he hadn't even asked how she was feeling.  Especially when he knew she had such a fear of anything medically related.  She wanted him to be there to support her.  She wouldn't be able to go on her own and she really did not want to have to tell her Mother.  She would have to call Emily, one of her oldest friends and see if she could stand in.  On the other hand, Danielle mused, he had actually taken the news better than she had anticipated and hadn't gone on a rant which finalised with laying the blame at her door.

As they pulled up outside of their house, Danielle realised how tired she felt and was looking forward to falling into bed.  They paused at the door to unlock it.  As they fiddled with the keys a disturbance along the road caught their eye.  One of their neighbours, Danielle believed the females name was Sarah, was shouting at a young women who was walking rapidly away from her.  A large man came out of the house and ushered her back in.

"A domestic argument - on Cam Crescent?"  Marc said sarcastically "I didn't think that sort of behaviour was allowed."  He sniggered at his own joke as Danielle finally got all the locks open.  As they entered their immaculate Victorian home, Marc did what he always did "Make us a decent cuppa darling will you?"  Danielle kicked her heels off.  Nothing changes, she thought.  Although that wasn't a bad thing, she didn't want it to.

"Course, I'll bring it up."  She watched him disappear up the stairs.  She entered the kitchen flipping the kettle switch.  That was the first time she started to feel a small amount of cramping in her lower abdomen.  It wasn't unbearable but it wasn't comfortable.  She had been in desperate need of the toilet since she had arrived at the airport so went to the bathroom hoping it would relieve it.  As she heard the kettle whistle, she stood and thought she noticed a little pink discolouring.  Her heart started to beat a little quicker.

"Are you getting the tea from China?" she heard Marc call.  She used another piece of tissue but found nothing.  She frowned.  "Danielle?" she heard him call. 

"Coming!" she replied.  She had to get that appointment booked in, she needed her life to go back to normal.

All previous instalments of Camomile Crescent can be found on my Fiction Page.

         

FICTION : Camomile Crescent - Danielle & Marc

19 Camomile Crescent - Danielle & Marc

Danielle Merchant heard her heavy metal knocker reverberate on the front door as it slammed shut.  This was shortly followed by the familiar jingle of her mothers set of keys hitting the glass 'key' bowl and the dull thud as her bag hit the restored original floor of the long narrow hallway. 

"Hi Mum." She called from her horizontal position on the couch.  She heard the quizzical pitter patter of her mothers feet approach the living room door and felt the cool air of the hall drift into her cosy duvet haven on the sofa, as the heavy pine door was tentatively pushed open. 

"Hello?" replied a puzzled voice "I wasn't expecting you to be in darling, are you o.k?" Danielle felt immediately better at the genuine note of concern in her mothers voice.  It didn't matter that she was in her late twenties now, if she felt under the weather just knowing her mother was near helped.  Danielle mustered the energy to push herself into a sitting position to see the familiar grey bobbed hair poking through the crack between the door and the frame.

"Just feel really rubbish." she sighed "I've felt like it for a couple of days."  She lowered herself back down as her mother came into the room and sat on the end of the stylish beige three-seater sofa.  "I went to work Monday and Tuesday but just couldn't stand the thought of feeling like this at my desk all day again.  I don't know what it is, feel a bit like I have the worst hangover of my life without the pleasure of having the night out."

"Oh dear.  You don't think it is food poisoning again do you?"  Her mother looked concerned.  Danielle had only suffered a severe dose recently.  Her mother put it down to one of the many 'fancy' restaurants she frequented with her job.  Her mother was unsure, if in the years that her daughter had lived at the house, the kitchen had ever been used at all.  It was an area of beauty she had to admit. It was a kitchen that even the top interior designers would drool over.  Everything was white gloss and chrome.  Every conceivable gadget resided on the marble worktops.  When it had been installed her mother thought that she might need a whole day just to clean the finger prints off of everything once a week. But it certainly never really needed cleaning.  Other than the crumbs around the toaster.  Of course, it had cost a small fortune - like most things in the house. 

When her mother had joked about it never being used Marc had scoffed "We want it kept stunning, not covered in Danielles useless attempts at home-making!" and laughed heartily at his own humour.  Danielle had laughed too and mimed using a fire extinguisher on the oven.  Although Marc sometimes wasn't always to her mothers taste, she had to admit the couple did seem on the same wavelength and that was all that mattered. 

Danielle shook her head confidently "Oh god no, certainly it isn't that again."  She shuddered at the mere memory of the two day hospital stay she had been forced to endure.  Danielle had a huge fear of hospitals, even private ones.  The plush rooms did not mask the fact that medical procedures would take place.

"Has Marc had anything?" Her mother asked spying the crushed articles that usually resembled cushions on the adjacent two-seater sofa.  Marc's trademark.  If it infuriated her mother as much as it did her, she didn't let it show.  Her mother flapped and pounded the squares back into shape as Danielle answered.

"No.  He doesn't really ever get sick does he.  Mind you, he is back in the States for three weeks on Friday so if he does he will be furious."  Marc was a much sought after Architect and spent at least half the year dealing with Clients across the Atlantic.  The other half he spent putting in 16 hours days at his London base.  Even Saturdays were generally spent in the home office.  Her friends all commented that they didn't know how they managed it, but for Danielle it had allowed her to be able to throw herself whole-heartedly into her high profile PA role.  She had spent years laying the groundwork to make herself indispensable and achieved it.  Once the head-hunting had started she had been in a position to command a salary increase that she had only ever dreamt about. 

The job required a ridiculous amount of hours but she thrived on it.  She was pleased to have met a man that was fully accepting of her work ethic rather than threatened.  So many of her previous boyfriends had been unable to understand her committment to her job.  But it was different with Marc.  They loved each other, but they also loved their careers and the affluent lifestyle if afforded them.  She felt content that they both had clear ideas about the life they wanted together. Unlike many of her friends who flew into romances with the unrealistic notion of it all being about love and lust whom, she was sure, would come to a cross roads that they would struggle with. 

Her mother came to 19 Camomile Crescent, twice a week during the day when she was normally at work.  Once to do the ironing and once to do the cleaning.  Danielle had insisted that she didn't have to give up her time to do it, that they could hire someone, but her mother was insistent claiming it would be a complete waste of money when she had plenty of time on her hands.  Marc said it was because Danielle was an only child.  That she liked to continue to spoil her in anyway she could.  Danielle liked this idea.  She also knew that since her father had retired early her mother liked having reasons to get out of the house.

"This had better pass by Friday anyway." Danielle stated brushing her auburn fringe back off of her face "I've got to go Milan with Juliette."  Juliette was her boss and it was sheer good luck that she was forced to be at a close family members funeral in Ireland today or she wouldn't have been afforded the luxury of laying on the sofa feeling like she had been on a bender with a rugby team - she would have been feeling it whilst being at the beck and call of the company MD.  She had only just recovered her reputation and curbed the digs from her colleagues about being a 'sick-note' from the two day hospital stay.  She should not have returned to work on her release from hospital, she was signed off for a further week, but Danielle knew there would be no job to return too. 

 

Employment legislation did not fit in with the reality of her role.  She had not even called in sick today.  She had diarised that she was researching venues for the next Client Retreat.  Juliette wanted 'Country Chic'.  Danielle calculated that with Juliette forcibly occupied with the funeral she could claim 'no mobile signal' for the majority of day to the rest of her colleagues on this basis.

"You can't help being unwell darling." Her mother offered once again.  She had said the same thing at hospital.  She was proud of her daughter but worried about the demanding schedule she always seemed to be trying to keep up with.  She understood that she was from a different generation but was concerned that both Danielle and Marc's unwavering determination within their career paths would mean they would come to a point, too late in their lives, to realise that there was more to life than work. 

 

She had only asked about children once, Marc had baulked "That's not for us." Danielle had laughed "Having children makes you unstable - look at all the crazy people buying up the houses in this street at extortionate prices just to get their kids into that school!" Marc agreed "That's right.  We want to work hard now so we can enjoy the pleasures in life," he paused and looked at Danielle taking her hand "and each other, further down the line."  Her mother had smiled at the gesture of affection but refrained from saying that children were a pleasure of life.

"No, I can't help being unwell, but I do just have to get on with it." Danielle exhaled deeply.  "It's just frustrating that I don't seem to be feeling any better.  My job is exhausting enough when I am able to do it feeling completely on the ball.  I could do without having the added burden of having to 'act' like I am feeling great when I'm not."

Her mother looked at her sympathetically "Maybe it's just your bodies way of telling you to slow down and catch up on some sleep?"  Danielle looked like her little girl again lying, hair unbrushed and without her usual immaculate make up.

"Maybe.  Better make the most of it anyway and work on my mind over matter techniques in case I still feel like it tomorrow."  She pulled the duvet up to her chin, allowing herself some self indulgent pity.

"I'll make us a cup of coffee shall I?" Her mother asked picking up dirty glasses from the coffee table and heading to the door.

"Ugh no thank you.  I don't think I can face anything." Danielle replied burying her head in the pillow "I think I am just going to try and sleep it off."  With her general lack of enthusiasm for any type of medicine, even as a child Danielle had always maintained that she could get through most illnesses by sleeping.

"Well if you need anything just give me a shout.  I'm going to start with cleaning the upstairs bathroom." She moved to the door "Do the bins need emptying?"

"Ah yes, sorry." Danielle squinted apologetically.  She didn't mind her mother cleaning but she didn't think that she should have to literally pick up after them.  Marc didn't seem to have the same thought process, but then again, Danielle was unsure if any man did when it came to tidying up after themselves.

"No problem." Her mother said waving her hand dismissively to Danielle's guilt "I'll take some bags up that's all."

"Thanks mum." Danielle mustered and flopped back onto the pillow.  She really couldn't seem to do anything to alleviate the drained, motion sickness feeling that was pulsing throughout her body.  She literally felt as if she had been out on a choppy sea for a month.  Maybe her mother was right and she needed some time to chill out and relax.  She would mention the idea of a holiday to Marc before he left for the States so they could try and match up some potential dates.  Although, Lord knows, that was never easy.  The most either of them could ever offer was a long weekend.    Despite this she smiled as she recalled their last break.  Although they may not have been able to get away as much as they might like due to their jobs, it was that very thing that allowed them to holiday in true luxury.  Yes, she decided, it was time to speak to her travel guru and get something amazing booked up. 

Her mother gently closed the door on her daughter and made her way to the utility room to gather the cleaning box.  It was always exactly as she had left it.  When she was running low on something she wrote what she needed on the expensive board on the wall and Danielle added it to the weekly Internet order.  Her mother struggled with the fact that despite them being out of the house so much, they ordered the same things week by week, which she invariably ended up either taking home to use or throwing away.  She collected the new bathroom cleaner, rubber gloves and cloths out of the cupboard and made her way up the stairs.  The one room in the house that was always used and in need of attention was the bathroom.  As it was usually the biggest job she liked to start with it first.

Her daughter and Marc had made the fourth, smaller, bedroom into a magnificent, decedent bathroom.  With multiple upright towel rails, sunken double 'his and hers' sinks in an amazing vanity unit, a wall length shower cubicle with rain forest head and a huge freestanding bath.  Not a single personal affect needed to be on display, there was a place for everything.  That was how it looked after her mother had finished with it.  A show bathroom.  However, that was not the case now. 

 

Damp towels were strewn haphazardly over the side of the bath and shower door.  An array of lid-less bottles adorned most surfaces.  She could tell Marc had been home for a few days.  She wondered how someone with so much intelligence did not have the ability to close the cap on the shower gel that had since spent the morning dripping down the glass door and black, glitter flecked tiles.

Opening up a rubbish bag she pulled open the cabinet door with the hidden waste bin.  It was overflowing with as many articles chucked around it as in it.  She began collecting the items up.  Multiple empty contact lens packs, used cotton buds, make up remover wipes, three empty contraceptive pill foils.  She paused.  Three?  She sighed.  She was all for the contraceptive pill - her daughter was in a long term relationship - but Danielle seemed used them to control her cycle according to her work schedule.  She had mentioned how wonderful it was to be able to just continue the pill and not have to deal with periods whilst on work trips or busy weeks.  Her mother had been horrified but as usual only aired it with her husband.  She didn't like the idea of her daughter confusing her body, how easy would it be to 'unconfuse' it she had asked him.

Her mother placed them in the rubbish bag.  No doubt having that much, well whatever it was, pumped into her body wasn't helping how she was feeling.  Maybe she would mention it?  No, Danielle would be feeling enough pressure with not being at work and feeling under par without her adding to it.  She decided to just go about her business as she normally would and make sure Danielle had everything she needed before she left.  She stood, knotting the rubbish bag and placing it by the door.  Picking up the cleaning spray and cloths she turned and faced the shower, her nemesis.  She took a deep breath "I'm going in..." she muttered to herself.

 

 

This is part 2 of a series.  You can find all installments to 'Camomile Crescent' here.

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