Pregnancy, about five or six weeks, the doctor said, tossing her instrument into a tray and peeling off her rubber gloves.
Will you be keeping the baby?
Eleanor stayed silent.
At forty-two, she faced the prospect of a fourth child she hadn’t wanted. They were always just about managing, stretching every pound from one payslip to the next.
The older two were still at grammar school, and the youngest was starting primary this Septembershed need a new pinafore, white blouses, and a proper satchel, not to mention exercise books and readers. And nowthis!
Ill talk it over with Edward, she resolved. See what he thinks.
That evening, as they sat at supper, she broached the matter.
I saw the doctor, Eleanor said.
Its definite. Six weeks along.
Her husband put down his fork, chewing stilled.
Well, what can we do? Lets have it. Two boys, two girlsmakes a fair set, doesnt it?
A set! What are we to live on?
She detailed all their expensesthe eldests school needs, the youngests, the growing lists of essentialsand the more she explained, the more she convinced herself it was mad to have another baby. Not at her age, not now.
Ill book the appointment for the procedure, she half-whispered.
When the tests for the clinic were all done, Eleanor felt utterly defeated.
She couldnt keep from grieving for the tiny person growing inside her. She fancied it was a girlfair, charming, mischievous.
On the tram to the surgery, squeezed among the crowds, she felt pushed and battered. As she stumbled out onto the pavement, something slipped from her shoulder. At first, she didnt register what it was. Then her heart dropped: the strap from her handbag. Someone had sliced it clean and made off with her bag, along with every penny she had and all her test results.
There was nothing for it but to trudge home. She had to redo some tests entirely, and managed to recover others with much trouble.
The second time she set out, she fell getting off the bus and badly banged her leg.
If I go a third time, Ill break my neck, she thought superstitiously. That decided herthe child would be born. And suddenly, her heart was at rest.
Her pregnancy passed smoothly. Eleanor soon learned she was to have a daughter. Butat her second scandisaster seemed to threaten: the doctor feared signs of Downs syndrome in the baby.
Youll need to have an amniocentesis, said the doctor, scribbling on a form.
I must warn youits risky. It could trigger a miscarriage or infection.
Eleanor thought for a long moment and then agreed.
On the appointed day, she and Edward returned to the clinic. He waited solemnly in the hall while she walked with trembling legs into the surgery. The doctor listened earnestly for the babys heartbeat, which raced dangerously.
Well wait and see, the doctor decided. Lets give you a magnesium injection.
Afterwards, Eleanor was sent out to the corridor to calm herself.
Time passed; she was called back in. The heartbeat had settled, but now the babys back was to them. Theyd have to wait againthe test could only be done if the baby turned.
Time dragged by, and at last, on a third attempt, all was right: the child faced upwards and her small heart beat strongly. They prepared her stomach for the procedure.
It was hot that afternoon and the window stood wide open for some breeze. Just as the nurse carried over the fresh tray of implements, a pigeon fluttered recklessly through the windowflapping, panicked, and crashing into people and furniture. The startled nurse dropped the tray; everything clattered to the floor.
Eleanor was sent out to wait yet again, while staff shooed the bird and searched for fresh, sterile instruments.
Whats all this commotion? Edward asked, brow furrowed.
Oh, just a pigeonmade a dreadful mess.
Eleanor, its a sign.
Lets go home.
And so they left.
In due course, Eleanor gave birth to a daughter
Now ten years old.
Fair-haired, lovely, and spiritedShe had a dimple on her left cheek and a way of laughing that made even Edward forget the weight of bills and years. Their daughter loved pigeons, chasing them round the park with outstretched arms, shrieking with bright delight as they scattered before her. Eleanor sometimes watched her, hand pressed to her own heart, and wondered at all the odd chances, the clumsy accidents, and the wild interruptions that had brought her hereto this moment, to this girl.
At night, when the house was quiet and everyone sleeping, Eleanor would sit by her daughters bed, smoothing stray hairs from her brow, certain now of one thing only: that more than plans, more than prudence, life asked sometimes for an open doora willingness to let chaos flutter in, and to love the world as it came.
She leaned over and kissed her daughters forehead, murmuring softly, Thank you for coming to us. And though shed never know if it was a matter of fate or mere luck, Eleanor knew she had chosen well, after all.
