#fallon rogers

It wasn’t Harrison’s fault, the, that he saw the screen. Fallon’s app for tracking her cycle was open… and showing that her last recorded period was six weeks ago.

Harrison’s heart skipped a beat, and he looked towards the kitchen, unsure whether he could let himself smile.

He knew what it meant for Fallon to miss a period – and two weeks late was missing it, considering she could normally set her watch by it – but he’d never dared to hope it might happen; Fallon had told him she didn’t want children.

And, on a day like today, when it hardly felt possible for a good thing to happen, Harrison tried to put it out of his mind, and went into the kitchen, without saying anything.

Fallon was leaning against the counter by the kettle, not looking at him, and he wondered if she was thinking about it, too.

As the kettle came to a boil, though, she dropped two teabags into two mugs, and he realised she couldn’t thinking about it at all.

“Not decaf?” he said, “I’d’ve thought—”

Fallon frowned. “I’m tired. Aren’t you? I barely slept last night. Didn’t think you did, either?”

“No, I meant…” Harrison trailed off. Cleared his throat. Glanced over his shoulder, back into the lioving room. “I saw your phone, love. That tracker app. I… um… I know it’s early days, and… it’s not the best time, but… I thought you’d want to avoid caffeine.”

“What, because I’m pregnant?” She looked surprised.

“So, it’s true, then? You are… You are pregnant?” Harrison’s heart began to pound, and his eyes welled up in joy for the first time since the fire. “We’re having a baby?”

Fallon stammered. “Well, I don’t know for sure that I’m pregnant… Not yet… While you were out, I made an appointment with the GP, to talk it over properly. I had to check the date of my last period – that’s why I had the app open – but I haven’t taken a test yet.”

“But you think you might be?” Harrison felt giddy as he crossed the kitchen to hug his wife. “Oh, love!”

But Fallon didn’t really hug him back; she just shuffled a little closer, and put her chin on his shoulder.

“What’s the matter?” Harrison stepped back, peering at her, “Is this ‘cause of Martha? Is it because you don’t… feel right, being happy right now?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Fallon said. She hurriedly finished making the tea, mopping up splashes of milk and dumping the dishcloth in the sink.

“How’s it like, then?” Harrison said.

“We’re not having a baby,” Fallon replied, sitting down at the kitchen table and curling her hands around her mug of tea. “I don’t want to be pregnant.”

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Brian knocked on Kate’s bedroom door, and opened it just a hair. “Kate, sweetheart? Can I come in?”

Kate nodded – though it was hard to tell with the curtains drawn – and pulled the duvet over her head.

“All right,” Brian said, stepping in with a tray of chamomile tea and Vegan shortbread biscuits. “Can I put the light on?”

This time, the duvet twitched as though Kate were shaking her head.

Brian picked his way around the bed to put the tray on Kate’s bedside table. “Something to eat and drink, darling,” he said, “I think it’d do you good.”

“Don’t want it,” Kate mumbled, her face still hidden.

“All right.” There wasn’t really anything else Brian could say; he certainly couldn’t make Kate eat or drink, and he knew only to well how difficult it had been to take care of himself after Jenny’s death. And he’d known that was coming, even if he hadn’t known when.

Jakob had been a fit, healthy – well, not young, but certainly not old – man, and there had been no warning… just the worst news imaginable, in the middle of the night.

Brian couldn’t quite believe he was dead. Couldn’t quite absorb the fact he’d never see Jakob again… so God alone knew how Kate must feel.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Kate?” Brian asked softly, laying his hand on the duvet.

“What’s the point,” said Kate. It wasn’t a question; there was no movement in her voice. But why would there be? She was probably still in shock.

So Brian just nodded, patting the duvet gently. “If you do want anything, just let me know.” As he got up to leave the room, he paused in the doorway, and asid, “I love you, Kate. Remember that.”

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

“You can’t mean you’re going to ask the doctor to give you a—” Harrison’s ears started ringing. His face went hot and cold all at once as he stared at his wife. He staggered, and had to sit down before he fell down.

“For a termination?” Fallon offered.

“No!” Harrison exclaimed.

But she nodded. “Yes. Of course I am. How else could I stop being pregnant? Short of hoping for something that might never happen, it’s my only option.”

“But you can’t! It’s our baby,Fallon! Ours!” He choked on suddenly tears, and gripped his mug of tea so hard that it hurt his hand.

“It’s a colleciton of cells,” Fallon replied, sounding like she was correcting him, “And I can, and I’m going to. Because I have to! Because this isn’t something I want, Harrison! I’ve never, ever wanted to be a Mum, and I’ve certainly never wanted to be pregnant. You know I’ve had an IUD for years, and you know I was on the pill for years before that. Why did you… Why did you think that was?” She took a sip of tea, and winced as it scalded her tongue.

Harrison didn’t answer.

“I did all of that, had all of it done, because I didn’t want to get pregnant. Ever. Don’t you get it?”

Harrison couldn’t believe Fallon wasn’t crying. He was.

Didn’t Fallon care? Her eyes were as clear and dry as if she were talking about what furniture they’d need to move around, if they wanted to paint the lounge… and she was talking about… talking about…

“But you’re pregnant now,” Harrison said, “It’s real, now! Don’t that change anything? Don’t it make you realise… that it could be good? That maybe it were meant to happen?”

““Meant to happen?”” repeated Fallon, “It wasn’t.” She sighed heavily. “I have an IUD. I have it because I don’t want to get pregnant. It’s that simple!”

“But even though you had all that, you got pregnant anyway! Ain’t that a miracle? A gift?”

For a moment, Fallon could only stare at him in stunned silence. When the words finally found her, she said, “It’s not a gift I want, Harrison; that’s the point. And you know I don’t believe in miracles.”

“But it’s—” Harrison protested, but Fallon stopped him.

“It’s my body, and it’s my choice,” she said firmly, “And every time I’ve had a choice, I’ve chosen to avoid getting pregnant. Somewhere, somehow, something went wrong. And now I’m going to make sure I don’t stay pregnant. All right?”

Harrison shook his head, tears in his eyes. “But you can’t! Not after what’s happened to poor—”

“Don’t bring Martha into this!” Fallon exclaimed, her throat tightening, “She died, in the most horrible way, and she must have been so frightened, and you’re using her as a tool to try to force me to have a baby, when I don’t want to! And Martha was a whole person, with thoughts and feelings, and a life of her own.” She gestured to her lower abdomen. “This is just a collection of cells that should never have even formed. It’s not a person, it’s not a baby, or a child; it’s a thing growing inside my body, and I want it gone!”

“But I do want it!” Harrison burst out, springing from his chair and throwing himself at Fallon’s feet as he grabbed both of her hands. “Don’t that count for anything?” He was openly weeping now, eyes and nose both streaming. “Anything at all?”

Fallon swallowed hard. “It counts,” she said, “It counts a little. But… Harrison, you wouldn’t be the one who was pregnant for nine months, and then off work for… what? Three more? At least? And, I think, if we’re being honest, you’re not the one who’d end up doing most of the childcare, are you? That’d fall to me as well. And I don’t want it. So, no. That you want it… it counts for something… but it’s not enough. I’m sorry.”

Harrison choked on a sob, and staggered to his feet. “I can’t believe it,” he said, “I can’t… I can’t… I’ve gotta go. I’ve gotta get out of here.”

Fallon stared at him, unable to do anything but watch as he lurched out of the house, the front door banging shut behind him.

After a few moments of silence, Fallon buried her face in her hands, and burst into tears.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Brian was sitting at the breakfast table in the cottage when there was a creak from the floor above. Another followed, and then another, and then he realised Kate was moving around upstairs.

Gingerly, he looked up, following the sound as it moved towards the staircase, and then he picked up his newspaper and tried to look as if he were concentrating on the crossword.

If his daughter had managed to get out of bed, he was hardly going to be the one to frighten her back to her room by trying to strike up a conversation.

Kate was as fragile and shaken as if she herself had been pulled from the flames. It didn’t matter that her skin was unburned, or her home untouched by the fire; her life had been taken, too.

She walked into the kitchen, eyes wide and vacant like a sleepwalker’s, and mumbled, “Morning, Dad.”

Brian decided against pointing out that it was the middle of the afternoon. “And to you, darling.” He glanced at the kettle, and smiled as Kate filled it up and set it to boil. At least she was present enough to remember what the kettle was and how it worked. He hadn’t been up to that so soon after Jenny had died.

Kate herself didn’t seem capable of remembering much else at the moment. Everything seemed to pass her by: she didn’t know that Martha was dead, although he’d told her; she didn’t know that everything indicated Alice – still in hospital – had somehow been responsible for the fire. But of course she didn’t know these things. Jakob’s death was too awful to comprehend.

“Tea?” Kate asked, the kettle rattling to a boil behind her.

“Let me,” Brian said, putting his newspaper aside.

“No, I can do it myself,” Kate mumbled. Her hands shook as she filled the teapot, and the water leapt wildly onto the worktop. Some splashed the back of her hand. She flinched, and dropped the kettle, giving a small sceram as it crashed to the floor.

Then she just stared at the kettle where it lay, broken and leaking, on the tiles.

Steam rose up, and Brian pulled his daughter away from the scalding water, rushing to switch the kettle off at the wall.

“Let go of me! I’m fine!” Kate snapped, yanking her wrist free of Brian’s grasp. “I’m fine, I just…” She looked down at the water, and the ruined kettle, and began to cry again. “Jakob helped me choose that kettle…”

All Brian could do was hold Kate as she sobbed against his shoulder.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Fallon Rogers sat in the middle of her bed, her knees drawn up to her chest, and the top edge of the duvet cover damp with tears.

She just couldn’t stop replaying Harrison’s words in her head. Had he really said all that? Had he really stormed out on her, so angry at the prospect of her seeking a termination, that he couldn’t stand to stay?

And his… his shock at her saying she wouldn’t keep the pregnancy, that was what she really couldn’t fathom, she realised.

At first, she’d had that awful, told-off-by-the-teacher sort of feeling: guilt; shame; regret… that she’d told him. In the half-hour since he’d left, that had morphed into something else… a sense of betrayal; when she’d most needed Harrison’s support, he hadn’t given it. He hadn’t even listened.

Why couldn’t he understand that she just didn’t want to be a mother? Why did he think she’d had an IUD fitted? Nobody did it for fun!

And, then, Fallon had realised that she was angry, too. Not at herself, mind, but at him. Her husband ought to have known her well enough to know what she wanted. He ought to have supported her… and instead, he’d been secretly hoping that her contraception would fail, and she’d learn to love a pregnancy she’d tried so hard to prevent.

As if it should all be down to her, to change her mind, and learn to want what he wanted! Why couldn’t he learn to want what she wanted? What, was it so awful of her, not to want to be a mother?

Fallon sighed. Only now did she notice that she’d balled her hands into fists around the duvet cover. Shaking her head, she released them.

No, enough crying. It was time to get out of bed.

She got up, and showered, washing her hair with her special-occasion shampoo, and treating herself to a deep-conditioning mask. After all, she deserved something nice.

Once dressed, she made up a flask of strong coffee – with caffeine – and went out for a walk.

No, she left no note for Harrison; if he came home before she did, he could have a good, long think about why the house was empty.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Harrison Burns got into his car, and pulled out onto Darington High Street.

Knowing it was feasible helped. Knowing it was feasible didn’t stop the tears, but it helped. At least now he knew what he wanted to do, and knew he could afford to do it. If he could do one little thing to make any of this better, it was money well spent.

He drove back to Ambridge, but didn’t go home… at least, not straight away.

Parking his car outside Chris Carter’s house, he knocked at the door.

When the grieving father opened it, Harrison immediately deduced that he hadn’t slept. And who could have done, in his situation? But Harrison was sure he could help with that.

“Hiya, mate,” he said softly, “Have ye got a minute?”

Soundlessly, Chris nodded, and held the door open for him.

“How are ye holding up?” Harrison asked, making his way through to the living room where he and his friend had spent so many evenings chatting over beer. “Oh,” he said, as he looked around and saw… photos of Martha on the windowsill… Martha’s toybox in the corner… Martha’s dollhouse – he’d bought her that – by the bookshelf. There were traces of her everywhere, from her little shoes by the front foor, to the little notches on the doorframe, marking every inch she’d ever grown. Or ever would. Harrison’s breath caught on the lump in his throat. “I can’t believe she’s gone.”

Chris swallowed so hard that Harrison heard it six feet away. “What do you want, Harrison?” he asked, “I’ve got a lot to do. Funeral… Funeral to plan, and… Martha’s things to pack up.”

“Well, let me help,” Harrison said, “That’s why I’ve come here, to offer…” He took a deep breath. “To offer to pay for the funeral.”

All the colour drained out of Chris’ face – not that there had been much there to begin with – and he blinked hard. “You what?”

“I want to pay for Martha’s funeral,” Harrison repeated, “Give her a proper send-off, like she deserves. Poor little girl.” He looked around, and sighed. “She should be here. It’s so unfair.”

“Harrison, I can’t ask you to do that,” Chris said, “I haven’t even organised it yet, and it’s bound to cost a lot. I can’t ask you to pay. She was my daughter. It’s my job to pay.”

“But she were like a daughter to me,” Harrison said, “I’d have gone into that house to save her myself, if I’d only known—”

Chris shook his head. “It wouldn’t have made a difference,” he replied bitterly, “It wasn’t the fire that did her. It was the carbon monoxide in the smoke. Jakob got her out, let her in Kate’s house, where she was safe, but it was too late. She was already going.”

“But if I’d been there, I could’ve looked after her!” Harrison exclaimed, “Taken her to hospital!”

“Don’t you think I’d have done the same?” Chris retorted, his voice suddenly hard, “Don’t you think I’d have tried to save her? Don’t you think I lay awake at night, thinking about how things might’ve been different, if I’d only known—”

“Well, of course you do,” Harrison said, “And I’m not saying you wouldn’t have done your best—”

“But I had no idea,” Chris snapped, “Because I wasn’t there, she wasn’t here, she was with Alice that night, and Alice was drunk, and… and…” He hung his head hopelessly. “Just go.”

“Chris, I’m not leaving you alone when you’re feeling like this,” Harrison said, as softly as he could.

“I want to be alone,” Chris said, staring at the carpet, “And, whether you’re here or not, I will be. Because you don’t understand. You don’t know what it’s like to lose a child.”

Harrison’s chest ached. “I know more about that than you think.”

“No, you have no idea!” Chris shouted, his face bright red, “You don’t have any children! So how can you possibly imagine how it feels, to see your daughter’s body, cold and grey in a hospital bed, knowing she died alone, without you?”

“Chris, mate, I’m so sorry…”

“Just go,” Chris whispered, “Please.”

Finally, Harrison left, and Chris shut the door firmly behind him.

Then, he went up to the room which had been his little girl’s, turning off every light on the way.

And then, he sat down on her little bed, as though he were about to read her a bedtime story, and put his head in his hands.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

When Harrison got back from Chris’ house, his own home was empty.

It took him several calls of, “Fallon love?” to realise that nobody was replying. He tried her phone, but heard it ringing upstairs, and found it, laying still, on her bedside table.

Sighing, he went back down to the kitchen, and started looking in the fridge for supper.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Fallon had walked for hours across the fields around the village, and now her legs were aching. She had found her way to Jazzer and Tracy’s house, but there was no answer, and she realised they were both probably at The Bull. How could that have slipped her mind?

She thought about going to The Bull, to see her Mum, and then realised, sighing heavily, that she’d have to tell her what had happened… or pretend everything was fine… and she couldn’t do either.

And so she kept walking.

In another life, she might have gone to Alice’s, and vented to her about the argument with Harrison. But Alice’s house wasn’t there anymore… and nor was the Alice that Fallon had once known. Had once called her best friend… until Alice’s drinking problem had put paid to that. And even if it hadn’t, how could Fallon go and talk to Alice about this, when Alice had just lost her child?

Her stomach churned as she walked down the lane, and she wasn’t sure if it was her pregnancy, or the way she felt about it, but she suddenly had to retch into the hedgerow. Thank God she brought nothing up. At least that felt a little better. Maybe she’d only needed to retch.

A car pulled up beside her, and someone called her name. “Fallon? Are you all right?”

It was Kirsty, Fallon realised, as the driver’s door opened. Lovely Kirsty, who’d had more than her fair share of men who didn’t understand. Lovely Kirsty, who might empathise.

Fallon chewed her lip. “Um… no, I’m not, actually. Have you got a minute?”