Catherine Miller - Waiting For You

BirminghamMomma:Aw, hun. Big hugs. I had my AF arrive 2 days ago so know how you’re feeling. Best of luck this cycle.

Fliss smiled again at the speedy response. It had taken her weeks to try and work out what AF meant. She’d gathered it was to do with having a period but what scientific term was AF? It turned out it was Aunt Flo, of course.

Mummyto3boys:That sucks. Felt sure this was the month. I have news for you. Hold on and I’ll PM you.

At some point along the TTC road, Mummyto3boys had become her best virtual friend. Her real name was Ange and she lived up in Manchester, which seemed a million miles away from Kent, which was perhaps why Fliss felt so able to pour her heart out in the knowledge her secrets were safe from all her family and friends. Ange had three boys and was desperate for a girl and was trying every absurd technique under the sun in order to tempt her husband’s X-sperms into fertilising her egg. So far they’d had no luck with any eggs and they were beginning to despair. News could refer to what they’d been hoping for – the BIG FAT Positive. It was worth waiting the extra few minutes to find out. The restoration she was doing was only destined for eBay and she wasn’t booked in with another client for a couple of weeks.

She read the rest of the replies to her post while she waited. It was the outpouring of sympathy that she’d needed. Women all in the same position: trying so desperately to remain relaxed about the activity that had overtaken their lives.

Ange’s message pinged up and Fliss clicked it open.

Found out about this on another forum and it would be perfect for us! A TV company are doing a documentary we both qualify for. If we both signed up to take part we might actually get to meet each other. I don’t think we should pass the opportunity up! A xxx

Fliss breathed a selfish sigh of relief. She would be delighted if Ange was pregnant, but there was something deep within her that wanted them to go through it together. If only it could work out like that. Absentmindedly, Fliss clicked on the link Ange had added to her message to see what she was on about.

Are you struggling to get pregnant second time round?

Have you conceived naturally before and can’t work out why this time nothing seems to be working?

Award-winning Bright Idea Productionswill be filming a series looking at the causes of secondary infertility. If you are interested in taking part then please email us with a brief summary of your situation and we will forward an application form.

‘Will think about it,’ Fliss messaged back to Ange, even though she already knew the answer was no.

Outside she worked away at the front door of the cabinet, taking the old varnish off, and wished it was a quicker job. Every time she stopped to wipe the sweat off her forehead a prick of guilt jabbed her in the belly. Why didn’t she want to take part? If it meant she’d meet Ange then maybe it’d be worth it. Really, she knew exactly why she didn’t want to and it wasn’t because it might turn out Ange was some kind of cyber freak. It was the horrid word that appeared in the recruitment advert: infertility. It was a word she didn’t wish to be faced with. Ange and Fliss were on the same journey, yes, but Fliss refused to believe she was having the same problems as Ange and her husband, Mark. Whereas they were at it like rabbits to no avail, Fliss barely saw her husband enough to have sex, let alone conceive. What Fliss and Ben had was a different set of problems entirely.

As she started to work away at the varnish again, unwelcome thoughts began to niggle away at her. After two years of trying, perhaps it was time to stop blaming it on the fact they only saw each other at the weekend.

Chapter Two

‘Flowers! Mum, you shouldn’t have.’ Fliss took the bouquet from her mother and tried not to blush at the thought of the vase she would have to put them in.

‘If I can’t spoil my daughter and my gorgeous granddaughter then what am I to do in life?’ Joan said, while removing her coat.

‘Grandmaaaa.’ Hollie launched herself down the stairs and flung her arms round Joan, almost sending her off her feet.

‘This must be the best greeting I’ve ever had. Now are you all packed for your sleepover, young lady?’

‘I need to show you something, Gran.’ Hollie tugged on Joan’s cardigan sleeve, leading her up the stairs, whether she was a willing follower or not.

‘Wait a second, Hollie. I think Gran would like a cup of tea before you both head off.’ Hollie pouted at Fliss, not quite able to understand that not everyone could keep up with the enthusiasm of a six-year-old.

‘Not to worry, love. I’ll pop up while you put the kettle on. Right, young lady. You have exactly five minutes of Gran’s time before I need to sit down with your mum.’

With that, Fliss watched as her mum was whisked away up the stairs, shortly followed by the thuds of Hollie’s latest dance routine pounding through the low ceilings.

Fliss popped the flowers in a vase, checked on the lamb shanks and made a start on peeling the potatoes. Despite scheduling in a late dinner with her husband, he’d not long since texted to say he was running even later than expected. Who lived like this and survived, she wondered. Whenever she watched homebuyers on telly seeking out a dual lifestyle you never got to see this side of the idyll, which was anything but. When they’d set out to find somewhere so Hollie could grow up outside of central London, she’d wanted to get the best out of everything. They’d settled on a small cottage on the Kent coast so they would be in-between both families. They’d sold their London flat for a profit and Ben had downsized to a less affluent, more up-and-coming part of East London. It made sense that he shouldn’t have to suffer the daily commute, causing him to be thoroughly miserable and arrive home when his daughter was already in bed. At least that had been the plan. Now, several years in, Fliss wondered why she had bothered factoring in his family when they’d only visited once. She’d much rather live nearer her mum and sister. If only she’d known that when they made those decisions. What she would do for a crystal ball. Life would be so much easier.

As it was they’d settled well in the coastal village of Westbrook. She’d made friends with some of the school mums, there was a healthy demand for her business, but she couldn’t help feel that something was lacking. Maybe it was missing her husband that was the problem.

‘Gosh, darling, quite a little mover, isn’t she?’ Joan said, slightly out of breath.

‘Yes, she’s got grand ambitions on that front. Seems she doesn’t think her dance instructor’s routines are technical enough so she likes to create her own versions.’ Fliss passed her mum the cup of tea she’d prepared absentmindedly.

‘Do you need a hand with anything here before we head off?’

Looking around the kitchen-cum-diner, it was hardly the setting for the romantic dinner Fliss had planned. There were pans and plates left over from Hollie’s meal covering every square inch of sideboard making the place seem cluttered. Clearing up would be a welcome distraction. ‘It’s fine, Mum. I’ll have it spic and span in no time. Everything’s under control.’

‘Will I get to see my son-in-law before we have to disappear?’

Fliss studied a piece of onion skin that had managed to find its way onto the floor. Ignoring her mother’s signs of disapproval, she scooped it up. ‘He’s missed the right train to be here before you leave. He’ll be on the next one.’

‘Again? Seems it’s becoming a habit.’

Damn , Fliss didn’t want to go down this line of conversation. It never came out favourably for Ben and it was always so hard to explain, especially when she was fed up with making excuses for him. Joan arched an eyebrow in a way her daughter couldn’t match as she waited for the usual deluge of excuses.