Catherine Miller - Waiting For You

‘What about the light, Leon? It’s very pokey in the kitchen. Perhaps if we opened the blind and this… erm, art gallery can provide the backdrop?’ Carrie arched an eyebrow as she took in the array of Hollie’s drawings that Fliss had never had the heart to throw away.

Carrie’s obvious disgust made Fliss regard the room with fresh eyes. Despite Fliss’s interior designer credentials it was her own house that was neglected the most. It was what some would call shabby-chic. Really it was all getting a bit shabby-shit. The kitchen area was cramped and more suitable for students who didn’t cook much. Underneath the stairwell that ate into the space, there were some chairs and a bistro-style table with a folded piece of cardboard under one leg stopping it from wobbling. The fine layer of dust covering most surfaces suddenly seemed thick and cloying. It was as if, when Carrie surveyed the room, everything that Fliss regarded as homely shrivelled up and shuddered. Even the yucca plant in the corner grew limp under her scrutiny.

‘You said this was an introduction so I could find out what was involved? I haven’t signed anything yet, so I don’t know why you’re testing light conditions?’ Fliss said.

‘I’m sorry,’ Carrie said, ‘I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s talk about the whole project in more detail over a coffee. Mine’s black, no sugar. I’ll take a seat in the front room.’

Carrie walked past Fliss, not without inspecting the door smudges, and ventured into the lounge, no doubt to disapprove of its state without even moving her lips. Fliss spat on her cuff and scrubbed at the door with her sleeve, but gave it up as a bad job. If they were going to set up cameras here, she really would need to tidy.

‘Don’t let her put you off.’

‘Arghhh.’ Fliss jumped out of her skin.

‘Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,’

Fliss turned to see the Hottest Guy Ever – and she’d been too distracted by the kitchen hijack to notice. ‘I, er, you didn’t… I forgot you were there.’ And I wouldn’t be scrubbing doors with my own saliva if I’d known you were.

‘She’s a bit like a robot. No human emotion.’ Hot Guy went to pull on the blind cord.

‘Don’t…’ Fliss said. ‘It’s broken.’ She bit her lip as the little white lie escaped. The truth was no one had touched the blinds in ages and she was scared a tornado of dust would overtake the room. The decision to enquire about this programme was beginning to seem like a bad idea. What with Hot Guy poking around her kitchen and Miss Efficient casting an eye of disgust over her home, backing out was the only reasonable thing to do. She’d emailed on a whim in a silent protest against her husband. She’d sent the message off to the programme admitting her husband wasn’t willing to participate, but she’d asked if there was any chance they would consider just her. Never in a million years did she think they’d turn up talking about setting up without even explaining to her what was happening.

‘But she’s not as bad as she comes across.’ Hot Guy broke into her thoughts. ‘I know she seems brash, but it’s because she’s concerned about getting it right.’

‘Really?’ Fliss asked. ‘You don’t sound convinced.’

Hot Guy hesitated and Fliss wondered whether she should take this opportunity to stroke his biceps. She really did need to get out of the house more.

‘That and she’s eager to head off on her ski holiday. So she’s worse than usual, but I don’t want you to be put off by her,’ he said, peering through his mop of long hair. ‘This project is a great opportunity for you.’

Fliss’s throat dried. His hazel eyes fixed on her as if he knew everything. As if she were transparent and her emotions clear.

Of course he knew about her. He must have read her application and all the details it included. Would this be what it would be like if she took part? Would total strangers look at her and pity her instantly? That poor woman on the telly who couldn’t get pregnant.

‘But only do it if it’s what you want to do. Don’t let her push you into it. Do it if it’s right for you.’ He broke into her thoughts again as if reading her mind.

She took in his kind, stubble-covered face and decided to be honest. ‘I’m not sure any more. I thought it would be a great opportunity and we need to because of the funding. If I need IVF we don’t have any savings and at my age, plus the fact we already have a child, the NHS won’t fund it. But despite that, now it’s reality, I don’t know if it’s such a good idea. I didn’t think you’d be filming here at my house. It already feels invasive and I haven’t even signed up.’

‘Signing up is exactly what we need to discuss,’ Carrie said, rejoining them in the kitchen. ‘Don’t let Leon bother you. The light is much better in the lounge, Leon. Perhaps you can go and set up in there and I’ll talk Fliss through everything.’

Fliss didn’t miss the emphasis on ‘I’ll’ and Leon skulked off to the lounge with the gait of a sulky teenager. She also didn’t miss the wink he offered her as he left. Leon. Her late grandfather’s name. She liked him already.

‘Let’s sit down with this drink and chat through what format we’ll be following over the next few months. Here?’ Carrie indicated the small kitchen table, with the curled corners of Hollie’s paintings close enough to tickle earlobes.

Perhaps not, Fliss thought. ‘Outside will be nicer. Follow me.’ Fliss carried the drinks she’d prepared into the garden. Even the back door was grubby and Fliss worried about Carrie brushing against it in her crisp, white shirt. At least out in the garden Fliss wouldn’t worry about what Carrie thought of her home.

The garden was small, but perfectly formed. Her work studio was to one side and when she took a ten-minute break she would come out and tend to the borders around the lawn. It struck Fliss that Carrie wasn’t the type of person to know the difference between a weed and a plant. At least out here she knew it was up and together. She led Carrie to the patio and they sat at the mosaicked table – one of Fliss’s favourite restoration projects to date. So much so she had opted to keep it rather than selling it on.

‘Pretty,’ Carrie said, rubbing her hand over the detailed peacock design.

‘Thanks. Took me a while, but worth the effort,’ Fliss said, feeling more relaxed now she was in the place where she was most at one with the world.

‘You must be very patient to have completed something like this,’ Carrie said.

Fliss’s anxiety ebbed away slightly. Out here Carrie didn’t appear so fierce or critical. ‘It’s part of what I do with my interior design business. Revamping unloved furniture is the bit I love doing most.’

‘Well, you obviously have a good eye.’ Carrie sipped her coffee as the small talk dried up.

‘I don’t want to do this,’ Fliss blurted. There, she’d said it. ‘It was a spur of the moment thing when I filled out that form. Now you’re here and I’ve considered everything it doesn’t seem very sensible. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.’

Carrie leant forward and rested her hand on Fliss’s arm. ‘Don’t rush any decisions, Fliss. I think your story will resonate with a lot of people in the same situation as you. Let me explain our plan and consider what you want to do.’

‘Okay,’ Fliss said quickly in the hope Carrie would move out of her personal space. It had the desired effect and Carrie started her spiel.

‘In the first instance we want all the participants to do video diaries at home. That’s why we’re here today. Once we’ve set that up for you, we want you to carry on as you usually would and continue trying to get pregnant. During the first three months we ask that whenever you feel like you want to talk about what you’re going through you make a video diary. Talk about how you feel when you are fertile, and if your period turns up talk about how you feel then. We want to capture the emotions of wanting a child and why it’s so important to you. After that, if you haven’t fallen pregnant naturally, we’ll start the process of investigating your fertility.’