the end. As it turns out, I left the bus company that day. By which I mean I never returned. I spent the day with Alison and once we got talking I told her about how much I hated working there. I told her how everyone took the piss and treated me like something they found at the back of a bus after a shift. It was Alison that suggested I look for another job, which was something I’d thought about myself but had never really got round to. I suppose I was scared. I mean, what if I left and found a job at somewhere more terrible? What if they wanted me to work longer hours than I was comfortable with? With Alison, though, I had someone to talk my fears through with and she empowered me to look into it. That’s what she’s like, she makes things happen, and within two days I’d secured a new job with a much smaller team in a much nicer company. That’s almost three months ago now and most days I’m happy there. It’s all thanks to Alison. Jane is no summer breeze or anything, but even her little paddies are nothing compared to what I put up with at the bus company.
Today was a better day at work, I managed to get off punishment dishwasher duty and Boris was put back on it for dropping five pies in separate incidents yesterday after Jane put him on serving up. It was nice to be back on the deep fat fryer. I like it there as I get to have a break while watching whatever it is that I’ve just chucked in. it just floats to the top when it’s ready. There’s no variant. Whenever something is cooked in a deep fat fryer, it floats to show it’s done, so there’s no watching the clock or turning it over, I just stand there until I see it. It’s probably my favourite job, except on Fridays when it’s fish and chip day, then it’s a nightmare as chef has us batter the fish ourselves and it’s always really messy. I try to get put on punishment duty late on a Thursday and let Boris deal with cleaning all the batter up.
Friday is also the day that we have to clean the fat out the fryers and that’s the worst job in the kitchen, hands down. It really is vile. It’s all white and hard by the time it’s cooled. Anytime I can manipulate the situation for Boris to clean it, I will. It might sound horrible, Diary, but it’s the way it is and I’m fairly sure Boris doesn’t mind. Anyway, it’s his own fault for losing his driving licence for drink-driving. He was a taxi driver before he worked here. So really he should be doing the horrible jobs. Maybe next time he has a licence he’ll look after it more carefully. He’ll probably thank me for it one day.
I didn’t do much at all this evening except try and lose myself in my writing, although it’s just my luck that I was writing about the exact issue I was trying to escape.
I wonder if this is something that happens in your time or place? I doubt it, I suppose, being as advanced as you are, you don’t concern yourself with fear or anything like that.
Monday January 30th 2012
On the way home from work I had a moment of panic as I was walking through town and ran into Boots to buy the ninety-nine point nine per cent accurate pregnancy test. I’ll give it to Alison when I see her tomorrow. I hope it shows negative, I don’t think I can handle being a father.
I texted Alison tonight; she hasn’t been to work today, she’s taken the week off sick. I wish I could just take the week off and get paid for it.
Tuesday January 31st 2012
Alison was less than enthusiastic about the double digital test I presented her with when I got round there this evening. Turns out she’d bought three of them herself and didn’t have any money left because of it. Neither did I, as I don’t get paid till the end of the week and I’d spent the last of my money on the test. Her parents were out so I didn’t meet them, thank God.
I thought I’d get dinner at Alison’s, but I didn’t want to tell her I had no money and when she said they’d already had theirs I felt bad asking. When we got back to mine I grabbed some tuna, pasta and mayonnaise, although I didn’t have any mayo so I used salad cream instead. Alison was hungry again so I gave her some.
She did nothing but complain about the dinner I lovingly prepared for her, demanding I wash all the salad cream off as she couldn’t eat it whilst pregnant. I, of course, did as requested then had to listen to her moan about how dinner didn’t taste of anything.
Alison said she couldn’t walk back home as she felt sick. I suspect she was lying.
Friday February 3rd 2012
Pay day today, so I ordered a book: Pregnancy For Men, Getting Through The First Nine Months. Hopefully it’ll help me.
I asked Alison if she’d booked the doctor’s appointment yet; she said she hadn’t, but is going to today. I think she’s putting it off. She’s staying at her house tonight so I’ll get to stretch out in bed.
Whoever named it ‘morning’ sickness is a liar. Alison is sick mainly during the afternoon, and then in the evening feels like she is going to be, but isn’t. She keeps texting me to let me know she’s feeling bad. I’ve no idea what I’m supposed to say to her back.
Saturday February 4th 2012
I spent the morning walking to Morrisons and back. I thought if I walked I’d save a bit of money, although walking all the way home carrying a week’s shopping almost finished me off. It’s all uphill. I’m not sure what I was thinking about.
I’ve never thought about not spending all my money every week, but I suppose I’d better start. To make sure I saved it I popped into the bank before heading home and changed up the twenty quid into one penny and two pence pieces. I’ve put them all in my huge Coke bottle along with the buttons and foreign money I keep in there.
This afternoon I was supposed to meet Alison, but she cancelled as she was feeling ill. I think she might be going off me. I’ve not seen her much at all since I made her dinner.
I text her three or four times an hour just to make sure she knows I’m still interested.
Sunday February 5th 2012
Alison turned up at my house at 1 a.m. this morning. Drunk. She kept repeating that she wasn’t ready to be a mother. Then she was sick on my sofa before passing out. In the sick.
I had to clean up while she lolled about in the sick, spreading it over all the places I’d just cleaned. I’m quite good at cleaning up sick. It’s a better job than cleaning the deep fat fryer, and on par with cleaning out the blocked drain of the dishwasher after Boris chucks the plates he hasn’t rinsed in there.
I stayed up until 6 a.m. making sure that she wasn’t sick again. I checked YouTube and made sure her airways were open. I wouldn’t want the baby to lose any oxygen. I dropped off in the chair in the end. I woke around nine to hear Alison finishing emptying her stomach in my toilet. It was time for tears at the breakfast table then, after I’d made her a cup of tea.
‘I’m just scared, Graham,’ she explained. And it was time for me to do something that I’ve never done before: comfort someone who needed it. I normally shy away from that sort of thing, shrink behind whoever else is in the vicinity. You can’t really do that in front of the only person in the room, though. Especially when you are the one that is the cause of the problem.
We ended up having a pretty frank discussion. We both talked about the fears we had. I didn’t share all my list with her as when I started to say some of it, it sounded really selfish, which doesn’t make it less valid, but it is selfish nevertheless. Alison didn’t hold back in any way, though. Most of her fears were about me. What if I ran off, what If I was a terrible father (which I did agree with and said so). Then she said something that scared me.
‘What if it screams and I can’t handle it and I kill it?’ she wept, looking up at me with smudged makeup and crusty sick round her mouth.
I hugged her. Christ, I actually hugged her. Could this mean I love her? I would never normally hug someone that looked like that after they’d just said something like that.
‘You won’t kill it, darling,’ was about all I could say.
I hope that book hurries up and gets here, then I’ll have all the answers to questions like this.
‘But what If I do? I’ll get arrested,’ Alison said, answering her own question. I managed to divert the conversation th
ere by giving her a glass of water that made her run to the toilet as soon as she swallowed a mouthful.
She also admitted that she’s still not contacted the doctor as she doesn’t want it to become real. I managed to persuade her it was the best thing to do and she’s agreed to do it this week.
We spent the rest of the day trying to get food to stay inside Alison. We finally managed it with some chicken soup. And although there was little more I could do than hold her hair, I think Alison appreciated that I was there.
I didn’t talk to her about getting drunk in this state. She did keep saying, over and over again, that she’d never drink again so I don’t think I’ll need to. I took her home before the news as it’s a work day tomorrow and I didn’t fancy having to take her before I went there. I was also tired and wanted to sleep tonight. I’d had enough of talking, to be honest. I needed sleep.
11.45 p.m.
I couldn’t sleep when I got home, so I read my book.
I’ve read that up to twelve weeks there is a higher risk of losing the baby. Apparently if there is a history of miscarriages in the family, there is more chance of it happening. Also, there is a chance that the baby could have Down’s syndrome. I had to Google this, as I thought that was the thing that happened when you went diving and