The New Room
Entry by: retiring
25th October 2022
The New Room
Marion Foreman
You were so delighted at first, weren’t you?
‘A baby? We’re having a baby?’ you said. ‘A little human being that we have made? You and me?’
Well it would hardly be an elephant would it? But I didn’t say that. You were so excited. Like all first time fathers, you thought you were superman. You thought that no man had ever done so well before. No man had sperm like yours.
But they did and they had. I was sweating. When should I say that this wasn’t my first? When should I mention the one you didn’t know about? The one that should never have been, that never was? Could I persuade every doctor and midwife that I met to never ask and to never mention – to call me a primigravida? I knew you would find out and I also knew that I had to tell you.
My first little baby hadn’t been yours. My first baby didn’t have a dad in the real sense. Of course I wasn’t a virgin Mary – don’t be silly – it’s just that I didn’t want that man to be her daddy. It might have been one of many, but it was his. But I can’t tell you that can I?
You have only ever seen the one side of me. To you I am a clever and ‘together’ sort of woman. I have a decent job, a good figure and dress well. But there is another side. The slut. The woman who hangs out in bars, chats up men. Leaves the bars with them, fucks them hard then gets out. I rarely know their names. Except for this one – this one had been different – he had class and with class he had money.
‘Darling’, my eyes full of tears, ‘darling, I didn’t want to have to tell you this and please promise you won’t do anything in a rage?’
You looked at me, surprised, trusting. Ready to do the right thing.
‘What is it honey? You can tell me anything. ‘What’s happened?’
I gulped, ‘five years ago I was out and decided to go home before my friends. I walked back to my house. They said to take a taxi and I told them I would. But I didn’t. I will regret that forever’.
I turned to him, eyes brimming with tears. ‘I got raped. He attacked me and left me. It was hideous. I can’t talk about it. I couldn’t identify him. The police couldn’t prosecute’.
He looked at me, full of love and understanding. I didn’t miss a beat.
‘But that wasn’t the end. 8 weeks later I knew I was pregnant. I had his baby. I’m so sorry. I should have told you before. I am so ashamed’.
‘What happened to the baby? You have to tell me’ he looked so conflicted.
‘She was adopted. I knew I couldn’t manage. I haven’t seen her since she was two weeks old. I missed her for months. But I have put it all behind me. But I need your help. Being pregnant again has stirred those memories’.
I waited – he was a kind and gentle man. Open and honest and naïve. It wouldn’t occur to him that my story was anything but accurate.
‘You told me that all you have ever wanted is to have a family, to be a mother. That you wanted that more than anything. But you are a mother, you’ve already had a baby. That somewhere in this world is a little girl who looks a bit like you – a little girl that you gave away.’ He practically spat these words at me.
‘You gave her away because through absolutely no fault of her own – you were damaged. You rejected her. You deprived her of your love. And now you think you can put that right with our baby. Doesn’t say much for your maternal instincts does it?’
I was flabbergasted. I had been so confident that he would be understanding and kind, surely my story was plausible?
‘None of it is true is it? You see, I know you and who you are. My mates knew you, they knew you were a tart. They warned me. But no, fool that I am, I reckoned that you had changed. That you were really a great woman. So you want me to wonder whose baby it was? You weren’t raped were you? It was one of those ‘causal sex’ things, wasn’t it? Do you think I’m stupid? Do you really think that I don’t know enough about a woman’s body to see that she has had a baby? But I wanted to love you, to have a baby together. I bought into your whole ‘family’ plan. More fool me. ‘
I turned my tear stained face up to him. Surely he wasn’t this cross? Surely I could make it alright?
‘Wipe your face, you look a mess’ he said. ‘Well, I’m keeping this one. This one is mine, and I’m not giving it away’.
Still that naivety, still that boyish acceptance. ‘Of course its yours and of course we are keeping it.’ I whispered, head hung now.
‘There’s no ‘we’ in this. The only ‘we’ is that baby and me – you’re not part of this. You will give this little one to me and move on – just like you did before.’
I gasped. ‘I can’t do that. You can’t make me.’
An expression that I had never seen crossed his face – scorn, anger, derision – I didn’t know. ‘Oh I can and I will. If you don’t I will make sure you get a new room – a prison cell. That’s where they put blackmailers isn’t it? ‘
‘Blackmail? What are you talking about? ‘
‘I’m talking about the poor man who made one mistake and has been paying you ever since. The married man that you told was the father of your little girl. The man who, month after month bought your silence and paid maintenance for a baby you gave away. ‘
‘That’s not true’ I cried. ‘Whatever are you talking about?’
‘I’m talking about my brother. The one that never comes to any family events. That’s what I’m talking about. I’m talking about our baby’s uncle. You’ve made his life hell. So what’s it to be? Hand over our little baby and walk free or your new room? The choice, you bitch, is yours.’
I turned my head away, I turned my body away. I felt the first gripping pains, felt the first smear of blood between my legs. My heart bled as I lost another little bit of me.
Marion Foreman
You were so delighted at first, weren’t you?
‘A baby? We’re having a baby?’ you said. ‘A little human being that we have made? You and me?’
Well it would hardly be an elephant would it? But I didn’t say that. You were so excited. Like all first time fathers, you thought you were superman. You thought that no man had ever done so well before. No man had sperm like yours.
But they did and they had. I was sweating. When should I say that this wasn’t my first? When should I mention the one you didn’t know about? The one that should never have been, that never was? Could I persuade every doctor and midwife that I met to never ask and to never mention – to call me a primigravida? I knew you would find out and I also knew that I had to tell you.
My first little baby hadn’t been yours. My first baby didn’t have a dad in the real sense. Of course I wasn’t a virgin Mary – don’t be silly – it’s just that I didn’t want that man to be her daddy. It might have been one of many, but it was his. But I can’t tell you that can I?
You have only ever seen the one side of me. To you I am a clever and ‘together’ sort of woman. I have a decent job, a good figure and dress well. But there is another side. The slut. The woman who hangs out in bars, chats up men. Leaves the bars with them, fucks them hard then gets out. I rarely know their names. Except for this one – this one had been different – he had class and with class he had money.
‘Darling’, my eyes full of tears, ‘darling, I didn’t want to have to tell you this and please promise you won’t do anything in a rage?’
You looked at me, surprised, trusting. Ready to do the right thing.
‘What is it honey? You can tell me anything. ‘What’s happened?’
I gulped, ‘five years ago I was out and decided to go home before my friends. I walked back to my house. They said to take a taxi and I told them I would. But I didn’t. I will regret that forever’.
I turned to him, eyes brimming with tears. ‘I got raped. He attacked me and left me. It was hideous. I can’t talk about it. I couldn’t identify him. The police couldn’t prosecute’.
He looked at me, full of love and understanding. I didn’t miss a beat.
‘But that wasn’t the end. 8 weeks later I knew I was pregnant. I had his baby. I’m so sorry. I should have told you before. I am so ashamed’.
‘What happened to the baby? You have to tell me’ he looked so conflicted.
‘She was adopted. I knew I couldn’t manage. I haven’t seen her since she was two weeks old. I missed her for months. But I have put it all behind me. But I need your help. Being pregnant again has stirred those memories’.
I waited – he was a kind and gentle man. Open and honest and naïve. It wouldn’t occur to him that my story was anything but accurate.
‘You told me that all you have ever wanted is to have a family, to be a mother. That you wanted that more than anything. But you are a mother, you’ve already had a baby. That somewhere in this world is a little girl who looks a bit like you – a little girl that you gave away.’ He practically spat these words at me.
‘You gave her away because through absolutely no fault of her own – you were damaged. You rejected her. You deprived her of your love. And now you think you can put that right with our baby. Doesn’t say much for your maternal instincts does it?’
I was flabbergasted. I had been so confident that he would be understanding and kind, surely my story was plausible?
‘None of it is true is it? You see, I know you and who you are. My mates knew you, they knew you were a tart. They warned me. But no, fool that I am, I reckoned that you had changed. That you were really a great woman. So you want me to wonder whose baby it was? You weren’t raped were you? It was one of those ‘causal sex’ things, wasn’t it? Do you think I’m stupid? Do you really think that I don’t know enough about a woman’s body to see that she has had a baby? But I wanted to love you, to have a baby together. I bought into your whole ‘family’ plan. More fool me. ‘
I turned my tear stained face up to him. Surely he wasn’t this cross? Surely I could make it alright?
‘Wipe your face, you look a mess’ he said. ‘Well, I’m keeping this one. This one is mine, and I’m not giving it away’.
Still that naivety, still that boyish acceptance. ‘Of course its yours and of course we are keeping it.’ I whispered, head hung now.
‘There’s no ‘we’ in this. The only ‘we’ is that baby and me – you’re not part of this. You will give this little one to me and move on – just like you did before.’
I gasped. ‘I can’t do that. You can’t make me.’
An expression that I had never seen crossed his face – scorn, anger, derision – I didn’t know. ‘Oh I can and I will. If you don’t I will make sure you get a new room – a prison cell. That’s where they put blackmailers isn’t it? ‘
‘Blackmail? What are you talking about? ‘
‘I’m talking about the poor man who made one mistake and has been paying you ever since. The married man that you told was the father of your little girl. The man who, month after month bought your silence and paid maintenance for a baby you gave away. ‘
‘That’s not true’ I cried. ‘Whatever are you talking about?’
‘I’m talking about my brother. The one that never comes to any family events. That’s what I’m talking about. I’m talking about our baby’s uncle. You’ve made his life hell. So what’s it to be? Hand over our little baby and walk free or your new room? The choice, you bitch, is yours.’
I turned my head away, I turned my body away. I felt the first gripping pains, felt the first smear of blood between my legs. My heart bled as I lost another little bit of me.
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