Shelter In Your Love (Beatles Fan Fiction)

65. Isn't It A Pity?

Some things take so long but how do I explain?
Not too many people, can see we're all the same,
And because of all the tears, their eyes can't hope to see,
The beauty that surrounds them, isn't it a pity?

By the time we come out of the St. Pancras Clinic, the morning has turned into a beautiful winters day. It was grey and overcast earlier, but we step out into bright sunshine and an ice blue, cloudless sky.

I have a lot to be happy about, to match this unseasonal weather. The appointment didn't take long. There wasn't much of a wait before either. After seeing Ricky yesterday, I can't believe he will continue to refuse to divorce me. He'll probably go back to America now. That's a relief. And I have somewhere to live. Bobby gave me his flat. I don't even have rent or a mortgage to pay. I should be glad for all these things. And I am.

Everything is fine with the baby. I asked them again to check, as well as they could, and the nurse said everything was great, just perfect. It's that which I have to be happy for, thankful for, most of all. It's that which is important. He's alright. I'm alright. Everything will be alright.

But as Minnie walks down the uneven stone steps in front of me, I can't hold it together any longer. I crumple into tears, covering my face with my hands as uncontrollable sobs shake my body.

Minnie trails her hand down the metal bannister and pauses at the bottom of the steps, looking one way down the road and then the other. She turns back for me, about to say something, when she sees me. 'Hannah, what is it?' she cries, concern colouring her face.

I can't speak properly for a moment. I just manage to blubber, 'Noth... Nothing, I'm...' Pause for a gasping, body wracking sob. '...I'm fine.'

A man in a bowler hat and heavy overcoat tries to walk past. We're blocking the pavement and he has to step into the gutter to get around us. He casts me an unsympathetic, annoyed glance and tuts as he passes. Minnie glares at his retreating back and takes my hand. 'Come on, we'll sit in there for a minute.'

She pulls me across the road, towards the Old St Pancras Church. A charmingly small chapel surrounded by a enclosed graveyard and with a small park attached. I've been here before. There's an old tree here called The Hardy Tree after the author, Thomas Hardy, who worked here as a young man. It's surrounded by gravestones, piled up, which the tree has grown through and around. I'd like to look at something like that normally, but I can't appreciate this - or anything else - today.

Minnie leads me through the graveyard and into the park. We sit down on a slightly damp wooden bench in front of a tall, stone obelisk monument and Minnie finds me a handkerchief from her bag. I take it from her, still spluttering and weeping, and wipe my nose and eyes. Minnie waits while I try to recover, staring at me in shocked silence.

'What's wrong?' she asks gently, when I have calmed down enough to hold a conversation.

'Sorry,' I sniff. 'It's just... Just the hormones, from being pregnant. I burst into tears all the time.' I sigh heavily. 'I'll be glad when it's all over.'

Minnie cocks an eyebrow. 'Don't try and come it, love,' she says comically, trying to make me smile. 'Would you like to try that one again?'

Today has been one huge bundle of twigs that I needed to snap in half. I took each twig one by one, concentrating on that and that alone, trying not to think about all the other twigs or else I would quickly become overwhelmed.

I got up this morning, showered and dressed. One twig snapped. Made sure I ate something - for the bump more than myself. I don't really feel like eating, but another twig snapped.