Chapter 4

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"I can't sign a short term six month contract because I will be ready to deliver my baby by then or had it. I won't be able to tie my own shoe laces with a huge baby bump, let alone move into a new house," I ranted to the incompetent Estate Agent. "I need something 12 months at least or a rolling contract, and soon as I have to move out next week. I don't understand how everything keeps falling through. I have references and even offered two months rent in advance on that last place."

"You just keep getting pipped to the post and unfortunately landlords prefer couples or single tenants as opposed to a single woman with a baby on the way."

"That is discrimination and why do you have to tell them I am pregnant?"

"It is disclosure."

"Well I am asking you to stop disclosing it is it is loosing me property."

"I can't and as far as some of them are concerned you will be having a baby and may decide to take a career break and end up on benefits."

"Bullshit. I am having a baby. I am more than likely to improve their property for the sake of my child and to stay there longer to make it my home."

"I've tried selling you to them that way but it is their choice at the end of the day and you are not the only one interested in the properties. What about the Spencer Street property?"

"It had an outside toilet and kitchen from World War One! I mean I love vintage but that takes the piss. Do you know how many times pregnant women wee in the middle of the night? I would be in and out that brick shit house like a yoyo and pissing icicles in the winter. I may as well live in a shed with a portaloo."

I left the estate agents feeling like crap and just wanted to fall into bed for a few hours. I was exhausted, stressed and potentially homeless. Sharon's sofa was looking more like home every day, based on the places I had seen lately. I had a little cry in the car on the way home and decided to drive around the streets spotting houses up for sale that were empty. Maybe the owners would let me rent whilst they secured a buyer. It was drastic but necessary. The weather turned to shit and I headed home for a warm bath and a cup of tea.

I lay in the bath listening to the rain and wondered where I would find myself this time next week. I gave the baby a pat and promised to find somewhere. When I got out it was freezing so took myself straight to bed and slept for a few hours. I was woke by the door bell... god I wouldn't miss that racket. The local fire station bell was quieter than that.

I had ordered some food shopping on line and nearly slept through the delivery. I put it away as I made some soup and hoped to keep it down. Sickness was torture for a foodie like me I was finding the whole throwing up thing too much like being hung over for weeks on end. Starving but unable to eat. Thirsty but no matter how much I drank I felt parched.

I sat surrounded by boxes, empty shelves and a bowl of soup I was unable to force down, when the door went again. It would be Sharon with more boxes. I suppose I should break it to her that I might have to crash on her couch for a few weeks.

I had just turned the handle of the front door when the sick rose in my throat and I dashed to the bathroom just in time for the couple of spoonfuls of soup I had managed to eat to came back up along with the cup of tea. I coughed and spluttered my way through it as Sharon handed me some toilet roll to wipe my face. Her new perfume made me gag as soon as I caught a whiff and back my head went into the toilet bowl like a germ inspector.

"Oh god being pregnant sucks!" I said with watering eyes and snotty nose. Being sick was so attractive!

"There is a cure for it," a voice said. I looked up to see Deans mother. I looked around for Sharon. It must have been her at the door, passing me the tissue and the horrid perfume that rich bitches like to wear to cover the stench of their rotten personalities.

"What are you doing here?" I asked matching her glare with one of my own.

"I came to offer you some advice and guidance," she replied like the shittest counsellor on the planet, as I was bound to do the opposite just to spite her. "It's obvious you are not cut out for this or coping so I have made you an appointment with a friend of mine. Don't worry they will be discreet," she said placing and envelope on the side of the bath and tapped it gently. "Dean doesn't have to know, he will assume you lost it or something," she said blasé.

Oh my god she was giving me abortion money and booked a termination. My anger was quickly replaced with tears as I momentarily pictured what going there would feel like. I feared for my child and wrapped my arms around it protectively.

"Just get out!"

"Tomorrow morning 10:00," she said in a sing song voice. "Direction are on the back of the letter."

"GET OUT!" I yelled as my throat began to close.

"There is a little extra in there for your trouble. Don't worry about calling me, the clinic will let me know if you don't turn up," something in her tone sounded threatening as if I she would make sure I went.

"It's never going to happen!"

"We'll see," she said as I pushed myself to my feet with the help of the sink. She walked out the bathroom with a smug smile on her face and out the front door, just before the shampoo bottle hit it and exploded.

I staggered through to my bedroom, hardly able to breath, sobbing my heart out in shock... and yes fear. She had scared me threatening my baby like that. I lay on my bed and hugged my stomach, apologising to the baby for letting her within five feet of it. Even though it was too small to hear or understand I still felt like it had just witnessed someone taking out a hit out on it, or holding a gun to its head. I cried myself to sleep and gave a big shout out to karma for a new target.

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