Take a Chance on Me by Jill Mansell Read Free Book Online

helping her to relax. You could see why people in times of trouble turned to drink. Next to her on the faded leather sofa, in front of a real fire, Des was being a brilliant listener, nodding sympathetically, and being completely on her side. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t seem to mind that she was dominating the conversation, and passed the box of tissues every time she’d soaked another one right through.
    ‘… We found out when I was seventeen. I had to go to the hospital and have all these tests done, then they told me I didn’t have a viable womb. And that was it, there isn’t anything you can do about that, is there?’ Having spared him the gory details, Abbie sank her head back against the slippery sofa cushions. ‘I just wanted to die. I thought Tom would leave me. Why would he want to stay stuck with someone who could never have children? Because even then, already, we knew we’d want to have them one day. But he was fantastic.’ Tears slid down her face and dripped off her chin. ‘He said it didn’t matter and he loved me too much to let me go. Of course, he forgot to mention that he’d be taking his mind off things by screwing other women behind my back.’
    ‘It might only have happened the once,’ said Des.
    Abbie wiped her eyes. ‘And that’s meant to make me feel better, is it? You’re sticking up for him now?’
    ‘No, no, I’m really not.’ Covering her hand, Des gave it a squeeze. ‘I don’t know how he could do it to you.’ He shook his head. ‘What about adoption? Did you never want to try that?’
    ‘Oh, we did want to. We got married when I was twenty-one and started trying straight away. But everyone kept telling us we were too young to adopt, like we were being punished for it. And I couldn’t wait.’ Abbie closed her eyes as the painful memories of that time came flooding back. Cleo, their parents’ unplanned but happy accident, had been a lively seven-year-old then, and she had loved looking after her little sister, but it had only served to emphasize the gaping, baby-shaped hole in her life. ‘All I wanted was a baby of my own. Every day felt like a month, every month felt like a year, and they told us to come back in five years when we were more settled. Settled! And if you get upset when they tell you that, as far as they’re concerned it just goes to prove how unsuitable you are!’ The words were tumbling out of her now. ‘So we tried surrogacy but that was traumatic and it didn’t work… then we couldn’t face any more tries after that, so we saved up for a couple more years and investigated adopting from abroad instead. But it was all so complicated and hard, and I ended up getting into such a state that my doctor had to put me on tranquillizers. She told me I was obsessed, that it was taking over my life, and if I wasn’t careful I’d have a complete nervous breakdown. And that was when Tom said it had to stop. He put his foot down and told me he wanted a wife, not a gibbering wreck. He said the way things were going, we’d end up tearing each other apart. And you know what? After going through eighteen months of hell, it was almost a relief. We’d tried everything and nothing had worked. So we gave up and told ourselves we’d leave it for another four years. But then every time we started thinking about it after that, Tom saw me getting wound up all over again and said he wasn’t going to put me through it. And when I went along to my doctor in a state, she told me I wasn’t doing myself any favors, and that with my mental history I might not be considered suitable to adopt anyway.’ She paused, turned to look at Des. ‘So that was it. We drew a line, gave up for good, told ourselves that at least we still had each other.’
    He gave her hand another sympathetic squeeze. ‘I never knew. I’m so sorry.’
    ‘It’s not your fault.’ Frowning at the empty glass in her other hand, Abbie said, ‘Did I spill this?’
    Des smiled. ‘You drank it.