Captivated by the Greek

She heard her own words, spoken so casually, so confidently, at the charity dinner Nikos had taken her to—their very first date.

‘Right now, a baby is definitely not on my agenda.’

All she’d wanted was the freedom to indulge her wanderlust—finally, after so many years of looking after her grandfather. She hadn’t wanted more ties, more responsibilities.

Other words cut into her mind. Not hers this time. Nikos—talking as they’d walked away from that mismatched couple at the conference hotel. Telling her bitterly how his parents had become warring enemies.

‘When I came along everything went pear-shaped.’

That was what he had said. Showing her his scars—his fears. His determination never to risk what had happened to his parents happening to him.

And now, thanks to her, that was what was facing him.

Her features twisted and emotion stabbed at her like a knife...a tormenting, toxic mix of dismay, fear, doubt and fierce, primitive protectiveness...

What am I going to do? What am I going to do?

Round and round the question circled in her tired, exhausted brain, with no answer at all.

The train pulled into yet another station, and with a start Mel realised she should have changed lines at the previous one. Hastily she pushed her way off, pausing on the platform to look around for directions to the line she needed. As she was staring about the large lettering on the advert plastered to the curved wall in front of her suddenly caught her eye.

Pregnant? Unsure?

Overwhelmed? Confused?

Her gaze focussed instantly, and the words below resolved themselves into sense in her brain.

Talk to us in complete confidence for help to find your way forward.

Beneath was the name of a charity she had been vaguely familiar with in her student days, but had never had need to pay any attention to.

Until now.

She stared, repeating the words of the advert inside her head. Unsure...overwhelmed...confused? Dear God, she was all of those, all right. Her eyes drifted to the address given on the advert, registering that it was nearby.

Her grip tightened on her suitcase and with a jerk she started to head towards the escalators.

Oblivious of the quietly dressed man doing likewise a little way behind her...

Fifteen minutes later she was seated, hands clenched with tension, in a consulting room at the charity’s walk-in offices.

‘You really should take longer to think this through.’ The woman talking to Mel spoke with a warm, sympathetic, but cautious tone.

‘I have thought it through—I’ve thought it through over and over again...ever since I found out I was pregnant. It’s the only thing I’ve been thinking about.’

Mel’s voice was stressed. She had poured everything out, tumbled and conflicted and anguished, and the trained counsellor had listened quietly and attentively. Then she had spelt out to Mel the options that were available—the choices she could make.

As Mel had listened she had felt her heart grow heavier and heavier at the answer to the question that was tormenting her—that had tormented her ever since she had stared, disbelieving, at the blue line on the pregnancy test kit.

She looked across at the counsellor, her expression strained, but there was a resolve in her eyes that had not been there before.

‘My mind is made up,’ she said. ‘That’s my decision. My baby—my responsibility for what happens.’

She got to her feet. Once more a slight wave of nausea bit at her, and she swallowed it down.

The counsellor had stood up, too.

‘I am always here,’ she said, her voice kind, ‘if you feel you want to discuss this further...talk things through again.’

But Mel shook her head. ‘Thank you—but, no. I know what I’m going to do.’ She gave a difficult smile. ‘Thank you for your time. It’s been...’ she took a breath ‘...invaluable. You’ve helped me to reach the answer I needed to find.’

She held out a hand, shook the counsellor’s briefly and made her way back out on to the street. Her pace, as she headed off, was determined. Resolute. But her tread felt as heavy as her heart.

As she headed back to the tube station she got out the letter she’d written so painfully the night before. Tearing it in two, she dropped it in a litter bin. Then she went back down into the Underground. This time taking the direction away from the City.

Away from Nikos’s offices.

There was nothing to tell him now. Nothing at all.

Her mind was clear on that.

Finally the writhing snakes that had tormented her had ceased their endless conflict.

Her baby was hers and hers alone.

And as she sat carefully down on a seat in the tube train her hand crept to her abdomen, spreading across gently. Protectively.