Chapter Eighteen.

                                    

                                          
Rain drops dripped down my face as I sat on a bench in the darkness. The only thing that could be heard was the smothered sound of the London traffic in the distance. I had never felt so alone before in my whole life. The only person who knew how I felt was George, and I couldn’t face going back home to another blazing row. In my heart I wanted us to try to save what we had left but in my head I knew that no matter how much we loved each other, that wasn’t enough. 
                          
As I sat sobbing softly to my own company, my phone began to ring in my pocket. Fumbling around for it, I pulled it out – half hoping it’d be George, but it was mum. 
                          
“Sammy, where are you?”
                          
“Mum,” I cried. 
                          
“Sammy sweetheart, where are you?” she repeated calmly.
                          
“Mum, it’s over.”
                          
“George is really worried about you,” she added, not paying attention to what I was saying. “Where are you?”
                          
“I don’t know what to do.”
                          
“Sammy, you really need to tell me where you are!”
                          
“In London,” I replied, still crying. 
                          
“I know that honey, but whereabouts? Michael has gone with George to look for you,” mum said. 
                          
“No,” I sobbed. “I’ll come to yours now but I don’t want to see George.”
                          
I heard mum mumbling something to someone in the background. “Okay honey. Come when you’re ready and I promise you won’t see him. Just make sure you’re safe,” she said, going back to her calm tone. “I love you.”
                          
As soon as I hung up, I stood up from the bench and made my way down the path in the dark towards the park’s exit. 
                          
*
                          
Making my way into the kitchen, mum caught sight of me and looked at me with a huge sigh of relief. “Thank God,” she said, rushing over to hug me. “I thought you were going to do something stupid.”
                          
As she hugged me, I shook my head. “It’s over,” I sobbed into her shoulder. 
                          
“I know honey,” she said, hugging me tighter. “George told us you had an argument.”
                          
I pulled away. “It wasn’t just an argument,” I said. 
                          
Mum pulled a chair out for me at the breakfast bar and made me sit down. “I want you to tell me everything. I’m going to listen to you,” she smiled. “I promise.”
                          
I looked up at her and then back down at my nails as I sat flicking the water from beneath them. I didn’t want to tell her everything, but I had to. “You’re going to hate me.”
                          
“Sammy, I could never hate you. You’re my baby – always have been and always will be,” mum said, reassuring me as she sat on the other side of the breakfast bar, taking hold of my hand over the table.
                          
Looking into her eyes, I knew she was being honest. “I was pregnant,” I sobbed. 
                          
Mum looked at me in shock and disbelief. Her hold on my hand got looser as she continued to look at me in shock. “Was?” she questioned. 
                          
“I lost the baby a few weeks ago.” 
                          
Her look of shock turned to a look of sadness. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” she asked. “I could have been there for you.”
                          
“We were planning to tell everyone that Saturday we invited you around,” I said. “I wasn’t ill in bed. I was unconscious in hospital after collapsing at the gig the night before.” 
                          
“You really should have told me,” she said, stroking my hand with her finger as I told her everything. 
                          
“We promised to put it behind us and try to move on but ever since then we’d been arguing over trivial things,” I explained. “I know he blames me for losing the baby and to be honest, I don’t blame him. I was devastated when I found out I was actually pregnant and it made me feel even worse to see him so excited about the idea of becoming a father. The only time that I actually fell in love with our baby was when I found out that I had had a miscarriage.”
                          
“You can’t break up now then,” mum said. “You both need each other more than ever.”
                          
“No, mum. You don’t understand. I want to be the reason for his smile, not his tears,” I cried. “If me and him stay together, it’s just going to be a daily reminder of the baby we lost. I can’t do that to him and I can’t do that to me. At least this way he can find someone who will actually want a baby with him now.”
                          
“Sammy, you can’t think like that. I know you’re upset but you really need each other’s support.”
                          
“Mum,” I began. “I can’t do it to him anymore. He’s gonna be happier this way and that’s all I want – for him to be happy.”
                          
“Ok honey,” mum said, giving me a fake, unconvincing smile. “We’ll talk about it more tomorrow morning after you’ve had a good night’s sleep.”
                          
I didn’t want to talk about it tomorrow but I was too emotionally drained to argue with her.