The Child Bride (9 page)

I returned the magazines to the table and watched the clock. The minutes ticked by very slowly and the longer Zeena was with the doctor the more convinced I became that she was pregnant. It all fitted: her secretiveness, the boyfriend’s urgent phone calls, their relationship ending when she’d told him she was pregnant; rejected by her parents and called a slut by her mother. Pregnant at fourteen, and having to shoulder the worry alone. No wonder she was in a state. I wished she could have told me.

Twenty minutes later Dr Alice Graham appeared and came over to me. ‘Could you come in, please?’ she asked quietly so none of the patients waiting could hear. ‘Zeena’s very upset.’

‘Yes, of course,’ I said, going with her.

I followed Dr Alice down the corridor into her consulting room. Zeena was sitting on one of the chairs in front of the doctor’s desk with her head in her hands, crying.

‘Oh, love,’ I said, going over and sitting in the chair next to her. I put my arm around her. Dr Alice closed the door. There was a box of tissues on the doctor’s desk and I took a couple and passed them to Zeena. ‘Come on, pet,’ I said. ‘Nothing is that bad. Whatever the problem is, we can sort it out.’

Dr Alice sat on the other side of her desk. I could tell from her expression how concerned she was, and although there were other patients in the waiting room and she was running late, I felt there was no rush and Zeena could take all the time she needed.

‘Come on, dry your eyes, love,’ I encouraged.

Zeena blew her nose and wiped her eyes and then sat hunched forward with a tissue pressed to her cheek. She looked absolutely wretched. I slipped my hand from around her shoulder and placed it reassuringly on her arm.

‘Zeena, do I have your permission to share your condition with Cathy, your foster carer?’ Dr Alice asked her.

Zeena nodded, but didn’t look up.

Dr Alice looked at me. ‘I understand Zeena has only been with you a short while?’

‘Yes. Nearly a week.’

Dr Alice made a note. ‘Zeena should have seen a doctor sooner,’ she said, ‘when her symptoms first appeared and were at their worst, although I can appreciate why she didn’t. She tells me her family are very strict?’

‘Yes,’ I said, not understanding where this was leading.

‘I’ve examined Zeena,’ Dr Alice said. ‘She has a severe case of genital herpes. She must have been in pain for some considerable time.’

‘Oh,’ I said, and hid my shock.

‘I’ve talked to Zeena about treatment options,’ Dr Alice said. ‘With a first outbreak of herpes an antiviral drug can be prescribed, but it’s most effective in the early stages. Zeena is over the worst now, although some of the sores are still open. I don’t think it will be very effective. It’s more about managing her symptoms now. Warm salt baths give the best relief. I’ll give you a leaflet that explains the condition. I’ve explained to Zeena that while any of the sores are still open they are highly infectious and she mustn’t have sexual intercourse – not that she’s likely to want to; she’ll be too sore.’

Zeena gave a small sob and I patted her arm reassuringly. I could have done with someone patting my arm, for I was struggling with what I was hearing, although I hid it. Foster carers can’t afford to be squeamish.

‘I’d like Zeena to go to the sexual health clinic first thing in the morning,’ Dr Alice continued. ‘They have better facilities for treating STIs – sexually transmitted infections – than we do here. It is important Zeena is tested to see if she has contracted any other STIs that may need treating with antibiotics. They can also give advice on protection. It’s a “walk-in” clinic at St Mary’s Hospital, so you won’t need to make an appointment. Will you be able to take her tomorrow? It’s important she goes and it’s best if she has someone with her for support.’

‘Yes, of course,’ I said, my outwardly calm manner hiding my inner turmoil.

‘The first outbreak of herpes is always the worst,’ Dr Alice continued in her professional, non-condemnatory manner. ‘But the virus stays in the body, so other outbreaks may occur in the future. This leaflet explains it in more detail. It also gives the opening times of the clinic.’ She swivelled round in her chair, took a leaflet from the shelf behind her and pushed it across her desk towards us.

Zeena didn’t take the leaflet, so I did. ‘Thank you,’ I said.

Dr Alice paused and looked directly at me. ‘Zeena is fourteen and under the legal age of consent,’ she said solemnly. ‘So there are safeguarding issues. I understand she has a social worker?’

‘Yes, Tara B—.’

‘Is she based at county hall?’

‘Yes.’

She made a note and then looked up at Zeena. I could see the pain in her eyes. I knew she had teenage children, and no one wants to see a child in this position. ‘Is there anything you want to ask me?’ she said gently to Zeena.

Zeena shook her head and stifled another sob, but didn’t look up.

‘Well, if you do think of anything, you or Cathy can phone me,’ she said kindly. ‘You’ll also be able to ask questions tomorrow at the clinic. Don’t feel embarrassed; the staff are very friendly and they’re used to counselling young people with this type of condition.’

They may be used to it, I thought, but I wasn’t. Zeena was fourteen and looked more like twelve. She was a child!

‘Zeena’s boyfriend will need to be contacted so he can be tested, and treated if necessary,’ Dr Alice continued, looking at me. ‘Zeena doesn’t feel up to telling him yet, so perhaps you can have a chat with her? It is important he is tested.’

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘I can see Zeena here for a follow-up appointment, or she can go to the clinic. Whichever she prefers. You don’t have to decide now.’

Numb from shock, it took me a moment to realize Dr Alice had finished and we should leave. ‘Thank you for everything,’ I said, and touched Zeena’s arm to go. She was clearly more shocked than I was. ‘Come on, love,’ I said gently. ‘Time to go.’

She gradually rose to her feet and, with her head lowered and unable to meet Dr Alice’s eyes, she walked with me to the door. I thanked the doctor again as we left, and closed the door behind us. In the corridor I tucked the leaflet into my bag. We went through reception and I opened the door that led onto the street. As we stepped out, Zeena looped her scarf over her head as she always did when going outside, only now it was further forwards, as though she were trying to hide her face. The evening was still warm and the air alive with birdsong and flower perfume, but I took no pleasure from it. Zeena’s distress was raw.

We walked up the high road, close and in silence. I was thinking carefully about what I should say. Zeena didn’t need me telling her she’d acted irresponsibly; she knew that already, and was probably feeling she’d been punished for having a relationship. I’m sure I would have felt the same in her position. What she needed was support and understanding, and while on a personal level I thought she was far too young to be having sex, there was no point in lecturing her now. I would talk to her about that when she wasn’t so upset. And it occurred to me that if her parents hadn’t been so strict and prohibitive, they could have talked to her about boyfriends and safe sex in the context of a loving and committed relationship, hopefully avoiding this. However, the damage was done, and I needed to concentrate on the future.

‘Zeena,’ I said gently as we walked, ‘it is important you tell your boyfriend – or rather ex-boyfriend – what’s happened so he can be tested and treated.’

She didn’t reply.

‘These types of diseases – STIs – are more common than you may think,’ I said, trying to offer her some comfort. ‘That’s why most towns have a special clinic. Thousands of young people unfortunately find themselves in this position. Did you understand that Dr Alice felt it was too late for the antiviral drug to be effective, and the best remedy now was for you to have warm, salty baths? Salt is a good antiseptic and is used for many things. We can run a bath for you when we get home.’

I glanced at her. Her head was lowered and her gaze was down as she concentrated on the pavement. She looked desperate.

‘I know this must have come as a huge shock to you,’ I said. ‘But you will get over this, I promise, and be wiser in future.’

‘I don’t want a future,’ she said quietly, without looking up. ‘I want to die.’

‘No, you don’t. You’re upset,’ I said. ‘And I can understand why. But life’s very precious and you will get over this in time. Trust me, Zeena, you will.’

She didn’t reply, and we continued walking along the high road towards home. I talked to her on and off all the way, trying to give some perspective to what had happened: that while it was distressing, there were worse things in life and she would recover and move on – although at the back of my mind was the horrendous possibility that it could get worse. Supposing she tested positive for HIV at the clinic? I recoiled from the thought.

I opened the front door and Paula, the only one in, came from the kitchen into the hall to greet us. ‘I’m making dinner,’ she said. ‘Risotto and garlic bread.’ Then, seeing Zeena’s face, she asked her: ‘Are you OK?’

Zeena fled upstairs to her room.

‘What’s the matter?’ Paula asked me, concerned. ‘Is she ill?’ Paula knew I’d gone to the doctor’s with Zeena – I’d left a note saying we’d be back at about half past five.

‘She’ll be better soon,’ I said vaguely, and Paula knew not to ask more. Confidentiality stopped me from giving her or any members of my family details of a looked-after child’s medical history. If Zeena wanted to tell them that was all right, but I couldn’t.

‘I hope she feels better soon,’ Paula said. ‘I’ll finish making dinner.’

‘Thanks, love,’ I said, and kissed her cheek.

As Paula returned to the kitchen I went upstairs. Zeena’s bedroom door was closed so I knocked on it. ‘Can I come in?’

She didn’t answer so I knocked again. When she still didn’t answer I slowly opened the door and went in. She was sitting on the bed with her head in her hands, not crying but looking so wretched that it was as if she hadn’t a hope in the world. I went quietly over and sat next to her.

‘I know how much of a shock this has been for you,’ I said gently, easing one hand away from her face so I could see her better. ‘But I’m here to help you and support you in any way I can. I appreciate how difficult this is – even to talk about it. If it was a sore on your hand it would be easier, but the doctor was very nice, wasn’t she? And the nurses at the clinic tomorrow will be too.’

Zeena turned her head slightly to look at me, her eyes showing nothing but despair and fear. ‘You won’t tell anyone, will you?’ she asked.

‘We need to tell your social worker,’ I said. ‘But I won’t tell anyone else, it’s confidential.’

‘Does Tara have to know?’ she asked.

‘Yes. If we don’t tell her, Dr Alice will. It’s important she knows. You are still a minor and children need protecting.’

‘Do you think I’m a slut?’ Zeena asked pitifully.

I took her hand in mine. ‘No, of course not. You made the wrong decision and you’ve learned from your mistake. Life is full of wrong decisions. And you weren’t the only one involved. That ex-boyfriend of yours has to take his share of the responsibility as well.’

Zeena went quiet for a moment. ‘I can’t tell him,’ she said. ‘It’s impossible.’

‘You don’t have to see him to tell him,’ I said. ‘You could send him a text, but he does have to know so he can be tested, and treated if necessary.’

‘I can’t,’ she said, and looked close to tears again.

I let the subject go. I thought that tomorrow, after a night’s sleep, when she was starting to get over the shock, she might feel differently, and doubtless the nurse at the clinic would talk to her about this too. ‘We’ll go to the clinic first thing in the morning,’ I said. ‘I’ll phone your school and tell them you’ll be going in late. Or if you prefer it you can have the day off. I’ll just say you’re ill.’

‘Thank you,’ she said quietly, blinking back fresh tears. ‘You’re being so kind to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

‘It’s all right, love,’ I said, putting my arm around her. ‘You’ll be better soon.’

After a few moments Paula called up: ‘Dinner’s ready!’

‘I’ll be down,’ I said. Then to Zeena: ‘Would you like your dinner first or a bath?’

‘A bath, please.’

‘All right, love. I’ll fetch the salt to go in your bath.’

I left Zeena sitting on her bed and went downstairs into the kitchen, where I took the large tub of salt from the cupboard. Paula saw me, and while she must have wondered what I was doing, she didn’t comment. ‘I won’t be long,’ I said to her. ‘We’ll eat, and the others can have theirs when they’re ready. Lucy and Adrian aren’t due back until later, and Zeena can have hers when she’s finished her bath.’

I returned upstairs, ran the bath, sprinkled in a guesstimate amount of salt and then left the tub on the side of the bath. Zeena appeared, carrying her towel and looking slightly less distraught. ‘I’ll leave the salt there,’ I said, pointing. ‘So you can come in and run a bath whenever you want to.’

‘Thank you, I don’t know what I’d do without you,’ she said again. ‘I’ve been so worried.’

‘I know, love. You should have told me sooner.’

She hesitated and looked as though she was about to say something, but decided against it.

‘Take your time with your bath,’ I said. ‘There’s no rush. Then come down and have dinner when you are ready.’

She thanked me again and I left.

Although I wasn’t very hungry I ate dinner with Paula and the risotto was good. I’ve tried making risotto but it’s never as nice as Paula’s. After we’d finished Paula went up to her room to listen to music, and I took the opportunity to read the leaflet Dr Alice had given to Zeena. The information was concise and easy to understand. I learned a lot about herpes, but most worrying was that after the first outbreak the virus stayed dormant in the body and could reappear at any time. It was with the sufferer for life, although steps could be taken to minimize the chances of further outbreaks; for example, by staying healthy and reducing stress levels. Clearly Zeena would need advice and counselling on how to manage her condition. It was a nasty disease for a person to contract at any age, but somehow it seemed even worse in someone as young as Zeena, and I began to feel angry towards her ex-boyfriend who had infected her. It wouldn’t have happened if he’d taken precautions and used a condom.