Free Love My Enemy by Kate Maclachlan Page B

waiting room was large and comfortable with
modern furniture and pastel painted walls. It was filled
with young people about their own age. Some had spiky
haircuts and nose-rings, some wore slick make-up and
smart skirts but most looked in between, jeans-and-jerseys
sort of people like themselves. There was a
murmur of conversation and folk were reading
magazines, or the leaflets that lay about on polished pine
tables, describing different kinds of contraception. Pop
music gave the place a buzz.
    'Hi,' said a receptionist with a friendly smile. 'You're
new clients, aren't you? I'll have to take a few details.'
    'Whatever for?' demanded Tasha nervously. 'I
thought these places were confidential. Will my mother
find out I've been here?'
    'No. It is absolutely confidential.'
    'Even if I'm under sixteen?'
    'Yes. Everyone's entitled to confidentiality – whatever
their age. But we do need details. That way, next time you
come, we can look up your notes, see what we've done
before and work out the best way to help you.'
    'I won't be back,' vowed Tasha.
    The receptionist grinned again. 'Sounds like you've
got a lot on your mind. Fancy a chat with Rose, our
counsellor? She could take your details when you're
feeling more relaxed and then you can see the doctor.'
    'I-I'm not sure,' said Tasha. 'I just need the
morning after pill. A counsellor's for people with
problems, isn't it?'
    'It's for anyone who feels a chat might help,' said a
young woman getting up from behind a desk. She had
waist length black hair, tight jeans and an embroidered
waistcoat. 'I'm Rose, by the way.'
    'She doesn't looks too bad,' whispered Zee.
    Tasha thought so too. In fact she looked really friendly.
    'I was just about to make some tea,' added Rose.
'Fancy a cup?'
    Tasha took a deep breath. 'Okay.' She turned to the
others. 'You needn't wait. I'll get a bus home. Thanks
for getting me this far.'
    'I'll wait if you want me to,' said Zee earnestly.
    'Honestly, there's no need.'
    'Then I'll come over tonight, I promise.'
    'Good luck,' muttered Conor and he threw her a wink
as he legged it towards the door.
    'Milk and sugar?' asked Rose.
    The room they went to had Counsellor printed
formally on the door but inside there were pictures of
rolling farmlands on the walls and a bowl of sweet
smelling roses stood on a coffee table. Tasha half
expected Rose to direct her to the big desk in the corner.
Not that Rose looked at all teachery. Instead she waved
her towards a big brown armchair with soft cushions.
    'That's the most comfortable seat,' she said. 'Make
yourself at home. And remember, nothing you say in
here goes beyond these four walls.'
    'Um. . . right.' Tasha sipped self-consciously at her tea
while Rose plonked herself down in the chair opposite.
    'Were those folk at reception good friends of yours?'
she asked.
    'Zee is. If it wasn't for her I don't know what I'd have
done today.'
    'How come?'
    'She brought me here. I didn't even know the
morning after pill existed until she told me.'
    Rose's brown eyes were grave. 'You didn't know it
existed but you had unprotected sex anyway?'
    'Um . . . ' Tasha hadn't expected such plain speaking
somehow. Unprotected sex. It sounded so . . . careless. To
her horror, her eyes filled up with tears again. Rose
indicated a box of tissues on the coffee table.
    'Cry all you want to. We get through tons of tissues
here.' She was not embarrassed by the crying, and she
didn't try to comfort Tasha. She just waited as if Tasha's
tears were completely necessary and useful. 'Feel any
better?' she asked afterwards.
    'Maybe – I'm not sure.'
    'So, it was unprotected sex, yeah?'
    'Yes – but only because I was drunk. I wouldn't have
done it otherwise.'
    'Drink generally disinhibits people.'
    'What?'
    'It gives them false courage – and makes them do
things they wouldn't do sober.'
    Tasha swallowed the huge lump that rose up in her
throat. If only she could stop feeling so stupid.
    'I did rather wonder if it might happen – even before