Chapter 35 — The Doctor's Fake Degree and a Pregnancy

In the Year 1997 I finally graduated from University with a degree in Latin. The Doctor took me out for a drink and asked to see the degree certificate, which I handed over to him in the Wrens.

'I won't be a minute,' and off he went with the degree in hand. Five minutes later he returned with the degree certificate and another in his other hand, which looked remarkably similar.

'It took you four years to get your degree, Karl, and five minutes for me, and a fiver to Fred at the printing shop to get mine.' And indeed, you couldn't tell the difference. Fred had substituted Latin for English, and what employer would ever question the Doctor's impeccable control and expression of English anyway.

***

Over the summertime of that year work was good, and I managed to maintain a reasonable income building properties with John, which didn't mean I was rich, but I wasn't poor either as I'd been much whilst at university. However, by mid-summer, work had fallen off, and there were only scratchings of it, and that was not good.

'Why don't you apply for some jobs,' demanded Anna, 'as you've got a degree now, and yet you choose still to work with John and have no money?'

Anna was right, and I was never going to get rich with John, and I'd just had a letter through the post enquiring whether I wanted to do a PGCE or Post Graduate Certificate in Education. I didn't want to, but they were desperate for teachers back then, and you got a grant and financial assistance if you undertook it. I thought, 'Why not, and I can always jack it in if something else comes along.' Anna, though, was adamant I did the course and not be waylaid again by some fantastical but shit idea, and she was right.

I filled in the form in June sometime, and I forgot completely about it by August and so did Anna, as I'd taken work with Andy laying flags in driveways. But then another letter dropped through the letterbox, informing me I had been successful with my application, and that I was to start the PGCE in September, and that I had to arrange, first, a two week experience in a primary school, even though I was to train for secondary school teaching.

Anna pushed me to get the placement sorted, and I secured a place at a primary school in Middleton. There was another reason Anna wanted stability, and she hadn't told me.

I always stayed over at her house at the weekend, and this Friday was no different. But it was.

I arrived around tea-time, and I knew something was troubling her. She barely spoke, and when she did, it was idle chatter of nothing substantial. I made a coffee, and she sat in the room blandly watching some dull television programme. When I sat down and commented upon some event of the day, she simply shrugged her shoulders, got up, and went to sit in the kitchen. I stayed a while in the room, thinking it best to leave her to whatever was wrong, and in the meantime, I struggled to think what I'd done wrong for her to be like this. I suppose it was guilty character which made me think it was me, and I did have something to do with what had happened, but only half.

I finished my coffee and walked into the kitchen. Anna was sat at the table, elbows on it looking down.

'What's the matter?' I asked.

Silence.

'Have I done something?'

She gave me a profound look, but still silence.

'If I have, you have to tell me, Anna, as I don't know what.'

Anna moved in the chair, and I knew then she was going to speak, but didn't, and she needed more encouragement.

'Come on then. Tell me what it is?'

'I'm pregnant.'

Two little words, that's all they were. No more, nor less, and how many times since we souls began to speak have those two little words been uttered, but what power of life they contain.

I didn't know what to say, and I stood there a little dumb for a moment, but my mind was racing through every stream of thought, and it was great. It was a superb feeling, and I must admit to my eyes welling up with tears, and when I looked down in those few seconds there was a woman, Anna, head in hands looking down, and thinking I would have been distraught. I pulled her up and out of that nightmare of hers; within seconds, she was convinced, and happiness lit up her face, and we ran round to the local off-licence for some cheap Prosecco, as we were still skint, but incredibly happy.