Discuss the theme of isolation as portrayed in Jane Eyre.
I honestly can’t believe how much has changed since I last wrote in this file. Seriously. A whole new avenue has opened up for me. Something completely unexpected.
The first big news is that I’ve found someone to talk to properly about the pregnancy. It’s been a bit surprising and I won’t go into detail as it will be tempting fate and, knowing my luck, will all go horribly wrong.
All I can say is that this isn’t through uni counselling or anything so it’s not dangerous. I mean I know uni services are supposed to be 100 per cent confidential but if I let slip anything that might identify the father, they’d be bound to do something wouldn’t they? Suspend him or something. Anyway, this has all happened very quickly. Off campus. Out of the blue. Safe. I’ve become friends with someone who really gets me. Understands exactly what I’m going through.
It’s like having a weight lifted – to actually sit and calmly talk to someone about things that are so difficult and so serious. I keep thinking about my mum and how I couldn’t in a million years have this kind of conversation or this kind of relationship with her. I had no idea this sort of calm support was even possible.
And suddenly I’m seeing not only that I’m strong enough to get through this but that I have more options than I’d realised. Apparently, you can do private adoptions. I didn’t really know anything about this; I’d assumed it was just part of surrogacy or something. I’d discounted adoption as I know that Mum and Dad would completely freak out at the prospect of having a grandchild ‘out there’ with no proper contact. But get this. With a private adoption, you can write your own rules. Be as involved as you want in the child’s life.
Like I say, it’s like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders because it no longer feels as if it’s a black-and-white choice. Have the baby （and put off all my dreams） or have an abortion （and possibly regret it?）。 I mean I’m not judging others here. Some people are fine having a termination and that’s their business and their right but I just don’t think that’s me. It’s been keeping me up at night. And I still feel fury that it was his immediate reaction – to get rid of the child.
But a private adoption? Maybe . . .
I’m not going to make any quick decisions, of course, as I’ve been swinging like a pendulum ever since I found out about the pregnancy. But I want to at least consider this properly.
And I don’t have to decide until after the graduation ceremony so I just need to get my head straight, dig deep, and talk to Mum and Dad.
Results are in ten days. All I need now is to get that damn first.
Also – just before I sign off – I need to sort out my Facebook security settings. I’ve had another couple of weird messages. I’m trying to be calmer about it as it’s hopefully just someone random. But I’ve been googling and I didn’t even realise that you can check which devices have logged into your Facebook account.
Unbelievable. There have been loads of log ins on devices I don’t recognise – an iPad Air （I don’t have one） and a Mac （don’t have one of them either）。 Obviously my money is on ‘A’。 I changed my password but if he was already logged in via some other device, I’m wondering if that is a loophole? No idea.
I can apparently disallow these other devices which might solve the problem.
We’ll see. I just wish I was on to all this sooner. I’m always careful now about what I post on Facebook and I don’t use DMs any more, just to be on the safe side. I wish I’d taken the whole security side of social media more seriously before now.
But I’m feeling a tiny bit better overall. Not crying quite so much. If I can just get results and graduation out of the way, and then get Mum and Dad behind me, hopefully I can make the right decisions and come out of this all OK.
CHAPTER 46
THE PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR
Amelie has paint all over her hands when Matthew arrives at the school. She’s in the art room of the nursery wing with one of the classroom assistants, and beams as he walks into the room.
Matthew sweeps her into a hug, not caring about the paint, and closes his eyes with relief.
‘You’re hugging too tight, Daddy.’
‘Sorry, darling. Sorry.’
‘I got paint on your shirt.’
‘It doesn’t matter. Listen – I need to just have a quick chat with the head teacher and then we’re going home early.’
‘Am I in trouble?’