The Child Bride

‘Thank you so much,’ I said. ‘I am grateful.’

‘You’re welcome,’ he said kindly, and called the next patient.

‘Sorry,’ I said to Zeena. ‘I should have asked you if you wanted to see a woman doctor. They’re both nice people and very good doctors.’

‘It’s not that,’ she said. ‘I just can’t see him.’

‘All right. Don’t worry, we’re waiting to see his wife.’

She nodded, but I could see she was still anxious and her anxiety grew. Her hands trembled in her lap and she kept chewing her bottom lip.

‘Is there anything I can say that will make you feel less worried?’ I asked her.

‘No,’ she said.

I placed my hands on hers. ‘Try not to worry,’ I said, I didn’t know what else to say.

I then stood and went over to the small table in the corner of the waiting room where there were some magazines. I took a few and returned, offering some to Zeena, but she didn’t want one. I opened the top magazine and began flipping through it, but I couldn’t concentrate; it just occupied my hands. Zeena was clearly very worried and her refusal to see a male doctor, coupled with her not being able to tell Tara (or me) why she needed to see a doctor, led me to the conclusion that whatever she was suffering from was a personal female condition. With a sinking heart I thought she was probably pregnant. It seemed the most likely outcome, given the existence of the secret boyfriend.

That half an hour was one of the longest of my life as Zeena’s anxiety grew and I couldn’t offer her any words of comfort or support. When her name was finally called she visibly jumped.

‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you?’ I asked.

‘No,’ she said quietly. Keeping her head lowered she left the waiting room, this time to go to Dr Alice Graham’s consulting room.

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.’