‘You haven’t lost the pregnancy. But I can’t find a heartbeat.’
The sonographer’s sentences don’t belong together. Scanning her face for more clues, Amy notices that she has a tan face and white neck, like parts from different bodies.
‘Can I see?’ she says.
The sonographer points at the screen. In a corner of Amy’s womb, floating with its back to her, in sulky suspended animation, is a shape.
‘There’s the blood flow from the placenta,’ the sonographer says, as a tide of grainy darkness flows in from the edge. ‘But there’s no fetal heartbeat.’
The sonographer continues to circle the image, shaking her head. It occurs to Amy that it could all be a problem of technology: a mouse that doesn’t work, a frozen cursor. But when a nurse standing next to the cubicle’s curtains leaves suddenly,
