Someone Else's Baby

by Someone Else's Baby (retail) (epub)

  ‘How’s Alice?’ Brenda asked, her head dipped.

  ‘She took her first steps the other day.’ I wanted to reach out and take her hand, ask her what was going on. Instead I sat back.

  Malcolm pulled out a folder of papers. ‘You went to the twenty-week scan without us?’

  I let out an audible sigh.

  ‘I think you’ll find that’s in breach of our agreement.’ He handed round a copy to each of us.

  Steve ignored his. ‘You know why.’ He made a big show of ripping off the top of two sachets of sugar. Once he’d emptied them into his coffee, he rattled the spoon around the mug, the muscle in his cheek hammering the whole time.

  ‘Did you find out the sex of our children?’ Malcolm folded his arms and fixed his eyes on me. Brenda stared at the floor, her fingers picking at the leather strap of her bag.

  I shook my head.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us you only want boys?’ Steve asked as soon as Malcolm opened his mouth to speak.

  ‘Who doesn’t have a dream of what their family will look like?’ Malcolm pulled a wide Joker grin. ‘That doesn’t mean to say I wouldn’t want a daughter. That’s why Brenda was a bit confused.’ He patted her leg and shot her a sideways glance. Her pained expression was becoming permanently etched into her skin. I wished I could understand what these looks between them meant.

  ‘What if I have two girls?’ I shoved the table with the heel of my hand, jogging the drinks. A black puddle of coffee spread around the base of his mug. ‘Won’t you take them? What do you think of all this, Brenda?’ I needed her to back me up here, but she only shrugged and reached up to touch her hair. The cuff of her jacket shifted an inch, showing the purple green stain of a bruise on her wrist. We stared at each other for a second, but she darted her eyes away. Her arm snapped down, hands under the table.

  ‘Of course we’ll take them.’ Malcolm batted the air.

  ‘What is your problem then?’ Steve stood up, leaning towards Malcolm, knuckles pressed into the table. Someone behind us tutted.

  ‘There is no problem, I told you, Brenda got muddled up.’ Again Malcolm slid a glance towards her. She was being way too quiet. These babies were hers. Why wasn’t she fighting for them?

  ‘Best you get that in writing then, ASAP.’ Steve stabbed his finger at the sheets of paper. Malcolm glared at him.

  ‘I don’t want the twins split up.’ I looked again to Brenda for support, but her head was down, finger dabbing at grains of sugar.

  ‘They won’t be.’ Malcolm’s mouth twitched. Brenda squinted at him as though she was expecting an explosion. I hardly dared to breathe in the billowing silence. I couldn’t work out when things had changed. At the start we all seemed to get on. We came up with an agreement that was fair all round but now everything seemed to be in question. We had to get past this – and soon. There was a strong chance the twins would be early. I was already the size of a house at twenty-one weeks.

  ‘Glad we’re all back on the same page.’ Steve gathered up all the papers and piled them in the centre of the table.

  The waitress topped up our mugs of coffee. The smell of frying food caught in my throat.

  Malcolm slipped the papers back in his folder. ‘I’ll get my lawyer to write it in the agreement then give you a call, go through all the paperwork with you. Would that help to settle your minds?’

  Steve and I looked at each other in surprise.

  ‘Yes, it would, thank you,’ I said. ‘By the way, I forgot to give you the picture of the twins from the twelve-week scan.’ I handed Brenda an envelope.

  ‘Oh yes, I was going to ask you for it.’ She peered inside.

  ‘There’s one from the twenty-week scan too. The twins are doing really well.’ I touched the top of Brenda’s hand and she forced a smile. She took the scans and slid them into her bag without looking.

  * * *

  It took half the drive home for Steve to calm down.

  ‘What is that bloke’s actual problem?’ He leaned forward, almost headbutting the wheel.

  ‘It’s like he’s not bothered what the rest of us think.’ I knitted my fingers together. ‘Did you see the bruises on Brenda’s wrist?’

  ‘No.’ He frowned.

  ‘She looked scared.’

  ‘Maybe they had a row and he grabbed her a bit too hard. At least he knows now that he can’t dictate to us like that.’

  ‘I hope so.’ But why would Brenda hide the bruises if it was an accident? Did Malcolm hurt her on purpose? I tried to picture the moment I’d hand the babies over to them, but right now I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do it. Would he try and take them from me because they were half his? He might stop me from seeing them altogether. I took a deep breath and tried to calm down, cupping my bump, stroking it, but my mind shifted back to the neglected baby Mum told me about. I pictured it crying, dirty and hungry and its poor little buckled toes.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Mum pulled up outside our flat at 8.30 a.m. on Sunday. I waved to her from the kitchenette window, the sun already warming the worktop.

  ‘You sure you feel up to it?’ Steve propped himself up on his pillow. I sat Alice next to him with a pile of her favourite books.

  ‘I feel fine. Anyway, I promised.’ I grabbed my bumbag full of change. ‘Mummy will see you two later.’ I kissed the top of Alice’s head. ‘Bye, bye.’ I waved and she waved back saying, ba-ba, ba-ba.

  ‘Don’t forget the bag of stuff by the door,’ Steve called.

  * * *

  We always tried to be one of the first onto the field. Nan used to love doing boot sales with Mum, but when she died, I said I’d help out once a month. It was a good way of having a clear-out and making a bit of extra cash. I loved the thrill of walking round the stalls, scanning for a bargain, particularly clothes or toys for Alice. So many were practically new and only a few pence each.

  I helped Mum open the trestle table and fix the clothes rail together. She’d organised all the clothes ready on hangers, each individually priced. Since she’d started going to the gym a year ago, she’d dropped two dress sizes so most of her old clothes didn’t fit.

  The field started to fill up with cars around us. We carefully unwrapped old kitchen plates and knick-knacks that Mum had found in her loft.

  ‘I’ve never seen any of these things before.’ I placed a glass clown ornament next to a set of black coffee cups with gold rims.

  ‘It’s all from when your dad and I got engaged. Our families gave us loads of bits and pieces for our first flat together. I’d forgotten it was there. No point keeping any of it.’

  ‘What’s this?’ I asked, although I’d already guessed. I unwrapped a small silver-plated box with ‘Charlotte’ engraved on the lid and my birth date.

  ‘How did that get in there? Open it.’

  Inside was a curl of blonde hair. ‘Is that really mine? It’s just like Alice’s.’

  ‘It is, isn’t it? I gave you your first haircut.’ Mum smiled, taking it from me to look closer. ‘Dad sat you on his knee in the kitchen and Nan photographed it. Honestly, your little face when you saw your curls on the floor.’ She handed it back to me.

  ‘Can I keep it?’

  But Mum was staring into space.

  ‘Mum?’

  She blinked. ‘Oh yes… of course.’

  I zipped it up in my bag and tried not to think about the other five silver boxes I’d once found in a drawer while snooping in her bedroom. Each with a name and date of birth: Rachel, Victoria, David, Oliver and Anne. All had had the finest tufts of fair hair. All born sleeping.

  Neither of us spoke for several minutes.

  I cleared my throat. ‘Any in here I’ve not read?’ I tore open two boxes of paperbacks and propped them up on a pair of old plastic garden chairs.

  ‘Only the Dan Browns. You should try one.’

  ‘I might do,’ I said, but we both knew they weren’t my taste.

  Once we were all set up, Mum unfolded two camping
chairs while I poured us both a cup of tea from her flask.

  ‘How much for the vase?’ asked a man with a sleeping baby strapped to his chest.

  ‘Five pounds,’ Mum said.

  He thought for a moment, then whispered to the woman behind him, also carrying a baby in a sling. ‘Will you take three?’

  ‘Yeah, go on then.’ I put my hand out and he dropped the coins in. Mum frowned at me and sat down.

  ‘Are they twins? How old are they?’ I wrapped the vase in bubble wrap and put it in a plastic bag.

  ‘Eight weeks tomorrow.’ He grinned.

  ‘They’re so beautiful.’ I had to suppress the urge to reach out and kiss their miniature toes.

  ‘They’re being really good for us, so far.’ The woman beamed.

  ‘Looks like you haven’t got long to go yourself.’ The man took the bag from me.

  ‘Another nineteen weeks. I’m having twins too.’

  ‘Really? That’s wonderful,’ the woman said. ‘Honestly, I was so uncomfortable in those final weeks, but it was worth it to have these two at the end of it all.’ She leaned against her partner, gazing up at him, the babies side by side. My face dropped; this was never going to be me and Steve. I had to give my babies away. How on earth was I going to do that?

  ‘Good luck!’ they both said and moved on.

  ‘What was all that for?’ Mum asked in a loud whisper. I’d forgotten she was behind me.

  ‘Nice family, weren’t they?’

  ‘We’re not going to make any profit if you give stuff away,’ Mum said, not that that was what she really meant.

  I finished my tea and went for a wander before it got too busy.

  A few stalls along from ours, a woman was selling baby clothes, equipment and toys, but I couldn’t find anything suitable for Alice except a T-shirt similar to one she already had.

  ‘I’ve got some nearly new baby clothes if you want to look through before I put them out?’ The woman nodded at my bump.

  Without waiting for an answer, she laid out a pile of newborn babygros in front of me. I picked up two in a creamy colour with Dreamy and Perfect printed in small writing on the front. How was I supposed to resist them? They were too adorable.

  ‘A pound each or two for £1.50.’ She turned away to get some more.

  I checked the label. John Lewis. No wonder they felt so soft. I’d seen their sets of three but had never been able to justify the price.

  ‘Only worn once, you can see for yourself there are no stains,’ the woman said. ‘Honest to god, my daughter had that many early-baby and newborn clothes, we could have opened a shop. Why don’t people buy bigger sizes they can grow into?’

  I nodded, still holding one in each hand. It wouldn’t hurt to buy these now I was past the halfway mark. ‘How much is the T-shirt there?’

  ‘Fifty pence.’

  I shouldn’t really buy anything at all. And Brenda would probably have outfits ready for the twins. ‘I’ll have all three please,’ I heard myself say, dipping into my purse for some coins.

  ‘Do you want a bag?’

  As I looked up, I caught a flash of dark curly hair out of the corner of my eye. I spun round, scanning the crowd, but she was nowhere to be seen. ‘Sorry. Just a small bag, please.’ I handed her the correct change.

  ‘Good luck.’

  Mum was in full haggle mode when I got back, so it gave me a chance to squirrel the clothes away in the car.

  ‘See anything good?’ Mum asked.

  ‘Nothing special.’ Had it been the same woman as before or was I becoming paranoid?

  * * *

  When I arrived home later, Steve was building a multicoloured brick tower with Alice. She got straight up and toddled towards me. I caught her in my arms for a hug.

  ‘Clever girl! Mummy’s bought something for you.’ I took out the T-shirt. ‘Do you like the sparkly unicorn?’

  Alice nodded.

  ‘What else have you got there?’ Steve asked.

  ‘Just a couple of babygros.’ I held them up.

  ‘Seriously, do you need to buy them clothes?’

  I shrugged. ‘I couldn’t help it.’ They were my babies, growing in my body, so why should I feel guilty?

  He shook his head and went back to the game. By this point in my pregnancy with Alice, he’d been touching my bump several times a day, kissing my bare skin, talking to her. We’d laughed at him trying to listen for the smallest sound of her moving. He’d even gone through a list of names, bought little toys and left special heart Post-it messages around the flat for me.

  This time, he’d barely touched my bump once.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  When I was at the clinic for a check-up a few weeks later, the local radio station was there, running a week-long mother and baby special. The presenter made a beeline for me. I turned away, pretending I hadn’t seen her.

  ‘Hi, I’m Lucy Carter from the afternoon show. You look mighty uncomfortable. Are you due any minute?’ She stuck the microphone under my chin. Her smile was so wide it was almost a laugh. I waved my hand to show I wasn’t interested, but she moved the microphone even closer to me, flicking her long blonde curls behind her shoulder as if to say she wasn’t giving up that easily. I shook my head, I didn’t want to talk about it, but one of the other mums piped up, ‘She’s having twins.’

  ‘Are you really expecting twins? How exciting. When are they due, err…?’ She sat on the bench next to me and tugged down the skirt of her bright coral suit. ‘Charlotte.’ She read my name on my folder of notes.

  I sighed. ‘I’ve got ages yet, fifteen weeks.’ I thought she’d lose interest and move on to someone else.

  ‘And is this a natural conception or IVF?’ She cocked her head at me so it was difficult to look away. All the mums around me were quiet, waiting for me to speak.

  Then, without meaning to, I blurted, ‘Actually, I’m having them for someone else.’

  Lucy’s eyes popped wide. ‘You mean you’re a surrogate?’ She said it in such a loud comic voice that the whole roomful of expectant mums turned to gawp at me. Murmurs swept round the room.

  Shit. I was tempted to lie, say I was only joking. I shouldn’t be doing this. I wanted to shrink into the chair. But instead I leaned into the microphone and the words tumbled out: ‘Yes, I am.’ Look at my amazing body growing two babies. I sat back like a mother hen preening her feathers, imagining all the people agreeing that being a surrogate was an incredible, selfless thing to do. Lucy nodded, her face still stretched in surprise.

  ‘And what made you want to be a surrogate?’ Lucy held the red microphone closer, her voice softer now, rising at the end in a question I couldn’t avoid. Malcolm’s angry face flashed up in my mind. A stab of fear hit my chest. As long as I didn’t say their names, it would be okay, wouldn’t it? They’d never hear this up in Orkney, surely?

  ‘Um, this is only local radio, isn’t it?’

  Lucy pointed to the pop-up banner behind her, Bedford FM – Turn up the feel-good! She gave me a nod to continue.

  ‘Well, after I was born, my mum had several stillbirths. I was old enough to remember the last ones. When I was about fourteen, I remember thinking that one day I’d like to help a woman like Mum, someone who was struggling to carry a baby to full term. I had my own daughter last year and when I held her that first time, I knew that this was the moment that my mum had longed for, to hold a live, healthy baby in her arms again. For me it confirmed that this is what I wanted to do.’

  Lucy’s face melted. The other mums said a collective, ‘Aww.’

  ‘That’s so sad and beautiful at the same time. What a wonderful thing to do. Look, I’ve got goosebumps all up my arms.’ She pushed up her jacket sleeve.

  I wished my mum had had the same reaction.

  ‘And how old is your daughter?’

  ‘She’s eleven months.’

  ‘Is she aware that her mummy is pregnant? I mean, it’s hard not to notice this magnificent bump.’
r />   ‘I think so. She likes to touch it as it gets bigger especially when the twins are kicking out or turning over.’

  Lucy gave a cautious laugh. ‘So, tell me, how did you meet the lucky new parents?’

  ‘My partner and I met the intended parents online. I trawled round a few surrogacy websites and mentioned on various forums that I wanted to be a surrogate.’ All the other mums were listening and smiling at me. I was proud of myself for doing this.

  ‘And how did you decide who to choose? I’m guessing there are lots of people out there who sadly can’t conceive and decide to go down the route of finding a surrogate to help them?’

  ‘Yes, there are. It was hard choosing, but I liked this couple. Their story broke my heart. It reminded me so much of what my mum had been through. They’d been trying for years to have a baby and their last chance was to try surrogacy.’

  ‘And so you met up with them, got to know them?’

  ‘That’s right. We chatted online, then my partner and I met up with them. We all clicked straight away.’

  ‘And how long did it take you to get pregnant?’

  ‘After two failed attempts with them I got pregnant the third time but miscarried early on. We had one final try and here we are.’ I smiled at my bump and gave it a gentle rub, imagining the twins listening in. I’d tell them all about this day when they were old enough to understand.

  ‘Can I ask, because I know our listeners will be wondering too – are the twins biologically yours?’ Lucy pulled a face, probably unsure how far she could go with this line of questioning.

  ‘Yes, I self-inseminated with the help of my partner.’

  ‘Oh I see!’ She gave a nervous laugh and held up her hand in a stop sign. ‘Let’s leave that part right there. Family show.’

  I scanned round at the mixture of reactions from the other mums. Some were pulling faces as though they’d smelt something bad.

  ‘So, I’m guessing your mum is proud of your grand gesture for this lucky couple?’