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Someone Else's Baby

Page 11

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


  I didn’t answer. Should I lie? Lucy raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Um, she’s not all that keen actually.’

  ‘Ah, that’s a shame, isn’t it? So, there we have it, falling pregnant is not easy for everyone, sadly. Well, thanks for talking to me, Charlotte. I’m afraid we’re out of time. Hopefully we can catch up with you nearer the big day?’

  ‘Yeah, okay, thanks.’ At that moment, it was as though I’d been jolted from a dream. I’d agreed total privacy with Malcolm and Brenda, but here I was telling thousands of people my story.

  ‘Thank you to all the mums-to-be we’ve spoken to today at the North Bedford Antenatal Clinic. And now it’s time for the four o’clock news.’

  Lucy switched off the microphone and handed me her business card.

  ‘Would love to keep track of your story. We’re already getting loads of great comments about you on social media.’ She pointed to a few on the screen in front of her.

  Her voice sounded more normal now she was off air.

  ‘That’s good, but please, don’t say my full name or the names of the intended parents because they want to keep their identity private.’

  ‘I understand, we can do that. Good to meet you, Charlotte.’ She took my mobile number and we shook hands. Wow, people I didn’t know were saying they respected me for being a surrogate. I just wished Mum was one of them.

  * * *

  Later at home, when I told Steve about it, he went ballistic.

  ‘That’s one thing we did agree on with Malcolm, no publicity.’

  ‘I only used my first name. I didn’t say their names or yours.’

  ‘What show was it on?’ He opened his laptop.

  ‘The Doctor’s Surgery, a medical show every Wednesday afternoon.’

  Steve jabbed at his keyboard.

  ‘Brenda and Malcolm are hardly likely to hear it in Orkney, are they?’

  ‘Anyone could copy it and send it round the internet. What if it goes viral?’

  ‘It’s unlikely.’ But I was shaking as I lifted Alice into her high chair.

  ‘Here it is, let’s have a listen, shall we?’ He turned up the volume and folded his arms. When it had finished, he swivelled his chair until he was facing me. He cocked an eyebrow as if he was a teacher about to tell me off. ‘What do you have to say now, Charlotte from Bedford?’

  ‘I told you, it’s fine, there are no pictures of me and they didn’t say any of our surnames.’

  ‘It only takes one person to post this on Twitter.’ He squeezed his thumb and forefinger together as though that was how small I should feel. ‘It wouldn’t take much for people to work out who you are.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I thought it wouldn’t do any harm. The woman sort of pounced on me, probably because my bump is the size of a potato sack.’

  ‘You should have said no. Malcolm will go mental if he finds out.’

  ‘Exactly – if.’ I stood in the kitchenette staring into the fridge.

  ‘Lucy is it?’ He held out the crisp business card. ‘Lucy Carter, Radio Presenter.’

  ‘You went in my handbag?’

  ‘What’s this for? A follow-up interview?’

  ‘You don’t care about what I think, do you?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘You’re only interested in the money or that you might not get any more.’ I slammed the fridge shut. How could he be so heartless? I’d enjoyed sharing my story in front of all the other mums, they’d really seemed to admire what I was doing.

  ‘Now you really are being silly.’ He came towards me, but I backed away.

  ‘Stop talking to me like I’m a stupid child.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  The phone’s sudden insistent ring interrupted us. Steve picked it up.

  ‘No, she isn’t bloody here. Don’t call again.’

  ‘Who was that?’ My voice cracked.

  ‘The Evening bloody Advertiser. See what you’ve done?’

  Perhaps I had got too carried away. I pressed my palm to my forehead. I hoped to god Malcolm didn’t find out.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  We went over to Mum’s for lunch on Sunday. I took the opportunity to take a long soak in her bath while she was cooking roast beef. Alice had a splash around first, with a basket of plastic fish and a mermaid doll Mum kept there for her.

  Steve looked round the door without knocking, a big grin on his face, still trying to make up for having a go at me about the radio show.

  ‘Is she finished?’

  ‘Yeah, you can take her. How long’s dinner?’

  ‘Your mum said half an hour, so get a move on.’

  ‘Charming.’ I passed Alice up to him.

  ‘Her words, not mine.’ He grabbed a towel and took her from me, wrapping it around her.

  ‘I’ll be down in a bit,’ I told him and let myself slip under the water as he carried Alice away.

  My hair snaked out from my head across the surface and my hands automatically found my bump, an island sticking up in the water, almost the size I was when I gave birth to Alice. I let my mind drift away to a beach in Portugal, floating in the sea on my back, the sun sparkling across the surface of the water.

  The tune of the dripping tap brought me back to Mum’s blush pink suite. The baby girl on the left side was moving a lot, tumbling and kicking, making me smile at the wonder of the strange but magical sensation. This tiny person trying to get comfortable, maybe sucking her thumb, giving her brother a playful kick.

  I smoothed my hand over the right side, but there was no movement. I waited a few moments, but it was completely still. ‘Come on, wake up sleepyhead.’ I tripped over my words, spoken aloud into the echoey room. I circled my palm around and around, pressing a little firmer each time to rouse him. My heart beat faster, into my throat. He must be fast asleep.

  I sat up, shivering. The water was cooler than I’d realised. I hoisted myself onto my knees and held onto the sides of the bath. A shadowy image of myself reflected back at me from the murky water. The sweet jasmine smell had faded. All that was left of the bubbles had drifted to the other end. My belly seemed bigger than ever, hanging down ripe in front of me, the skin silently stretching into more angry, jagged tears.

  Still the boy didn’t move. I stood up, water cascading from my skin. I reached for the plug and pulled it out, watching until the last of the soap suds collected and gurgled around the plughole as it sucked them down. My head swelled in its own bubble. Everything was happening so slowly, the dripping tap seemed too loud. Now neither baby was moving. I made a grab for the towel on the radiator, but no matter how hard I stretched, I couldn’t reach it.

  A gentle knock at the door gave me a start. Steve opened it a few inches and peered through the gap. I shivered, my teeth chattering.

  Worry etched itself into his face in a second. He wrapped the towel around me, holding me, as I let myself collapse in his arms.

  As the tears began to subside, Steve dried me. He tried to rub warmth into my skin, but the cold was deeper than that and I couldn’t get warm.

  He led me to Mum’s bedroom where I’d laid my clothes out. He helped me into my dressing gown.

  ‘What’s happened?’ He knelt in front of me and pushed his fingers between mine, clasping my hand tight.

  ‘One of the babies… is not moving,’ I whispered.

  Steve’s eyes darted back and forth, searching my face in case he’d missed something. I opened my dressing gown. He raised a hand, trembling as it hovered above my bump. We glanced at each other as he touched my skin. I placed my hand over his and moved it round. His pressure was light. For a crazy moment, I willed him to push and prod, not to worry about hurting me, but to do anything he could to wake the babies up, remind them they were inseparable, together forever. But Steve was gentle, feeling every inch. I could hardly breathe. I longed for the boy to give him an almighty kick, but there was no movement, not even a flutter.

  I dressed in silence. Mum called out to us
up the stairs. Steve told her we’d be down in a few minutes. He telephoned the midwife and left a message.

  I couldn’t eat lunch. Mum sat opposite me, her face blank after I told her one wasn’t moving. All her tears spent long ago for her own lost babies. I sat in front of the TV while she cleared the plates of the half-eaten meal. She said she’d keep my roast covered up for later. Alice curled up on me while she watched Peppa Pig, Steve next to us, holding my hand. I could tell he’d run out of the right words, worried he’d say all the wrong ones.

  I wouldn’t let myself think beyond that moment. I moved Alice onto Steve’s lap and every so often I gently pressed my bump, then smoothed my palm over and over it. A flutter ran through me as the girl shifted position, but still nothing on the other side.

  Mum came and sat in the armchair furthest away, her eyes small and red.

  ‘Do you want tea?’ I asked, springing up. I had to remember I couldn’t do that any more. The weight of the twins made my back ache.

  ‘Please.’ Mum wouldn’t look at me. I could not cope with her pain too.

  In the kitchen, I boiled the kettle and filled the teapot. As I turned to take a spoon from the drawer, a movement in my bump took me by surprise. I clung onto the counter with both hands and took a deep breath. The girl moved in what felt like a half-turn. A few seconds later I was certain I could feel the tiniest of flutters on the other side. I waited, hardly daring to breathe. Steve came in and rushed over to me.

  ‘What’s happening?’ His arms slipped under mine, propping me up.

  Had I imagined it? I let my head rest on the counter. Then it came, one enormous kick, the boy’s tiny foot pushing out my skin, making me half gasp, half cry. I pulled up my top so Steve could see.

  ‘Ha! There it is,’ Steve said, ‘I think that one’s going to be a footballer.’ He hugged me and we cried together.

  Mum stood at the doorway. When I looked again, she’d gone.

  Steve sat me in a chair while he finished making the drinks. I didn’t think it was a good idea to tell Brenda about this. And I couldn’t tell anyone how desperately upsetting it was for me when the babies stopped moving, that they felt like my own. They were a part of me and only existed because of my decision. Now they were sharing the same cocoon as my own little Alice. Steve and I would have to separate ourselves from them emotionally when the time came, but for now, they were embedded in me and deserved all the love I could give them.

  I joined Mum in the living room. She was sitting in the window seat, pale-faced. The pink light of the afternoon gave the whole room a surreal glow. I didn’t know what to say to her. I doubted she’d ever be able to see my side of it.

  ‘We’re going home in a minute. Thanks for dinner.’

  Mum gave a deep sigh. ‘This is heartbreaking for me.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ There was nothing I could say.

  ‘Every step of it tears me apart.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have told you.’

  ‘What and have me believe this pregnancy was yours and Steve’s? Find out the truth after you’d given them away, sold them?’

  ‘We’re not selling them, Mum.’

  ‘You are as far as I can see. Who are this couple?’

  ‘They’re good people.’ I stood up. I could feel the weight of her questions bearing down on me.

  ‘Nappy’s changed,’ Steve said, carrying Alice in. When neither of us replied, he looked from me to Mum. I bolted for the door.

  ‘When do I get to meet them?’ Mum’s voice was shrill as she followed me out to the car. I was surprised it had taken her this long to ask. What would Brenda and Malcolm make of her?

  When I opened the car door, she held it while I strapped Alice in. I could see the grip she had on it, determined not to let go until she got the answer she wanted. But I walked round and sat in the driver’s seat.

  ‘You’re driving then?’ Steve closed Alice’s door and got in.

  ‘Try and talk some sense into her.’ I heard Mum say to him. It took all my strength not to react.

  I put my foot down and drove off, leaving her standing on the pavement. I thumped the steering wheel. A flash of heat swept through me. I shouldn’t have left her like that.

  Steve was silent on the way home.

  ‘Agree with her, do you?’ I asked. He should be making more effort to stick up for me.

  ‘Course not. It’s all getting a bit messy though, what with the radio station as well.’

  ‘I don’t see the problem. Malcolm and Brenda will never know.’

  ‘Unless that newspaper prints something.’

  ‘How can they when they haven’t spoken to me?’

  ‘Quite easily. How many other mums were in the clinic that day? All they need to do is tell them what you said.’

  ‘Why are we going over this again?’

  ‘And now your mum’s upset too.’

  ‘I can’t help that. It’s not like I can change my mind now, is it?’

  ‘You’ve got to see it from where she’s standing though.’

  ‘Whose bloody side are you on?’

  ‘Yours of course.’

  We pulled into our parking bay just as Alice fell asleep.

  ‘I’ll sit with her a while. You go in,’ I said.

  ‘You sure? You should be resting.’

  ‘I’ll rest here.’ I shut my eyes. As soon as Steve had gone, the tears came again. I’d been stupid thinking Mum would change her mind and see me as some kind of heroine. Perhaps she was right to be worried. Could she tell I’d had doubts? What if I did come to regret giving the twins away?

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  At three o’clock, the first guest arrived through the side gate to Mum’s garden. Hayley, one of the mums from nursery, handed me a present and card.

  ‘Happy first birthday, Alice.’

  Her little girl, only a few months older than Alice, gave her a hug.

  ‘Aw, that’s nice, say thank you,’ I said to Alice. But she turned her face towards my leg.

  ‘Looks gorgeous out here,’ Hayley said.

  ‘The warm weather helps, doesn’t it? Steve’s been decorating it all morning.’ He’d tied bunting and balloons to the fence, refilled the sandpit and laid out a selection of toys and rugs in a picnic area under a small marquee. Alice’s new mini slide and tent from Mum was set up in the middle of the lawn. Alice put her arms up to me. ‘Come on, sweetheart, don’t make Mummy pick you up today. You’re getting such a big girl now.’

  Steve was busy greeting a couple of the other mums and dads. He caught my eye and came over.

  ‘I think the birthday girl wants her daddy.’

  ‘Do you want to sit down?’ he asked and picked Alice up.

  ‘I’ll be all right. I’ll go and see if Mum needs a hand.’

  Mum was busy in the kitchen preparing all the finger food. She’d spent half the morning icing the teddy bear cake she’d baked.

  ‘Let me do something to help, Mum.’

  ‘How about taking the serviettes and plates out to the trestle table?’ She looked round at me and smiled. She was in her element doing this. She’d always been brilliant at organising parties, taking time and care to give me the best she could. All my friends at school had been desperate to be invited.

  ‘It’s good of you to do all this. I’m sorry about Sunday.’

  She shut her eyes and shook her head, which meant I wasn’t to worry about it.

  Outside, Alice was playing in the sandpit, surrounded by three of her nursery group friends and their parents.

  Mum and Steve brought the food out.

  ‘Come on, poppet, time to eat,’ Mum said to Alice, putting her hands out to lift her out of the sand. ‘Look, here’s a bowl of soapy water to wash your hands. Do you think your friends want to join in?’

  Alice nodded. It was hard to believe that this time last year, Alice was only a few minutes old. I’d never forget Mum’s face when she first saw her; the picture of love at first sight. Someone should h
ave captured it on video. She’d cupped Alice’s face and kissed her forehead, then did the same to me. ‘She looks just like you did,’ she’d said, tears in her eyes. And when she held her, as though she was the most delicate, perfect thing she’d ever seen, I selfishly pictured Mum cradling me like that as a newborn. Then I’d realised it was the last time she’d held a live baby.

  One of the twins kicked my side. I touched my bump. Silent tears fell down my cheeks. I hoped no one noticed with my sunglasses on. Where would these two be on their first birthday? Would we be invited? I hoped so. But I hadn’t thought about what Mum would be missing out on, had I?

  * * *

  Brenda and I chatted every few days on FaceTime or by text. I kept them updated with weekly selfies so they could watch my bump grow. I’d started counting down the days at work. In the end I’d stayed on as long as I could. I would miss chatting to the customers, the banter with Shell and, in some ways, I’d even miss Tash. She treated me like everyone else, pretty much, which was fine, except when I got out of breath or there was anything heavy to lift. Shell kept an eye on me and didn’t mind helping me out. In return, I balanced the till at the end of the days when Tash went home early. She’d started working part-time too. I had the feeling she couldn’t stand being around me with my hormones oozing out of every pore and the babies looking more and more like two bags of shopping strapped around my middle. It must be hard for her. She kept her comments to herself, but her eyes had lost their shine.

  ‘Charlotte’s only got four more days until she goes on maternity leave,’ Shell said aloud, to no one in particular.

  I glanced up from mixing chopped eggs with mayonnaise. Tash kept her head down, scrubbing out the bottom of the display cabinet, only pausing for a second. I covered the mixture and put it in the fridge. Out the back, I stood by the window. In the afternoon sunshine, droplets of rain on the glass lit up like a string of seed pearls. These had been the longest weeks of my life. Sometimes I wished things were like before the pregnancy: simple, straightforward, happy. Why did my decision to do something good have to upset so many people?

 

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