Someone Else's Baby

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

Over the next few days, we tried to carry on as normal, but I checked my phone and email every few minutes. I wanted to believe they were on holiday and would get in touch as soon as they got back. Almost a week later and there was still no reply from them. It didn’t make sense.

  Steve came home, but I hadn’t cooked any dinner. I wasn’t hungry. I fed Alice scrambled egg, mashed carrot and baked beans warmed from the fridge. I found it impossible to stay still for a second. Steve and I shared the last beer.

  ‘They must have got my letter by now, why haven’t they replied?’ I said.

  ‘Did you check the address?’ He opened his laptop and clicked on the Royal Mail website.

  ‘Of course I did.’ I read it out while he typed. It came up in a list of properties with the same postcode.

  I leaned over his shoulder. He opened a map of the UK and zoomed in to where a little red flag was planted. It showed a large property near a hotel and restaurant. He clicked on Streetmap.

  ‘That’s it, the Victorian-looking one with all the trees.’ I took a deep breath. ‘I think we should drive up there.’

  ‘Really?’ Steve said.

  ‘How else are we going to find them?’

  ‘It’s a hell of a long way to Orkney and I bet they’ll be back from their travels any day.’

  ‘Seriously? I do not have a good feeling about this. We need to make sure the twins are okay.’

  ‘We should wait a bit longer, it’s only been a few days. If they’re away on business and we roll up demanding to know why they’re not answering our calls, they’ll think we’re obsessed or crazy, that we don’t trust them. They might have second thoughts about us being in the twins’ lives.’

  ‘I don’t want to wait,’ I shouted.

  ‘Let’s see if they answer your message on the forum. If they don’t, then we’ll ask around, see if anyone else has heard from them recently or has any other contact details we could try.’

  ‘That might be ages.’ I stomped off to the bathroom and banged the door shut. This had set off every kind of alarm bell within me.

  Chapter Forty

  I moped about at home the next day, checking and rechecking my phone and the forum every few minutes. I’d kept the twins’ little blankets because Brenda had bought her own. The photo the Bounty lady had taken of them when they were barely a day old arrived in the post. I cried when I took it out of the envelope. I’d ordered two copies, one for us and one for them. So much for my surprise gift.

  Still no new messages. I pressed my hand to my chest, but my heart wouldn’t stop racing. I could barely sit still, going over and over every possibility as to why they didn’t – or perhaps couldn’t – answer my calls. What if they’d been in a car or plane crash? I pushed my fingers into my jelly belly and let the tears fall. My hormones were still all over the place, but the longing was deeper, more physical. My insides buckled at the real possibility of never seeing my babies again. I missed the feel of them in my arms, their smell of new dewy freshness. Steve had a photo on his phone of me holding them, one in each arm. I’d never forget how wide my smile stretched at the sight of them, or the lightness of the two tightly wrapped bundles, their sleepy eyes and cherry lips.

  ‘You’re freezing,’ Steve said, giving me a warm hug when he came home.

  ‘I don’t feel well. I think I’m getting a cold.’ My head hurt and my throat had become grainy and sore. He tucked me up in bed with a hot-water bottle.

  ‘I’m going to check the forum, see if I can find the original thread from when we first hooked up with them. Chances are it’s still there.’

  ‘It’s pretty old.’ I hid under the bedcovers.

  ‘I’ll see if they’ve replied to our message.’

  ‘They hadn’t when I checked.’ Where the hell were they? Did they know how much grief they were causing us? I’d so wanted to buy a real Christmas tree this year, but I daren’t spend any money. Alice was much more aware now she was older. I couldn’t bear to let her down.

  ‘Shit.’ Steve banged the desk with his fist.

  ‘What is it?’ I peeped out, not wanting to hear more bad news.

  ‘That thread’s been deleted.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know, but both their profiles have been deleted too.’

  ‘I didn’t think to check. I assumed they were still there. What about my messages to them?’

  ‘All gone from your inbox. Not a single trace.’ Steve smacked the keyboard.

  ‘Why would they do that? Why is this happening?’ I sobbed, pressing my throbbing forehead. ‘They can’t do this to us.’

  ‘That fucking agreement is a joke. I bet Malcolm never intended to stick to it.’

  ‘What if he planned to dump us all along? How could we have been so trusting?’

  ‘So stupid you mean.’

  ‘We have to try something else. What about their office number? I think it’s on their website, PremierProperties.com.’

  Steve typed it in. I was half expecting it not to be there, but it came up straight away. I typed the phone number from the bottom of the homepage into my mobile. One click, and it went straight back to the dial tone.

  ‘Let me try on mine.’ Steve tapped it in. A second later he held it away from his ear. Nothing, not even a connection. He tried emailing but got a ‘not delivered’ notice straight back. ‘Now what?’

  ‘Google their names? Something’s bound to come up.’ My head was killing me. I climbed out of bed and put my dressing gown on. ‘Any luck?’

  ‘How long have you got? There are over thirty million results.’

  ‘You’re joking? Any obvious ones linked to property?’ I pulled up a chair and we spent the next hour clicking on as many results as we could, but nothing linked to the Malcolm Stewart we knew.

  ‘I know.’ Steve jumped out of his seat, a finger in the air as though he’d worked out the meaning of life, ‘Google images!’

  ‘What?’

  He clicked on the images button for results to Malcolm’s name. Photos of the same sportsman came up on page after page with the odd other person thrown in. None were of the Malcolm we knew. We frowned at one another, completely puzzled. Without another word, Steve searched under Brenda’s name. The same. Not one picture of either of them. What did this mean? Everyone was on Facebook, Twitter or Instagram these days, weren’t they?

  ‘They’re private people. They might have had any pictures or information about them taken down before they started the surrogacy.’

  Steve stretched his arms above his head. ‘Then why be so secretive?’

  ‘Maybe their clients are famous and they can’t risk publicity about the twins?’ Even to me it sounded lame.

  ‘I’m sick of this.’ He stood up and took a can of beer out of the fridge. ‘Want one?’

  ‘Water please and some paracetamol.’

  He handed me a glass and a box of tablets. I swallowed two down, wishing they could cure more than a headache.

  ‘All I wanted was to help someone like Mum. And now this. Poor Brenda.’

  ‘Hang on, poor Brenda? She could have warned us. She had the power to stop him doing all this, if anyone did.’

  I wasn’t so sure. ‘What about the bruises on her wrist? I should have asked more about how she got them.’ I sat back down on the bed and buried my face in the duvet. I wanted to scream. ‘Have you still got their photo, the one you kept from the hospital?’ I sat bolt upright.

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Post it on the forum.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘See if anyone recognises them, knows where they are. I’m sure Brenda said they contacted at least two other couples before they decided on us. Surely someone must have their details.’

  ‘It’s not a great photo, it’s quite dark. What about the one you took of the twins, with them either side?’

  ‘Good point, we can post that one too. Hopefully someone will know how we can contact them.’ I scrolled through the photos on my phone.r />
  ‘Not much good if they’ve been given the same details as us though.’

  ‘We need to try something.’

  Steve uploaded both photos straight away, asking for anyone with information about Malcolm and Brenda to send us a private message.

  ‘I could contact the reporter from the local radio station, see if she can help.’

  ‘What can she do?’

  ‘She wanted to know how the birth and everything went, so I’ll tell her we have to find the new parents. We need to try everything we possibly can. If she can broadcast my story, it might reach someone who knows them. At the very least it may stop another woman making the same mistakes we’ve made. I don’t think people realise how outdated the law is. It needs to change, to protect surrogates and the babies.’ As soon as I said it, I’d made up my mind. This could be our best chance. We had to see the twins again, make sure they were okay. I jumped out of bed and took Lucy’s business card out of my purse. I checked the time. I might just catch her if I called right now.

  * * *

  We met in a small café in town the following morning. It was empty except for a couple of builders sitting by the window, heads down, scoffing their full breakfasts.

  Lucy sat back from the pine table, legs crossed, skirt carefully arranged to reach the lower part of her thighs. The lime green suit was bright enough to give me an instant headache.

  I told her all about my health problems leading up to the birth and everything that had happened since, including Malcolm and Brenda’s disappearance.

  ‘Charlotte, this is truly awful.’ She cupped her coffee in both hands. ‘Would you be willing to come on air and talk about it?’

  ‘I was hoping you’d ask. I feel so powerless. Someone listening might have information which will help me find the twins. The new parents agreed to keep in touch. I’m desperate to know how they’re getting on. Babies grow so quickly.’

  ‘Do you have any standing legally?’

  ‘We made an agreement between us, but it’s not legally binding. The only part that seems to be covered by the law is the parental order – transferring my rights to them.’

  ‘I see, so you don’t have parental rights any more?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are you saying that in the eyes of the law they’ve not done anything illegal?’

  ‘Yes, but…’ I twisted my hands together. She was going to tell me there wasn’t any point going on air with this. Come on, think of something.

  She glanced at her watch.

  ‘So… I’m starting a Twitter campaign… #ChangeUKLawOnSurrogacy, and I’d like to launch it on your show.’ I hoped she couldn’t tell I was making this up as I was going along.

  ‘Oh, I see. That does sound good. We could do a phone-in, ask people what they think about the current law on surrogacy and whether it should be reviewed.’

  ‘All I wanted was to keep in touch with the twins. It’s been such a wrench.’ I sipped my coffee, keeping my eyes fixed on her.

  ‘It must feel something like bereavement.’ She tilted her head to the side.

  I nodded, trying to hold the tears in. ‘I suppose the new parents might have worried that I’d interfere, try and take over, perhaps in the future, but I’d never do that.’

  ‘There’s probably more to it that isn’t about you at all.’ She gave a quick smile and patted the back of my hand. ‘I’ll see if the station is willing to pay you a fee for this interview, but I can’t promise anything.’

  ‘Oh, thank you…’

  She was already distracted by her buzzing mobile. She stood up.

  ‘Hang on, hang on, Gordon,’ she yelled into the phone. ‘Sorry, going to have to leave it there, Charlotte. Got to dash back to the office, something’s come up. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.’ She picked her bag up and left me sitting there with her half-drunk coffee.

  * * *

  Back at home, Steve barely looked up when I came in. He was still sitting at his laptop, while Alice was scribbling on her chalkboard. I kissed the top of her head.

  ‘What are you drawing?’

  She pointed at her picture and chewed the end of the chalk.

  ‘Is it a duck? Well that’s lovely, and is that the pond?’ I pointed to a squiggle of blue. She smiled and nodded.

  I rested my arms around Steve’s shoulders and kissed the side of his face.

  ‘How’d it go?’ he asked.

  ‘Good. She’s going to let me know when she has a slot available to go on air. I’ve told her I’m starting a campaign to tighten up the UK surrogacy laws. You never know, Brenda might hear it and have a change of heart.’ I gave a pathetic laugh.

  Steve swung round in his chair so he was facing me, his skin slate grey, as though someone had died.

  My heart gave an unsteady leap. ‘How’ve you got on? Has someone replied?’

  ‘I think there might be a lot more to this than we realised.’ The words fell out of his mouth. He stared ahead, not quite at me, but beyond, to somewhere I wasn’t sure I wanted to go.

  ‘What do you mean?’ I scanned the surrogacy forum page.

  ‘There’s more to Malcolm not wanting us to have contact with the twins.’ His voice wavered, fighting to keep tears at bay. I’d only seen him like this once before, when the police caught him speeding.

  ‘How do you know?’ I frowned, my whole body frozen to the spot. He drew in a deep breath.

  ‘There’s a woman on the forum…’ he said, pointing at the screen, taking a shorter breath to carry on, ‘… she… she recognises Malcolm.’

  ‘That’s good, isn’t it? What we wanted.’ I wedged my hands on my hips.

  ‘No. It isn’t.’ He clicked on the message the woman had sent us.

  I leaned forward and read it aloud: “This is the same man who was the intended father of the baby I had last year. His name is Ian Turner. His wife was called Sheila. I gave birth to a boy. They chose not to stay in touch with me, didn’t give a specific reason. Their choice. Nice enough couple. They offered more money than anyone else, so I wasn’t bothered.’

  I stood up straight. ‘I don’t understand. That’s not possible.’ I swept my hand out in front of me. ‘She’s mistaken him for someone else.’

  Steve shook his head, holding me with hollowed-out eyes, sending chills right through my body.

  Chapter Forty-One

  ‘She’s dead certain it’s him,’ Steve said, his face even paler now. I hoped it wasn’t true because I couldn’t even process what it meant for us.

  ‘It’s not the clearest photo though, is it?’

  ‘The one at the hotel is. I was expecting a reply from someone who’d thought about having a baby for them, not someone who’d actually had one.’

  ‘Ask her if this man contacted her first, or was it the other way around? That might tell us something.’

  Steve typed in the question and sent it. Within minutes, the reply came back.

  ‘She says he contacted her. It was the first time she’d posted about wanting to be a surrogate. “Ian” was the first person to reply.’

  ‘Similar to us.’ My vision skittered around the room.

  Steve gave a forlorn nod.

  ‘Ask her to describe him physically or does she have a photo? And what was he like as a person?’

  I paced in a circle round the flat while Steve typed. I racked my brains for answers, reasons why it couldn’t be him. Why would he use a different name to have a baby with another woman, only last year, and where was that baby now? If true, it would mean he’d cheated on Brenda. But no, that was too awful to contemplate. These two men just happened to look similar, surely?

  ‘She’s replied.’ Steve pressed his fingers to his forehead.

  ‘That was quick.’ I darted over to the screen.

  ‘She says: “He was lanky without being really tall. Always immaculately dressed, wore V-neck jumpers, no shirt – trying to pull off that cool middle-aged look. Black hair and designer stubble. Like I said, they
didn’t want to keep in touch. Would have been too painful for me anyway. Clean break was easier. Pleasant bloke, could get moody. Sheila, was lovely and so grateful.”’

  ‘Sounds exactly like him, doesn’t it?’ My voice was almost a whimper. I pictured Malcolm wearing one of his usual V-neck jumpers, without his beard. I shuddered.

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘Ask her if they owe her any money, or if she was paid in full.’

  We waited for her answer. Perhaps she’d gone offline. I held my throat, not wanting to give in to the urge to be sick. How could he have had a baby with another woman, for another woman? Where was Brenda in all this?

  ‘Ask where they lived, if they’ve got an address?’

  He typed it in.

  ‘Here we go. She says they still owe her five grand. They lived in Leeds, but the address will be out of date now because they were moving to Sheffield. She doesn’t know how to go about recovering the money they owe her, because she couldn’t get in touch with them.’

  I let out a breath and sat down. ‘Do you think they ever lived in Leeds? I don’t remember them mentioning it?’

  ‘Maybe he has a second house, for this other family.’

  ‘Oh god. If only Brenda would get back to me. This can’t be right. It must be someone else.’ I stood up again, my hand to my forehead.

  ‘You want to be the one to ask Brenda about it? Don’t be daft.’

  ‘I’d have to tell her. But maybe she’s already found out what he’s been doing and that’s why she’s not been in touch.’

  ‘Hun, I think we need to face the fact that she may be in on it, that they’ve both conned us.’

  I shook my head, trying to take in his words. ‘No! I’m telling you, it can’t be them.’

  ‘We need to keep searching and hope we hear from another surrogate.’

  ‘They wouldn’t do this to me!’ I cried and threw myself on the bed. A slideshow of images played in my mind, the bruise on Brenda’s wrist, the flash of anger in Malcolm’s eyes, him having a baby with someone else and the twins abandoned somewhere, crying for their mummy.