A Year of Second Chances

by kendra Smith

  His eyes widened and she could see the tiny flecks of hazel amongst the green. He picked Pixie up and moved him to the side.

  ‘Suzie, we agreed all those months ago that we would leave this; we’d get our life back.’

  ‘Yes, well, we didn’t really resolve it; we just put it on hold, didn’t we? But I want to try again.’

  Rex turned to her and stroked her arm. ‘Darling, remember what the doctors said about your weight, the pregnancy working, the embryo even attaching. And I know, I know there is stuff we can do, like we did the last time, the time-lapse imaging, the blood transfusions – all of it – even at eight thousand pounds.’ He sighed. ‘Suzie, I’d spend another eighteen thousand if I thought we’d get pregnant, but it looks like we can’t. What about looking at adoption again, darling. I know it came to a dead end last time but—’

  ‘Rex, no. All that red tape and then, and then… Look, I want my baby, Rex – our baby.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Please, Rex, can you just listen? I really want to try again. We both want our baby, surely? I just can’t leave that frozen embryo. And as we had that argument last time, the clinic said we had a year to make up our mind. Remember? That if we don’t agree it will be—’ she could hardly say it ‘—destroyed?’ He was rubbing the top of her neck with his thumb. ‘I just want another chance.’

  She didn’t want to delve back into the blame game. But it was ironic when you thought about it; you couldn’t get anyone more masculine than Rex. Here was this strapping six foot three all-male hunk, broad shoulders who seemingly had testosterone pumping round his system instead of blood. She had nearly fainted when she first saw him all those years ago at a ‘Finance & Publishing’ conference in New York. There was hope, the consultant had said, keep trying, he said, he knew couples who had found themselves pregnant after years of trying.

  His mobile rang. It was lying on the table in front of them and he glanced at the screen.

  ‘Leave it, Rex.’

  He looked over at her and nodded. ‘OK, but I need to call Martin later – he’s been shadowing me, working in my absence when I’ve had to go away – he knows a lot about that deal in China. It’s almost like he doesn’t need me. I think he’ll be fine when I’m away in Japan next week.’ Rex frowned at the phone.

  Precisely. We can outsource these things. Who says that you always have to do the work yourself? The idea she had was gathering force.

  ‘Rex? Darling?’ She leant her head against his warm, comforting shoulder.

  ‘All right, sweetheart, all right, one last time,’ he said, and planted a kiss on the top of her head and put his arm around her. He smelt of sandalwood soap.

  She took a deep breath and smiled to herself. She really did love him. First hurdle over – he had agreed.

  It wasn’t the time to tell him that there would be three of them trying for a baby this time.

  12

  Dawn

  ‘So, Dawn, tell us what your porn name would be – remember, it’s your first pet’s name and your street name from your first house.’ They’d all been playing ‘Porn Names’, some party game that their host Andrew swore would ‘get the party started’. His words.

  Dawn shifted nervously in her seat. She really didn’t like being centre of attention; she hadn’t expected party games.

  ‘Um, Bunnykins Primrose.’

  The whole room burst out laughing. ‘Oh, Dawn, that’s hilarious!’ screamed Victoria. Dawn tried to smile. Her mouth was dry and her lips stuck to her teeth. ‘Tell me you owned a rabbit as your fist pet!

  ‘Yes, yes, we did, it was a Dwarf Lop, actually, cute little thing, not dwarf-like at all—’

  ‘We had horses,’ cut in Victoria as she cast her eyes around the table. ‘Used to ride every day when I was growing up.’ She flashed a smile at her audience.

  Yes, of course she did. Good God, not only was there competitive baking; now they had competitive pet owning. Dawn picked up her glass and knocked back the rest of her red wine. Just as swiftly, Andrew poured her some more – they really were marvellous hosts.

  One of the ladies next to her, she couldn’t quite remember what her name was, nor what she did – probably a human rights lawyer – turned to her and smiled.

  ‘What line of work do you do, Dawn?’

  She was stumped. Here we go again. I have a diploma in removing stains from Eric’s shirts, an A-level in bed making and an IB, which combines majoring in reheating tomato soup, online grocery ordering, sewing on name tapes and my minor subject is sending Christmas cards to all Eric’s relatives who don’t bother to reply.

  ‘I studied history or art, but um, then I ended up being a florist – long story. Loved that job. But now I stay at home.’

  ‘How lovely.’

  Dawn studied the red lips of her neighbour and something snapped. ‘Actually, it’s not “lovely”, and I do work, I work very, very hard.’ Eric glanced over at her and his eyes widened. He put a finger up to his lips, as if to shush her. That did it.

  ‘Yes, I wash,’ she shouted, ‘I clean, I iron, I do the school run – that in itself is a marathon with those traffic lights at Chesterbrook junction – and I cook, yes I do.’ Suddenly she stood up. ‘I cook from scratch, I use only ORGANIC ingredients, and I clean muddy shin pads!’ she hissed, then collapsed back in her chair. The room fell silent.

  Andrew came to her rescue. He came over to her, poured her more wine and squeezed her shoulder with his other hand. ‘Really, Dawn, it’s just amazing what you mothers do,’ he announced to the table. ‘I think being a stay-at-home mum is much harder than working!’ Everyone murmured their consent and slowly people started to chatter again.

  As the evening wore on, Dawn wondered what had got into her. Hormones? She decided not to let it stop her from enjoying the evening. After a while, and after several glasses of wine, she discovered that the party games were getting funnier and funnier. Quite hilarious, actually, despite the haughty Victoria presiding over the table and despite her own little outburst.

  The last game was charades. She loved charades! Eric would never play it at Christmas. Boring old fart she’d called him one year, which hadn’t gone down well at all. She was in front of everyone trying to mime Jurassic World – tricky. She had managed to explain that it was two words and she was bouncing around the floor, attempting to look like a dinosaur, roaring loudly – why weren’t they getting it? – especially difficult in a lilac skirt and low-cut blouse. She might have even let out a snort. Everyone was on the sofa cheering her on. ‘Go, Dawn!’ She was having some problems with ‘Jurassic’.

  But just as she tried to get on all fours, the heel broke on her shoe and she slipped. Without realising, her skirt had shifted and was right up her backside. Which would have been fine if she had just flashed her knickers, she remembered hazily, but which was totally not fine in Eric’s book as she flashed a whole lot more in the spirit of the Wear No Knickers Challenge.

  The last thing she remembered as Eric came rushing over to her to pull her skirt down was shouting, ‘It’s been a kick-ass evening!’

  13

  Suzie

  ‘Oh my God, that’s hilarious!’ Suzie wiped the tears away from her eyes and poured Dawn more coffee. Dawn had really lifted her spirits telling her about her dreadful evening. What had got into her?

  They were sitting in her twenty-five foot kitchen, a converted barn, with its beautiful pale mint-coloured woodwork cupboards, a huge range gleaming at the side and a glittering crystal chandelier that hung way above their heads. Its beams were one of the features that had sold the house to Suzie. After London, it just seemed so perfect, so rustic. It was set on a hill just on the outskirts of the village, overlooking Chesterbrook, the church spire poking up through the horizon. The views had been one of the many things that had attracted her and Rex to the house. That, and its ‘family’ feel, according to all the brochures. Ouch. Pink orchids were perched in a silver vase and the whole place looked just as it
should. Suzie smiled to herself.

  She surveyed all her teacups lined up on the shelf. She’d had to explain to Ramone that she liked them to line up in the order of the rainbow, red first, then orange… She’d tried to explain ‘Richard of York’, but gave up when Ramone asked for the second time if Richard was her uncle.

  Rex had teased her about them. She let her mind wander to Rex, to his beautiful laugh, remembered how he’d pulled her close, when she’d been placing the teacups in order, smiled at her and said: ‘You can have any teacups you want, dear lady.’ And had then planted a kiss on her lips, reached his hand up under her blouse and they’d had sex right there in the kitchen.

  She pulled up her sleeve, and felt herself blush. Rex had wanted to have sex in every room of the house when they’d first moved in. When they were happy, carefree – when they had still had hope. She tucked some hair behind her ears and remembered where she was.

  ‘Well, can you imagine?’ Dawn pulled her back to the present. ‘I’ve never been so embarrassed in all my life!’ Dawn put down her coffee cup and looked at her. ‘Eric won’t speak to me!’ Dawn rolled her eyes. ‘I’ll never live this down.’

  Suzie felt a pang of pity for her dear friend.

  ‘Yes you will – hold your head up high! But what made you do it, Dawn? It’s not like you at all.’ Suzie reached over and squeezed her arm.

  ‘No well, that’s the thing, I’m sort of trying to not be me…’ Dawn’s face fell and Suzie pushed the plate of brownies towards her. She had absolutely no intention of eating them herself, and no idea what Dawn was talking about. She nudged the plate closer. Ramone had made the brownies, very kind of him. He was trying to bake his way through one of her cookbooks and cheer her up a bit; but her feeling that she was useless as a fertile woman was, frankly, something a gay Spanish au pair could know nothing about.

  ‘I was after the thrill, Suzie.’ Dawn tore a brownie in two. ‘Actually, I’ve been wondering lately…’ she began. ‘This is delicious by the way – there’s a taste in there I can’t quite place, but it’s nice.’ She shrugged.

  ‘Mayonnaise.’ Suzie said.

  ‘Yes, well,’ carried on Dawn, frowning, ‘I’ve been wondering what on earth I’ve done with my life. I’m fifty next year – and what have I got to show for it? I couldn’t even bake these if I tried… maybe I should try… mayonnaise? But there’s always Victoria somewhere around – she wins every competition.’

  ‘Dawn!’ Suzie snapped at her. ‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’ve got a bloody good marriage for a start and TWO kids.’ Suzie was cross with her and couldn’t help it. ‘Even if you can’t bake to save your life.’

  Dawn looked at her and they both burst out laughing. ‘Anyway,’ Dawn sighed, ‘tell me why I’m here.’ She folded her arms across her chest.

  ‘Remember I said I’d been doing some research and—’

  ‘About that guy?’

  ‘No, no—’ But before she could finish, the doorbell went. Suzie sat bolt upright.

  ‘Oh God, she’s here!’

  ‘Who’s here?’

  ‘I’ll explain in a minute…’

  Suzie marched to the door, ready to welcome this new person into her life. She’d been up all night worrying about it, wondering if she’d done the right thing. But it was her life, wasn’t it? She and Rex couldn’t achieve what they really wanted, despite all the money they had. But perhaps this woman could. She wanted Dawn for a second opinion. She’d read through loads of profiles the clinic had sent – and there were a few that sounded hopeful, but this one, this one not only sounded hopeful, she’d also left her email address on the form by mistake! And she was one of a list of five who were local to her, so much the better!

  Suzie had emailed her. Just got on with it and had waited with bated breath for an email back. Then a phone call. And now she was about to open the door onto this wonderful, generous woman who might change her life forever.

  As Suzie opened the door it was all she could do to keep the smile fixed on her face. There, standing in front of her, was the frazzled-looking cleaner from the gym. Not her! Last time she’d been at the café, she’d given her a dirty teaspoon and the cup and saucer didn’t match. Honestly! Not only that, she also seemed to have got dressed in the dark. What was she wearing?

  14

  Charlie

  I’m standing at the doorway of an enormous, stunning house with floor-to-ceiling glass windows at the front, oak beams and one of the biggest driveways I’ve ever had to trudge up. I took the only bus from near the estate about an hour ago, which wiggled a few miles out of Chesterbrook. I glance around the grounds – there’s even a tennis court. Maybe her husband’s a footballer. I press the bell and not long after the door opens.

  ‘Come in, er, Charlie, isn’t it?’ The woman opposite me is immaculate – and so thin! Her hair’s a long brown glossy mane, swept over to one side. She’s wearing full make-up including lipstick (lipstick, at 9 a.m.!), and has fluttery false eyelashes. She’s in a smart dress with a black knitted polo-neck underneath and a chunky gold necklace. She looks like she’s about to go onto the set of The Apprentice, not her own kitchen.

  ‘Hiya! Shall I take my shoes off?’ I smile at her but she doesn’t smile back. I suppose I’d better – this place looks like it’s vacuumed every hour. I bend over to take my shoes off and knock the coat stand over. ‘Sorry!’

  ‘No problem, er, I’m Suzie, we spoke on the phone.’ And she puts out a hand to catch the coat stand. Once she steadies it, she puts her other hand out for me to shake. I smile at her and she briefly shakes my hand then swishes round and marches off. I follow her into the kitchen, across a marble floor that amazingly, is warm.

  At the table I spot Dawn, who quickly sits upright in her chair.

  ‘Oh, it’s you!’ Dawn stands up to give me a hug as I come over. She smells so nice, something like lavender. I take a seat next to her and she pats my knee.

  ‘You two know each other?’ Suzie seems baffled.

  ‘Um, well yes, we, er bumped into each other in the supermarket,’ cuts in Dawn quickly and winks at me.

  What a laugh. I smile at Dawn. Your secret is safe with me.

  ‘Right, who wants more coffee?’ Dawn gets to her feet.

  ‘No, no!’ Suzie snaps. ‘Sit down, there’s some in the pot.’ She reaches out and pours me a coffee into a fresh white china cup and refills Dawn’s. ‘I want you to hear what, um, Charlie and I have agreed to. Run something by you.’

  ‘All right.’ Dawn nods, folding her arms across her chest.

  There’s a plate of gooey brownies on the table. Suzie pushes the plate towards me. I reach out and shove one in my mouth.

  ‘Sorry. Didn’t have time for breakfast. Mmm, they’re delicious!’

  ‘What have you two planned, then?’ Dawn looks at us both.

  ‘Well, I was just telling you when the doorbell went, so, I’ve done lots of research, and I spent about an hour on the phone to the agency, who sent me got loads of profiles to look through, but then—’

  ‘Listen, Suzie, can we hurry up?’ I say, as crumbs drop from my mouth. I glance at my watch – it’s going to take ages to get back. I hadn’t realised how long the bus would take. ‘I’ve got my cleaning job to get to at ten, so if you don’t mind?’ I look pointedly at her and reach for another brownie. There’s a taste in them I can’t place. She isn’t saying anything so I get on with it.

  ‘Look, Dawn, the thing is, Suzie here wants a baby, and I want money,’ I begin. ‘Right?’ I take a sip of coffee. It’s delicious.

  ‘Yes,’ replies Suzie calmly as Dawn starts to cough on a mouthful of coffee.

  ‘Then let’s do it,’ I say putting my cup down. ‘We agree the sum and the deal is I can have the baby for you and you give me the cash. I’m in a mess right now. I’ve got a teenage son who is living at home and costing me a fortune, a crappy job as a cleaner and mounting debts.’ I don’t mention that the debts are from a loan shark.
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br />   ‘But Charlie—’ Dawn begins.

  ‘Listen, I’m not like you two.’ I glance around the kitchen and hold my head up. ‘But here’s the point: I do have one thing your fancy friend here wants: fertility – and I’m very happy to sell it.’ I pull my shoulders back in what I hope is an assertive move. I am determined to turn things around, get out of debt, help Tyler. The job’s practically mine, Suzie told me on the phone. We just needed to meet. ‘And I’ve…’ I stop mid-sentence. I don’t want to go there. ‘Never mind,’ I stop.

  They are both staring at me.

  ‘What does your son think of this?’ asks Dawn gently.

  I don’t want to answer this question. ‘Well, he’s a bit of a tricky teenager about a lot of things, but I think he’ll be fine when he gets used to it. Let’s just put it like that.’ I smile at both of them. ‘But I love him to bits, too much sometimes, I think.’

  ‘You must have had him quite young?’ Suzie asks.

  My cheeks start to flush. ‘Yes, yes, I did, I was eighteen – anyway, what do you think?’

  ‘Sound like a good deal to me,’ says Suzie. ‘The IVF clinic have agreed to me using the last frozen embryo with a surrogate. And I’ve looked up the surrogacy agency’s terms and conditions: they suggested about £13,000 – that’s for expenses and they said that paying for expenses was absolutely legal, but that no other money should change hands. But, as we both know—’ Suzie looks over at me ‘—we’ve come to a private figure, just between us.’

  Yes, £20,000, that’s why I’m here.

  Suzie had called me yesterday, after I’d emailed her back, explaining that it would help both of us. She’d chosen a surrogacy agency in Southampton. It was illegal, she said apparently, to offer more than expenses – and on paper it would only look like she had given me that – but she planned to give me cash instalments to pay for clothes, equipment and so on – but it will also clear the arrears on my rent, pay for Tyler’s deposit for his course and his first-year fees – and give me back some freedom. We just have to go through the interview with the agency, pretend we didn’t meet already, keep in touch with the – what did Suzie call them? Client managers – they appoint to us, fill in some forms – and I just have to let them pop in an embryo and carry her baby for nine months. It’ll be easy. Won’t it?