by kendra Smith
15
Suzie
Suzie cleared away the coffee cups and tried to forget about Charlie’s rough fingernails and scruffy clothes. She’d have to teach her a thing or two about how to look after herself if she was going to be carrying her baby. She felt sorry for the poor girl who was clearly at her wits’ end – she looked so delicate, but exhausted. Surely the money would help her.
No one could stop her now. Apart from Rex, she guiltily realised. But she was going to talk to him on Monday night when he was back from his week-long trip to Japan. That was her next challenge. One last frozen embryo. Simple. Charlie had appeared in her life and was about to offer her what she’s always wanted; of course she was.
*
‘Hello, darling, how are you?’ Rex kissed her cheek. ‘What a flight!’ He placed his phone on the counter then turned around. ‘Ta da! These are for you.’ He was holding out a dazzling bunch of lilies. ‘Beautiful flowers for my beautiful wife.’ He grinned at her.
‘Thanks, Rex. You must be shattered.’ Please don’t be too shattered to talk.
Suzie fixed her smile on him as her heart thudded, knowing what she had to discuss. She clutched the flowers, staring at his broad shoulders as he dumped his luggage on the floor.
‘You all right, darling?’ He came over and hugged her.
‘Yes!’ She was getting jumpy. Now that she’d found Charlie nothing would get in her way. She placed the flowers on the draining board then went to the fridge. She opened it quickly and grabbed a bottle of Chablis before she could think too much about what she was about to do. Rex handed her two cut crystal glasses. She poured the wine into the glasses, watched as the sides frosted, then lifted one to her lips and took a large gulp. ‘Listen, Rex, we need to talk. Again.’
‘Why again?’ He touched her on the cheek and took a sip of wine. ‘Nice.’ He lifted the glass up to salute her. ‘Let’s sit down, anyway, sweetheart,’ he said wandering over to the big brown leather sofa at the end of the kitchen. ‘I’m bushed.’
‘Food?’ she asked, standing in front of him. ‘Ramone made—’
‘Nope. Got fed on the plane.’ She sat down next to him on the edge of the sofa and placed her glass on the table and tugged at her hem. ‘Rex, I’ve sort of met this woman.’ Pixie suddenly spotted him and barked excitedly. Rex patted the sofa.
‘No, Rex, he can’t come up.’
‘Poor little Pixie, haven’t seen him all week.’ Rex mock-pouted as the fluffy Chihuahua leapt up onto his lap and he started to stroke it.
Suzie made a mental note to tell Ramone to vacuum the sofa later.
‘Where did you sort-of-meet “this woman”?’ He squeezed her knee playfully and then tickled Pixie under his chin.
She smiled warily. ‘We’ve entered into a bit of a contract.’
Now she had his attention. Rex sat up straighter and his eyes narrowed at the word contract.
‘Well – she knows Dawn—’ she tried to be deliberately vague ‘—and, you see, I spoke to her on the phone—’
‘About what?’ He put his glass down on the table. ‘Look, babe, I’m really tired.’
‘Yes, of course you must be.’ She reached over and stroked his arm. ‘Well, she is a cleaner, actually,’ Suzie started to explain.
‘Suzie,’ Rex cut in sharply, ‘what are you paying her for, darling? You seem very agitated.’
‘Her womb.’
There. She’d said it. It hadn’t come out like she had wanted. Rex’s mouth fell open, but before he could speak, she added: ‘It’s all perfectly legal. Lots of people do it. She’s going to have a baby for us – it’s brilliant, don’t you see? We can fast-track all of this. Charlie will be our surrogate – we don’t have to wait. The lady at the surrogacy agency has talked me through everything. I am going to tell Annie about it tomorrow and see if I can get a few weeks off when the baby is born. I can use up all my holiday pay – sadly they don’t let IPs – that’s Intended Parents, by the way,’ Suzie babbled, ‘I’ve been reading all about it – have maternity leave – yet, but it might be coming. Are you with me?’
‘With you? A-G-ENCY? For God’s sake, Suzie, what have you done while I was away—’ Rex’s nostrils flared and he started to stand up.
‘Please, Rex, can you just listen? It’s all arranged.’ She put a hand on his arm to stop him getting up. ‘We’re going to use our last frozen embryo. It’s no good using my womb.’
‘Christ, Suzie, you’ve got it all planned, haven’t you? Not one word to me! Did you even think about me?’ She watched that bit beside his left eye, which used to twitch when they were waiting for the IVF results.
‘Of course, I did! Darling, that’s all I could think about! We both want a baby, don’t we?’ A surge of air left her lungs. She’d spent days researching which surrogacy agency, was careful to choose one in Southampton, how it all worked, filling in form after form, speaking to the lovely lady there, listening to her soothing voice, hoping with all her heart that this was the solution, reading through the profiles of all the surrogates, but then when they’d left Charlie’s email on the paperwork, it was too good a chance to miss; she’d just taken the matter into her own hands so that she could make her an offer she couldn’t refuse, agency or no agency.
‘Suzie?’ He reached out for her hand. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? We can make a go of this ourselves, can’t we?’
‘No, we can’t!’ She abruptly stood up and walked away. ‘Last time was almost seven long years of trying and nothing; then we stopped. Put it to bed. Thought we’d moved on.’ She turned and walked back. ‘But I haven’t. You agreed last week. You said you’d try again.’
‘I said we’d try again. Now you’re adding someone else,’ he said flatly.
She sat down. ‘I called our old consultant last week. He admitted that if we were to try again, that my womb is fragile – even with all those scratching techniques, the embryo glue – all those things we did last time. We’d stand a better chance with a surrogate. We can’t ignore the miscarriages I’ve had. I’m not getting any younger, Rex, I’m forty-five next birthday – and remember all the problems we—’ she inhaled deeply ‘—both had, how it all started?’ She wanted to tread carefully here.
‘Don’t mention problems! You married me, Suzie. For better, for worse!’ He glared at her. She’d gone too far.
How different from when they first met. She hadn’t been able to take her eyes off him when she’d seen him at that publishing conference in New York. She had left with Rex that night, gone back to his apartment in Brooklyn. They had stayed up all night talking about politics, work, his job, his dreams – until they’d fallen into each other’s arms for some fantastic sex.
She’d woken at 6 a.m. with him next to her sprawled on his king-size bed. She’d scrambled to get to work that day, rushed into the nearest department store, bought some new underwear and a new shirt. The sales assistant had smiled knowingly at her. That had been it. They had seen each other every night that week until she had to fly back. They were both hooked and what started as a long-term relationship changed when he was transferred to London, a whirlwind romance followed by a fairy-tale wedding in Chichester where her parents lived.
And now look at us. Sex has become tinged with ‘making a baby’ – it’s never been the same since.
‘If we do this ourselves, it’s our last chance – and it might not work,’ she pleaded.
‘But surrogacy – Suzie, it’s fraught with complications, surely? We have no idea what’s ahead, this Charlie—’
‘It’s all fine,’ she cut in quickly, hoping with all her heart it would be. ‘She has one healthy child and she can carry another, that’s all we need to know. The agency lined us up. She seemed one of the best, Rex. Trust me. Rex, darling, that frozen embryo – and this surrogate – it’s our only chance.’
‘We’re a partnership, Suzie. I thought we’d work this sort of thing out together,’ he said standing up, then turned back to her, ‘Makes me won
der what else you’ve done that I don’t know about. I’m going to bed.’
Suzie’s brain filled with images of Steve and olives as she watched him leave the room. She felt deeply ashamed of her behaviour that night, but she couldn’t turn the clock back. She got up slowly, walked to the kitchen, rinsed the wine glasses out and laid them on the draining board.
No more mistakes.
*
Later that night when she went to bed, Rex was still awake. As she opened the door to the bedroom, it let a chink of light in and she could see his eyes shining in the dark. She slowly undressed in front of him, slipped on her silk nightie and crept into bed and closed her eyes.
Within a minute he had grabbed her thigh and yanked her around to face away from him. His hands were all over her, he needed to own her – so she let him do what he wanted. She felt numb. But after what she’d just done to him, what did she expect? He was rough with her, but she yielded to him. It was pleasure enough that the sex wasn’t to do with making a baby; in fact, it was almost a release. He ripped at the top of her nightdress and the flimsy silk strap broke, letting her breasts free. He was harsh one minute, then tender; there was both passion and confusion.
Once he was finished, he lay with his head on her chest and quietly sobbed.
She closed her eyes in the dark and stroked his hair. Whatever would she do without Rex? She never wanted to lose him – but is that just where she was headed?
16
Charlie
Tyler’s slumped in front of the TV. I ruffle his hair as I walk past. He ducks. ‘You all right?’ I ask as I pull a few cat hairs off the sofa.
‘Nope. Got sent this.’ He hands me a piece of paper, a notice from the college. The photography course he’s been saving for has increased its fees. They now need a £500 deposit and want a ‘full photography portfolio’ by the end of the academic year – next summer. It’s his dream. A two-year sandwich course, he gets to work in London on a placement at a well-known photographic agency, then complete his diploma. After that there’s every chance he’ll get a job with the company – the college have a 90 per cent take-up of students into industry once they’ve done the course and passed their exams.
I tremble as I think about the money. I know how much he wants to do this, to get away from his part-time job at the chippy. I know how much I want him to do this. Finally, something he’s interested in after failing most of his BTech exams. He seems to have found a skill, a craft he can excel at.
‘Tyler, look, we can work this out.’
‘How? Rob a bank?’ He’s looking up at me. ‘Mum, I know you’re in debt, I know what those guys want; I’ve lived with it for years now. I’m not stupid. We can’t afford it – and I know, I know how hard you work to try and pay it all back. Before you say anything, I just wished I earned more money – but it’s OK.’
‘It’s not OK!’ I find myself shouting. ‘I don’t want you to end up like me in a dead-end job, cleaning for a living. Trust me, it sucks.’
As I say this, I realise that not only will he need the course fees, he’ll also need a proper camera for a portfolio like that and they’re hundreds of pounds. I sigh.
‘Oh Tyler, look—’
‘Don’t worry, Mum, I’ll just keep working at the chippy.’ He presses the volume on the remote.
He hates his job at the local fish and chip shop. God knows how he puts up with the smell.
‘I’ve got some news,’ I blurt out. ‘I wasn’t going to tell you till I knew a bit more, but, listen, I’m going to make some money.’
The late October sun is slicing through the windows, throwing shafts of light across the carpet and filtering across the TV table. I stare at the layers of dust on the table, the dirty coffee cups, the cobwebs on the windows highlighted beautifully by the rays of sun and the paint peeling off the wall.
I don’t want Tyler to end up like this. I want him to feel that life can be good. That there is potential out there if you work hard, that it’s not always the case that when you get up, life slaps you back down. That you can escape from living on the edge of our neighbouring housing estate and everything it stands for. That it’s OK not to know who your father is, that even if you have a mum who’s a part-time cleaner with several jobs, things might turn out OK. That you might get a second chance.
‘I’ve been offered a sort of job.’ He turns to look at me.
‘’Nother cleaning job?’ He stands up and turns off the TV and smiles at me. ‘You’re always knackered, Mum.’
‘No. Something a bit different, more like a contract to, well, to do something for someone else,’ I say it brightly, even though I don’t feel very bright.
‘Mum… not, not… you know, like an escort?’ He narrows his eyes at me. ‘I know you loved Fifty Shades and all that, Mum, but really, life’s not like that – it’s dangerous…’
‘No! Don’t be silly, I’m not that desperate for money. No, it’s a transaction between me and another woman.’
‘What you gonna do for her?’ He frowns at me, his dark fringe hiding his eyes. He flicks it off his face and juts his chin out. Always suspicious. I suppose that’s the life he’s led so far. Who wouldn’t be suspicious if you’d had garbage put through your letterbox as a ‘warning’ from loan sharks?
‘I’m going to have her baby.’
There. I’ve said it. Tyler’s mouth opens like a goldfish and he stares straight at me.
I don’t know why but I hold my hand up, determined to explain to him. ‘The only thing going for me right now is that I’m young, fertile and healthy. I’m going to the agency tomorrow to discuss it all.’
‘Mum? Are you mad? What will my mates think?’ His cheeks flush red.
‘Your friends? I don’t care, Tyler, we need the money…’
‘They’ll think you’re up the duff with some bloke. They know you’re not married. God, sometimes I hate my life – why can’t we be a normal family? You’re getting pregnant by some stranger. I don’t even have a dad around. Jesus, Mum.’
I take a deep breath. If only he knew.
He looks at me through his fringe. ‘What a mess!’
It’s like a knife cutting through me. I almost want to burst into tears, but I can’t. After all the sacrifices I’ve made for him, the hours of low-paid work, selling my only piece of jewellery that had belonged to my birth mother – your mother’s wedding ring? the man in the shop had queried. To think of how it all began, of what should have happened to Tyler… I shake myself.
‘Tyler! It means we can pay your college deposit by the end of the week.’
‘Forget it, Mum.’ He grabs his tatty black leather jacket from the back of a chair. ‘Not with you doing that!’
I stare out the grimy windowpane and shudder as he slams the door shut. I’m doing this all for him. I want to be the mum who has done things right. I want him not to have been bullied at school for his second-hand clothes when he was thirteen and for that scar across his left cheek to go away – from when he took one across the face for his ‘loser clothes’. I want to make up for him not having a dad around, to make up for never being able to afford anything he really wants… to make up, for well, this life I’ve made for him. That nagging thought is gathering pace. Why is everything going so horribly wrong?
17
Dawn
Dawn drove up the familiar gravel drive to Hollycombe School and shivered as she passed the dark blue sign with the school’s crest etched in gold. Ora Pro Nobis – Pray For Us. That might be a bloody good idea. All week she’d been arriving early so that she didn’t have to meet any other mums, but today was an assembly service she had to attend. What on earth was she going to say? Oh yes, the no-knicker dinner party – what a hoot! Thought everyone was doing it these days! I was just looking for my mojo – seen it, anyone?
She crept quickly into the chapel and enjoyed the peaceful semi-darkness.
‘Hello, Dawn!’ She jumped. ‘How are you? Feeling a little less light-headed, darlin
g?’ Victoria whispered loudly to her. Dawn wanted the floor to open up or at least maybe some of those cushions in the chapel to become the size of beanbags and swallow her up like Pac-Man.
Normally she liked it in there. It was decorated with beautiful stained-glass windows, the air was calmer, denser and comforting; you felt cocooned, taken away from the real world with lesser mortals in it. But not today. Today there was no cocooning. She was bait.
Victoria was in the pew in front of Dawn, sitting bolt upright and wearing a smart navy jacket – no cat hairs on her clothing. Dawn hurriedly brushed some stray hairs from her dress. A shiver went through her as she thought about the dinner party. About the knickers, or rather, no knickers. Eric was still furious. When they’d got home he’d put her straight to bed after struggling, she remembered blearily, with her gingham pyjamas. He told her in the morning that she’d been calling him Bunnykins in front of the babysitter.
He’d been really funny with her after that. She could understand it for a few days, but he’d really taken it quite badly. And last Friday night he was out again. A little niggle started to form in her brain, one she didn’t really want to entertain, so she quickly shook it off. Best to delete the whole episode from her mind. She stuck her chin out and sat up. Yes. That’s it.
But within minutes she noticed The Baking Queen Bee whispering to her neighbour. Quickly, the other woman turned around, looked at Dawn and put her hand up to her mouth. She was probably telling her that Dawn Hughes, in the row behind – yes do have a little peek when we’re singing the hymns – had flashed All That Should Remain Hidden at a dinner party!