by Linda Huber
Caro walked briskly through the park and emerged by the traffic lights at the bottom of the High Street. Where should she go first? There were summer sales all over the place now. She stopped for the red man, feeling herself slump inside. Shopping was just a pathetic attempt to distract herself from the disastrous turn her life had taken. She’d used up a lifetime of emotion in four short days, but now she needed to focus, decide what to do. Stay in childless comfort with Jeff, or…
Caro welled up again. The one, the only important thing in her life was – the no-baby. What was she going to do?
The lights changed and she started up the High Street, glancing at Cybersonics on the other side of the road to see if Jeff was anywhere near the front window. He wasn’t, and she walked on quickly, feeling guilty. Only last week she’d have gone in, asked if he wanted a lunchtime sandwich too, suggested they go to the park together. It wasn’t that she didn’t like him. Caro swallowed hard.
Wanting – needing – to be a mother was an absolute gut feeling, as much a part of her as her need for oxygen, food and water. A baby was utterly and completely necessary for her future happiness. But so was being able to give her child – children – everything she’d never had herself and that simply wasn’t possible as a single mother on the salary she was on. So Jeff was a necessary part of the family planning, whether he was fertile or not. And the chance that he’d agree to donor artificial insemination was zero. Maybe she should try IVF.
On the other hand, Jeff was showing her clearly that while he wanted them to recover from this near-fatal blow, all that was really important to him was that she shouldn’t leave him. He wasn’t taking her wish for a baby seriously. She’d lost the husband she’d thought she had and her comfortable marriage was beginning to feel like a prison sentence.
Jealousy and despair fighting for top place in her head, Caro pretended to stare into the sandwich shop window while she blinked the tears away. Jeff had everything. His own business, great prospects, and the home they shared now was his dream-come-true. Yet like hers, his start in life hadn’t been the best. His mum had run off when he was ten and his dad started out on a series of live-in girlfriends, which only ended when he was killed in an industrial accident. Jeff went off the rails a bit then, and spent his teens living with his gran and his younger brother whilst having some pretty intensive counselling. In an odd way, Caro found this reassuring. He wasn’t perfect and he hadn’t always been rich. He’d had a dream too, and he’d achieved it – but now his dream was turning into Caro’s worst nightmare.
Pushing the dark thoughts away, Caro went into the Puff Pastry and bought her lunch, then walked around the corner to the little square at the back of the High Street, where some jaded-looking benches were grouped round a patch of grubby gravel, flowers in tubs cheering the place up in all four corners. It was a popular spot to have lunch. The houses round about it were uniform grey stone tenements with door less, tunnel-like entrances opening onto the square, but it was amazing what a difference a few flowers and some sunshine could make. Caro had grown up here, her old home was right up there in the corner of the east side of the square. It hadn’t been the happiest time of her life. She sat down on an empty bench and tried to pretend she was in Paris, lunching on the Champs Élysées without a care in the world. If only.
Egg and cress eaten, Caro dusted the crumbs from her front and dropped the sandwich packet into the bin by the bench. Now to spend some of Jeff’s hard earned cash. She was walking back across the square when a glint of glass in the sunlight caught her eye – no, it wasn’t glass; it was shiny plastic, one of those tiny bags that sealed themselves across the top when you pressed the sides together. It was lying on the ground beside a tub of petunias. Caro poked it with her foot, then picked it up.
There were five orange pills in the bag and Caro stared. They looked like – her throat went dry – they looked very like the pills she’d seen on a television documentary last week and those had been ecstasy. Was that even possible – a bag of drugs lying in the sunshine in Mortimer Square?
She looked round nervously. A couple of teenagers were sitting on the backrest of a bench on the other side of the square and two middle-aged women on the next bench were busy comparing what they’d just bought at Mirabelle’s, but none of them were paying any attention to her and no-one looked as if they’d lost five ecstasy tablets. Caro closed her fist around the bag and turned towards the High Street, her heart thumping.
What on earth should she do now? Take the pills to the police? That was the logical thing, but for a moment Caro stood still, frustration welling inside her. Bloody hell, could nothing go right in her life? By the time she handed over the pills and made a statement or whatever, it would be time to go back to work. Her shopping trip had ended before it began.
‘They’re mine. Give them back. Right now.’
The voice came from behind, and Caro swung round to see a youth of about eighteen, a boy, almost, with short bleached hair and a poor complexion. Hands thrust deep into the pockets of his shapeless hoody, he moved round her when she stopped, blocking the way to the High Street.
Caro’s mouth went dry. He was bigger than she was, and there was an aggressive, aggrieved look on his face.
‘What – what do you mean?’ Her voice had gone hoarse. Surely he wasn’t going to mug her? This was the middle of town, practically on the High Street and there were people nearby. But would anyone come to help her if she screamed? Her legs started to shake.
The boy smiled nastily. ‘Them pills. They’re mine and you took them. That’s stealing, Missus. That’s wrong.’
Caro was too afraid to feel relief, but a tiny ray of hope allowed her to speak more steadily. He only wanted the pills. ‘It’s not, you know. I was going to hand them in at the police station. How was I to know they were yours?’
‘Stealing,’ said the boy firmly. He gripped her arm with shocking suddenness.
Anger chased the last of the fear from Caro’s mind. The little wretch could go to hell and back as far as she was concerned. He was making a big mistake trying to accost her, because nothing could possibly hurt her more than the news about the no-baby – she didn’t give a toss what this little thug did with his pitiful haul of E. Trembling with anger, she wrenched her arm from his grasp and flung the bag of pills to the ground at his feet, noticing with grim satisfaction the sudden shock on his face. She pressed her advantage home.
‘Take your precious pills, then. I hope they choke you. But just you remember what’s right and what’s wrong, and remember too that not everyone’s afraid of pathetic little yobs like you.’
His face livid, the boy swiped up the pills and raced back to the High Street.
Caro stood taking deep breaths. Now that the encounter was over, she felt almost as shaky as she had at the clinic on Friday.
‘Are you all right, love? We saw what happened.’
It was the women who’d been on the square.
Caro swallowed. ‘I’m fine, thanks. He was just being obnoxious.’
The woman patted her shoulder. ‘You did the right thing. No use risking getting mugged. Will you be okay on your own?’
Caro managed a smile and a few more reassuring words and they went on their respective ways. They boy was nowhere to be seen on the High Street, and Caro heaved an enormous sigh of relief. What a horrible thing to happen. She would go back to the Puff Pastry and get herself a cup of something hot. Chocolate with cream on top. Comfort food.
Determinedly, she went on with her shopping expedition, even buying the trousers in Mirabelle’s. So it wasn’t quite a ruined lunch hour, though she still felt jittery. But what she’d said to that little tyke was true. She wasn’t afraid of him, because the worst had already happened in her life. The shattered dream. No baby.
It wasn’t until she was nearly back at the salesroom that another train of thought started in Caro’s mind. That boy. He was just a kid, really. A kid on E? Was he a dealer or a user? Whichever it was, he ne
eded help and all she’d done was fling five pills back at him, enough to end his life if he took them all at once. But then, he wouldn’t. He would sell them and get enough money to buy more pills to sell on again to some other stupid kids. How would she feel if they were her kids? Maybe she should still report the incident. But it was ten to two; she didn’t have time before work now.
Her feet carried on past the police station, not stopping until she was back at her desk in the salesroom reception.
‘Good shop?’ said Louise. ‘It was mobbed here, four blokes all wanting test drives. I’ve only just sat down. What did you buy?’
Caro took a deep breath and produced the trousers, saying nothing about the incident with the boy. She would go to the police on the way home.
Work kept her occupied until six, when she and Louise left the salesroom together. Caro hesitated. Left to the police station, or right to the bus stop and home and Jeff and the no-baby?
‘Forgotten the way?’ said Louise, laughing, and Caro made herself laugh too.
‘Silly. Well – see you tomorrow. Love to Anja.’
She turned right and walked towards the bus stop. This was the best way. Least said, soonest mended. Just forget the whole nasty business.
Sharon
‘Are you feeling better now? Shall I get you something to eat?’
Craig was hovering in the doorway. Sharon sat up slowly, glancing at the alarm clock on the bedside table. She had slept for a good two hours after her dizzy turn in the High Street.
‘Maybe just a cup of tea and some toast. I’m not hungry,’ she said. ‘I’ll come through and blob on the sofa for a bit. You should have gone back to work, Craig. I’m fine.’
‘Oh, for pity’s sake – first you wouldn’t phone the midwife, now I’ve done the wrong thing again.’
The exasperation in his voice was undisguised and Sharon blinked at him miserably. He wasn’t enjoying this any more than she was, and who could blame him?
The peeved tone was still there when he spoke again. ‘You should go back to bed after your tea. You’re pregnant, you’re allowed to have proper naps.’
‘I’ve just had a nap,’ she snapped. Hell. She was back to sounding like a hormonal teenie, moaning because a parent wanted her to go to bed early. Except Craig wasn’t her parent, and having her husband suggest bed for a ‘proper nap’ was doing exactly nothing for her self-esteem. She must look really knackered.
They would have to talk about the whole having-a-baby situation. It was pitiful, the way they were behaving; it had been non-communication from the day and hour she’d told him she was pregnant. Craig hated confrontation, and she’d been trying to get her head round the fact that in eight months’ time she was going weigh at least ten kilos more and would need a babysitter when she wanted to go anywhere. It had been downhill all the way from there.
Sharon pushed her feet into the pink flip-flops she wore about the flat, noticing with resignation that her ankles were swollen. Brilliant, her feet looked like they belonged to a hippopotamus now. She shuffled through to the kitchen and sat at the breakfast bar while Craig stuffed two slices of bread into the toaster.
She didn’t know how to start talking to him anymore. Before she stopped work she would have started with the funny and exasperating things her students had said that day. But now the highlight of her week was tidying the bathroom cabinet, and who wanted to laugh about that? And the only ‘date’ on their horizon was the last antenatal class tomorrow evening, when they were going to have a labour and birth rehearsal. Not exactly sexy, was it?
Sharon watched glumly as Craig spread her toast with cottage cheese, put it on a tray with a cup of tea and a glass of juice, then carried it through to the living area for her. He wouldn’t have done that before her pregnancy, what did it mean that he was doing it now? She eased herself into the blue squidginess of the sofa and lifted a piece of toast. Yet another meal for one.
‘I’ll go back to the shop for a bit now,’ said Craig, pulling his jacket on. ‘Hey, I thought we could go for dinner tomorrow after the antenatal class?’
Sharon stared. It seemed an odd thing to suggest after she’d practically conked out on the High Street – he was back to ignoring the whole nasty business now she was better. But on the other hand, a meal out sounded like a win-win situation. Best case, they could talk, and worst, she wouldn’t have to play the dutiful housewife and produce dinner.
She smiled at Craig. ‘Good idea. Let’s go to Oscar’s and have fish dips.’
The flat door banged shut behind him, and Sharon lifted her second slice of toast. Did all expectant parents go through the same kind of ups and downs? Or only expectant parents who hadn’t wanted a baby yet? And here she was, home alone again.
At least tomorrow she’d have plenty to do. She hadn’t told Craig about her planned lunch with the woman from the library. Maybe talking to Julie would give her some ideas about how to cope with a baby. Sharon pulled a sudden face. Julie appeared to be a single parent existing on what must be a lowish income, and coping brilliantly. They couldn’t have much in common – she hadn’t missed the shocked expression on the Julie’s face when the other woman realised that Sharon would prefer not to be having a baby… Maybe it wouldn’t be much of a fun lunch after all.
Jeff
The house was silent. Jeff dropped his car key on the hall table and went through to the kitchen. He was home first when he had a normal day shift, so dinner preparations were usually down to him. Actually, at the moment it felt like everything else around here was down to him, finding a baby to adopt being top of the list. He banged two pans on the stove and grabbed a packet of spaghetti and a jar of sauce from the cupboard. It wasn’t exactly gourmet grub, but after the previous night’s fiasco he didn’t feel like cooking. Saving his marriage was more important.
Caro arrived home and one look at her face was enough to freeze Jeff. Her lips were that thin way, like she was trying not to rant about something, and she barely met his eyes when she came into the kitchen.
‘Spag bol okay?’ he managed, emptying the sauce into a pan.
‘Fine.’ She went upstairs, but when she came down again she hadn’t changed into something comfy or glamorous for the evening, like she used to – before Black Friday.
Jeff drained the spaghetti. ‘Let’s watch the news. Big day in parliament, apparently.’
He tried to sound casual, but Caro only lifted the glasses and cutlery and went to put the TV on.
Jeff went to the fridge for the parmesan. At least with the news on he wouldn’t have to make an effort to chat. And Caro certainly wasn’t conversing, or even having a moan like she often did after a strenuous day. That bloody doctor – he should have told them more gently. Caro was still in a blue funk, Jeff could tell. At least he had started the baby-finding process, and the amount of information you could find on Twitter was mind-boggling. Jeff had gone into several serious – he hoped – forums about adoption and surrogacy, and posted a tentative query on each. Maybe he should tell Caro about it? But no – not until he found the baby, then she’d be all the more delighted. He couldn’t wait to see her face.
Jeff dished up and took the plates through, but something stopped him joining her on the sofa tonight. He watched glumly from the armchair as the newsreader started an item about two teenagers who’d been caught in Indonesia with several condoms of heroin inside them, and how they could end up with long prison, or even death, sentences. Some pretty disgusting footage of drug addicts in a far-off city was shown, and Caro made a shaky, throaty sound. Jeff turned to stare, but she was on her feet, running from the room.
He slid his half-full plate onto the coffee table. They couldn’t go on like this. He had to fix things, or he would lose Caro and that Could. Not. Happen. Heart in his mouth, he followed her upstairs.
Caro was standing at the bedroom window, staring out at a couple of teenagers lounging around smoking at the end of the street.
Jeff joined her. ‘Okay, love?
Look at those two. It’s yobs like them that give the place a bad name. This used to be a…’
Caro turned on him, a vicious expression on her face. ‘You don’t know a thing about them! That’s Tom and Jay and they’re just kids. They have decent homes and with a bit of luck they’ll be fine. Not like those kids on the news – they’ll have been surrounded all their lives by people who don’t give a shit about them. And you don’t give a shit either, do you Jeff? About kids. Well, I do. And I just wish I’d never…’
She stopped there and glared at him with an expression that was somehow both furious and heartbroken, and then she marched downstairs. He heard her scraping the abandoned spaghetti into the bin.
Jeff leaned his head on the window. He had to find a baby very quickly. This urge for a child of her own was making Caro positively irrational.
4
Julie
Julie jogged down the High Street, Amy’s buggy rattling in front of her. It was fortunate she was one of those people who could get by on five hours’ sleep, because nowadays she didn’t often get more. Last night had been a real bummer, with Sam up for hours after a nightmare, and Amy fussy with a tooth. None of them had slept much before three in the morning. Then this morning the child minder had phoned to say she couldn’t have Amy because her own kids had some tummy bug. It was shaping up to be one of those days.
The green man beeped and Julie hurried across the road, catching sight of the town hall clock as she reached the opposite pavement. Oh no, it was five to nine already. Dee would be at the library by now. She always arrived early in case people were queueing up at the front door. As if.
Julie sighed. She knew how insecure her job was. Not many people used the library for study or research now, and you didn’t have to look further than the World Wide Web to know why. The team had discussed a few plans to drum up custom after the summer holidays. The best way forward seemed to be to offer not only internet access for those few households who weren’t online, but also services that weren’t available online. Not an easy task. But if they didn’t, someone on the staff might have to go, and Julie had been the last in. No way did she want to make herself conspicuous in a bad way, so hopefully Amy would be cooperative about spending a day in the library.