Third Child

by Kate Mitchell

  ‘Well,’ she asked eagerly. ‘How did your day go?’

  ‘At last,’ he said taking the seat opposite her. ‘I found her, and she was in a real mess. I told her that everything was going to be fine and all she had to do was trust me and tell me what had happened. I’ve only just come back myself.’

  Pleased for him, Cecelia was glad that at last, he had found the woman who he’d been hunting for. This was a different mood she saw in him. It made him look young and boyishly handsome. She liked this side of him better.

  ‘So, everything has worked out for you—and the woman you were looking for. How is she?’ she asked feeling good that this handsome man was interested in her.

  ‘She gave me the details and her opinion of course, of what had happened. Which I have taken with a pinch of salt of who said this and who said that. It’s what they all do to save themselves from embarrassment. But in the end, it worked out well. And now she’s gone.’

  ‘Yes, did she say where she was going?’ Cecelia felt the excitement like Peter, his high was infective.

  ‘I didn’t ask her. But now I’m free, and I can get on with my proper life. A life of being happy with someone else.’ He was looking pointedly at her.

  ‘I haven’t decided yet about what you’re asking me.’

  ‘Oh,’ he was disappointed.

  ‘I’ve got a lot on my mind right now, my uncle you know.’

  ‘Well, of course, you have,’ some of his anxiety eased her answer. ‘Your uncle must be always on your mind. I never got to know any of my relatives.’

  ‘But I’m considering your proposal. It would be nice to travel the world and be your own boss. But I would still need my own money should you ever decide that you have had enough of me.’

  ‘Then we should get married. And when we are married, I shall put half of my money into your name. But why should we part from each other? I can’t see myself doing so, and I expect the same could be said of you.’

  She smiled at the talk of plans for their future, the idea was beginning to work on her. The hardest part she was beginning to realize was making that commitment. It was like glue, once joined they would never part. Once they had overcome the acceptance which they had made, everything else from then on would be nice and easy.

  12

  The gentleman in Peter had offered to take her out for their evening meal, it was tempting, but she needed to get up early for Ruth’s chat. While Ruth could go back to bed later in the day, she couldn’t.

  These early nights pleased Peter, he saw this as a good trait and a good presentiment for the future. His eyes were now engaging on her with proprietorship. A critical analysis was being made perceiving her good qualities, and as to the bad, he could see none.

  In another room, Cecelia moved about, collecting her clothes together for the following day, while her thoughts were on Peter. It was becoming a reality that they were going to spend their lives together. Was this a risk? Of course, it was. They hardly knew each other. But what is there to know about a potential mate except that she liked him, and he was a gentleman who would treat her well.

  At five after five in the morning, she rang Ruth, who this time had a better reception voice. She was especially pleased because Cecelia was learning how to accommodate her.

  ‘I thought I was nearly going to give birth yesterday—and by the way, I thought you would ring me yesterday evening at seven—I know we never said anything, but I still thought you would.’

  It felt strange to apologize to Ruth when she knew she hadn’t done anything wrong. But apologies are trifles in life, if this is all it takes to appease another, then just do it and move on. There are many more important things in life than to get bogged down by other’s silly whims.

  Arriving early at the clinic, it became apparent that the starting time of Cecelia’s duties had changed by subtle acceptance. Why would you arrive early if it wasn’t to work? Being taken advantage of was understood by both parties for what else did she have to do? She also reasoned with herself that it was better to be useful with her time, than wait for the eight o’clock contract to start. What did it matter, it was only thirty minutes?

  Thirty minutes of being useful, thirty minutes of being unpaid. Was that the reason the clinic only had single women working for them?

  It was during the lunchtime break when Mr. Deer came into the dining room with another member of staff. Their faces were white with anger, something had severely upset them. The two security men stood beside them. Something bad had happened. The staff fell silent recognizing something awful had happened to upset him and he was set on blaming the people here in front of him.

  Cecelia looked about to see where Samantha was, but she was nowhere to be seen. Which was strange? Last night when Cecelia called out to her to say bye, she replied with see you tomorrow then she waved. She only lived five minutes from the clinic while Cecelia had nearly forty minutes and then a long walk.

  Mr. Deer waited until the room was quiet enough for a pin to be heard dropping. No one must cough when he talked.

  ‘It’s Samantha Mantle. She’s dead.’

  The room was struck by lightning as everyone froze on the spot.

  ‘Who was the last one to talk to her?’ Mr. Deer asked looking furiously about the room. His eyes seeing Cecelia stopped at her. ‘Was it you?’

  ‘I said goodnight to her when we left the clinic,’ terrified, Cecelia felt that she was to blame.

  He turned his eyes away to choose another one to blame. ‘Does anyone know why she would kill herself?’

  Kill herself was repeated throughout the dining room.

  ‘Well,’ his eyes were hunting for the one who knew of this tragic vendetta.

  Like everyone else, Cecelia caught up and began shaking her head. It was incredible and unbelievable that Samantha was now dead.

  ‘As you know, when someone is late, the clinic rings the person,’ began Mr. Deer, narrowing his eyes for the criminal. ‘If someone takes time off because they don’t feel like coming in, they are immediately fired. When someone went to see her, they discovered she had hung herself.’

  A huge round of gasps flew about the room hitting Cecelia’s chest with a thud. It was a ghastly and horrible day that followed and as no one could speak about it, the oppression became all the more rigid. Who would have thought that Samantha would have taken her own life and in such a way? It was so shocking to think about, especially as there was no reason why she would have done this.

  Like one of those nightmares which you never awaken from, everyone including Cecelia was walking out of the cafeteria. That smile that was required made Samantha’s sudden passing feel freakish and bizarre. How can someone die like that when only yesterday she was relaxed and happy and warm?

  ‘Do you mind,’ said Cecelia seeing Peter waiting for her at their table. ‘If we give tonight a miss.’ How she managed to get home, she didn’t know. People on the train and thoroughfare were too bright and gaudy, it was painful to look at them. This was a second death that had come so quickly on the first.

  ‘It’s your uncle isn’t it?’ Peter anxiously read her face had come to his dramatic conclusions. ‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’

  ‘No,’ her voice sounded like she was far away from the world, disconnected to humanity to protect her from any more pain. ‘A good friend of mine died.’ She could not bring herself to say that she had hung herself. It still didn’t seem real.

  ‘A good friend?’ his eyes were searching her face for clues. She was robbing him of answers.

  ‘Yes.’

  And because Peter kept this vigil on her face wanting to know every little detail about her understanding now that she had a friend he didn’t know about; she had become suddenly alien to him. He was the only friend in the world Peter thought she had, and now there was competition even if they were dead.

  ‘I meant to keep in touch with her,’ she shrugged. ‘You know how it is? A card once a year at Christmas, always promising to see her�
�’

  ‘So, it’s a she?’ he looked relieved. Glad that it wasn’t a he, Peter forgot Cecelia was still in a state of grief and shock. ‘How old was she?’

  What did it matter how old she was? It mattered that she was gone and in such a dreadful way. The one person Cecelia could never imagine would take her own life was Samantha, and she couldn’t tell him the real story.

  ‘I’ve got an awful headache and no appetite for food; would you mind if I went up to my room?’

  ‘No of course not.’

  ‘I can see you’ve brought a bottle of wine for your celebration, and I’m sorry. I would have liked to have celebrated your success with you, you deserved to be happy. But, it’s one of those terrible coincidences. You’ve found the woman you were looking for, while I’ve lost one of my best friends.’

  ‘Never mind, there will be other times, I’m sure,’ Peter looked at the bottle and smiled. ‘I tell you what, I’ll save this for another time.’

  ‘Thanks, Peter, you are a wonderful person. I’ll say goodnight,’ she put a hand to her brow to indicate she still had a headache.

  He understood because he nodded. But as she was about to move a buzzing came from Cecelia’s purse where her cell phone was. He looked to her purse before diverting his eyes back to her.

  ‘I’m just going to ignore it, whoever it is.’ She had understood his scrutiny and knew this was another betrayal to him.

  ‘You could answer it now,’ he suggested almost aggressively.

  ‘I expect it’s from my work…’

  ‘Your work,’ he interrupted quickly, jumping suspiciously on what he thought was going on.

  She had forgotten herself. The story she had given him looked like it was in jeopardy. ‘Yes, they’re probably ringing to find out when I’ll be back.’

  ‘But they know when you will be back.’

  ‘They should do, they probably hope I will come back to work sooner rather than later.’

  ‘Well, you can’t. You can tell them you’re never coming back. Answer your cell phone now and tell them.’

  Although she smiled, yet inside Cecelia felt the spear of worry cleaving through her chest. This was a demand and not a suggestion. ‘I’ll talk to whoever it is tomorrow, but Peter, give me some slack, there’s been a lot of things going on in my life which I am trying to deal with. I’ll give you an answer next week, by then…’ she left the words unsaid purposely.

  Without a doubt, his eyes were watching her leave the dining room, she could almost feel them. Oh god, don’t say he’s one of those people who is controlling and suspicious of everything. This might be the reason why he’s still on his own. Someone as good-looking as him should have been taken years ago.

  This would be her luck, wouldn’t it? A man with everything that she could possibly want, but he had to be possessive and jealous.

  Going towards the staircase, she knew that all the other guests’ tongues would be flapping. But for now, leaving the dining room, she didn’t care, a thumping headache had reached her temples.

  In her room, she looked at her cell phone to see who had called her? It had been Ruth.

  At five past five the following morning, once more Cecelia was ringing Ruth as per instructions. It had been a dreadful night filled with interrupted sleep. Three o’clock in the morning was when it hit her making Cecelia sit up abruptly. Someone had whispered into her ear telling her that this was no coincidence. For two people working in the same clinic to die within ten days of each other was no act of chance. These two women had been targeted.

  But just what was their connection to each other? If they were specifically targeted wouldn’t it damage the clinic’s reputation and bring the law to their doors? But money buys silence and power.

  Cecelia thought of Ruth Blaine and the fact that her husband feared for her life and had her under surveillance as he did with everyone else who came into her circle. She was carrying his precious cargo, his children, the line of succession. But was she more loved for what she could produce rather than for the person she was?

  So, Angelina had been murdered as had Samantha. But where was the connection between the two except that they worked in the same clinic? Only Angelina knew about the abortion, but her voice wouldn’t be heard now. Cecelia needed to get into Mr. Deer’s office, he would have kept notes on his very important clients. Yet, why had Samantha been murdered? And had Angelina decided to take that jump into the next world? Was this all about grief and somebody else to blame?

  Ruth told Cecelia about her appointment with Mr. Deer on the morrow, where they were to talk about delivery dates. He estimated that she would birth sooner than later and there was nothing anyone could do to delay the pregnancy. This news annoyed and disappointed Ruth who was used to getting her own way.

  ‘I have done everything Hadleigh wanted for his image.’ Ruth had complained to Cecelia with a freedom she had never used before. Anger and frustration had made her liberal.

  ‘I always look good; I always say the right things and I’m a good host to all his disgusting friends. Where is my life? You have no idea how dull and boring this life is. If we go to any parties, I have to behave myself and not dance. It’s ridiculous. I’m the wife of a very wealthy man, I’m not heir to a throne. But if I was an heir, I know royalty would still be able to enjoy themselves. I’m still young, while he is trying to make me old.’

  Patiently, Cecelia listened to this spoilt woman. It could be said that it wasn’t her fault, everyone had given her everything she wanted, and she had become used to it.

  ‘I’ve undergone examinations—do you know how many fetuses were impregnated back into me? Have a guess. Six. I have no choice what the child is going to be. It’s been Hadleigh’s desire all along. I wouldn’t mind if he found himself a surrogate. What does it mean to me if there’s a child or not? I don’t care. But he doesn’t want anyone else to have his child except me.’

  Her voice whined on which made it very difficult for Cecelia to feel sympathy for her, her mind was still on Samantha.

  ‘I know what I’m going to have, it’s no secret to me. Hadleigh made it quite clear about the gender I am to have, no, I’m going to have twin boys so that Hadleigh’s line can be carried on. He said twins to make certain that at least one will survive. I’d sooner have none. Twins are acceptable, but certainly not three, four or even six. The sixth one had to be aborted, and that wasn’t my fault. It’s been a terrible imposition; you have no idea. I had to come into the clinic every now and then to have the three others aborted—you promise you won’t say anything to anyone?’

  ‘What do you think?’ Cecelia asked quickly and curtly without thinking, she was trying to listen to what Ruth was saying, but her thoughts kept driving back to Samantha. What about Samantha? Why did she have to hang herself? Why had her life become so intolerable that she spontaneously needed to kill herself like that?

  ‘What do I think? What do I think?’ Ruth repeated, a snake now coiled up in anger and astonishment. ‘I think you’re being extremely rude to me. I could have you sacked right now you know and even something worse, you wouldn’t be allowed to work ever again.’

  Was this a threat? If not, it came very close to it. Don’t ever underestimate a woman like Ruth, she hadn’t got to the top of the power stack without some dangerous fighting.

  ‘I’m sorry, Ruth. Of course, I won’t say anything. My head has been everywhere since yesterday. I’ve had some bad news.’

  ‘Yeah, so what’s the bad news then?’

  ‘I’m not supposed to say anything either, but one of the staff that I work with was found dead.’

  ‘Well, we all have to die sometime. Anyhow, you probably didn’t know her that well, but you’re forgiven. I’ll see you tomorrow then,’ and then she hung up. No one gets to speak to Ruth like that and expect compassion.

  Cecelia sat there on the bed looking at the chair in front of her. There was a frightening coincidence concerning Samantha. If Ruth had given her the name
she was using, Clara Tinder, would it have been her now that was lying in the morgue cold and still? Stupid to think like this and yet Cecelia couldn’t prevent herself.

  In the horrible darkness of her thoughts, a web had been spun and now it was being drawn tighter and tighter. But who was the little spider in the middle? Someone was picking at the strands and making connections. If she had something to fear, Cecelia knew that she should now start being afraid. Was it worth risking her life to get this story?

  It was something which Angelina had said which hadn’t held much value, but now it had obstinately returned. Rich people had to consider their image, and the face each of them projected to the world.

  What is the price of an image? Is this what it’s all about. Did an image mean death to those who tried to tell the truth? With the aborted unborn, then it was. Yet, children are dying all the time because of where they are? Is it that important that we kill our own, our children to protect and save our image?

  We take for granted our lives and our rights, but in every era, changes happen as do values. Not everyone has a right to life, but those who do must appreciate those who have been sacrificed. Those who are privileged and in power must cherish those who gave up their lives and rights to keep them there.

  But those who stand at the forefront of life, do they deserve to be where they are? If they do not honor their posts and show the values which are expected of them, someone else will usurp them and take their place. This is where image comes into play. They don’t have to live the part, but they must create the illusion they are.

  For now, big money and power rules, which means they must set the example. To be seen at the right places and support one new idea over another and it doesn’t matter if they believed in it or not. Just to be seen to care by saying the right buzz words that were now important, and the right words were now feminism, equality, and the rights of the minority. But for the powerful, the only thing that matters is themselves.

  But, interestingly, the greatest power comes from the bottom by people who just wanted to get on with their lives. Yet, one flick of their opinions and the top topple down to the bottom. The unhappy actor, the indiscreet politician, or the person who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, their lives are over. It doesn’t matter what they’ve done before or how noble or kind they were—or even how much they say sorry. One mistake and they’re out of life’s game.