It was holding on to this thought that sent me to the baby department of the store. As I wove between the displays of prams and cots, car seats and clothes, I was confronted by every stage of a baby’s early life – a place I’d never been to except in my dreams. It was a kind of punishment, I suppose.
‘Can I help you, madam?’ the assistant asked.
‘Oh, I’m just browsing, thanks.’ Stupidly, my hand went straight to my flat stomach as if there really was a baby growing in there.
The assistant smiled and I could tell she was considering asking when I was due, but the shop floor was busy. ‘Let me know if I can help,’ she said before heading off to offer her services to a young couple who, to be honest, didn’t look as if they could afford anything from this store.
I went dizzy among the soft sleep-suits hanging from tiny hangers on the display racks. The edges of the little plush clothes feathered into unreality, just the same as my vision and sense of self blended into the noisy world around me. There I was, out to buy a christening dress to wear to another family’s celebration, and I’d ended up in the baby department trailing my shaking hands over equipment I would most likely never need to own. All I could think of was how unfair it was; how, if I could only have the chance, I’d be the best mother that ever lived. Instead, I spent my days taking babies and children away from unfit parents. The irony made me laugh out loud.
‘Oh, sorry,’ I said. I’d ploughed straight into the woman from the couple I’d spotted before. I’d been watching them through my slightly teary eyes as they coveted everything from a white cot to a pram that doubled as a car seat. The woman was clinging on to a small fluffy lamb with a red sale price tag. It was probably the cheapest thing for sale.
‘Watch it,’ the man said. He was scruffy and belligerent and reminded me of the fathers I dealt with in my job. ‘She’s pregnant, you know.’
‘It’s all right,’ the young woman said. She was pale, almost to the point of appearing grey. She didn’t look very well at all.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I repeated. ‘Are you all right?’
The woman nodded and the man scowled and they went on their way. I wanted to tell them that I was pregnant too, compare due dates and talk about the benefits of eco-nappies and breast versus bottle, but I felt too empty to do much more than fumble my way through a rack of tiny dresses in Easter shades of yellow and pink. Everything went blurry again and I was just about to succumb to the tears, make a dash for the toilets or disappear into the lift when I heard a heart-stopping shriek. I glanced around but couldn’t initially make out where it was coming from.
Then I saw the woman I’d just bumped into flailing her arms about her head. My first thought was that I must have really hurt her, perhaps caused a spontaneous miscarriage. I suddenly felt contagious as panic gripped my body. I could barely breathe as I tentatively walked, wide-eyed, towards the couple. The man was trying to pin down the woman’s increasingly wild arm movements without much luck. Her eyes bulged as if she was possessed by a demon while her hands lashed out for whatever was within reach.
‘Madam, please, let me help you,’ the shop assistant said.
The young woman completely ignored her pleas to calm down and spiralled into further frenzy as she swiped down displays of toys and baby-feeding equipment. An entire zoo of fluffy animals went flying alongside the clatter of melamine plates and plastic bottles. She ripped clothes off their stands and sent them into a jumble of unborn chaos and shoved prams wheeling down the wooden aisles, narrowly missing the gathering spectators who were eager to see the woman who had flipped.
I knew I had to do something. I felt as if it was all my fault.
I went up to her, not caring if I received a swipe. ‘Please, calm down. You’re going to hurt yourself or the baby.’
She stopped momentarily when I said the word ‘baby’.
‘I don’t want the sodding baby,’ she spat out and then continued with her flailing until two security guards managed to restrain her. I was still beside her and dropped with her to the floor when her knees buckled. Her arms were pinned behind her back.
‘Be careful, she’s pregnant,’ I told the guards. They slackened their grip. Tears streamed down the woman’s face as she sobbed and hiccuped her way through the remains of the outburst. ‘It’s going to be OK, just breathe calmly if you can.’ I showed her how to cup her hands over her face as her ribs forced air in and out of her lungs as if the world was running out of oxygen. It couldn’t be good for her baby.
Eventually, her state levelled and it finally seemed as if she was listening to me. The crowd dispersed thanks to the shop assistants, while the woman’s partner was stroking her head and holding her hand. She didn’t seem to know where she was.
‘Is there somewhere she can sit for a while?’ I asked the assistant, who willingly took us to a back room while her colleagues began to clear up the mess. Between us, the man and I got her sitting down and sipping on a glass of water. The colour was finally returning to her cheeks.
‘I don’t want this baby,’ she said through trembling lips. ‘I’m scared.’
An icy flood powered through me but I kept the welling dam under control. She knew nothing about me, our lives were entirely separate, yet she would never know how hard she had just pinched the deepest nerve in my heart.
‘I’m Claudia,’ I told her gently. She wasn’t thinking straight. Of course she wanted her baby. ‘I can help you. There’s no need to be scared.’ At this she seemed to relax. ‘Your body is undergoing amazing changes right now and believe me, it can do crazy things to how you feel.’ I gave her a reassuring smile.
Her hands shook as she sipped the water. ‘You’re pregnant too?’ she whispered.
‘Yes,’ I said, nodding. It just seemed the right thing to say, under the circumstances. I wanted to win her trust, to keep her calm and, most importantly, to prevent her from doing something she would regret for the rest of her life. ‘So I know exactly how you feel.’
‘I feel so sick all the time and my mind plays tricks on me. I don’t know which way up I am these days and I can hardly keep awake yet I never sleep at night. I’m not even three months gone so heaven knows what I’ll be like at the end.’ She let out another stream of sobs. ‘If I even get to the end.’
‘You’re a beautiful pregnant woman and you’re going to have a happy, healthy baby,’ I told her. ‘Every baby brings its own love into the world with it. These feelings won’t last long.’ I looked at her partner. The shop assistant had left us alone. ‘You’ll feel so much better soon, probably by this time next week. Probably by tonight, even,’ I said with a small smile. I had to give her hope.
‘I’m booked in for a termination,’ she whispered to me. I saw the shame in her eyes but didn’t want her to know how I felt. I willed myself to hang on, to keep control of my feelings. It wasn’t her fault I’d had such rotten luck.
‘That’s a big decision,’ I said.
She immediately nodded. ‘I don’t know what to do.’
‘No one can tell you that,’ I said. ‘But you have another human growing inside you. You must cherish that life as you would your own.’ I saw the flash of light zip between her teary eyes as if a particularly painful realisation had just woken her up.
The young couple held each other in a vice-like grip. The woman snuffled helplessly, and he rocked her gently as if she were a baby herself. I thought about taking their names, about passing on their details to their Social Services department, to at least let them know of the woman’s emotional state, but I realised that it would most likely be my department, if they were local as their accents suggested, and that I would end up dealing with it. In the end, I decided to let it drop.
‘I feel better now, thank you,’ the woman said, standing up. She steadied herself on me, the nearest thing to her, as she wobbled to her feet.
‘Will you be OK?’ I asked.
‘We’ll be fine,’ the man said, rather too gruffly, I thought, seeing as
I’d given up my shopping time to help them.
I felt my eyes prickle with tears as the woman made to leave. It felt wrong. ‘Take care then,’ I said, reaching out for her hand. We exchanged a brief squeeze of fingers. ‘Are you sure you’re going to be OK?’ I repeated in what I suppose was desperation. I didn’t want her to leave. I was worried that she’d change her mind and go ahead with the termination. But really, what business was it of mine?
She nodded. ‘Thanks for your help,’ she said with a smile, and then they were gone.
I left the back room of the store and wandered about the nursery department in a daze. If I couldn’t have a baby of my own, then I couldn’t see a life ahead for myself. The tears came. Then I thought of James and the boys and things didn’t seem quite so hopeless. I was being self-indulgent and selfish.
I left the shop without a dress and headed for the car park. It was only as I slumped in the driver’s seat that I realised I’d left my shopping bags containing the boys’ clothes in the store room. I didn’t care. I just wanted to go home.
As I drove up to the ticket barrier, all I could hear were the midwife’s words last time it had happened.
Do you want to see your baby, love?
I’d declined with a vigorous shake of my head, preferring instead to dissolve into a self-absorbed mess of pity that refused help of any kind.
I sobbed as I wound down the window and inserted my ticket. I happened to look across at the beaten-up old car in the lane next to me. Loud music and voices attracted my attention. It was the couple I’d met in the shop. They were arguing. The man glared at me and roared away as soon as their barrier lifted up.
I pulled myself together and blew my nose. When my barrier opened, I ended up behind the other car on the spiral ramp. As we emerged into the spring sunlight, I squinted and drove behind them for a couple of streets. I watched, dismayed, as they went across a set of lights on orange. My foot twitched over the accelerator as all I could think about were regrets and babies and the fact that I would never be a real mother.
39
THERE WAS SOMETHING about Zoe and Heather and Cecelia that made Lorraine uneasy. She couldn’t put her finger on it exactly, but the thought wouldn’t leave her alone. However, when Adam reported that Heather Paige hadn’t flagged anywhere on the system, she forgot about it temporarily and concentrated on her wayward daughter.
‘She didn’t arrive at school,’ Lorraine said, trying to remain calm despite the surging feeling of panic. She went over again and again what the secretary had said when she’d phoned.
‘Hardly surprising, given that she’s just announced she’s leaving.’ Adam got out of the car.
‘I don’t know how you can be so casual about it,’ Lorraine said. ‘She’s not thinking straight. She’s obviously miserable. And now it would appear she’s gone missing.’ She got out of the car too, slammed the door, and marched up the steps and into the dismal grey building. She never normally noticed the grim architecture that was home to CID, but today the uninspiring concrete, the aluminium windows, the depressing monotony of the front facade, shouted out to her like a beacon of lost hope.
Adam caught up with her. He grabbed her by the arm. ‘We all know what this is really about,’ he said. His breath froze in the air between them. He released her when he saw he was hurting her.
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. It seems pretty black and white to me.’ Lorraine continued up the steps but tripped on the last one. Her hands went out to the concrete and her bag fell off her shoulder, spilling the contents around Adam’s feet. She stayed there for a moment, prone on the slick surface. A pain bloomed in her right knee, causing her to wince as she stood up. Adam was already picking up her belongings and sheepishly placing them back inside her bag, staring at the items as if he’d always wondered what was in there.
‘Here,’ he said, holding out a hand. ‘I’m sorry.’
There was a pause. Lorraine wasn’t sure what he was apologising for.
‘I don’t see how we can go from Zoe Harper to our errant daughter to the mountain of mess that is our marriage, ending with a vague apology, all within two minutes.’ She hugged her coat around her. The palm of her right hand stung.
Adam flapped his hands at his side, a gesture that had always annoyed Lorraine. It made him seem like a small boy. ‘Lorraine . . .’ He sighed and guided her away from the door of the building, which seemed like the entrance to a hive with their colleagues coming and going around them. He drew in a breath and began again as if it was his last and only chance. ‘Lorraine . . . this thing between us, I don’t want it any more. Every time you speak to me, whatever you say, it hurts like a punch in the guts.’ He turned his face away for a moment.
Lorraine felt a familiar sinking feeling in her stomach. Was this it? Was this where it would all begin or end, on the steps of police HQ? She’d envisaged the showdown happening somewhere else, probably their living room, their bedroom, the kitchen, the garden – anywhere except in public, and at work, of all places. A pair of colleagues dashed past, raising their hands in greeting.
‘I don’t think—’
‘I do,’ Adam said sternly. ‘I think all the time. What happened consumes every single one of my waking hours. Correction: it consumes all of my hours, waking and sleeping. How can I explain to you what happened when I don’t understand it myself? It’s been nearly a year now, and I don’t know how to move forward. I did something stupid, you know that, I know that, but how I explain or rationalise it to you or myself, that’s the problem.’
Adam was turning around in semicircles. His frown was deeper than ever, his shoulders more hunched than Lorraine had seen them in a long time. Of course, she could keep him in this limbo-land of misery, suspend his agony for as long as she wished, but was that what she really wanted?
‘Let’s go inside,’ Lorraine said. ‘I’ll try calling Grace again.’ She needed to control this conversation, where and when it happened, and it couldn’t continue here in full view of their colleagues.
Adam followed her as she went inside. He was contrite, that was for certain, but, inexplicably, she preferred it when he put up a fight, when he denied his misdemeanours, when he acted as if nothing had happened. It was a familiar comfort blanket of lies, and at least it made her feel that he perhaps hadn’t done anything so awful after all.
Alone in the lift, Adam forked his arms around Lorraine in a tight V-shape. His face was close and his jaw was clenched. ‘The truth is I made a mistake. It was one night. I was drunk. She was drunk. We had sex. I have not seen her since.’
Lorraine felt sick, and it wasn’t from the lurch of the lift as it drew to a halt at their floor. It was his closeness, his breath on her face.
The doors slid open and Adam stood back as they were faced with several people in the lobby. Lorraine headed for her office, and was about to shut the door when she noticed Adam’s arm reaching round to stop it closing.
‘I refuse to discuss it here, Adam. We have two murder investigations and a daughter who is trashing her life. Why on earth would you think I want to talk about our situation now?’
Lorraine slumped down in her chair and started up her computer. She dialled Grace’s number.
‘Still no reply,’ she said, putting her phone on the desk.
‘Are you worried?’ Adam asked.
‘Of course I’m bloody worried,’ Lorraine said. ‘Our daughter hasn’t arrived at school. She’s moved out. She’s intent on marrying Matt, and she’s not answering her phone. But I know one thing.’
Adam raised his eyebrows hopefully.
‘Unlike her father, she’s not an idiot.’ She took a breath, raised her head and looked at her husband properly for what felt like the first time in a year. ‘OK then. I want to know what happened. All of it.’ Lorraine dug her nails into her palms. ‘Until you tell me, this isn’t going to go away, is it?’
Adam remained perfectly still. She had no idea what he was going to say or how she
would feel when he said it. It could be the end of everything, or it could be the beginning of an understanding that she hadn’t reckoned ever getting to grips with. Either way, it was a process she knew she had to go through. She just hadn’t expected it to be now, today, in her office. Damn him.
‘It was last December.’ Adam’s voice was dry and rasping. ‘You were ill, but you told me to go to the Christmas party without you, knowing how much I hate those events.’
Lorraine withheld her anger. Had she really told him to go? She couldn’t remember. She’d been poorly, she knew that much. Flu had swept through her and her three-day fever had caused her mind to operate on a tenuous thread of unreality. She waited for Adam to continue.
‘I got there late. It was an inter-department gathering and the venue was heaving. A jam-packed bar isn’t my idea of fun.’ He shrugged, a passive indicator that none of this had really bothered him. Lorraine knew he could hold his own as well as anyone at a party.
‘There were a couple of people I recognised so I chatted with them for a while. I guess I’d had too much to drink even by then.’ They both knew that he wasn’t good with alcohol. He rarely drank.
‘I saw her standing on the other side of the room. I knew she was staring at me. Eventually she came up and introduced herself—’
‘Stop! I do not want to know her name.’
He nodded. ‘She said she’d seen me before although I didn’t recognise her. We chatted. We got drunk together. We did a stupid thing.’
‘And that would be?’
‘We went to a hotel across the road. She paid for the room, in case you were wondering.’
‘I wasn’t.’
‘It happened. I dressed. I left.’
Lorraine knew what he was doing. Those short, clipped, monosyllabic sentences were typical of Adam when he was trying to portray the bare minimum while not being accused of withholding information. It was pretty much like questioning a suspect, although in this case Lorraine was certain of his guilt.
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