She returned to her work bench in the back room and set about the order she’d deliver on her way home. A bouquet and balloons for the arrival of twins. A boy and a girl. Even now, after all this time, she still felt it. That hollow pang of loss – if, of course, it was possible to lose something you never actually had. She’d so wanted to have children but all her attempts had come to nothing.
Just as she tried to tie the ribbon to keep the flowers together, the shop bell chimed.
‘Hang on,’ she called.
A face peered through the beaded curtain making her jump. ‘Hiya,’ said Gloria the postwoman. ‘Need to sign for this one.’ She put the envelope on the countertop. ‘That’s pretty,’ she said, nodding at the bouquet Kim was grappling with.
‘Thanks. Can you just hold that there?’
‘Sure.’ Gloria did as instructed and Kim tied off the knot. ‘Twins huh? Nightmare. My Jade has three nippers now. She spends most days tearing her hair out.’
‘I’m sure she wouldn’t be without them,’ said Kim.
‘No, she would. She often says she wishes she’d never had them. And she’s got a new fella so I’m expecting grandchild number four to be announced soon. Signature,’ said Gloria, thrusting the electronic box at Kim.
‘It’s funny how those who really want children don’t get them and then those who maybe don’t … do.’ She was thinking out loud as she signed something that barely resembled her signature.
‘That’s because these days they let anyone do it, don’t they,’ said Gloria, appearing serious.
‘I guess they do,’ agreed Kim, although she was fairly sure that was how it had always been.
‘Have a good day,’ added Gloria, already on her way out.
‘Thanks.’ Kim picked up the envelope. The sight of the handwriting made her freeze. The letter was from Vince.
Ruby was standing on Neil’s doorstep chewing her lips, but stopped when she tasted blood. This was it. This moment could change her life. But once she’d done it there was no going back.
A woman walked by, weighed down by two large bags of shopping. ‘All right, Neil?’ she asked but her eyes were dancing over Ruby.
‘Um, good thanks,’ said Neil, scratching his head. Once the woman had passed he stepped out of the house. ‘Look, we either do this now or the deal is off. And there aren’t that many like me with a four-point-three rating.’ He fixed her with a cold gaze.
‘Right. Okay.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Let’s do this.’
She followed Neil inside and right before he shut the door, she glanced over her shoulder at Curtis who was watching her intently. The door closed and she was alone in the hallway with Neil.
‘You’ve got the cash?’ asked Neil eyeing her handbag.
‘Yeah. Sorry. Here you go.’ She handed it over and he began counting it, which she found slightly offensive. Who would short-change someone over something like this? ‘It’s all there,’ she added.
Neil didn’t look up. ‘Best results if you lie on your back afterwards with your legs in the air for fifteen minutes.’
Ruby nodded but she was struggling to speak. Her mouth was dry but her palms were sweaty.
‘It’s okay,’ said Neil. ‘I’ve done this loads of times before.’
‘Good,’ managed Ruby. Although her overactive imagination was filling up with babies and they all looked like Neil and wore the same cardigan.
‘Top of the stairs is the bathroom. Bedroom next to the bathroom is mine. I’ll be in there … getting the merchandise.’
Merchandise? She’d heard it called lots of things in her time but never that. ‘Okay. And where will I be?’
‘Bedroom next door. In there is the baster and a glass of water.’
‘What’s the water for?’ Her mind was racing.
He gave her an odd look. ‘In case you’re thirsty.’
‘Right. Good. Okay.’
She followed Neil upstairs and when he peeled off to his bedroom she carried on.
‘I’ll be a few minutes,’ he said and he closed the door.
Ruby’s pulse started to quicken. She was fairly sure stress wasn’t a good thing for conception. She pushed open the door of the spare room. Inside it was all quite ordinary. Magnolia walls with no pictures. Net curtains hung at the window on a slightly drooping cord. There was a single bed with a plain cream throw on it. A pile of mismatched cushions in an assortment of colours littered the headboard end. On the bedside table was a turkey baster and a glass of water – just as Neil had explained.
Ruby sat on the bed. She closed her eyes and tried to calm herself down. This was what she wanted. This was exactly what she’d planned. Well, maybe not exactly … but it was, at least, very definitely Plan B. This was the least complicated way of having a baby. And that was what she had to focus on. Getting pregnant was what mattered – not exactly how or where she went about it.
Men were unreliable. Certainly the men she attracted were. At least if she started off on her own as a single mother she knew what she was letting herself in for. No broken promises and no broken families. No weekends alternated between warring parents. No guilt-riddled child worrying about letting one of them down. No fights for maintenance.
The formal IVF approach was far too expensive and there was no proof that the results would be any better than the turkey baster.
No, this was definitely the best option. Her mother had been on her own and she had managed just fine as a single parent. Sure, Ruby had missed out on a few things growing up, but she hadn’t missed out on love and that was the most important thing a parent could give their child. She thought about her mum. Maybe Curtis was right about her mother’s words not being an instruction to get pregnant but he wasn’t there. She could picture her mother lying in the hospice bed. A shadow of her former self but still beautiful and still smiling. She’d taken Ruby’s hand and held it tightly. She must have sensed she was fading. Her words were clear in her mind but Ruby feared a day when she wouldn’t be able to recall the sound of her mother’s voice. ‘Ruby, you were a beautiful baby, an adventurous child, a perfectly monstrous teenager and now you are an amazing woman. My life has been full of ups and downs but all my happy memories are of you. I love you, Ruby, you made me happy.’ She’d taken a shaky breath. ‘Be happy, Ruby.’ Then she’d squeezed her hand and closed her eyes for the last time.
Ruby wiped away a stray tear. She looked at the turkey baster. It looked clean but then you couldn’t be too sure. She popped her antibacterial hand gel out of her bag, squirted some on her hands and gave the baster the once-over. She popped it back on the side. Then she had a thought: wasn’t there alcohol in hand gel? Would that kill the sperm? She figured as long as none had gone up the tube it would be okay. She picked it up and peered up the pointy end. She couldn’t see any.
There was a tap on the door. She jumped and almost poked herself in the eye with the baster.
‘Come in,’ she said, cautiously. The irony of her words not lost on her.
Neil’s hairy hand snaked around the door. He was holding a small plastic pot. Eurgh. She suddenly wasn’t very keen on plan B. She’d need a shower after this. In fact, she’d probably need scrubbing down with a Brillo pad.
Neil coughed. ‘Are you going to take this then?’
‘Oh sorry,’ said Ruby, getting to her feet. She reached for the pot with the tips of her fingers. She averted her eyes. Think about the baby, she told herself. The other half of your child is swimming in there. With just a quick squeeze she could be making her very own baby. It would all be over in minutes. ‘Thanks.’
Neil’s hand gave the thumbs up sign. ‘I’ll put the kettle on. Tea or coffee?’
‘Um, no I’m all right thanks.’ She was having a baby with someone who didn’t even know that she didn’t drink tea or coffee. This was beyond weird.
She returned to the bed slowly, holding the pot like an unexploded bomb, and placed it carefully on the cabinet next to the baster.
She�
�d watched quite a few videos online about how to complete the procedure. It had been more than a bit alarming how many videos there were. Then again it had reassured her that she could do it on her own and if all these other women were doing it then why not her?
Ruby picked up the turkey baster and squeezed the air out of the bulbous rubber end. Whilst trying not to look directly in the pot she manoeuvred the end into place and released her grip. Whoosh! The contents shot up the baster at lightning speed and promptly disappeared into the rubber bulb.
‘Bugger,’ said Ruby. That wasn’t supposed to happen. She’d have to give it a seriously big squeeze to shoot it all out again.
Holding the baster in her right hand she now realised she’d omitted a key part of the process. She was still fully dressed. She popped the baster on the side, took off her shoes and managed to writhe her way out of her pants.
Ruby arranged some cushions on the bed, hopped on and got herself into a suitable position, trying not to think about how many other bare bums had been on this bed before hers. She reached for the turkey baster. This was it. There was no going back now.
Chapter Eight
Ruby was poised with the turkey baster. She closed her eyes and hoped for the best. A sudden banging from downstairs made her halt what she was doing. She listened hard. She heard Neil muttering as he went to answer the door. All sorts of scenarios flashed through Ruby’s mind. Was it a police raid? Or the bailiffs? Or—
The voice was muffled but the low melodic timbre was recognisable all the same. It was Curtis. She heard feet on the stairs and a tap on the bedroom door.
‘Ruby? It’s Curtis. We need to talk,’ he said through the door.
‘I’m a bit busy right now.’ Although pointless, she waved the baster at the door as evidence.
‘I know but I’ve been thinking.’
‘And?’ Ruby tried to hurry him along.
‘When the child is old enough to ask about their parentage, what will you tell them?’
It was like electricity jolting through her. What a question. She pictured a child. Worryingly it looked creepily like Neil. The child was looking up at her waiting for an answer. She glanced around the room. Was this a story she’d want to share?
‘Ruby?’
‘I don’t know. All right? I don’t know what I’d tell them. But at least they’d be here to tell.’
‘There’s no guarantee of that. I’ve been doing some research …’ She didn’t want to think what his internet search history must look like. ‘And it’s likely you only have a ten to fifteen per cent chance of success. And whilst that is in line with conception via sexual intercourse this is obviously a one-off unlike having sex which can be repeated ad infinitum, increasing your chances. I say ad infinitum but that’s assuming a brief recovery period and that you’re—’
‘Okay.’ He clearly didn’t know the men Ruby did. ‘I get the picture. Rather too vividly, thank you.’
‘So?’
She pictured Curtis on the other side of the door awaiting her response. ‘But then men are involved. I don’t need a man.’ Ruby returned her concentration to the job, literally, in hand.
‘No. I’m sure you don’t. But maybe your child does. However feckless, however unreliable, surely any father is better than none? I know my life would be very different without mine.’
It took the wind out of her sails. Deep down she knew this wasn’t the ideal solution even though she’d tried to convince herself that it was. But what he was saying did ring true. Despite her mum being amazing she still felt she had missed out on something by not having a dad around. Curtis was messing with her head.
‘And what if something happened to you? As a single parent if you were to die without making someone a guardian, your child would be taken into the care of social services. Also …’ he continued. ‘Stress can have a negative impact on conception. I’m sensing you might be stressed at the moment.’
‘You think?’
‘Yes.’
She shook her head at the door. Her heart was pounding. She was beyond stressed.
‘Ruby!’ His voice was impatient.
A flash of temper made her grip the turkey baster and its contents squirted across the room.
‘Bugger!’
‘You okay?’
She surveyed the scene. Yuck. That was it. Her decision made for her. In that moment she wasn’t sure if what she was feeling was pure relief or devastation. But there was little point mithering over it now – there was plenty of time for that.
Ruby grabbed a few tissues and sorted the worst of it out. Her stomach heaved a couple of times but she managed the job. She quickly got dressed and opened the door. Curtis looked her up and down. ‘Well? Have you been artificially inseminated?’
‘No. And has anyone ever told you that you really have a way with words?’
‘No, they haven’t,’ said Curtis, his face deadpan.
‘Funny that.’ She took a moment to compose herself. She’d deal with the emotional fallout later but for now she had to concentrate on what was time-critical. Come on. We’ve got a Ferris wheel to catch.’
West Ham Tube station had been relatively quiet when they’d arrived almost an hour ago but now it was swarming with people. Ruby stuck close to Curtis. He was able to cut through the crowds effectively. She figured being tall enough to see where you were going rather than the armpit of the person in front was a distinct advantage.
‘Jubilee line is closed due to a passenger incident,’ said Curtis, his lips pulling tight.
‘Passenger incident? What … someone else has got their bag stuck?’
‘No, I’m afraid it means someone has committed suicide on the line.’
Ruby was shocked. ‘That’s awful. Poor soul.’
‘Indeed.’
‘West Ham to Waterloo without the Jubilee line,’ said Ruby enjoying picking up her game from earlier. ‘Go.’
‘I’m afraid that should be DLR to Bank and then Waterloo and City line but that’s got essential works too.’
Ruby looked at her watch – quarter past three. ‘Bugger! What do we do? Taxi?’
They strode back outside to see a mammoth snake of a queue at the taxi rank and not a single cab in sight.
‘Bus?’ she suggested.
Curtis looked alarmed. ‘I have no idea about the bus timetable.’
‘Come on, it can’t be that hard. If I can get from Firth Park to Sharrow by bus I’m sure I can figure this out.’
A few minutes at the bus stop told them it wasn’t quite that easy. The bus timetable was harder to crack than the Enigma code. It became quickly apparent that there was no direct bus. Half an hour later they were sitting on their second bus, stuck in traffic watching the minutes tick by as four o’clock loomed closer.
‘Are you aware that you’re biting your lip?’ asked Curtis.
‘Huh?’ She rubbed her lips together. Having geared herself up for the turkey baster and the hope that she’d be heading home with a precious cargo on board, she was now feeling out of sorts. Everything had changed very quickly and she wasn’t entirely convinced she’d done the right thing. In fact, she hadn’t really made a decision either way at all. It had been taken out of her hands, so to speak.
‘I suggest when we get to the wheel that we go directly to the ticket office and ask. I’m assuming Lewis would have some sort of specific reservation.’
‘I guess.’
‘Is everything all right?’ asked Curtis.
Ruby absently scratched her eyebrow. ‘I don’t know.’ It was an honest answer.
‘Is it the failed artificial insemination that has upset you?’ he asked and every head on the bus swivelled in their direction.
‘Shhh! Bloody hell, Curtis. If you must know, I’m not sure I did the right thing. What if that was my one and only chance to have a baby?’
‘Statistically that’s not likely. Unless you’re planning on never having sex.’
The head swivelling continued. �
�For crying out loud. Will you please keep your voice down?’
‘Sorry.’ He lowered his voice to a stage whisper. ‘You would have far more chance of increasing the odds of a successful fertilisation by regular sex. That could be with one or more partners—’
‘Curtis!’ All newspapers had been abandoned, headphones had been removed and all the other passengers were unashamedly staring directly at them. Ruby hit the request stop button. ‘I’m getting off here.’
Curtis peered out of the window. ‘I don’t know where we are. This is a very bad idea.’
‘I don’t care!’ Her voice was rising.
The bus pulled into the next stop.
‘Ruby. Please can we just stay on the bus. I promise not to mention …’ She turned and glared at him. ‘Anything.’ He mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key. Despite everything it made her smile.
‘Are you getting off or what?’ asked the surly driver.
Curtis tipped his head at Ruby. She let out a sigh. ‘No. We’re staying on,’ said Ruby.
‘Thank you,’ replied Curtis, nodding at Ruby.
‘Bloody tourists,’ said the driver, closing the doors and pulling back into the traffic. Ruby reluctantly retook her seat.
Her mind unhelpfully played back the day like a comedy film reel. The plan she’d been working on for weeks had been scuppered. What had she done? She’d been tracking her cycle, popping folic acid and saving up the money. It was cash she could ill afford to throw away and yet that was exactly what she had done. She could have cleared her credit card instead. Now it was wasted. And worst of all she’d allowed a complete stranger to influence probably the biggest decision of her life.
She checked her watch. They were cutting it fine to make it to the London Eye for four o’clock. Curtis saw her looking.
‘I’m afraid we’re going to be late with the ring,’ he said.
‘You think?’
‘Yes, I do,’ said Curtis. ‘I’m sensing I may have said something to upset you. In which case I am truly sorry.’
‘It’s not just what you said very loudly here on the bus. It’s what you said at the … at Neil’s house. But it’s really me I’m upset with. I shouldn’t have allowed you to influence my decision.’ They sat in silence for the rest of the trip.
The Promise of Summer Page 6
