by Hayley Oakes
Plan B
Copyright © 2020 Hayley Oakes
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and for review purposes. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locations are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity.
Cover Design: Helen O’Hare
One of the keys to happiness is a bad memory.
Rita Mae Brown
Dedicated to anyone who has and is currently struggling with infertility xx
Table of Contents
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1 - Two Months Old
Chapter 2 – Matthew
Chapter 3 – The Father
Chapter 4 – Jemma
Chapter 5 – Matthew
Chapter 6 - Four Months Old
Chapter 7 – Matthew
Chapter 8 – Jemma
Chapter 9 - Five Months Old
Chapter 10 - Matthew
Chapter 11 - Six Months Old
Chapter 12 – Matthew
Chapter 13 - Seven Months Old
Chapter 14 - Matthew
Chapter 15 - Jemma
Chapter 16 - Eight Months Old
Chapter 17 – Matthew
Chapter 18 - Nine Months Old
Chapter 19 – Matthew
Chapter 20 - Jemma
Chapter 21 - Nine Months Old
Chapter 22 - Matthew
Chapter 23 – Jemma
Chapter 24 - Ten Months Old
Chapter 25 - Matthew
Chapter 26 - The Competition
Chapter 27 – Matthew
Chapter 28 Eleven Months Old
Chapter 29 – Matthew
Chapter 30 - Twelve Months Old
Chapter 31 – Matthew
Chapter 32 - Jemma
Chapter 33 - Twelve Months Old
Chapter 34 - Matthew
Chapter 35 - Jemma
Chapter 36 -Spain
Chapter 37 - Matthew
Chapter 38 - Penny
Chapter 39 - Matthew
Chapter 40 - Penny
Chapter 41 - Fourteen Months Old
Chapter 42 - Fifteen Months
Chapter 43 – Matthew
Chapter 44 - Sixteen Months
Chapter 45 - Nineteen Months Old
Epilogue
Prologue
SHE’S TINY, SHE’S SO pink that it’s almost a red colour.
Her skin looks shockingly angry by its first few hours in the world’s atmosphere.
She’s so much smaller than I imagined. I’m sitting on the hospital bed, my legs stretched out as she lies sleeping between.
She’s mine ... by default.
I feel sorry for her for so many reasons because she only has me and for the choices I made that meant that it will only ever be the two of us.
I love her, more than I even thought possible but one day she may hate the decision I made to keep her.
She wasn’t supposed to be mine, she was always intended for someone else.
I don’t have a cot, I didn’t have a car seat until a day ago and my one-bedroom flat is not big enough for the both of us.
I gave birth alone with my midwife by my side and when she handed me the little girl, I cried and maybe she assumed it was tears of joy but I cried because I have to make this work and I have no idea how.
I haven’t yet given the baby a name, they just keep calling her baby Strauss. They are pushing me to name her, pushing for me to breastfeed her, pushing me to bond with her.
I just stare at her ... she was never supposed to be mine.
I was her birth mother, her surrogate.
I have no idea how I now become her mum.
Chapter 1 - Two Months Old
Penny
I NAMED HER IVY Rose Luna Strauss. My boss, Gail, laughed when she heard the names.
“Jesus, way to give the girl a moniker that’ll take as long to write as any goddamned form she’s filling out.” She laughed, sweeping her index finger along Ivy’s cheek as she slept strapped to my chest in her baby carrier.
“I couldn’t think of just one name,” I sighed. “I liked them all and I felt under pressure to choose.”
“I suppose most people have nine months to decide,” she gave me a knowing glare. Gail had known me since I was twelve years old, she’d been my dance teacher and hired me as a teacher myself once I finished school. I’d kept dancing as long as I could throughout the pregnancy but the last couple of months the bump had got in the way.
“At least they’re all short names,” I said with a smile and she nodded. We were stood in the corridor of Gail’s dance studio, it was Saturday morning and the longest day of lessons was about to start. Gail rented part of a converted space underneath a railway bridge, it sounded weird but it was lofty and spacious and had room for four practice rooms, with a small kitchen and bathroom at the back of the place. Also over the largest room at the front there was a mezzanine which came in handy for dress rehearsals.
Gail was tall, willowy and had been a professional ballet dancer in her teens and early twenties, having travelled the world. Now she was almost fifty but looked a lot younger, she had short, cropped, dark hair and pure, white alabaster skin that did not leave the house on a sunny day without factor fifty. She was married to Jim, a journalist, and had a daughter, Eden.
“Penny,” she crossed her arms over her non-existent chest. “How are you managing?” her brown eyes turned soft and she dipped to see Ivy again, the little hellion was still asleep and looking so cute and innocent. “I’m sorry I haven’t been round as much as ...”
“It’s fine,” I cut her off, “you know I’m fine.” I snapped and straightened my back a little as she swept her eyes over the determined look on my face.
“I know,” she swallowed any emotional outburst that was about to wash over us and instead narrowed her lips. “So we’ve agreed the schedule, Eden will watch her for your first class, Serena for the second and then we’ll see how we manage from eleven onwards.”
“Great,” I nodded. “Thanks.” Just then Ivy stirred and her dark, blue eyes opened and roamed the corridor sleepily. “I better feed her.” I said with a quick smile. I moved to walk past Gail to the back of the corridor to sit in the kitchen break area.
“You’re doing great, Penny.” She told me, “I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks Gail,” I added with more emotion in my voice than I wanted.
Bloody hormones.
Chapter 2 – Matthew
THE ALARM BLARED BY my side. It was telling me to get the hell up and I was snoozing the damned thing again. I was the boss so I could afford to be late but looking like shit every day and rolling in smelling of stale alcohol was probably not a great quality for their leader.
I ran my dad’s printing business since he’d retired two years ago, he was still involved and made surprise guest appearances a lot but the running of the place was now down to me. We did a lot of our business online these days but still had a small factory and there were almost a hundred employees who kept us ticking over. Larsons had been a staple in Harrow, London for three generations and my dad had kept it going and transforming through the digital age.
I was letting him down at the moment.
I dragged myself out of bed, the fitted bed sheet kept rolling off the corner of the damned king sized thing and I had no idea when I’d last changed the sheets. I stepped over discarded clothes to make my way to the en suite bathroom to splash cold water on my face. I looked like hell. I was living in hell.
My brown
hair stuck out at all angles, my dark, blue eyes were dilated and bloodshot and the scruff of my beard was getting out of control. I didn’t have the energy to deal with it, instead I walked to the shower, started the water and went back to the sink to splash my face with cold water again before I stepped inside. I had always taken pride in my appearance, I used to workout five or six nights a week and we used to only drink alcohol on weekends. In our twenties we had eaten rubbish and drank all the beer. In our thirties we were health conscious and tried everything we could to be healthy. We had goals, we had dreams and now she was gone.
I was thirty-six and a widower.
I hadn’t even heard that word before, it was a strange one. Of course I knew the term widow but I guess I didn’t realise there was a word for the male version.
I sighed and smelled the stale alcohol which proved how much I’d been drinking. I pushed myself into the shower. The towel was still damp from the day before, at least I was showering daily, that was an improvement. I had no idea how often towels should get changed ... she used to do all that.
Jemma.
My wife.
She died four months ago, car crash. It was late, she’d been to dinner with friends and a drunk driver took her out. She died at the scene.
I was running out of clean clothes, my house was a shit tip and I was living the life of some disgusting bachelor who partied too hard and didn’t remember many hours of the day. Except the party was private and I was ultimately alone.
Chapter 3 – The Father
Penny
“YOU NEED HELP,” GAIL sighed as we sipped tea with Eden and the other teacher, Serena after a busy day of dancing classes.
“I’m fine,” I swatted the air as Ivy greedily clung to my breast with her rosebud lips and my feet throbbed from being on them all day. My body was only just returning to normal and yet I was pushing it to its old limits.
“You need more money than this place can pay and babies are expensive.” Gail clicked her tongue and Serena nodded her agreement.
“She barely costs me anything,” I sighed.
“Right now when all she has is boob milk and a few tiny outfits you can live off love alone but we can’t have her here whilst you work forever,” Serena added. She was a few years older than me at twenty-eight, had long, blonde hair that she always wore in two braids and like Gail she was tall and slender, they both towered above me. She didn’t have kids, she was single and mingling. She wasn’t stupid.
“When she gets bigger you need child care and shoes and a pram,” Gail shook her head, “the father needs to be held accountable. He should pay.”
“I don’t need a pram, I have the sling and the father,” I scoffed, “he doesn’t want to know.”
“Tough shit,” Gail said with venom, “he wanted to know at one point and why should you be left holding the baby, so to speak. You’ll need a buggy or something eventually, she’ll get too heavy to lug around in that carrier soon.”
“Penny?” Eden asked sweetly, she was almost sixteen and such a beautiful young girl, not awkward like I had been at sixteen. She was so lucky to have Gail and Jim as parents as they were just the best. She was her mother’s image and Gail wanted her to be a dancer, just as she had been.
“Yeah?” I responded.
“Who is the father?” she asked.
Gail took a deep breath and Serena widened her eyes and gave me an I’m sorry look. I was surprised she had no idea or that Gail hadn’t ranted about the whole situation at home to Jim. Eden must have been in her own world the past few months not to have known.
“Ivy was meant to be someone else’s baby Eden,” I gave her a tight, sad smile, I rubbed Ivy’s head gently as she sucked the goodness out of my withering body. “I was carrying her for a childless couple, they were desperate for a baby and I was going to help.”
“Oh right,” she looked confused.
“Penny was a surrogate for a hoity-toity woman and her husband but ....” Gail told her, squeezing her hand lovingly, “then the lady died.”
“Oh sorry Pen,” Eden smiled shyly, “I thought you were getting her adopted and changed your mind.”
I shook my head, “it was all supposed to be so different for Ivy,” I swallowed hard, “I guess time will tell if I made the right choice.”
“You had no choice!” Gail barked, “he went back on the deal, leaving you high and dry.”
“You could have still had her adopted,” Eden said but seemed to suck the words back once they were released into the room. Gail looked alarmed and Serena grabbed her tea.
“I grew up in care,” I told Eden calmly, “I could never do that to Ivy.”
“You need to get the CSA on his case, yesterday,” Gail said with a disgruntled tone. “He shouldn’t be able to make a life and change his mind about it when his life didn’t turn out the way he expected.”
“He’s grieving,” I sighed.
“He’s got responsibilities!” Gail shook her head and her lips were pursed, “do it!” she nodded with wide-eyed instruction.
“I’ll think about it.”
Chapter 4 – Jemma
SHE MET MATTHEW LARSON at university, he was a southern charmer with a tall, muscular physique, brown hair and those gorgeous blue eyes like nothing she had seen before. They studied at Newcastle, he was in one of her Social Policy classes and she noticed him from the first day. His hair was floppy and unruly and on certain days he wore glasses to class. He wore long, board shorts year round with either hoodys, t-shirts or knitted sweaters with various designer emblems on them. He was beautiful and her stomach fluttered whenever she caught sight of him.
She’d seen him around the Halls of Residence, he wasn’t in her building but there was a bar in between all five buildings and she’d seen him in there. There was also a canteen above the bar where she’d seen him laughing with friends, shuffling his tray along the glider through to payment. He didn’t notice her and she became borderline obsessed with him.
Jemma was from Edinburgh, she was shy and it was her first time away from home. Although she had no body issues she never managed to show off her assets like the other girls on campus but her dark, brown hair and naturally dark skin were good basics to start with. The other girls always seemed so well thrown together and their makeup was immaculate. Jemma didn’t fall into their category.
She made some great friends and that first year was a dream come true, she only visited home when she had to. She watched Matthew from afar, she hoped one day that she would pluck up the courage to speak to him.
One summer night, a week before her first year was due to end and she would go back to Scotland until autumn, she left a club alone. Her friends wanted to stay and she felt ready to leave, Newcastle was a safe city. There were always people roaming the streets, they were friendly and getting a cab home with some chips alone was not a dangerous task.
She wore a dress that a year ago she wouldn’t have even tried on in the shop, it was royal blue and fitted to her toned figure like a glove. Her friend Hazel had taught her the importance of good underwear and Rene had taught her how to curl her hair which gave her some volume. She could thank all her new friends for the makeup tips. She walked confidently yet tired to the takeout and queued behind a rowdy bunch of guys.
“Jemma!” One of them turned, he recognised her from their halls and she smiled.
“Hi Jez,” she grinned, he bent to hug her. He was a huge rugby player who had dated Rene for a few months earlier in the year. It hadn’t worked out but they were all still friends. Jez was friends with everyone.
“Everyone, Jemma!” he announced and she grinned shyly. “You alone?” he asked, he swayed a little on his feet as he wrapped a big, meaty arm around her.
“Yeah,” she sighed with a smile, “I left the party people, I’d had enough and my feet hurt.”
“Well you’ll get a taxi back with us then.” he said with surety. “No way are we letting a damsel get a taxi home alone.”
&nb
sp; “Oh, um,” she said uneasily, looking up at the big crowd of burly men. Just then she caught sight of that familiar scruffy hair and within the noise saw Matthew. His hair was more styled than usual, he wore jeans, she instantly missed the sight of his toned legs with a smattering of light, brown hair in his usual shorts. He wore a dark dress shirt and a pair of sunglasses despite it being almost two in the morning. She smiled at him and he lowered the sunglasses, those dark, blue ocean coloured eyes honing in on her and he grinned as if seeing her for the very first time.
He stepped between the guys who were laughing and some biting into kebabs. He pushed the glasses up to the top of his head, cocked his head to the side and she could tell by his gaze that he was drunk. “Who’s this?” he asked, not taking his eyes off Jemma.
“Jemma,” she uttered just as Jez pulled her into him again, her body squashed by his huge frame but her dark eyes remained fixed on Matt.
“Jemma,” he said her name in his clipped, southern accent and it made her heart somersault at the sound.
“Order Jem,” Jez instructed. “We’ll wait outside.”
“Okay,” she squeaked. She turned to the high counter and rested her arms on there as the man behind the counter scooped chips into a polystyrene box. She was squashed by so many people that it took her a second to notice that Matt hadn’t left. He moved to lean sideways against the counter and watched her, she laughed lightly. “You’re drunk.” she said to him with a smirk.
“You’re beautiful,” he said simply back.
She rolled her eyes and felt her face heat with embarrassment at the intensity of his stare. “I’m wearing more make up than Madonna.”
The chips were placed on the counter and she reached to take them. He stood upright and she smiled as he moved to walk past her and crooked his arm out so she could lace hers through. “Do we know each other, Jemma?” he asked.
“We had a class together in the first term,” she told him.
