by Hayley Oakes
He placed his free hand on the hand that she had hooked through his arm, “Jemma, sit next to me in the cab, I’ll make sure you get home safe.”
“Okay,” she grinned and he squeezed her hand.
After that Jemma always felt safe with Matt.
Chapter 5 – Matthew
I WAITED. I WAS furious. I was angry and I had an idea that this leech was about to make my life ten times more complicated that it needed to be.
She lived in some shitty area of Camden in an old Victorian building that required a good lick of paint. I shivered at the thought of what it looked like inside. I was suffering with a hangover but that wasn’t new. Well it was newish as a few weeks before I didn’t get sober enough to feel them. I had only met the girl once, briefly when we first saw the specialist, this was all Jemma. She attended the appointments and instructed me what to do and had the money ready to transfer. I was only a mere bystander in the whole event, desperate to see a smile on that beautiful face again.
It was almost five pm, it was October and the rain was sheeting down as I sat in waiting in the comfort of my BMW 5 series, leather interior and top of the range gadgets didn’t even mask my misery these days. I saw her, she walked purposely with her head down in the rain. Her light, blonde hair was up in a ponytail that was plastered to her head with rain. Her parka coat looked to be on backwards as she barrelled towards her address. It was definitely her. She was sodden.
I jumped out of my car, “Hey!” I yelled.
She looked up briefly and her face instantly became panicked, “Hey!” I shouted again as she tried to walk around me.
“Penelope Strauss!” I yelled out, she looked up again. She was quite a bit smaller than me and I towered above her menacingly as the rain fell heavily around us, my hair was soaked from only minutes standing outside the car and my eyelashes were blinking uncontrollably under the downpour.
She tried to barge past me, holding tightly to her front but I blocked her path.
“We need to talk!” I snapped.
“I need to get inside,” she said weakly and her light, blue eyes looked up to me with pleading but I ignored her pathetic, little woman act.
“You are messing with the wrong guy,” I warned her.
“I need to get inside,” she squeaked, turning her back to me and using that to force herself past me. I followed hot on her tail.
“Look, you may have fooled my wife and made out to be some knight in shining armour but I know you’re just some money-grabbing waster and you won’t be getting a penny out of me.” I shouted after her as the rain dripped off my nose, my anger masking the feeling of the cold.
She made it to her front door and fumbled with the keys with shaking hands as she tried to ignore me.
“I won’t pay a penny towards that baby!” I raged. “You can’t force me.”
She managed to get through the door into the foyer and I followed. I opened my mouth to shout some more and it was then that I heard the cry. She turned away from me and eased the coat zip down at her back after having worn it the wrong way round. The soaked coat dropped to the floor and she began to bounce lightly. It had been covering the baby in some sort of sling. “Shhhhh,” she said, “shhhhhh,” The baby screamed and I instantly swallowed my anger, it felt misplaced when the baby was present.
“I need the money,” she added in a hushed, clipped tone, her back to me.
“That’s your problem,” I told her my voice hoarse with anger, a hangover and the depths of the grief I wore daily as a cloak of armour.
“I need childcare or I can’t work and with rent and ...” her voice trailed off.
“You should have just put it up for adoption like I asked,” my voice broke a little at that. As I knew Jemma would have hated that instruction but she wasn’t here, she didn’t have to live with it without her. I made that decision when I thought I’d never have to deal with it again, yet I should have known nothing would ever be so simple.
“I couldn’t do that,” she uttered and I stood over her as the baby calmed and she hunched over the thing protecting it from me.
“I’ll fight you!” I spat, inhaling deeply though my nostrils. Trying to temper my anger.
“You’re the biological father,” she sighed her voice still quiet, “you won’t win.”
“I’ll will when they realise you’re a money-grabbing little bitch who used a poor desperate woman to extort twenty grand,” I growled.
She shook her head and I had no idea if she was crying or angry as all hell because she kept her back to me, protecting that baby. “I didn’t see a penny,” she told me matter-of-factly. “You made this baby and you will help me care for her.”
Her. It was a girl.
“You and Jemma made that baby, I wasn’t even there!” I shouted with frustration and the baby set off crying again.
She stepped forwards towards the stairs and I stayed rooted to my spot.
“Fight me Matthew,” she said calmly as she walked away, “but come here again and I’ll get a restraining order.” She added glibly as she walked away to the safety of her shitty flat.
“You are unbelievable!” I shouted with a mocking snort as she walked away.
She didn’t answer, just disappeared up the stairs.
Chapter 6 - Four Months Old
Penny
I WAS FIVE WHEN my mother’s parental rights were relinquished. My little brother, Rafferty, was three and my baby sister, Francesca, six months old. Raff and I had been in foster care together five times previously, I’d been seven times in total. Raff slept with me every night, he was still in nappies and I rarely went to school so social services came knocking for the last time. My mother’s name was Lara Strauss, she was mostly a single parent between terrible boyfriends and baby daddies. I didn’t ever see her again after the day we were taken away never to return.
Raff and Fran were adopted together within months. I wasn’t so lucky.
I had behavioural problems. That’s the term they used to describe a little girl who had lived through the stability of a spinning top for five years. Raff and Fran were lucky but they had a closed adoption and there was no room for their unruly older sister. I suppose I’d spent so long being the one in charge at home whilst my mum nursed a hangover of booze and drugs, went to the pub with her latest squeeze or screamed blue murder at him as he beat her and we hid in the wardrobe, they thought I had an attitude problem. I did.
I bounced around various homes, people tried their best, they really did but it was never a good fit. When I was twelve I was placed with a gay couple, Gary and Leon Parker-Smyth. It was my last chance to live in someone’s home, I was homophobic, disrespectful, rude and lacked any manners. They were strict, patient, caring and the most loving parents I have ever had. They enrolled me in dancing classes and counselling, they lived on a large plot of land that allowed them to keep chickens, goats and a plethora of cats and dogs. I stayed there the oldest of five kids until I was seventeen.
They announced they were moving to Spain and wanted to adopt all of us so we could go with them. I decided not to go because I felt I had too much of a life in the UK. We are in regular contact and without Gary and Leon I would be a nobody, a drug addict or even worse like my mother.
They were not aware of the surrogacy plan, hence why I gave birth alone. I didn’t think I’d ever have to tell them. My London based friends had no idea the whole thing had blown up, expecting the Larsons at the birth, until I brought Ivy home. I just kept hoping that Matthew Larson would change his mind. Gary and Leon had no idea I’d given birth until I phoned them when I was home and they were heartbroken for me. I was secretive and private, it came from years of having no choice where and when I went places and what I did growing up. Everyone had to analyse every word and emotion. As an adult I struggled to let anyone in.
Gary flew over, Leon stayed with the kids. He bought me a cot and some clothes for her and held me whilst I cried. He stayed a week, sleeping on my sofa and tryi
ng to teach me how to me a mum.
“When you came to us Pen, you were like a little ball of anger,” he laughed as we sat snuggled on the sofa with Ivy sleeping nearby in the Moses Basket that had been Gail’s gift.
I laughed, but tiredness wouldn’t let me hold up my end of the conversation.
“I thought you were the prettiest little thing I’d ever seen and Leon didn’t know if we could help you ... but I knew we had to try.” I’d heard this story so many times, I leaned my head on his shoulder and breathed in his familiar scent as he held me to him. Gary was six foot, he was dark skinned with a bald head and wore dark rimmed glasses. He was easily intimidating with huge hands like shovels and dark eyes that betrayed every feeling he felt. Yet he was the softest man I’d ever met. “I said to Leon, no way is anything that beautiful a lost cause.”
I grinned, I loved this story, “so we took you home and you proved me right. You are one tough cookie, Pen, but you have all the love in the world inside that heart.” He squeezed me. “You’ll be a great mum.”
I sighed, “should I have given her away?” I uttered.
“Don’t question your gut sweetheart,” he kissed my head.
That was rule number one of the imaginary list of life rules he taught us, trust your instincts.
“I love you Gazza,” I said quietly as Ivy stirred.
“You, my dear, are my pride and joy.” My heart filled with love at his comment and I dragged myself up to feed Ivy for the second time that hour.
Chapter 7 – Matthew
“DO YOU WANT CUSTODY of this child?” our family solicitor, Harold Markel, asked as he sat with his hands knitted together, folded on top of his desk. I sat before him a shadow of my former self, running my hands through my wayward hair in an attempt to look better presented.
“No!” I added quickly, “I want it all to go away.” I barked out frantically.
“Matthew,” he leaned forward on the desk and gave me a sympathetic smile, “are you aware of the details of the surrogacy?” he asked, as if speaking to a small child. I swallowed hard.
“Yeah?!” my voice wavered as I wasn’t sure if it was a statement or a question.
He opened a file on his desk, “okay,” he placed reading glasses on and read directly from the file, “as you are aware surrogacy laws in this country are in their infancy and I’m no expert but the birth mother holds all the rights until the baby is handed over and formally relinquishes parental rights.”
“Yeah,” I nodded frustrated, “so ....”
“So, it seems Jemma and yourself had an agreement with Penelope Strauss that could not be written down into a legally binding contract as dictated by UK Law, that she would carry this child for you and for whatever reason rather than an egg donor you chose IUI.”
I looked up at that point in question.
“Intrauterine insemination,” he nodded, “your sperm utilised and the best selected to be inserted into the womb of the surrogate. I believe you said twenty thousand pounds would be provided but that would not be documented either, as payment of any kind beyond living expenses is actually illegal.” He peered over his glasses after that statement.
“Right,” I nodded.
“So the procedure is probably the most cost effective way and also perhaps provides the best results using the surrogate’s actual egg.” He surmised with a nod and I groaned with frustration.
“Look, where do I stand?” I almost yelled.
“You willingly gave your sperm to the process, the tests here prove that the child is 50% of your DNA and 50% of Miss Straus.” He took off his reading glasses and gave me that sympathetic look again, “the only court case I could support is for custody but to try and prove that you had nothing to do with the conception, I cannot undertake. I’m sorry.” He sniffed. “However even custody would be tough as she has messages from you telling her you want nothing to do with the baby from Jemma’s phone.”
At the sound of Jemma’s name, I stiffened. I missed her. I missed the life we had, the order, the routine, the love. I missed her smell and her soft, Gaelic voice, that hadn’t been diluted by her years in London with me. I tried not to cry.
“She was so desperate for this baby,” I muttered, almost not to Harold, more to myself.
“How do you think she would consider you have handled this situation?” he asked, leaning forward again with sympathy in his tone.
“She’d hate it,” I gritted out, “but I want nothing to do with that ... girl.” I forced out the final word like it was dirty.
“Seems to me,” he clicked his tongue, “like this girl has stepped up to the task of something that she expected would be your job.”
“She could have chosen adoption,” I added with anger.
“Perhaps that wasn’t an option for her for whatever reason, women become very attached after carrying a baby for nine months.” He tried to play devil’s advocate and I tried not to scream.
“So maybe she wouldn’t have handed the thing over to Jemma in the end anyway,” I added, wincing at the thought. I had no reason to chew Harold out, God it wasn’t his fault.
“That, Matthew, we will never know.” He stood up from his desk, pushing on his hands on his desk as he did. “My advice is pay the CSA. Maybe get to know your daughter ... you may regret ....”
“No,” I cut him off, “I don’t have a daughter not without Jemma.”
“I’m sorry, Matthew, DNA tests state otherwise and I want you to think long and hard about this.” This time his tone was harsher, perhaps the voice of experience.
I pushed my chair back to stand as he rounded the desk and put his hand out to shake mine, “my wife is dead!” I said keeping my voice as steady as I could manage, “my hopes for a family died with her.”
He nodded and there was that sympathetic look again, he walked me to the door and I darted from his office like my pants were on fire. I hated bad advice but even more I hated advice that directly contradicted the way I wanted things to go. Shit.
Chapter 8 – Jemma
MATTHEW AND JEMMA TEXTED and emailed over the summer. They hadn’t kissed the night he’d first noticed her but had swapped phone numbers and she had heard nothing from him until she was safely back in Edinburgh.
Matt: How is the Scottish summer weather?
Jemma: Grim haha
Matt: What are your plans over summer?
Jemma: Working at my uncle’s cafe and then Ibiza with the girls, you?
Matt: Working for my dad and family break to Mexico x
Jemma: Sounds awesome, do you have a big family?
Matt: Two little bratty sisters J, parents still together, so average, you?
Jemma: One brother he’s three years older and married so we don’t see him too much, parents are separated and both remarried. It’s complicated J
Matt: Have fun in Ibiza!
Jemma: You too in Mexico.
Subject: Summer
[email protected]
Friday 03/07 13:52
Jemma,
I am bored out of my brain working up invoices in my dad’s office, wishing I was in some beer garden with my mates. What are you doing?
Matt xx
Subject: Re: Summer
[email protected]
Friday 03/07 16:00
Hey Matt,
Great to hear from you, oh being bored is so rubbish! The days at the cafe are so bloody busy I have no time to be bored and my feet ache like a mo fo!
Some guy came in today and asked me if I was Spanish, started speaking Spanish to me, I totally laughed my head off. He was embarrassed when I told him no and left me a big tip.
Off out tonight with my school friends into Edinburgh, so soaking my feet in preparation for heels.
Hope you get to the beer garden soon J
Jemma xxx
Subject: Heels
[email protected]
Friday 03/07 16:30
Jemma,
Pleas
e describe said heels .....
Matt xx
Subject: Re: Heels
[email protected]
Friday 03/07 16:45
Matt,
They are just black and strappy, that’s all. Nothing fancy haha
However the dress I am wearing leaves little for the imagination ....
Jemma xx
Subject: Dress
[email protected]
Friday 03/07 17:00
Jemma,
Leaving work now and heading straight to the beer garden to meet my friends, thoughts of said dress are making me remember how awesome you looked in the blue dress a few weeks ago!
Matt xx
Subject: Re: Dress
[email protected]
Friday 03/07 17:15
Matt,
It’s amazing what makeup and good bra can do ;-)
Jemma xx
Subject: Bra
[email protected]
Friday 03/07 17:00
Jemma,
Now thinking about the bra, be good tonight Jem, speak soon!!!
Matt xx
Jemma stared at his last email for a long time with a huge grin on her face, finally Matthew Larson had noticed her and she wasn’t sure if the real guy could live up to the fantasy she had created in her head.
When she returned to university in September she figured out that not only had their virtual flirting reached fever pitch but Matt was just as happy to see her as she was to see him.
Chapter 9 - Five Months Old
Penny
“I’VE FOUND A CHILDMINDER,” I said to Gail as I patted my sweaty chest down with a towel after teaching my seniors street dance class.
“Yeah?” she grinned as she held a gurgling Ivy, who smiled brightly as soon as she saw me. “Any news on the CSA?” she asked and my mood plummeted.
