And Then She Ran

by Karen Clarke

  I followed him silently back to the cottage where Morag was waiting in the kitchen, her eyes fixed on the doorway. Her face was tense, her hair mussed as though she’d been running her hands through it.

  ‘Sit down,’ she instructed. Skip, clearly resentful his walk was over, padded to the rug and flopped down. ‘I was talking to my niece.’ The fact that she wasn’t angry, was trying to make a joke, tore at my heart. I wished I’d been honest with her from the start.

  ‘We’ve an hour before Ifan comes back.’ She dragged over the stool from the kitchen and sat down, pointing Declan towards the sofa. He dwarfed it when he sat on the edge, forearms resting on his knees.

  I took Lily out of her carrier, removed her hooded coat and checked her nappy was dry before sitting beside Skip on the rug. I stretched out my legs and laid Lily on my thighs. I wanted to see her face as I told the story, knowing it was the only time she would ever hear it.

  The warmth from the fire was calming. I waited for my leaping heart to settle before taking a deep breath. The past rushed in like a tidal wave, pulling me back to the day Patrick reappeared and changed the course of my life.

  *

  ‘Can we talk?’

  Not giving me a chance to respond, Patrick steered me down a side street, careful we shouldn’t be seen together, as if everyone in Manhattan knew who he was and eyes were constantly on him. He told me once they probably were because of the cases he’d worked on; the families of criminals he’d helped put behind bars who might want to take revenge. A few years earlier, an assistant DA in another county had been mown down in a hit-and-run that was thought to be deliberate. The culprit was never caught.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I said, once we were sitting in a leather booth tucked out of view. He’d pulled a folder from his briefcase so it would look as though he was having a meeting. ‘I haven’t seen you for months and you just—’

  ‘Elise lost the baby.’

  The tiredness that had fogged my brain for days cleared in an instant. ‘Patrick, that’s awful. I’m so sorry. I know how much she wanted to be a mother.’ In that moment, I meant it. Patrick had told me that having a child would save his wife, the fulfilment of a dream, a reason to stay sober. ‘Was it a miscarriage?’ I knew she’d suffered two already, that it was more likely to happen during the early months. I felt a twinge of fear, wondering whether it could still happen to me at six months pregnant. How would it feel for the life that had begun to grow inside me to slip away, to not exist anymore? I was frightened of giving birth and of what came next, but I didn’t want to lose the baby.

  ‘I think she’d been drinking again.’ Patrick’s face darkened. He looked tired, almost ill, his normally sleek hair dishevelled, pouches of tiredness under his eyes – older than his thirty-nine years. ‘She promised she hadn’t but I know the signs. She’d been feeling sick, couldn’t keep anything down.’ His voice was flat, as if to drain the words of emotion. It was odd to see him so powerless; odd to see him at all after believing we’d never meet again. ‘She said she wished she could be put to sleep until the baby was born so she didn’t have to deal with being pregnant.’ Bitterness entered his voice, a frown wrinkling his brow. I wondered how much of what he was feeling was grief at losing his child and the fact that his wife was suffering, and how much was anger that the perfect marriage and family he’d planned had vanished.

  ‘I was stupid to have got excited and pinned my hopes on it actually happening. It was too good to be true,’ he said. ‘And now she’s regressed. Sleeping all day, not speaking to anyone. I’m fielding calls from her parents and the few friends she’s got left, telling them she’s still got terrible morning sickness. It’s tragic when everyone was so thrilled for her—’

  ‘Wait,’ I interrupted. ‘You haven’t told anyone she’s lost the baby?’

  ‘She didn’t want me to.’ For a moment, he looked as though he might cry and I felt a surge of pity. ‘She couldn’t face telling people and, to be honest, neither could I. Not when things had been so good for a while.’

  I pictured it, her family delighted that finally their daughter had a purpose. Her friends determined to rally round now there was something to celebrate. That things had reverted must seem unbearable. ‘You can try again.’

  Patrick shook his head, dropping his gaze. ‘It might never happen. She doesn’t think she can carry a baby full-term.’

  Unsure what he wanted from me, why he’d sought me out, I said again, ‘I’m sorry.’

  He gave me an edgy look, building up to something. The slightly frantic way his fingers kept smoothing the folder was unsettling. That and the fact that he hadn’t shaved for a few days. Two coffees sat on the table in front of us and I picked mine up and put it down again. ‘What’s going on, Patrick?’

  ‘I thought …’ He sucked in a breath, seeming suddenly unsure. Patrick, who was never lost for words, whose job depended on saying the right thing at the right time. ‘Your friend Ana came to see me,’ he said. ‘She told me you were pregnant.’

  ‘What?’ It was the last thing I’d expected him to say. It felt as if an earthquake had rocked the café. ‘When was this?’

  ‘A couple of days ago.’

  No wonder she hadn’t answered my call last night. I’d rung to ask how her date with Tom had gone. She hadn’t picked up, which wasn’t like her. ‘She had no right to do that.’ My hands moved to the curve of belly beneath my loose dress. ‘I wasn’t going to tell you.’ I lowered my voice, which had started to wobble. ‘I don’t expect anything from you, Patrick. I’m not planning to keep the baby. I’m considering adoption.’

  ‘But, Grace, don’t you see? It’s perfect.’ Reaching over, Patrick grasped my hand, the sleeve of his coat riding up to reveal his gold watch. He quickly let go, probably trying to not look round to check whether anyone had seen. ‘It’s brilliant news.’

  ‘It is?’

  ‘We’ll have the baby,’ he said. ‘I mean, it is mine, isn’t it?’ He smiled his old smile, reassuring me he was being ironic; that of course he knew the baby was his and that I hadn’t been seeing anyone since he went back to his wife, even though I had every right to. ‘Look, Grace, it’s perfect,’ he said again and, for a crazy second, I thought he was going to say he would leave Elise, that we could start a life together with our child, and knew in that instant it wasn’t what I wanted. I didn’t want to be with a man who’d impregnated a woman while still married to someone else, a man who’d leave a wife who’d miscarried their baby and was clearly unwell.

  Then he said, ‘We don’t need to tell anyone Elise has lost the baby. It’s not unusual for her to not see anyone for months; it won’t be difficult. In the meantime, stick close the truth. Tell people you’re having the baby for a childless couple. You don’t need to go into detail.’ And that’s when I realised. He meant for him and Elise to have my baby. ‘You could give up working—’

  ‘I’m not giving up my career.’ Feeling as though I’d entered a parallel universe, I tried to digest his words. ‘I love my job. I have to work.’ But even as I spoke, I registered with a dull sense of shock that I hadn’t immediately said no.

  ‘I’ll cover your living expenses—’

  ‘I don’t want your money.’

  He nodded, one palm flat on the folder. I wondered whether there were documents inside, already drawn up – a contract, a business agreement. ‘It’ll be an informal arrangement so nothing can be traced back to me, but I’m sure that will suit you too,’ he said. ‘It’ll be totally confidential. No one but us will ever know.’

  ‘And, what? You just pass off the baby as yours and Elise’s?’ I could hardly believe I was saying it.

  ‘Our names will be on the birth certificate, so … yes.’

  My mind spun. ‘Patrick, I … I don’t know.’ I picked up my coffee again but the smell made my stomach lurch. ‘It seems wrong.’

  ‘Isn’t it better than strangers raising our child?’ Both hands were on the folder now, his face ani
mated. ‘You could do anything you want afterwards. Open a chain of restaurants if you want. I’ll invest—’

  ‘I’ve told you I don’t want your money.’ Anger flared. ‘How do you know I won’t tell people about this? That Patrick Holden asked for my baby in exchange for a chain of restaurants?’ I already knew I would never tell anyone about this. He knew it too.

  ‘That’s not you, Grace.’ His voice was gentle. ‘I know you.’ He slid round without warning, onto the seat beside me, and rested his hands on my stomach. ‘It’s my baby in there.’

  Mine too, I felt like saying, but it still didn’t seem real. He moved back to his seat and looked at me expectantly, used to getting his own way. If I say yes, I will never see my baby again. A pinprick of something ominous pierced my disbelief. A premonition, maybe.

  ‘What does Elise have to say about this brilliant plan?’ I sat back and tried to steady my breathing. The baby chose that moment to move, as though protesting at my tone and racing heart. ‘What have you told her?’

  He had the grace to look guilty, drumming his immaculate fingernails on the table. ‘I said I knew someone who knew someone who was pregnant and didn’t want her baby, that she was happy to give it up for a price and sign a non-disclosure agreement.’

  ‘And Elise is on board with that?’ I shook my head, trying to picture it. ‘She’s an alcoholic, Patrick.’

  ‘The only thing that will stop her is a baby.’ His tone turned pleading. ‘More than anything, Grace, she wants to be a mom. This is her last chance.’ Emotion twisted his face. ‘Our last chance.’

  I didn’t bother to remind him that only a few months ago, he’d been in my bed, talking about everything that was wrong with his marriage. ‘What if she can’t give up drinking?’

  As if sensing me weakening, he brightened. ‘She can recover with a strong enough reason,’ he said. ‘She’ll love the baby, I promise, Grace.’ He kept saying my name. Wasn’t that a tactic, to make me feel special? He was playing me. ‘She was like a different person when she was pregnant. I know it’s a cliché, but she was glowing. I’m sorry if that’s hard to hear, Grace, but I know this is what she’s waiting for. Her destiny, if you like.’

  ‘And yours.’ I gave him a hard stare, wondering how he’d kept this side of himself hidden – the side willing to do and say anything to get what he wanted. ‘Looks good on the CV doesn’t it?’

  ‘Don’t be like that, Grace.’ His voice softened. ‘It would be good for us all, don’t you think? We all benefit, especially the baby.’

  ‘If the baby looks like you, won’t Elise suspect that you might have had a hand in its conception?’

  ‘Of course she won’t.’ He actually looked hurt. ‘I’ve never cheated on her before,’ he said, adding quickly, ‘Grace, you were different, you know that. I cared about you. I care about you. At least you know your baby will be with its natural father and will have a good life, have everything it needs. Grandparents who will love it. Our baby will have a good family, Grace.’

  I used to have a family. What did I have now? A job I loved, one good friend, some great colleagues, and a home above a restaurant. It didn’t amount to much. It was no substitute for a family. And I already knew I wasn’t cut out for motherhood. Maybe he was right and this was the best option. He did have rights as the baby’s father, but I didn’t want to give in without a fight, worried about what sort of person it made me if I agreed to his mad plan. ‘Wouldn’t Elise want to meet me?’

  Patrick shook his head, but I guessed he was the one who didn’t want us meeting; didn’t want his wife and the woman he’d made pregnant coming face to face. Maybe he suspected she’d know right away and didn’t want to break her heart.

  ‘Why not just tell everyone she miscarried and you’ve decided to use a surrogate.’ I could hardly believe the words coming out of my mouth. An hour ago, I’d been concerned with staying awake long enough to visit my supplier and source some Scotch bonnet peppers for a private party at the restaurant. Patrick must have been waiting and followed me, I realised. ‘A lot of celebrities do it; it’s nothing to be ashamed of.’

  ‘Are you kidding?’ He took a swig of coffee, winced and pushed the cup aside. ‘You know her parents are deeply religious?’ I hadn’t known that. ‘And can you imagine the scandal? People don’t want a messy story about surrogates, Grace; they won’t want a DA who “paid” for his wife to have a baby by another woman. There was a long-held ban on surrogacy here and it’s still a controversial topic. And even if I did suggest it and her parents accepted the idea, which they won’t, they’d want to check you out, your family, your background. It would …’ He sat back and released a deep sigh. ‘It just wouldn’t work, Grace, believe me.’

  Oddly enough, I did when he put it like that. My mind was spinning so fast, I couldn’t hold my thoughts together, could barely make sense of it all. ‘So, it would be another secret you’d have to keep.’

  ‘It would be your secret too, Grace. You can’t tell anyone, not even your friend, however grateful I am that she let me know you were pregnant. If you tell just one person, it’s not a secret anymore.’ At that moment, I wasn’t sure I’d ever speak to Ana again. ‘You don’t even need to tell her we spoke, just that you’ve made a decision about what to do.’ Patrick sat forward, eyes glowing, in love with the idea. ‘It’s so perfect,’ he said. He seemed to like that word, but nothing was ever perfect. ‘I already can’t wait to meet my son.’

  ‘What if it’s a girl?’

  ‘It won’t be.’ He sounded so sure, as if it would come to pass simply because he wished it. ‘It’ll work Grace, I’m telling you.’ This time, his smile reached all the way inside me, his special smile, the one I imagined he wore when he won a particularly tricky case. ‘You just have to believe it.’

  Chapter 38

  ‘And so, I agreed.’ I came back to the moment to see Morag and Declan listening with rapt attention. ‘I carried on working until I got too big and my ankles became swollen and then spent a lot of time in the apartment. When people asked, I said I was carrying the baby for a childless couple, just like he suggested, and they accepted it.’ I paused. ‘It was harder than I’d thought, not telling the truth. It was a lonely time. Patrick got a burner phone that he’d call me from for updates, telling me to take this vitamin and that. He told me how excited Elise was to meet her baby, that she’d already stopped drinking and was looking after herself, had started decorating the nursery. That’s what she said, apparently. Her baby.’ I shook my head, recalling Patrick’s barely contained excitement as he waited for his plan to come to fruition, how complimentary he was, telling me I was making a difference, saving his wife’s life, their marriage. He insisted I go for a scan and email him the picture so he could show her. I went to the hospital alone, making my mind blank when I heard the echoey heartbeat for the first time, shaking my head when asked if I wanted to know whether it was a boy or girl.

  ‘I don’t even know what I was thinking by that stage, only that I wanted it to be over so my life could go back to normal,’ I said, holding Lily’s hands and squeezing gently. ‘I’m so ashamed of that now.’

  ‘Go on,’ Morag prompted, a hardness in her voice that I knew wasn’t directed at me. ‘How were you supposed to have the baby and hand it over without anyone knowing?’

  ‘He had this crazy plan to tell everyone Elise had the baby at home and they delivered it themselves. When I went into labour I was to go to the hospital, have the baby, and the next day get a cab to his town apartment, the one where he stayed when he was working on a case and didn’t want to go home. Not the actual apartment but down the block, where he’d be waiting to take the baby to Elise.’ I gave an incredulous laugh. ‘It was stupidly cloak and dagger and sounds so ridiculous now, but he made it seem plausible, as if nothing could go wrong, and when Patrick puts his mind to something it just kind of … it works. I kept pushing the reality to one side,’ I said. ‘It was so far beyond how I imagined things turning out, like the
plot of a soap. I just wanted my real life back, the one I was used to that didn’t involve affairs or babies and it was actually, weirdly, OK – sort of. Until she was born.’

  In the end, there’d been no long labour, no time to worry about pain relief or getting to hospital on time. I’d had a small bag packed for a week, had gone out and bought the basics, everything I thought a new baby would need. I’d toyed with the idea of an epidural as the date drew near and my fear of giving birth grew, but my labour started in the bathroom on a rainy night in January, waters pooling on the tiles. I’d got up to have a drink of water, but the low backache I’d suffered all day quickly gave way to a seething pain in my lower belly. I’d gripped the edge of the sink as it radiated up around my back and into my pelvis, shaky and sweating.

  ‘I wasn’t ready,’ I said. ‘I thought it was too soon, she wasn’t due for another week.’ There’d been no break between contractions. I panted through them in a panicked crouch, everything fading around me as some force beyond my control began to gather, making me push and push as I shook and cried for my mother. I lost track of time, but only fifteen minutes had passed before I felt a rushing between my thighs, a slipping sensation, and suddenly there was my baby, attached to a trailing cord, purple and streaky, her tiny fingers shooting out. When she took her first cry and I put her to my breast, a feeling of peace flooded into the space where she’d been.

  ‘I called Ana,’ I said, tears springing to my eyes as I remembered. ‘She was the first person I wanted to tell and she came. She brought nappies, even though I had some, and a teddy for the baby, even though I’d told her I wasn’t keeping it.’ Ana had also brought her midwife cousin Maria, who was practical if disapproving. She helped me deliver the placenta, and cut the cord while Ana made sweet tea and cleaned the bathroom, still racked with guilt for telling Patrick I was pregnant. She’d done it because she was angry that he’d used me then gone back to his wife, and she thought I wasn’t coping, that he should step up and support me.’