by Linda Huber
Julie gripped Sam’s hand more tightly. The guy had found her daughter; she should be more than grateful. And she was, of course, but she could still see that there was something a little – odd – about Jeff Horne. Did he have a child? Or – had he lost one? Or possibly he was divorced and didn’t often see his children.
Sam sobbed aloud beside her, and Julie forced herself to speak brightly.
‘Come on, lamb-chop, panic over. It was just big boys being silly, and we’re nearly home now. We’ll have a nice nap before lunch, won’t we?’
It was after twelve when Julie awoke, Sam and Amy both still asleep on the bed beside her. She’d needed their closeness, and Sam at least had needed hers. His face was flushed in sleep now, one thumb just touching his lips.
Julie eased herself off the bed and boxed Amy in with pillows. She was looking out a clean top when she remembered – no! She was supposed to be meeting Sharon on the High Street in – oh heck, in fifteen minutes. She would have to cancel; no way was she going to wake Sam and Amy and drag them to the Puff Pastry for lunch. How awful, she should have thought to call Sharon before they’d all crashed out on her bed.
She lifted her phone. ‘Sharon, I’m so sorry, but the kids are both asleep in bed. Can we shift lunch to another day?’
Sharon’s voice was bleak. ‘Oh – I’m just on the way to meet you. Well – poor things. I hope they’re not ill?’
Guilt crept through Julie. This wasn’t Sharon’s fault, and she was having a tough time too. Maybe they could compromise.
‘Just tired. Suggestion – why don’t you get some stuff at the Puff Pastry and come here? It’s second on the left after Mirabelle’s. Number 22.’
Sharon agreed gushingly and Julie put the phone down, wondering if she’d done the right thing.
Sharon
Sharon watched as Julie wiped cream cheese from Sam’s mouth and fingers before the little boy raced through to the living room and his cars. Being in Julie’s home was like getting off the bus at the wrong stop – she knew which town she was in, but everything looked foreign and unfamiliar.
It was clear there was no money to spare here. The flat was on the fourth floor and the lift looked like the first lift ever. Sharon had hesitated, but she couldn’t walk up four flights and fortunately the metal cage had clanked its way to the top without incident. Julie’s tiny living room was crammed with toys, and the kitchen where they were now was long and narrow and could have done with a complete overhaul. The contrast to her own shiny units and tiled floor was almost embarrassing. Talk about different worlds.
At least she’d chosen the right kind of lunch. A selection of fillings on brown and white bread had gone down well with both Julie and Sam, and Sharon had bought some individual trifles too, for dessert. She and Julie chatted about babies and child minders and going back to work, and Sharon was beginning to realise how much she’d got things out of proportion. According to Julie, a baby needn’t mean the end of the old life. There was no reason she and Craig couldn’t go right on enjoying the things they’d always enjoyed. Except maybe long holidays in exotic places, but they could do that again when the baby was older.
Over the course of lunch Sharon cheered up about three hundred per cent, and it was only when Sam left the table that she realised Julie wasn’t sharing the joy.
‘Are you okay?’ she asked tentatively. Maybe it was an imposition, her coming here, even if she had supplied lunch. Julie was pale and her mouth looked tight.
‘I’ve had the morning from hell,’ she said in a low voice, pushing the kitchen door half shut.
Sharon listened, feeling her eyes widen when Julie talked about the library break-in and Amy disappearing. ‘Julie, you should have called the police. If those yobs think they got away with it, they might try the same thing again.’
Julie pushed thin fingers through already tousled hair, and Sharon’s hand strayed up to check her own head. Would she be like this in four years’ time? Stressed-out and not caring what she looked like? Her euphoria nose-dived.
Julie slid her plate to the side and leaned her elbows on the table. ‘I know. But I didn’t want Sam to be even more scared than he already was. I’ll talk to the police at the library about it later. That kid on the gallery floor, Sharon – he really got to me. Not very long ago he’d have been four years old and cute, like Sam. Life’s just the pits some days, and today was one of them.’
Sharon nodded. ‘You’re giving Sam the best possible start in life. You can’t do more.’
The doorbell rang while she was speaking and Julie stood up. ‘That’s probably Dee, my boss. Let’s go through.’
She led the way to the living room, pressed the button to admit the caller four floors below and went out to the landing.
Sharon lowered herself onto the sofa and was immediately roped into Sam’s game. She sat with a car in each hand, listening as footsteps coming up the stairs came closer. It soon became clear they didn’t belong to a woman, and Julie made an apprehensive ‘who on earth is this?’ face through the door. Sharon joined her on the landing as a suited young man with blond hair appeared, panting slightly as he strode up the last flight.
‘DS Max Sanders. Wish I’d known you were right at the top,’ he said to Julie, waving his identification.
Sharon relaxed. This must be to do with the break-in at the library.
Julie grinned. ‘I make a point of walking up once a day at least. Saves me the bother of going to the gym. This is my friend Sharon Morrison. Is there any news about the boy?’
The officer nodded to Sharon, then turned back to Julie. ‘Can I come in for a moment?’
He followed Sharon and Julie into the living room, and Sam leapt to his feet.
‘Mummy?’ He reached for Julie’s hand and she ruffled his hair.
‘This is, um, Detective Sergeant Sanders from the police, Sam. There was a break-in at the library last night and a young man was hurt. The police are trying to find out what happened.’
Sam stared, his eyes as round as saucers. ‘Was he shot?’
Sharon winced in sympathy. This was just what Julie hadn’t wanted.
‘For heaven’s sake, no, of course not. He was just – ill. Sam, can you be very good and play in your room while we talk?’
Sam kicked the sofa, not letting go of Julie’s hand. ‘I want to stay with you.’
Sharon could see that Julie was almost at the end of her patience, and was about to suggest she could go with Sam, when Julie pointed to the door. ‘Five minutes, if you want to watch telly tonight. You can set the timer. Scoot.’
Sam scooted and Julie joined Sharon on the sofa. Sharon could see she was upset and thought she knew why, too. What kind of a world was it when a four-year-old saw a policeman and heard about someone being injured in a break-in – and immediately thought about guns?
Julie’s voice was shaking when she spoke again. ‘Is that boy okay?’
DS Sanders leaned forwards in his armchair and spoke in a low voice. ‘I’m afraid not. He’s still unconscious, and they’re concerned about brain damage. He’d taken ecstasy. We reckon a whole gang of kids broke into the library, trashed it for a laugh, then settled down for a nice trip that went wrong for our lad. And the others left him there. This may be connected to a drugs death in Glasgow last week, so CID has taken over the investigation. We need to talk to all the library staff, but your phone seems to be switched off. Could you come back to the library this afternoon?’
Julie nodded. ‘Of course.’
Amy cried out from the bedroom, and Julie went to lift her. Cradling the baby in both arms, she sat down again on the sofa. A lump came into Sharon’s throat – how natural Julie looked, her baby in her arms. She glanced across at DS Sanders, who was staring at Amy with a little smile on his attractive face. Good grief, here was another baby fan – was she the only person on the planet not completely convinced that having kids was a good idea?
Sam sidled back in and looked shyly at DS Sanders. ‘Is
the young man who wasn’t shot in prison?’
To Sharon’s amusement, the detective blinked twice and swallowed before replying. Julie caught her eye, and Sharon realised that for all their differences, they had the same sense of humour.
DS Sanders gave Julie a hunted look. ‘Um, no, he isn’t. He’s in hospital and the doctors are looking after him. His mum and dad are there too.’
Sam considered this for a moment. ‘My dad went away and he never came back,’ he said, and Julie hugged him.
Tears burned behind Sharon’s eyes. Please God her baby would never have to say that.
‘I’m sorry to hear that. Well, Sam, I’d better go and see how things are at the library.’ DS Sanders looked at Julie. ‘Um – would you like a lift there?’
‘Thanks, but we’ll walk. It’s just five minutes away and I’ll need to change Amy first. But later, I need to tell you about something else that happened this morning.’ She gestured significantly towards Sam as she spoke.
The little boy’s expression was anguished. ‘A lift in a police car? Mummy!’
Max Sander’s lips twitched. ‘Maybe we can show you one later on, Sam.’
Sharon watched as Julie showed him out, then laughed aloud as the other woman came back and looked at her sheepishly. ‘He fancies you, Julie.’
Julie wrinkled her nose. ‘You may be right. But my priorities have to be Sam and Amy.’
It was all baby talk after that. Sharon walked back towards the library with Julie and the children, then waved as they went their separate ways. Well. That had been a good two hours –she felt much better now.
Home came into sight round the corner and Sharon set her shoulders. She had to hold on to this positive mood, which might not be easy once she was echoing around in the flat all by herself. Then there was the small matter of persuading Craig that all he wanted in life was a baby daughter and several years-worth of holidays in a non-exotic, child-friendly resort.
Hm. That part sounded like the impossible dream right now.
Jeff
Jeff craned his neck to check that Davie was coping in the front shop, then settled down in the staffroom and opened his laptop. He would have another quick look to see if any more responses to the Operation Baby queries he’d posted yesterday had come in. He’d had six replies already, but none were actually offering babies.
It was maddening, because a baby was no longer an optional extra. Probably that was why he’d had a brainstorm and grabbed that buggy this morning. No, a baby was an absolute must if he wanted to keep Caro. She’d been pretty silent since the weekend and then last night… She had really scared him, saying he didn’t give a shit. They’d never had such a freeze-out before. It was crazy, because he wanted them to be a proper family too, with a baby. If only Caro would agree to adoption – surely they would grow to love a two-year-old just as much as a baby? But Caro had made it very clear she wanted her own biological baby. Jeff’s stomach churned. He mustn’t lose her.
Forcing his mind back to the present, Jeff opened the first forum he’d placed his query on. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears; all this stress wasn’t good for him.
Right, here was his baby-post and – another eleven replies! Maybe this time…
Jeff started to scroll through the list, his excitement fading rapidly. Same old, same old. Five were from American agencies wanting to put him in touch with a surrogate mother. No use at all; he wasn’t even sure if it was legal in this country – and you heard all the time about people doing that, and then the surrogate mother kept the baby in the end. Caro would never agree to that. Jeff pressed a hand against his mouth. How he wished Caro would be content with just being loved. But no, she wanted a baby too, and he’d never felt so helpless, or so scared. He checked another forum, finding a few more replies from cranks and weirdos, or well-meaning idiots suggesting fostering or adoption. Two were from women purporting to be pregnant, exactly what he was looking for – but the price! One wanted $75,000, the other $80,000! Not including medical expenses. And both were in America, too.
Disappointment and frustration mingling inside him, Jeff thumped the table then blew on his hand. This was only the first day, and if he got seventeen answers every day surely a useful one would appear eventually. Maybe even tomorrow.
Sharon
Sharon glanced at the clock on the microwave. Craig was late; it was after six. The antenatal class didn’t start till seven, so there was still plenty of time… but still. Here she was, full of joie de vivre and good intentions, determined to make the evening a success, but now the old feelings of frustration were rising again. It was all very well for Craig, he hadn’t had to leave his business and he hadn’t got fat and hormonal – she was doing all the hard stuff for this baby they hadn’t planned. The least Craig could do was show up when he was supposed to.
It was nearly twenty past before he arrived home, dumping his briefcase in the corner and diving into the bedroom to change. ‘Sorry, sorry. It was the under-sixteen five-a-side football championship in the sports centre last night, and they all came in with broken specs after school this afternoon. Times like this I wish I wasn’t a one-man business. Be right with you.’
Sharon sniffed, then pulled herself together. What she needed for the next couple of weeks was a mantra, something to repeat when things got tough. You can do this, you’re strong, you’re in charge. Something like that. Although – right now she wasn’t sure she could do anything much, she definitely didn’t feel strong and as for in charge… It was the baby who was calling the shots these days.
She made herself speak brightly. ‘Loads of time – and I’m looking forward to our meal out.’ He looked surprised; he must have been expecting to have his head bitten off. Sharon smiled to herself. Maybe she did feel a tiny bit strong…
The antenatal classes were held at the Health Centre, and were a joint effort between a midwife and a physiotherapist. Sitting cross-legged on her mat, Craig beside her but not touching, Sharon was very aware of the other eight couples. They all looked calm and happy; damn it, they all looked like they were having the best time of their lives. Like she and Craig had, once upon a time.
The first part of the class was a birth rehearsal. Sharon lay on her side with Craig kneeling behind her, massaging her back in slow, regular circles.
‘That looks fine,’ said the physio, doing the rounds. ‘Feels good, huh, Sharon?’
Sharon smiled and nodded, and the physio went on to the next couple. Sharon closed her eyes, trying to imagine what a contraction would be like. There was a lot of giggling going on in the room; no-one else seemed to be taking the practice very seriously – but then, none of the others were as far on in their pregnancies. She and Craig had started classes late, because Sharon hadn’t wanted to go at first, and Craig hadn’t cared.
After the rehearsal they had the opportunity to ask questions, and Sharon nodded at Craig when someone asked about dizzy turns. Again, he looked surprised. Had she been so horrible to live with recently that her being halfway nice was unexpected? Something to add to the list of things to talk about.
When the class was finished they drove back across town to Oscar’s, a fish restaurant overlooking the river. It was famous for miles around, and the summer months saw it full of tourists and locals alike. There were a couple of tables outside on a tiny terrace just above the water, but Craig had booked a window table inside. Sharon was glad – the evenings were still pretty chilly. They ordered a selection of fried fish to dip into various sauces, a speciality of the house which Sharon loved. This was exactly what they needed, a nice meal and quality time together.
They sat opposite each other and dipped and ate and talked about favourite restaurants and holiday food, and for a while Sharon almost forgot about the baby. This was fun. How long was it since they’d had proper fun?
But people with children had fun too, didn’t they?
‘Oh Craig,’ she said suddenly, grabbing his hand. ‘We’ll be okay, you know. I was tal
king to a woman I met this week, she’s got two kids, and I’m sure we’ll manage a lot better than we’ve been thinking.’
It had burst out of her. He stared across the table, a frozen expression on his face, and Sharon felt fear twist inside her gut.
‘I don’t know, Sharon,’ he said heavily. ‘I’ve been thinking too, but I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like, stuck at home for years on end with a baby. And the flat isn’t exactly child-friendly, is it? If I thought I would end up living in a three-up two-down semi with toys all over the place and a garden with a swing set, and holidays in wherever-on-sea – I’d shoot myself.’
Sharon took a deep breath, feeling the baby kick. What a cruel thing to say. She glared at Craig. Was this the beginning of the end of their marriage? Maybe she’d end up a whole lot more like Julie than she’d been anticipating. A single mother struggling to make ends meet in a pokey little flat and no husband.
It was hard to keep the anger from her voice. ‘No, Craig, it’s not what we planned. But it’s happened, and I’m the one doing the hard bit. I thought today I’d got things in hand. I was feeling more positive. This baby’s going to be born soon no matter how we feel about it, and you need to start feeling positive too. We have to start communicating again or we aren’t going to make it as a couple. I don’t want that to happen.’
For a moment he stared, a muscle working at the corner of one eye, and then to Sharon’s dismay he slammed his glass down on the table then strode towards the gents. Sharon gaped after him, shock making her heart race uncomfortably. Just what the hell did he think he was doing? Was she supposed to run after him? Anger surged through her and she signalled for the bill, aware that several people were staring. Poor pregnant woman whose husband had thrown a tantrum and left her… holding the baby. How bloody dare he.
