by Linda Huber
Sharon’s husband came through from the back. ‘We’re not actually open this – oh – you’re the bloke from the internet café, aren’t you? I never did thank you properly for being so kind to Sharon last week.’
Jeff couldn’t have wished for a better opening. ‘No problem. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. How is she now?’
Craig Morrison smiled, then shrugged, his eyes sliding towards his mobile on the counter. ‘Fine, fine. Tired, of course.’
Jeff stiffened. The other man was uncomfortable with the question, so much was clear. He should do a little prodding here. How right he’d been to come. He nodded sympathetically. ‘I thought she looked a bit drawn on Tuesday. But she’ll be excited too, I expect. Is it your first baby?’
‘Yes, it is. I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.’
Jeff re-introduced himself, and pulled out the pair of forgotten reading glasses.
Craig examined the glasses. ‘I can’t tell off-hand, but I should be able to find the owner in our system and give them a call. Thanks for bringing them in.’
‘No problem. Well, I hope everything goes well for Sharon. That’s a lucky baby, you know. So many babies aren’t welcome. I saw a news report the other day that would turn your hair grey. You’d think people would want to give their own kids the best possible start in life, wouldn’t you? But I won’t keep you – you’ll be wanting to get home to your wife. Tell her good luck from me.’
He left the shop, hearing a ringtone as he closed the door behind him. A quick look back showed that Craig was staring after him with a strained expression on his face, completely ignoring the insistent ringing of the mobile phone on the counter.
The High Street seemed a much brighter place as Jeff hurried back to the car, dodging shoppers with enormous umbrellas. Maybe there was something to be done with Craig and Sharon after all. He would keep an eye on the pair of them, yes, and on their baby too.
Sharon
There was water running down her face. Sharon forced her eyes open, but closed them again when all she saw was a green and grey swirl. Nausea flooded through her as realisation dawned. Lord no, she had passed out in the park, that contraction, oh help, no – was the baby coming? She had to get home. But her arms and legs didn’t belong to her and her head was spinning. No way could she stand up yet.
She took a deep breath and shouted. ‘Help! Can somebody…’ Her voice came out a thready caricature of its usual self, and Sharon’s throat closed in despair. No one would hear that.
For a moment she lay still, listening to the raindrops pattering on the path, feeling them run down her neck and soak into her trousers. She could smell the mustiness of wet undergrowth around the group of trees and bushes to her left. No one would come to the park now, and this path wasn’t even a short cut that people might use to get home quicker. Hell, what was she going to do? Her phone. She had to call an ambulance.
Sharon rolled onto her back and thrust her right hand into her pocket. Thank God, here was her phone. But as soon as she opened her eyes, dizziness overcame her and she closed them again. She began to sob, her teeth chattering with cold and shock. Deep breath, Sharon. Relax for a moment and try again. She counted breaths up to ten, then opened her eyes very slowly, holding her phone in front of her face. At first everything was swimming in front of her, then the world swung into focus, and God, no – she must have fallen on her phone. Dozens of thick and thin cracks were criss-crossing the screen and it wouldn’t switch on. Sharon sobbed aloud.
Maybe she would manage to crawl along the path. If she got to the top of the hill, there was a chance that someone would see her from the pavement outside the park. It was only fifty metres away, surely she’d manage that?
Taking a deep breath, she heaved herself onto all fours. The sick, dizzy feeling lurched back, but it wasn’t as bad as before. Right. All she had to do now was move one limb after another, uphill.
As soon as she pushed herself forwards she fell again, hitting her cheek hard on the gravel pathway and crying out with the sudden pain.
‘Help! Can somebody help, please?’
Nothing. The rain was heavy now; her trousers were soaked and she could feel dampness spreading inside her jacket. Oh God, no. There was nothing more she could do. Still sobbing, Sharon lay cradling her bump.
The baby wasn’t moving. Heavy fear crashed into her gut and Sharon moaned again. ‘Come on, baby, please be okay. Are you okay?’
This was the baby she hadn’t wanted, except that wasn’t true anymore because the thought that her baby might not be okay was the worst thought in the world. Oh yes, she wanted this baby, but she was helpless to do anything to get them out of this God-awful situation.
Just when she was thinking that things couldn’t possibly get any worse, another contraction hit and Sharon writhed in pain. No way could she do her breathing in these circumstances. Choking, she moaned through the pain and lay exhausted when it was over. Was she going to die right here in the park? Would the baby die? But maybe it was dead already. Her daughter. Blackness swirled into Sharon’s head and she fought to remain conscious.
Voices. She could hear voices.
‘…must have fallen out of my bag when we were down at the pond…’
Swift footsteps were approaching and Sharon moaned again.
A child screamed. ‘There’s a lady down here and she’s dead!’
‘Hello? Can you hear me?’ It was a man’s voice now.
Several young voices were crying in distress as strong hands pulled Sharon over on her side. The relief was incredible. Help had arrived. She could hear a woman now, calling for an ambulance while the man spoke again.
‘She’s not dead, girls. She’s breathing nicely. Go to the top of the hill with Mummy and wave to the ambulance when it comes.’
It was the family she’d watched at the duck pond. Sharon felt fingers on her wrist, and forced her eyes open again. A dark head was above her, but his features were blurred.
‘Hello, love, just lie still. An ambulance is on its way. Can I phone someone for you?’
Shivering, Sharon whispered Craig’s number and he repeated it back to her as he keyed it in.
After a moment he patted her shoulder. ‘No answer, I’m afraid. But here’s the ambulance.’
Sirens were shrieking down the High Street and through the park gates. Sharon lay panting, cradling the baby, but it still wasn’t moving. The fear was numbing – was her baby alive? Different hands were touching her now as she listened to the man explaining that she’d been conscious enough to give a phone number.
‘Right, my love. Can you open your eyes? No? Move your arms and legs for me? Good. We’ll just pop a collar on your neck and get you into the ambulance. We’ll be at the hospital in ten, don’t you worry.’
Sharon lay passively as an uncomfortable hard collar was put around her neck. She felt herself being lifted, then another man’s voice was speaking, reassuring her as the ambulance rolled off, siren wailing again.
Julie
‘Can I have the last éclair?’ Sam was gazing up at her, leaning against her chair as he wheedled.
Julie tapped his nose. ‘You may not. You’ll be sick if you have any more and we don’t want that, do we?’
‘I won’t be sick,’ said Sam, pouting.
Dee winked at Julie. ‘Tell you what, Sam. We’ll put it in a freezer bag and you can take it home for tomorrow.’
Julie watched as Sam considered, head to one side, then nodded and trotted off to help bag up the éclair. She relaxed back in her chair, cuddling Amy. Dee was brilliant with kids, despite not having any of her own.
‘Want a job as surrogate grandma?’ she said, when Sam and Dee returned.
‘You bet. Julie, I know you lost your parents, but – aren’t Matt’s folks around either?’
Julie shook her head. ‘His dad died of pancreatic cancer when he was only fifty-two, and his mum lives with her sister in Cornwall.’
‘Well, consider it a don
e deal. Just don’t call me Granny, okay?’
Julie blinked as unexpected tears welled up, but a muffled ringtone in her bag interrupted them and she pulled out her mobile. It wasn’t a number she recognised.
‘Hello, I’m Angela Baird, one of the midwives at Bridgehead Infirmary. We’ve got Sharon Morrison here. She’s in labour but we can’t get hold of her husband, and she’d like you to be with her.’
Julie gripped the phone, shocked. ‘In labour! But I’ve got my kids here, I can’t just leave–’
Dee was leaning forwards, looking at her significantly. ‘Grandma, remember?’
Twenty minutes later Julie was running into the maternity unit at the hospital. Dee had insisted on treating her to a taxi, which seemed a bit OTT even for an ersatz-Grandma, but they could fight about that another day. She wasn’t sure what she was doing here, either. She and Sharon had barely known each other two minutes – wasn’t there a closer friend to accompany Sharon through labour? And what on earth was the poor woman’s husband doing that he couldn’t be contacted when his wife could give birth any time?
Her new friend’s opening words explained the first point, anyway. ‘Oh, thank you, Julie. I wanted someone who knows what it’s like, and none of my friends have had babies.’
Julie sat down and gripped a cold hand. Sharon looked terrible, her pallor emphasising the redness of her swollen nose and the long, vivid graze on one cheek. Her voice was half-hysterical as she told Julie what had happened.
Julie winced. ‘You poor thing. But don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll get hold of Craig in time. First babies always take ages.’
The midwife was adjusting the heart-rate monitor belt around Sharon’s middle. ‘I’ve a feeling this one might be in a hurry. But don’t worry, Sharon. We’ve left a message on his phone, and everything is under control now.’
Sharon nodded briefly. Julie sat holding her hand, remembering her own experiences when Sam was on the way. Matt had brought her here; it had been well past midnight and the streets were deserted. Julie took a deep breath. She’d had an intact family then.
The next hour passed slowly. Sharon didn’t want to talk, but was obviously grateful for the stream of comforting remarks Julie and the midwife kept making. The pains were about six minutes apart now and Julie breathed through them with Sharon. She was relaxing back in her chair after a particularly hefty contraction when the door jerked open and a dark-haired man strode in. Ah. The absent husband.
‘Christ, Sharon, are you all right?’
Sharon’s face had gone red and her voice was shaking. ‘Where the hell have you been? This is your baby too, you know.’
‘I went home to get your case with all your stuff for hospital as soon as I knew, didn’t I?’
Julie stood up to give him her chair, and he flopped down and glared at Sharon, who was glaring right back.
Julie felt like shaking them both. ‘Hi, Craig, I’m Julie. Sharon, honey, the important thing is that Craig’s here now, and you two are going to have to start helping each other. Having this baby’s all you need to think about for the moment.’
‘Right on,’ said the midwife. ‘Labour doesn’t have a pause button. You’ve done the classes, Craig, you know what to do.’
His shoulders slumped. ‘I’ll do my best, if you think I can help.’
Sharon nodded, reaching for his hand as another contraction started.
Julie pressed her lips together, watching as they breathed together, loneliness creeping through her. How good it would be to be one of a pair again.
Jeff
The High Street was busy as Jeff walked briskly back towards the narrow lane beyond Cybersonics. He always parked there; it was a handy little place, especially when he was working the late shift.
In the car he sat for a moment, turning the key in his hand, aware of heavy reluctance in his gut. Caro wouldn’t be expecting him home yet. He’d bunked off early today, not like him, but these were difficult times. This baby business was stress pure. On the other hand, he could be proud of himself and Caro damn well should be too. He had made something of his life. He had a business, a nice home, he had married the girl of his dreams, and if he could only produce a baby everything in his bloody garden would be completely and utterly lovely.
He started the car and pulled out into the High Street. What was he going to do? He would lose Caro if they didn’t have this baby – any baby, really – and he couldn’t bear that. He couldn’t.
So a baby was a must. He would have to plan it logically, and fortunately he was good at that – computer specialists were logical people.
Start at the beginning, with the baby. The baby had to be. Fact. But they couldn’t have one the usual way, and Caro wasn’t up for IVF, which probably wouldn’t succeed anyway. More facts. And because these were facts they were unalterable, and had to be accepted. Meaning that the baby would have to come from somewhere else. Jeff sighed. It always boiled down to the same thing. Somehow, he was going to have to beg, borrow or steal a baby. Or buy it.
He knew now that babies cost more than he could afford. He’d been naïve about that. Buying was out, then. Begging? Please, please give us a tiny baby to adopt? Unlikely to succeed, and definitely not in a useful time-frame. Borrow? A foster child could potentially be a permanent fixture in the family. But it would never be truly theirs, and the uncertainty would always be there, so that was out too. Which left stealing, and how did you go about stealing a baby? His one experience of that had been a complete fiasco.
This was where the logic and planning came in, he thought, turning into the road that led to the riverbank walkway. He couldn’t go home yet; home only emphasised his failure. He parked in an empty space near the cruise boat kiosk and cracked the window open. A damp, slightly musty river smell floated into the car, and Jeff closed his eyes.
Maybe he should go down to London. With all those kids living rough, surely there would be a girl there, pregnant, not knowing what to do about a baby she hadn’t planned. He could befriend her, and then when the baby was born he could take it home to Caro. Everyone would be happy, and how much better it would be for the baby. It wouldn’t even be stealing.
Jeff rummaged in his pockets for the packet of mints he’d bought that morning. He could go any time; he was due some holidays. It shouldn’t be difficult to find a girl like that – even normal couples didn’t always want their babies. Look at Sharon – it was blatantly obvious she would have preferred not to be pregnant. It was infuriating; it simply wasn’t right that people like that should be having unwanted babies at the drop of a hat, while he and Caro, who would be devoted parents, had to go through all this bother to achieve something that other people managed with no effort at all.
The more he thought about Sharon, the angrier he became. Surely she and Craig couldn’t seriously intend to keep the baby? Maybe he should go by soon – with a little present for the coming baby – and have a friendly chat.
Sharon
She had never imagined it would be this hard. Lying on a high hospital bed, crying out louder with every contraction because she couldn’t get her breathing under control, resenting Craig more and more with every word he uttered. Not that he was uttering many now. After the first hour he’d retreated into himself, going through the motions of helping her but offering no real support. Sharon had seen the midwife cast her eyes heavenwards several times. Her handsome husband had turned into a petulant teenager who went into a fit of the sulks when he didn’t get his own way. The only good thing was she could hear the baby’s heart beeping away on the monitor. In spite of their sojourn on the park path, the baby was okay.
Another contraction started and Craig stood up to massage her back. Sharon managed to breathe through this one without losing the pattern, and the midwife grinned at them both.
‘You’re getting the hang of it, team,’ she said. ‘Sharon, let’s try a little walk before the next one. Labour generally goes quicker if you’re active. Craig, take her arm and walk
with her.’
Sharon nodded and the midwife helped her up. The labour room was small, with blue painted walls and the bed in the middle. It wasn’t one of those super-modern places with birthing chairs and ropes from the ceiling, but there was room to walk up and down.
The next contraction started and Sharon leaned across the bed.
Five contractions later, she looked mutely at the midwife. Lying down had never sounded so appealing.
‘You’re doing so well,’ said the midwife. ‘Hop back on the bed and we’ll check how far on you are.’
Sharon held her breath while the midwife examined her.
‘Super,’ she said warmly. ‘Almost fully dilated. This baby’ll be here before you know it.’
‘Pain,’ said Sharon, struggling to sit more upright. Craig supported her as the contraction intensified, and suddenly she was glad he was here. Okay, he wasn’t saying much, but he was doing his bit like they’d learned at the classes. Maybe they’d get through this after all.
The next contraction was like none of the others, and Sharon yelled in agony, aware that Craig was cringing beside her.
The midwife gave her shoulder a shake. ‘Sharon, when the next contraction comes – close your mouth, chin on chest, and push as hard as you can. Okay?’
Sharon nodded, feeling her heart start to beat wildly. The baby, she would soon see her baby.
‘Here we go, big push, Sharon, that’s it, a real big push now, push push push. Yes – wow, here she comes already! Stop pushing, stop, Sharon, pant for the head. Craig, you pant with her.’
‘Panting,’ said Craig, his voice shaking, and they panted together until Sharon gave a loud scream. She couldn’t help it. Surely giving birth shouldn’t feel like this?
‘Brilliant, that’s great, the head’s here, one more push and we’ll be done.’
Sharon collapsed back. One more pain like that would kill her.
‘Okay, just a little push, Sharon – look, look, here’s your baby!’
