The Accidental Mother

by Rowan Coleman

  The christening had gone exactly as Sophie had expected. It was long, the church was cold, and no one understood what the charming but heavily accented Dominican priest was saying. The baby had screamed relentlessly for the duration of the service, and the toddler—Bella—had had the sort of thick cold that made Sophie feel like she had a temperature and sore throat just by looking at her. Sophie had had to hold the baby at one point, and it had looked up at her. Two huge black, blank eyes peering out from a wrinkled, pinkish lump devoid of any recognizable emotion, and Sophie hadn’t got it. She didn’t understand why Carrie was so crazy about the baby. About both her children, actually. It had to be more complicated than just hormones duping all new mothers into eternal slavery. Kids had to have something going for them, but how could anybody be so in love with a leaden lump of alien life-form that looked like it had no humanity in it whatsoever, just an unremitting, single-minded will to suck mankind dry of everything that it had to offer? No, Sophie hadn’t taken to the baby at all, but at least Bella could talk and seemed quite sensible.

  “I like your shoes,” the three-year-old had told her as they stood by the font. “And your pretty, beautiful clothes. Like Barbie.” She had reached for Sophie’s hand, and Sophie had held hands with her for twenty minutes, even though she’d feared the slight stickiness of Bella’s palm was not caused by chocolate alone.

  Later that night, at Mrs. Stiles’s house, Sophie had sat up with Carrie long after everyone else had gone home or to bed. They had stockpiled three bottles of wine that Mrs. Stiles had bought for the occasion and were two-thirds of the way through the second bottle.

  “Oh, my God,” Carrie had said with the practiced, hushed giggle of a mother. “What about that time we got caught in the boys’ changing room of St. Peter’s! My God. I thought Mum would literally kill me. She didn’t, though—she just looked at me and told me she was disappointed in me and so was Jesus.” Sophie had remembered the occasion—they had only narrowly avoided suspension. Her own mother had been too busy worrying about a new litter of puppies to be that cross. “Silly girl,” she had told Sophie when she heard. “If that Carrie told you to jump off a cliff, you would. Just don’t do it again love, okay?” she’d said.

  “It was a fifth-grade dare, wasn’t it? Who could get Toby Barnes’s boxers out of St. Peter’s. What were we thinking? It just goes to show what clueless virgins we were. If we had any sense at all, we would have stayed well clear of Toby Barnes’s boxers.”

  “Yes,” Carrie had said. “Unlike Ursula Goodman. She got far too close to them. Pregnant at fifteen. Exiled to Welwyn Garden City. Nightmare.”

  Sophie had poured out the last of the wine. “Well, you’re a young mother. You seem to love it,” she’d said. “But then again, I suppose it’s different when you’ve got someone to share it with.”

  Carrie had nodded and drained her glass in one gulp. “God, this stuff is rough,” she’d said, laughing. She’d paused then, and Sophie had waited, sensing that she wanted to say something.

  “You know we bought the house after the wedding?”

  Sophie had nodded.

  “Well, mortgages and kids make you think about stuff. We made wills and even got life insurance!”

  Sophie had nodded approvingly. She’d made a will soon after she’d bought her flat and arranged a policy to cover her mortgage in case she got knocked down by a bus. It was just sensible. Tidy. She was impressed that Carrie and Louis were even thinking that far ahead. Perhaps Louis was good for Carrie after all.

  Carrie went on. “Recently I’ve been thinking that my will doesn’t do enough. I have to make provision for the girls in case anything happens to me, to both of us I mean. Name a guardian, you know.” Carrie had smiled at Sophie. “Someone who’s not my mother. So I was wondering, Soph—would you do it? Would you be the girls’ guardian? You’re the only person I know with a proper job.”

  Sophie had laughed. “Oh, I’m flattered!” she’d said.

  “Yes, well, you know what I mean. You’re the only person I think I’d trust with them.”

  “Really?” Sophie had said. “You must have some very irresponsible friends.”

  “Well, yes, I have,” Carrie had replied, only half-joking.

  The two women had laughed, and Sophie felt a rush of their old friendship flood back. She had been touched and warmed by the request. It showed that they were still close, even all those miles apart. She had been flattered. Sophie didn’t know if it was the wine, the nostalgia, or echoes of a hundred promises that they had made unthinkingly to each other over the years, but in that moment she’d been uncharacteristically impulsive and accepted what she assumed was a kind of token gesture of commitment from Carrie.

  “Of course!” she’d said without hesitation. “Of course I will. If anything ever happens to you and Louis, which it won’t, I’m your girl.”

  Sophie shook her head. Her patience with Tess Andrew was draining rapidly away. It was bad enough to find out that Carrie was gone, but worse still for the news to be mangled by so much ill planning and incompetence.

  “Miss Andrew,” she said scathingly. “Obviously I do remember that agreement. But that was in the event of both parents dying. You didn’t mention Louis. He wasn’t in the crash, I presume? He is the children’s guardian. He’s their father. I would have thought that was obvious.”

  Tess puffed out her chest at Sophie’s tone and suddenly looked a lot more formidable. “Yes, technically that is correct, and we’re doing our best to track him down, but—”

  Sophie cut her off. “Track him down? What do you mean, track him down?” She asked incredulously.

  Tess pushed the chair she was sitting in a couple of inches away from Sophie’s desk and took a breath. “Louis Gregory left the family home some time ago. We can’t trace him. We think he’s overseas.”

  Sophie rubbed her temples with her thumb and forefinger. “Carrie was on her own?” she asked, trying to force her mind to absorb all the information that was being thrown at her.

  “Yes, since the little once was a baby apparently,” Tess said, looking slightly thrown. “I thought you would have known.”

  Sophie thought of all the Christmas cards with Louis’s name that she had sent, and the cards she had received. To be honest, she’d probably never read them that closely, but now that she thought about it, she was fairly sure Carrie always signed any cards or letters either just from herself or, sometimes, “From us all.” Sophie had spoken to Carrie a few weeks after the christening and then a few months after that. Neither time did Carrie mention that Louis had left her, and it wasn’t exactly the sort of thing one asked in a casual conversation. After that, they hadn’t spoken. Sophie had just always assumed, like she supposed Carrie had, that they would speak at some point. But neither one of them had got around to making that call, and Carrie, her life, and her family had slipped further away from Sophie’s life until they were almost entirely separated. Until now.

  Louis must have left Carrie alone with a new baby. Sophie had known from the moment she set eyes on him that he wasn’t the kind of guy to settle into marriage and fatherhood. She’d thought she had been proved wrong—but she hadn’t.

  Even so, it didn’t make her the children’s guardian.

  “Their grandmother surely—” Sophie began, watching the second hand of her watch. She wondered if Jake was outside now, talking to Cal and Lisa.

  “Oh yes.” Tess nodded. “Mrs. Stiles brought them home with her right after the funeral. They’re here in London now. But two small children are a lot for an old lady to cope with; they can’t seem to settle. Bella has missed a lot of school. And Mrs. Stiles is very frail, you know. High blood pressure, angina. She tried her best, but there came a point when she had to call us in to help her just before everything stopped for the holidays. We’ve only been onboard for the last few weeks. Anyway, she’s moving into assisted living. There’s a place that came up just before Christmas, and she has to take it now or she’ll lose
it. And even if she could cope with the girls, you can’t take children there. She feels awful about it, as you can imagine—but to be honest, I think the girls would be better off somewhere that wasn’t so…gloomy.” Sophie tried to take in everything that Tess was telling her.

  “Carrie had a lot of family,” Sophie said. “No brothers or sister admittedly, but tons of cousins—she was Catholic!”

  “Yes, well. Most of them have moved away or have families of their own. There’s no one willing to take the kids on. And besides”—Tess looked at Sophie with renewed determination—“Carrie named you. You agreed to it. Surely you must have thought about what it would mean when you agreed to be guardian?”

  Suddenly Sophie felt the walls of her office close in on her, and the air seemed to leak out of the room. She stood up abruptly. “I have to go, Miss Andrew,” she said. “I have a lunch.”

  Tess stood up too. “Lunch?” she said, looking bewildered. “Lunch can wait, can’t it? Look, I know it’s a lot to take in, a lot to ask—But Carrie must have thought she could ask it of you or she wouldn’t have put you in her will. And we’re thinking of what’s best for the girls in the short term. There aren’t very many options, Sophie. Until Carrie’s will was found, there was only one—foster care or a home until we could find their dad. We’re not asking you to keep them forever; we’re asking you to have them until then. On a short-term basis.”

  Sophie stopped by the door. “Short-term basis?” she repeated the three words as a question.

  “As you pointed out, the girls do have a father. We’re looking for him, and I’m sure that when he knows what has happened, he’ll want to come back and look after them. It would just be until we find Louis Gregory and let him know what’s happened.” Tess coughed into her hand as she finished the sentence.

  Sophie thought for a moment about two bereaved children she hardly knew living in her flat. There were a lot of things that Sophie was very good at. Pushing the envelope, thinking outside the box, making lists about lists, and devising pie charts. She was extremely good at pie charts. But she’d always said that when she discovered her limitations, she’d be happy to admit them. That time had come.

  “I’m sorry, Tess,” she said. “I really am. But I don’t know anything about children. I hardly even know Bella and Isobel. It would be wrong of me to say yes. Wrong for them. They need someone who knows how to help them.”

  Tess’s face remained impassive. “Perhaps you’re right, Sophie, in an ideal world that would be best. But do you know how many children need foster care in London tonight? Hundreds. Do you know how many foster parents we have? Nowhere near enough. Look, if they don’t go to you, I have no choice but to place them under a care order. They’ll be going to a home, if not tonight then tomorrow at the latest. They will stay in a local authority home until a foster place comes up or their dad comes back. They try their best at the homes, but trust me, they are always a last, last resort. It could be weeks, months until we find a foster home. I might even have to put them in separate homes.” Tess looked intently at Sophie. “If you agreed to take them, you wouldn’t be on your own. I’d be able to apply for a supervision order, and I’d be assigned to you as your support worker, with you all the way. They are missing their mum, Sophie. If they could be with someone familiar, it would really help them. Please, please, at least take a moment to think about it. You are their only hope right now.”

  Sophie hesitated for a moment. She thought of the day her dad had died. After her headmistress had sent her home, Carrie must have seen her out the classroom window, stumbling across the playing field in tears. She’d put her hand up, told the teacher she needed to go to the girls’ room, and walked right out of school and run after Sophie.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve finally got yourself expelled,” she’d said to Sophie when she caught up with her. Sophie had dissolved into tears and told her what happened. She remembered the feeling of Carrie’s arm around her shoulders for the rest of the walk home until she’d stopped at last outside the front door. The dogs had started barking.

  “I could come in,” Carrie had offered.

  Sophie had shaken her head. “No, I think I have to go in on my own,” she’d said, wishing she didn’t have to. “But thanks.”

  “Look,” Carrie had said. “I know it’s not the same, I know you love your dad and I hate mine, and that your dad is dead and mine ran off with the neighbor and made my mum go mental, but…well, I do sort of understand a bit. I know what it feels like losing your dad. Even though mine’s a bastard and yours was great.” She’d paused for a moment. “You realize that now there are two fatherless only children at a Catholic school. I’m not the weirdest one anymore!” Incredibly, Carrie’s stumbled attempt at words of comfort had made Sophie almost smile. Whereas other people would stifle her with sympathy and sensitivity, Carrie had done the one thing that had made life bearable. She had made Sophie laugh and let her forget for a few minutes every now and then that her dad had dropped dead of a heart attack at a gas station without any warning at all. Carrie had let Sophie be angry, let her cry, let her talk about boys, clothes, and cry again if she wanted to.

  “I’m glad I’ve got you, Carrie,” Sophie had said as her mum opened the front door, and the girls had hugged each other for a long time, until eventually Sophie knew she had to go in.

  “I’m here for you,” Carrie said. “Always, forever, whatever.”

  “I know,” Sophie said. “Me too. Always, forever, whatever.”

  Sophie hadn’t thought of that moment for years, but now that she did, she could remember exactly how it had felt and exactly how much strength the unwavering friendship of a thirteen-year-old girl had given her. “Always, forever, whatever.” It was something the girls had said to each other daily, until they’d almost stopped thinking about what it really meant. But when it had mattered, Carrie had been there for Sophie, supporting her through the very worst time of her life. Sophie had been waiting a long time to return the favor. Self-assured, stubborn Carrie, tired and embarrassed by all the handouts she and her mother had received from well-meaning church members after her dad left, had prided herself on never asking anyone for help. She’d never needed help—until now.

  “How long?” Sophie said, not quite believing what she was thinking of agreeing to.

  “Pardon?” Tess said, clearly expecting a flat refusal.

  “How long until you get hold of the father?” Sophie asked her.

  Sensing fragile progress, Tess pursed her lips and made a professional judgment. It was important she didn’t lose her now. “Well, like I say, Social Services has only been involved for a few weeks. Mrs. Stiles tried to get by on her own for as long as she could—But now we have the case, I don’t think it will be long. A week maybe—two at the most?”

  Sophie considered the information. “Two weeks—okay then. For Carrie. She would have done it for me. I wouldn’t let the girls get split up, I couldn’t. So I’ll take them for two weeks, as long you promise to move heaven and earth to make more suitable arrangements at the end of that time.”

  “I will,” Tess said, lifting her chin a little.

  Absently, Sophie touched the cool back of her hand to her blazing face. It was always the first part, actually the only part of her to show visible signs of stress. She could tame it and hide it with concealer, but she always resented the fact that she couldn’t control it. She took a deep breath. “Right, well, let me know dates and times and things. Get back to me later in the week.”

  “Pardon?” Tess said again.

  “I have a lunch,” Sophie repeated with some frustration.

  Tess looked at her. “Actually, Sophie, I was rather hoping you could come with me now to pick the girls up. I brought all the paperwork for you to sign.” She reached into her glittering bag and produced several forms, which she waved at Sophie as proof.

  “You mean now, right now? You want me to have them right now?” Sophie repeated herself, incredulous.

&n
bsp; “That is the idea,” Tess said with a tight smile. “After all, the girls need your help now. Not when you have a window in your diary.”

  Sophie wondered how all of these events had managed to erupt and tumble down on her head at this precise moment without her even noticing they were coming. She looked at the pink toes of her new boots and knew she just had to accept that her day wasn’t going to go the way she had planned, because nobody knew better than she did that sometimes your life turns itself on its head without asking you for permission.

  She looked up at Tess and gestured to the visitor’s chair. “Okay,” Sophie said simply. “If you’ll excuse me for a few minutes, I just have to rearrange some appointments.”

  At last Sophie opened the door and stepped back into the normal world, where things were happening just as they had before she got dragged into the alternate reality that was seething in her office. For a split second, she considered making a run for it, and then she knew she couldn’t. She just wasn’t the sort of person to walk away from a problem without solving it. Even if she wanted to, and her pride wouldn’t let her.

  Jake Flynn was sitting on the edge of Cal’s desk. He turned and smiled at her as she emerged, and behind his back, Cal swooned in his chair.

  “Are you ready?” Jake asked her, smiling warmly.

  Sophie looked at him. “No, I’m not ready,” she said, feeling every word.

  Jake’s face fell.

  “Look, Jake, I’m really sorry, but I…I just found out that a close friend of mine died, and I…” Sophie could not put the last part of the sentence together, but it seemed like she didn’t have to.