There is nothing I want more and yet there is nothing further out of reach.
I’m counting the days until we meet,
Rebekah, your mum-to-be xxxx
Chapter 1
Dawn was thirty-six weeks and two days pregnant with a baby that would never be hers. She knew exactly how far along she was because she was counting. She just couldn’t work out if she was marking off the days until freedom or savouring the remaining hours as a surrogate.
This evening’s class was for Rebekah’s benefit. Dawn’s sister-in-law was the real mother of the baby she was carrying. Rebekah was the one needing to know what to expect of labour even if she wasn’t going to be going through it herself. Dawn was pretty certain the process of labour hadn’t changed significantly since she last went through it a decade ago, but in some ways this labour had more at stake than her own, so the refresher wasn’t going to hurt.
And tonight was an opportunity for Rebekah to pretend.
‘This is stupid. I can’t believe you managed to get hold of this.’ Rebekah buttoned the maternity shirt she was borrowing over her fake foam bump.
‘It was from the props store. They use it for the teen pregnancy talks although I’m not too sure how much good it’s done. It doesn’t really demonstrate the true burden you endure once the baby arrives.’ Triffic. There Dawn goes putting her foot in it again. ‘When you’re a teenager.’ As she had been. Rebekah was in an altogether better position than when Dawn had had Archie at seventeen. She’d really lost the knack of saying the right thing around her sister-in-law these days.
‘This little one will never be a burden. They couldn’t be more wanted. Now, how does pregnancy suit me?’ Rebekah turned, the foam bump making her a silhouette of blooming motherhood.
‘Much better than it does me.’ Dawn was trying not to grumble, but in these final, ankle-swelling, ache-infested weeks she was counting down until her due day. Soon she would have her body back. Soon she would make Rebekah a mother. Twenty-six days left of being a surrogate mum.
‘Do you mind if we don’t tell David about this? It’s just…’ Rebekah didn’t finish the sentence and Dawn was able to fill in the blank.
It would concern him. Like this whole process had concerned Dawn’s brother. From the moment he’d fallen in love with Rebekah and they’d spent month after month trying to conceive, right through to finding out why Rebekah was so susceptible to miscarriage, Dawn had ridden the wave of heartache alongside her twin brother. So when it was clear Rebekah wouldn’t be able to have a successful pregnancy, without a second thought Dawn had volunteered. It was about time she made her role as the gooseberry in their marriage a useful one. Plus, it was for her brother. Her twin brother. There was no planet on which she’d say no to the request.
‘My lips are sealed. This is just for fun. We either go in there both pregnant or have the room thinking we’re a couple.’
‘Are you still okay with us doing this?’ Rebekah smoothed her hand over her bump, like it belonged there, which really it did.
‘What? The class? Of course. I know I said I wasn’t bothered but, to be honest, it’s been so long I could do with the refresher.’
‘Not tonight. I mean with my being there when it happens.’
‘God. Yes. Totally. I would not want it any other way.’ Even if it did mean her sister-in-law seeing her lady bits. ‘You don’t mind David having to wait outside, do you?’ It was a bit last-century making the father stay in the waiting room, but her sister-in-law catching a glimpse of her fangina was one thing – her twin brother, that was NEVER going to happen.
So here they were. In this it’s totes okay, but not okay situation. In this awkward harmony of being the mother and the womb. With each of them trying to get to grips with the roles they would play.
***
In the lift, it was a cramped bundle of blossoming bellies and polite smiles. Every person in the elevator part of a couple clearly heading to the same class.
‘How many weeks are you?’ one lady asked another as they rose level by level.
‘Thirty-seven weeks so full-term now. How about you?’
Dawn zoned out from the small talk. She wasn’t here in an attempt to find out about surviving motherhood or indeed find friends to survive motherhood with. She was here to support Rebekah. The time of the classes meant David wasn’t home from work early enough to join them and the new parent in Rebekah needed the advice these sessions would provide.
The question had reached Rebekah. ‘I’m thirty-six weeks,’ she said. ‘And this is my sister-in-law. We’re due the same week.’
‘Oh, how lovely,’ one of the women said. ‘Cousins who’ll grow up together. They’ll be like twins. That’ll be super. Is this your first?’
Dawn kept quiet and allowed Rebekah to join in the chat. It wasn’t her baby. It was her belly that was empty, not Rebekah’s. When the doors pinged open at their destined floor, she breathed a sigh of relief. The lift was getting claustrophobic with all the questions.
As they collectively followed pieces of paper printed with arrows directing them towards the antenatal class, Dawn attempted to lag behind, away from the chatter.
‘I thought it was you.’ A woman appeared beside her.
Dawn looked up for the first time. She was the polar opposite of Dawn. Bleached blonde hair cropped short, immaculate make-up, a maternity wardrobe that was probably by Prada, and a bump so perfectly round it looked more fake than Rebekah’s foam one. There was something familiar about her that she wasn’t able to put a finger on without staring for longer than necessary.
‘It’s Caitlin. We were in college together. Do you remember?’
How could she forget? A cold shiver ran through her as she was taken back to a time she’d spent a decade trying to block out. ‘Wow. It’s the hair. You look so different. I didn’t realise it was you.’ This wasn’t the Caitlin Dawn had known. The Caitlin she knew was mousy brown, chubby in the cheeks and prone to spats of acne on her chin. This Caitlin was a different breed to the one she’d left behind at college. The one she didn’t really want to be reacquainted with. Especially here of all places.
‘College was a long time ago. A lot has changed, although you still look like the Dawn I remember. I knew it was you immediately.’
Dawn wasn’t sure if this was a compliment about keeping her youthful looks or an insult about not changing. Admittedly, her long black hair was always going to make her seem like a goth-loving student. It was pretty clear that, of the two of them, Caitlin was the one who’d blossomed from duckling to swan, whereas Dawn’s sneakers were probably the same ones she’d had in their college days. And what was wrong with that? Vintage was hip. At least it was for a single mother trying to make her way in life.
‘So is this your first?’
It was an innocent enough question. Only an extension of the conversation that had taken place in the lift, but it was more than Dawn was willing to share, taking her back to being seventeen. All the whispers as if they thought she wouldn’t hear, and that was the lecturers mostly. This wasn’t the time or place to confirm those rumours about her leaving college because she was pregnant were true. ‘I’m sorry. I really need to catch up with Rebekah. It was nice seeing you again.’
In a hurry, Dawn caught up with the group who were going single-file into the bare NHS teaching room furnished with only a semi-circle of chairs. Everyone here had that nervous look of not knowing what the future held. She could tell them. It entailed losing rational thoughts in the middle of the night because all you need is goddamn sleep. There would be overwhelming moments when all they knew was love for their child and it only mattered that they were going to be all right. There would be times when they were stripped of every inch of their dignity to the point they would no longer care about the waxing session they didn’t get to. None of those emotions could be explained on an NHS-issued piece of A4 paper. No amount of pep talk could prepare them for what it wou
ld really be like. Especially if you ended up having to do it alone.
‘Hi,’ Dawn said, as she caught up with Rebekah and linked arms with her, feeling the need for an anchor. She wasn’t here to make friends, especially not ones she’d said goodbye to in another lifetime. A lot had changed in the time since they were at college, even if Dawn did look the same.
When she nestled in the chair next to Rebekah, Junior decided to start doing a shuffle in her abdomen. They’d – that is, David and Rebekah – decided not to find out the sex of the baby but, secretly, Dawn was pretty sure it was a boy. The pregnancy was going with a similar smoothness to the one she’d had with Archie and she was pretty sure at the last scan she’d spotted a wee willy winky on the screen. Not that she was any kind of expert. It could have been the umbilical cord for all she knew, but there was just that feeling. That sixth sense only a mother would identify with. One that she wanted to share with Rebekah, but she knew David wanted to keep things neutral.
As she stroked her hand over her abdomen, Dawn recognised her brother’s concerns were down to fear. The not wanting to believe it would happen until the baby was here. With Rebekah having suffered so many miscarriages, she understood that reluctance to believe until the baby was real enough to hold. So if he wasn’t prepared to bond until Junior arrived, it wouldn’t hurt if Dawn made up for it by savouring this connection while it lasted.
‘Are you okay?’ Rebekah asked.
Dawn was a thousand miles away. ‘Yes, just wriggler here won’t keep still.’ Plus, an old college friend reminding her that her past wasn’t so far behind her with having never moved out of Owerdale, this part of the New Forest being too scenic for anyone to want to leave, including her. Hopefully, after tonight their paths wouldn’t cross again for another decade.
‘Everyone seems really nice.’ Rebekah smiled, a rosiness to her cheeks giving a glow of pregnancy so convincing it would only be Dawn who knew the truth. It suited her. There was an excitement in Rebekah’s expression she’d not witnessed before. They were on the home straight. She was starting to believe this was really going to happen.
‘Make sure you get their phone numbers. You want to be able to connect with them after this course has finished and everyone has popped their buns out. It’s helpful to have friends in the same situation.’ It wasn’t easy to forget how isolating motherhood was in those early days. When getting out the flat was such a trial it was sometimes easier not to bother.
‘Hi, everyone. My name’s Brian and I’ll be taking today’s class on the bit you’re all worrying about: labour.’
Well, for anyone who wasn’t worried, they would be now. Thanks, Brian. Dawn was trying not to think about that part. It signified the end and yet the beginning. Also, there was the small inconvenience of a shedload of pain, only without the euphoria at the end of it to cancel it out. She was hoping the birth would be quick. Considering her labour with Archie had been less than twelve hours, she was sure this one would pop out like a cork, but she had left it ten years between labours. A speedy delivery would be a suitable reward for having carried Rebekah and David’s baby. She was wishing for that and a bloody good night’s sleep afterwards. And the day after that. And that.
When Brian started to get contraptions out to demonstrate how forceps and ventouse worked, Dawn’s squeamish nature turned away from the talk.
Caitlin’s stare pierced through her. She was looking right at her and yet beyond her at the same time. It was freaky.
Dawn turned her attention back to the talk, knowing there was nowhere to hide. Was it possible Caitlin knew more about what had happened than she thought? She couldn’t. That was impossible.
‘Time for a tea break,’ Brian said. ‘I can see you’re all glazing over and this is a late night out for you mummies-to-be.’
‘Wow. That was a lot of information,’ Rebekah said, her cheeks flushed with enthusiasm. Either that or the foam suit might be a bit much to wear for an entire hot spring evening. ‘Do you still think you’re going to go for a natural birth?’
Dawn chanced a glance in Caitlin’s direction. The odd gaze in her expression was gone and she was now chatting to the man she was here with. Dawn was imagining things. She concentrated on Rebekah and her question like she should be doing. ‘If everything goes to plan.’ She was hoping it would all be natural. She’d managed it with Archie.
‘Do you think it will go to plan?’ Rebekah said.
This was one of those eggshell moments. The ones she tried to avoid for the sake of Rebekah and David. They’d had so much heartache already, they needed to have a happy ending this time. She needed to give that to them. ‘We’re in the best hands the NHS can provide. Of course it will. And if it doesn’t, we’ll have all the help we need to get Junior out.’ If she ended up needing a C-section, she didn’t care. All that mattered was that the baby came out safely.
‘I’m going to go and get that lady’s phone number like you suggested.’ Rebekah stood with more ease than Dawn would be able to muster after sitting for the best part of an hour. ‘See you in a minute.’
Dawn’s inability to move at any speed left her vulnerable. She didn’t want to be a sitting duck for conversations she didn’t want to have. Summoning the ability to get out of the chair, she went to go and collect leaflets she didn’t really want or need in an effort to occupy herself. It didn’t stop what she was trying to avoid from happening though.
Caitlin caught her arm to grab her attention. ‘We should get together once we’ve had our little ones. It’ll be like the old days although under very different circumstances.’
‘Erm…’ was all Dawn managed to squeeze out in way of protest. She wasn’t having a baby. She might be pregnant, but Junior wasn’t hers.
‘Here’s my card.’ Caitlin dished one out to her even though she hadn’t managed a full response.
Dawn took it. ‘That would be nice.’ She said it like she meant it, because, in truth, there was a part of her that missed her old friend. She’d not wanted to walk away from their friendship in the way she’d had to. If they did meet up she could explain about the surrogacy then, to save blowing Rebekah’s cover now. And maybe she would tell her about Archie.
‘Holy Mother of God. There was no way that was Braxton-Hicks,’ Caitlin said in a burst, grabbing the arm of the man she was with. ‘Fuck. You’ve done this before. How do you know when it’s actually started?’
Dawn hesitated in her answer. It would be a pretty cheap trick if it was a way of getting her to confess about the past, but there was no point in keeping it a secret if she already knew. ‘You know. And if you’re not sure, your body will let you know soon enough. So do you think you’re in labour?’
‘Yes, I knew it was more than backache, Karl,’ Caitlin chastised the man she was gripping tightly. From their wedding bands, Dawn guessed it must be her husband.
‘Maybe you should talk to Brian? He’ll be able to advise you.’ As there was a qualified midwife in the room, he seemed like the sensible person to turn to.
‘Get him over here,’ Caitlin yelped to her husband.
Karl, pale and silent, did exactly as Caitlin told him to. As Brian arrived, there was a pop followed by a gush. The shiny puddle that formed was the clearest confirmation they were going to get. Only the fluid from Caitlin’s waters wasn’t as clear as it should be.
Acknowledgements
It’s funny how ideas come about and develop into stories. The Gin Shack came about while in conversation with The Romaniacs. We were talking about what we’d do when we retired and decided we’d move into a retirement home together and drink gin. Thank you to all of The Romaniacs (Celia J Anderson, Jan Brigden, Sue Fortin, Debbie Fuller-White, Laura E James, Lucie Wheeler, Vanessa Savage) for letting me run with the idea and go a bit wild with our retirement plans. Thank you so much as well for your unfailing support in all aspects of life. You are all awesome and we best get our names down for the same retirement quarters soon.
Of course, none of it would have been possible without the love and support of friends and family. It has been a tough time for me personally and I’m so thankful for everyone who has been there for me in recent times. You all know who you are, and rather than list every person, I wanted to share this letter that I wrote to my daughters, Amber and Eden, over on The Romaniacs blog. I want to share it because I also need to thank you – the reader. And I would say the same to you as I would my daughters: Dream Big. Dream Loudly. Dream in a way only you can master.
To my dearest daughters,
I want you to always dream big. To see sidewards of whatever situation you are in, and know that, whatever cloud you are chasing, it is entirely plausible to catch it.
There will be people telling you what you’re trying to achieve is an impossibility. That you should aim lower, and stick to making daisy chains while lounging on the grass gazing at those far away clouds. And no one, NO ONE in the world should tell you that the impossible is impossible. Because you are the only one who should set your limits. It will never be my job to tell you what to dream, only to be your cheerleader in whatever way you need.
And in that same breath, I hope I am showing you what it is to chase dreams, even when it means letting go of the ones you once held.
Because like clouds, life is everchanging, the format may shift in a moment.
What was once there may drift away in the breeze while you’re not looking.
Then once that cloud has passed: find firm ground. Find the people able to take that ride with you. Find the friends willing to lift you up onto their shoulders in support. Know that you are loved in abundance so many times over. Know that you can weather any storm.
The Gin Shack on the Beach Page 24
