The Surrogate

by Louise Jensen

  ‘Yes. I saw her pull into her driveway. I went to tell her that her left brake light is out.’

  ‘You’re so good. And now you’re soaked. Do you want to nip and get changed? Dinner’s ready when you are.’

  ‘Lovely. It smells great.’ Nick is distracted as he shrugs off his jacket.

  From the kitchen, my mobile starts to trill Justin Timberlake’s ‘Like I Love You’, the tone I set specifically for Lisa as she used to love the song so much.

  I hurry to answer the call before my voicemail kicks in.

  ‘Hi, Lisa!’ At first, I can’t make out whether Lisa has pocket dialled me by mistake, all I can hear is background noise, but then I realise it is her sobbing. ‘Lisa?’ My stomach flips.

  ‘Kat.’ Lisa gulps air and her sobs turn to hiccups. It seems an age before she can speak. ‘I slipped on the ice and… Kat… I’m bleeding. I think I’m losing the baby.’

  And just like that my world shatters again.

  16

  Then

  ‘You look so tired,’ Mum said as she cleared away the breakfast things. It was always boiled eggs on a Saturday and, childishly, I still had the urge to turn the shell upside down in my eggcup and draw on a happy face.

  I stifled a yawn. I was exhausted. The last month had been a frantic round of revision, play rehearsals and juggling Lisa and Jake, all without Dad finding out I had my first boyfriend. It wasn’t purely Dad not giving me permission to date while I was still at school that had kept me single up until now. I had never had a boyfriend before because I had never wanted one. I’d never felt that pull other girls seemed to feel. That ‘I fancy him,’ or ‘Isn’t he hot?’ For a brief time, I had wondered if I was a lesbian, but I’d never felt attracted to girls either. Was there something wrong with me? I would sit cross-legged on Lisa’s bed, posters of Justin Timberlake covering her pale pink walls, and I’d imagined him kissing me, touching me, but I didn’t feel anything other than slightly repulsed. Now it was different: every time Jake kissed me, touched me, I understood why love sometimes drove people to do terrible, terrible things. The rush of adrenaline, the out of control sensation. Jake was a craving; as vital to me as air and food.

  ‘Take some time out today. It will do you good.’ Mum clattered plates into the sink.

  ‘It’s nearly—’ Dad jumped in.

  ‘Exams. Yes. So it’s almost study leave, and how much good is it doing Kat poring over and over the same pages? It’s Saturday.’

  ‘But her offer—’

  ‘Is conditional,’ Mum finished. ‘We know but she’s doing well. Let her have a break.’ There was something firm and final in Mum’s tone. It didn’t happen often, this shift in power, but every now and then something would flash behind her eyes and she turned into a different person almost. Someone strong and assertive and not like Mum at all and, in those moments, Dad was different too. Smaller. Unsure. Not quite knowing how to cope when his authority was challenged. Panicking almost.

  He cleared his throat. ‘Get some fresh air but be back by dinner time, Katherine,’ he said gruffly, as though it was his idea all along. He picked up his empty mug, and for once, he was the one to switch the kettle on.

  Jake and I climbed into the back of Aaron’s dad’s van and, as Aaron slammed the door shut, it almost felt like the end of something. Instantly, it was hot and airless, a suffocating blackness. The stench of paint and turps was sharp. I held on to the carrier bags containing our picnic food with one hand; my other hand fumbled for Jake. From the front, Lisa’s voice drifted until the ignition sparked and I was buffeted left to right as the van pulled away. The vibrations from the engine clattered my teeth. Although we weren’t going far it seemed an age before the roar of passing traffic fell away and we were bumping along a country track. I was relieved we were nearly there. Although I’d never had a problem with confined spaces before my throat was stinging from inhaling chemicals; a headache burned behind my eyes.

  The second the van was still and silent I leapt for the handle, rattling it furiously. Outside, I could hear the muted tones of Aaron and Lisa.

  ‘Let us out.’ I hammered on the door with both fists, a feeling of panic building when I realised it didn’t open from the inside.

  On the other side of the door I could hear Aaron laughing.

  ‘What’s the magic word?’

  ‘Don’t be a tosser,’ shouted Jake, and there was a silence and a horrible, overwhelming feeling rose that we’d be stuck here forever.

  ‘Lisa,’ I shouted, and at last there was a click, a startling brightness, and I almost fell out of the open door as I gulped in fresh air. An impromptu picnic had seemed like fun, but the smell of paint coated my lungs, dissipating my earlier good mood. Aaron grinned at me, and I felt a pricking sensation at the back of my eyes and I willed myself not to cry. It was discomfiting that Lisa didn’t seem to notice how upset I was: we’d always been so in tune with each other before, but more and more, I had been spending time with Jake, her with Aaron, and it occurred to me for the first time that, one day, we would no longer be the most important people in each other’s lives. Perhaps that distance had already started growing. I glared at Aaron as though he was personally responsible for the hairline crack that had formed in our relationship.

  We walked in a line, flattening undergrowth, ducking under branches. The woodland floor was dappled with shimmers of sunlight, a warm breeze rustling the leaves of the trees that bowed to greet us. I’d calmed down by the time we reached the clearing and was ready to make a concerted effort to get to know Aaron. He and Lisa weren’t yet a couple but I had a feeling she wanted to be. She’d taken extra care with her appearance that day – a short, floral dress – it seemed like ages since I’d seen her socially – out of her school uniform.

  ‘You’ve lost loads of weight, Lisa. You look great.’

  ‘Thanks. Aaron’s been helping.’

  I raised my eyebrows before I remembered him saying something about his sister being on a diet. Lisa must have caught my expression because she said: ‘he’s been really supportive’, in a tone suggesting I hadn’t.

  I ripped the cellophane off a packet of cheese straws and bit into one, shaking the flaky pastry off my skirt as I offered one to Aaron.

  ‘These are good,’ he said as he chewed.

  ‘I get them from work,’ Jake said. He put in early shifts at a bakery, packaging food for retailers.

  ‘Do you have a job, Aaron?’

  ‘Nah.’

  ‘How are you going to afford uni?’ I asked.

  ‘I’ll get by. How about you?’

  ‘My dad’s a financial advisor. Ever since I can remember he’s been telling me there’s a policy in place to fund my further education.’

  ‘Let’s not talk about uni.’ Lisa feigned a yawn. ‘Exciting news my end. I’ve won two tickets to a gig through Facebook.’

  ‘That’s fab.’ We haven’t had a night out since Perry’s party. Already, I was excited.

  ‘Do you want to come with me, Aaron?’ As Lisa spoke, she glanced sideward at me, as though expecting me to be jealous, wanting it, almost.

  I swigged from my can of Diet Coke, washing down my disappointment.

  ‘If you can’t get a real date—’ Aaron said.

  ‘Be nice,’ Jake snapped.

  ‘He was only joking.’ Lisa rolled her eyes but looked secretly pleased.

  I wondered whether Jake had always stuck up for her, and I wondered why it bothered me now. It was irrational to feel jealous when it was my hand Jake was holding, but I did.

  Inexplicably I felt suddenly uncertain of my place in Jake’s life, or Lisa’s, as we danced around each other, trying to settle into our new relationships, balancing the old. The shifting dynamics as we pushed and we pulled was draining. I needed some space.

  ‘I’m going for a walk,’ I said.

  ‘I don’t fancy one.’ Lisa barely looked up. I hadn’t been asking her, I hadn’t been asking anyone, but Jake stood too, and a
s we disappeared into the trees I could feel eyes burning into my back.

  * * *

  I’d always thought it was quiet here, peaceful, but as we strolled through the woods, my senses on high alert, everything seemed too loud; the birds chirping; the breeze rustling the leaves; my heart thumping. We were rarely properly alone.

  ‘Want a rest?’ Jake asked, and I fought to control my breath that came a little too quickly, breathing in slowly and deeply, the scent of pine, musky aftershave and anticipation.

  ‘There’s nowhere to sit.’ I looked around the clearing. The ground was scattered with rabbit droppings.

  ‘Then we’ll stand.’ Jake turned to face me, stepping forwards. His eyes locked onto mine, and I stepped backwards until my spine was pressed against a tree trunk. I swallowed hard.

  ‘Kat.’ He dipped his head and trailed warm kisses down my neck. ‘What have you done to me?’ he murmured, and I wanted to ask the same. Jake slipped his hand under my skirt and I felt the warmth in his fingers. I gasped and thrust my hips forward, urging him on.

  ‘We don’t have to do this,’ he whispered in the way he always did but, this time, instead of asking him to stop I parted my legs.

  ‘Are you sure, Kat?’ His eyes were glazed, cheeks flushed, and I knew in that moment he wanted me as badly as I wanted him.

  My body was tingling in a way it never had before, but there was a flicker of indecision as I realised what I was about to do. Should I? Although I knew I wanted Jake to be my first, I didn’t know whether I wanted to do it here, where it was so open. Where we were so visible. His fingers brushed my inner thigh, and my doubts plummeted to the ground, where they tumbled with the dried and crispy leaves until they were out of sight, and I was out of my mind.

  ‘I want to.’

  I tugged his zip down but I was too scared to reach inside his jeans, unsure what I was supposed to do. I tried to pull back, but he took both my wrists in one of his hands, holding them high above my head, the rough bark grazing the skin on my forearms. His other hand ran over my body, pulling at my knickers, pushing into me until there was a sharp pain. I bit hard on his shoulder and he hesitated. ‘Please,’ I whispered, wrapping my legs around his waist, knowing however much this hurt there was nothing more I wanted.

  * * *

  Afterwards, we clung to each other, the weight of Jake slumped against me. Our breath hot and heavy. It was the sound of a snapping twig, as sharp as a gunshot, that jolted me back to awareness. Goosebumps chasing away the heat in my skin. I pushed Jake aside and tugged up my knickers, rearranged my skirt.

  ‘What was that?’ My eyes flitted around the trees, branches swayed, shadows shimmered. It came again. A snapping sound. The sensation of the whole world staring at me. Shame flooded the places lust had just vacated. ‘Did somebody see us?’ Panic wormed under my skin. If my Dad ever heard about this…

  ‘Nobody saw us. Nobody’s here.’ Jake nuzzled my neck but he couldn’t help jumping at the sudden noise that sliced through the silence. ‘Christ.’ He shielded his eyes, looking up into the blue cloudless sky as the birds rose above the treetops, cawing loudly, as though chastising us. As though someone had startled them. Despite Jake claiming there was no one there I felt uneasy, and as Jake said, ‘Let’s get out of here’, I knew he felt it too. It was as though the moment, which had been so perfect, so private, was sullied somehow.

  17

  Now

  Exhaustion has blunted my emotions and I no longer have to fight to contain the tears that threatened to spill. I haven’t cried. Not once. For if I cry, I’m giving up hope, and I am not doing that. Not yet. Once our call had been cut off, I had phoned Lisa over and over. Each time her answer service cut in and the words inviting me to speak after the tone sliced through me. I’d left an array of messages ranging from: ‘Lisa, we’re so worried about you, please call us back’, to: ‘Where the fuck are you?’, and the last one was: ‘Lisa, please tell me my baby is all right.’ I repeated ‘please, please, please’, over and over until Nick gently unclasped my fingers, and put my phone on the coffee table. He pulled me into his arms but I couldn’t allow myself to fall against him. I couldn’t allow myself to fall apart.

  ‘There’s probably a problem with the mobile signals because of the storm but I think we have to prepare ourselves for the worst, Kat.’ Nick had said, and I was screaming ‘no, no, no,’ over and over, though the room was silent, the words in my head. I clasped my hands over my ears as though I could somehow make the sound go away.

  I had paced the room, a rat in a cage, trying to decide what to do. My mobile signal had vanished: Nick was right about the masts. I fetched the landline from the hallway, to ring the hospital.

  The receptionist said: ‘Hello, Farncaster General,’ and just hearing the name of the town where I grew up made anxiety rocket through my veins, but Lisa hadn’t been admitted.

  ‘I can’t believe this has happened to me.’ I dropped my head in my hands.

  ‘To us,’ Nick said gently, rubbing my back as though I had been sick, and I had thought I might be.

  ‘Sorry. This must be horrible for you too.’

  ‘It is. You’re not alone, Kat. I do understand.’ Nick rested his chin on my head as I leaned back against him. ‘I know what it’s like to feel loss.’

  We sat on the sofa, TV flickering in the corner, sound muted, flashes of lightning illuminating the room. Not knowing what else to say.

  Nick refused to go to bed until I did and now, at 2 a.m., we slide under cold silk sheets but, instead of spooning Nick, linking my legs through his, warming my feet on his skin, as I usually would, I lie staring at the ceiling, waiting for Nick’s light breathing to rasp light snores. He is finally asleep. I ease myself out of bed, conscious of the shift of the mattress, and slip my feet into the fleecy slippers with penguin faces on Clare had bought me for Christmas. Silently, I pad downstairs for a bottle of wine, which I carry, with a glass, into the nursery. The orange glow of the night light I always leave plugged in should make it warm and inviting, but it feels as cold and as empty as I do inside.

  Twisting the clunky dial of the mobile, it jerks into life. ‘Twinkle, twinkle little star.’ But outside the window the sky is as black as my heart.

  Another baby. How can I have lost another baby? This one didn’t even have a name, but that doesn’t make it any less real. Any less loved. I sink into the rocking chair and flex my toes against the carpet, rocking back and forth, back and forth. How much loss can one person take? Self-pity tightens its fingers around me and threads its way through my thoughts.

  I’m not religious but, at times like these, I wonder whether God is real. Whether he is punishing me for the person I was, not seeing the person I am now. I wonder whether I deserve this but not once do I ever think about giving up. I hold the rabbit in my lap. Run my fingers across his ears, listening to the crinkle, and I know.

  I don’t quite know how but I know that I’m going to get a baby, even if it kills me.

  * * *

  I must have fallen asleep. The rising sun slicing through the window, casting stripes on the carpet through the bars of the cot, nudges me awake. I’m still rocking back and forth, and my calf muscles are aching but at least physically I am feeling something different from the numbness inside. Outside the storm is dying down, the rain a gentle patter against the window, the wind calmer now. The creak of our fence has subsided to a whisper as it gently sways. Reaching into the pocket of my dressing gown I pull out my phone. No missed calls. No messages. My thumb hovers over the ‘contact’ icon. Before I can dial Lisa, I wonder whether I should go and see her face-to-face. The thought fills me with dread. I have to decide whether my reluctance to go back to that place is greater than my desire to see her.

  It isn’t.

  Although I had sworn never to go there again, I’m going to Farncaster. As I stand, my legs are jelly and I tell myself it’s just because I’ve been in one position all night, but I know it’s more than that. I’m
scared.

  Sleet gusts through the crack in the car window, dampening my fringe, but I daren’t shut it: I’m relying on the freezing fume-filled air to keep me awake. I am anxious-hot anyway. Wet conditions are the worst conditions of all for driving. As I sit in traffic, engine thrumming, windscreen wipers swishing, a car crawls past, indicator flashing right, there is a heaviness in my chest as I notice the sunshine yellow ‘Baby on Board’ sign proudly displayed in the rear window.

  My mobile buzzes and I glance at the screen, hoping it’s Lisa, but it’s Nick. He must have woken and read my scribbled note on his bedside cabinet telling him I’ll be back in a couple of days. I only hope that’s true.

  * * *

  It seems a long drive, although it’s only an hour. I have stopped once for coffee, sipping the scalding liquid, welcoming the caffeine hit before I carry on. The slip road ahead tells me Farncaster is only ten miles away. I indicate left and as I twist the steering wheel my empty Starbucks cup rolls about in the passenger footwell. Ten years. It’s been nearly ten years since I was last here, and my jaw locks as memories flit through my mind like stills from a film: the darkness, the sense of being trapped, the screaming, the pain. The terror I once felt floods back, pressing down on me, snatching my breath, and once more I have the feeling of being suffocated. The ‘Farncaster’ sign looms towards me, acting as a force field almost; my foot squeezes the brake and I screech to a halt. Somewhere to my right a horn blasts but everything is swimming in and out of focus, except my memories, which are clear and sharp. But it isn’t the person I was then that is feeling so terrified, it’s the person I am now.

  ‘I know what it’s like to feel loss,’ Nick had said. If I cross into Farncaster, the place where I so very nearly died, the place I promised never to return to, is he going to lose me too? My fingers scratch against my throat as though trying to dislodge the hands that I can still sometimes feel there.