Now or Never

by Penny Jordan

  ‘No, not at all,’ Stella denied. ‘I don’t think of the baby as being a grandchild, and I don’t intend to do so.’

  When Paul suddenly reappeared, she didn’t know whether she was relieved or disappointed to see Todd borne away to be introduced to someone else.

  8

  The surgery was busy when Maggie arrived. She had been told that the appointment would be with a Dr Carter. His name wasn’t familiar to her, but then she very rarely needed to visit the surgery.

  The receptionist looked surprised when Maggie told her who her appointment was with. ‘Are you sure?’ she began, frowning. ‘It’s just that today is his day for seeing the new mothers to be…’

  Maggie could feel her face growing hot. The other patients in the queue who were within earshot were looking at her with interest.

  ‘Yes. I do know that,’ she told the receptionist.

  Maggie could see her pursing her lips as she found her name and ticked it off the appointments list. She also felt as though her disapproving look were burning a hole in her back as she started to walk away from the desk.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she called sharply after Maggie. ‘The consulting room for pregnant mothers is downstairs, next to the nurses’ room, and it has its own waiting area.’

  Her face burning even more hotly than before, Maggie headed for the stairs.

  As well as the normal antenatal classes and hospital visits, Maggie had several appointments during the course of her pregnancy at the fertility clinic so that they could monitor her progress, and this morning just before she had left Oliver had produced an article he had been reading advocating yoga classes for pregnant women. ‘We could go together,’ he suggested winningly. ‘It would be good for you, very relaxing.’

  ‘Antenatal classes, hospital visits, yoga classes, it’s beginning to sound as though being pregnant is a fulltime job. I still have the business to run, remember, and a new home to find…’

  ‘Oh, talking of new homes,’ Oliver interrupted her, ‘I forgot to tell you, the estate agents rang yesterday. They’re sending us details of somewhere that’s just come on the market, although by the sound of it it’s not going to be suitable.’

  ‘Why not?’ Maggie asked him.

  ‘Well, for one thing it’s huge, and for another it seems that it’s going to need a hell of a lot of work doing on it.’

  ‘Where is it?’ Maggie asked him curiously. ‘Did they say?’

  ‘Draycotte,’ Oliver responded, mentioning a small village a few miles away. ‘Originally it was the local manor house, so it’s called…’

  ‘Draycotte Manor,’ Maggie supplied softly for him.

  ‘You know it?’ Oliver asked her.

  ‘Yes,’ Maggie agreed. ‘My grandmother lived in Draycotte and I used to play in the manor’s gardens as a little girl. It was very run down at the time and the house was empty.’

  Maggie prayed that Oliver wouldn’t notice how flushed her face had become and ask her why. She had fallen in love with the old house as a girl, and in the early days of their relationship she had taken Dan to see it. ‘One day, when I’m rich, I’m going to buy it for you,’ he had told her. ‘For us, Maggie, and for our children.’

  ‘Well, we need to find somewhere soon,’ Maggie reminded Oliver, quickly pushing Draycotte Manor and Dan out of her thoughts. Oliver was right, it was far too big and would need far too much work doing on it.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you to see the doctor?’ Oliver asked her.

  Maggie shook her head. ‘You’ve got to see Ralph Frame—remember? He still can’t make up his mind about which desk he wants. You’ll enjoy yourself,’ Maggie added, when he grimaced. ‘His secretary has the longest legs and the shortest skirts I’ve ever seen.’

  ‘So what? They’ll be completely wasted on me,’ Oliver responded, grinning at her. ‘I’m a sucker for women of five feet two in maternity skirts. In fact,’ he continued softly, taking hold of Maggie’s hand and pulling her determinedly towards him so that he could feather his whispered words against her lips, ‘there is only one woman, only one pair of legs that do it for me and you know it.

  ‘Marry me, Maggie.’ He said it abruptly, his hand tightening on hers. Reluctantly Maggie shook her head.

  ‘Oliver. We’ve already been through this,’ she told him.

  ‘I know, you don’t want to marry me because you think I’m after your money.’ He was joking but she saw the pain in his eyes.

  Shaking her head, Maggie corrected him. ‘I don’t want to marry you because I don’t want to tie you down. To tie you to me, Oliver…’

  He threw back his head and closed his eyes, his voice raw as he demanded, ‘God, Maggie, we’re having a child, how much more tied to you than that can I possibly be? What is it, Maggie? Why won’t you marry me? Is it because of Dan? Because you still—’

  ‘No.’ Maggie stopped him immediately. ‘No, it doesn’t have anything to do with Dan.’

  ‘Your friends, then, you’re afraid that they won’t approve?’

  Fiercely, Maggie shook her head.

  ‘Then why?’ Oliver appealed thickly. ‘God knows, you know how much I love you…’

  Yes, she knew that. He loved her now! But how would he feel in five years’ time…in ten? She had been far more self-indulgent, far more selfish than she had any right to be already in having his child; to marry him as well could only compound that selfishness. And besides…When she and Dan had married they had exchanged vows that should have lasted a lifetime, but they hadn’t. Who was to say what would happen between her and Oliver, whom he might meet? A younger woman…the woman. How could she deny him the freedom to be with her? How could she claim to love him and not let him have that freedom?

  The waiting room was beginning to fill up and Maggie was tensely conscious of how much older than the other pregnant women she was. Some of them arrived in twos and threes, their pregnancies well advanced, co-travellers down a uniquely bonding road.

  She could still remember how envious and how excluded she had felt during her friends’ pregnancies, how very much the odd one out.

  She was still the odd one out, she recognised.

  The surgery had begun. She overheard the two thirty-somethings seated next to her saying how good the new doctor was.

  ‘He’s a fully qualified paediatrician, which I suppose is why he’s in charge of this clinic. He certainly knows his stuff. I saw old Dr Harris with my first. He didn’t have a clue. Mind you, the midwife was almost as bad. I thought she was going to have a fit when I told her that I wanted to have a Caesar.’

  ‘Mmm. My mother was horrified when she discovered that I was planning to have Tom delivered by Caesarian section. She was one of the natural childbirth and no pain-killers generation—it took her twelve hours to deliver me and after twenty years of hearing a blow-by-blow account of it, there was no way I was going to go through that. Talk about inflicting guilt!’

  Absently Maggie listened to them, glancing over as the waiting-room door opened.

  As Stella pushed open the door the first person she saw was Maggie and immediately her heart sank a little. As yet she had not had the opportunity to tell anyone about what had happened. She could see the way Maggie’s eyes lit up as soon as she saw her, her expression changing to one of confusion as Stella stepped back and ushered Julie into the room ahead of her.

  Before they could sit down Julie’s name was called. Giving Maggie a brief smile, Stella hurried her to the door.

  Marcus frowned a little as he saw Julie. The irony of him being given the task of monitoring the pregnant mothers had not escaped him. The evidence of their fecundity increased his own longing for a child. That had not surprised him at all, but what had was the number of mothers-to-be who had told him ruefully that it had been their partners who had initially wanted a child.

  ‘It’s this new man thing,’ one thirty-something had told him wryly. ‘Personally I’d just as soon not have bothered, but I got so tired of E
ddie gazing longingly at other people’s sprogs that I had to give in.’

  ‘So you’re not entirely happy about your pregnancy?’ Marcus had asked her.

  His patient had laughed.

  ‘I’m delighted,’ she had informed him. ‘Now! But if you’d told me twelve months ago that I’d be spending every spare minute reading baby-raising books and loving every second of it, I would never have believed you.’

  ‘So, Julie,’ he began gently as he studied the pale-faced teenager sitting in front of him, once he had finished examining her behind a curtained screen whilst Stella waited anxiously. ‘You say that you are just over six months pregnant. Have you given any thought to what you want to happen afterwards, when your baby has been born?’

  ‘She’s going to have the baby adopted and go back to school,’ Stella supplied impatiently for him. With barely three months to go before the baby was due, surely it was more important to sort out all the practical arrangements for its birth, rather than discuss the one decision that had already been made.

  ‘Is that what you want, Julie?’ Marcus asked, giving Stella a brief look. ‘This is your baby, you know,’ he stressed, in a way that made Stella’s face burn with indignation. ‘And any decision regarding his or her future must be yours. We have a counsellor here at the surgery if you would like to talk to someone, and of course social services will—’

  ‘Julie has already made her decision, and she has made it by herself,’ Stella insisted.

  Marcus gave her a steady look. Stella struck him as a formidably organised woman, but before he could say anything Julie burst out, ‘I do want the baby to be adopted…I couldn’t have…have killed it like my father would have wanted me to, but I…I don’t want it…’

  As she spoke tears filled her eyes, and Stella felt her own anger melt away.

  ‘I’d like you to see the nurse before you leave,’ Marcus told her. ‘She will arrange for you to talk to the midwife, and sort out antenatal classes. You will be able to discuss with her any preferences you might have as to the way you give birth.’

  ‘Everyone says that it’s really going to hurt.’ Her voice wobbled.

  ‘Well the word “labour” certainly implies that it will be hard work,’ Marcus agreed carefully, looking at Stella properly for the first time as he continued. ‘I don’t…’

  ‘Giving birth varies from woman to woman, Julie,’ Stella offered promptly, coming to his rescue. ‘I was lucky with Hughie, although I have to say he was reluctant to get himself into the right position and we did think for a time that he was going to be a breech delivery.’

  Giving Marcus a rueful smile, she added, ‘My midwife lost patience with him after she had turned him round twice—she said then he would probably be a stubborn child and she was right. You mustn’t worry,’ she told Julie calmly. ‘I’m sure—’

  ‘I want my mother to be there,’ Julie told her shakily.

  Over her downbent head Stella exchanged looks with Marcus.

  Whilst Julie was seeing the nurse, Stella went to sit down next to Maggie.

  ‘Julie is pregnant with Hughie’s baby,’ she explained in a low voice. ‘I haven’t had a chance to say anything yet. We only found out ourselves a matter of days ago. Her father has virtually thrown her out and so she’s going to be living with us until after the baby’s born.’

  ‘A grandchild…’ Maggie smiled. ‘Oh, Stella…’

  ‘No!’ Stella denied sharply. Why was it people automatically assumed that she was not just ready but eager to claim her relationship with this baby who in reality meant nothing to her?

  ‘Julie is going to have the baby adopted,’ she told Maggie. ‘It’s the most sensible thing to do and it’s what she wants to do,’ she added firmly.

  ‘She and I both seem out of place here.’ Maggie sighed. ‘She because she’s too young and me because I’m too old. At least, according to Nicki.’ She paused and frowned. Perhaps now wasn’t the moment but, the more she had thought about Nicki’s behaviour, the more concerned she had become for her friend.

  ‘Stella,’ she began tentatively. ‘Have you noticed anything different about Nicki lately? Only—’

  ‘I know she upset you, Maggie. But I wouldn’t take it too much to heart,’ Stella interrupted. ‘To be honest you gave us all a shock, and…’

  She stopped as Maggie’s name was called. Getting up, Maggie recognised that it was perhaps just as well that their conversation had been brought to an end. It was obvious to her that Stella felt she was overreacting to Nicki. Was she?

  ‘Mrs Rockford.’ Marcus smiled as Maggie walked into his room and closed the door behind her. ‘You are in the early stages of pregnancy, I understand?’

  ‘Yes.’ Maggie smiled hesitantly. ‘I know you must think that at my age…’ She stopped whilst Marcus watched her.

  He had checked her medical history before his surgery and knew that she had gone through a multitude of tests before it had been discovered that the failure to conceive with her husband had been because of a problem with his sperm.

  ‘You are fifty-two and, so far as I can see, in extremely good health,’ he told her calmly. ‘Moreoever, since you have conceived by egg donor, your baby will already have been screened for any potential…problems. The fact is that you statistically have every chance of producing an extremely healthy baby.’

  His smile and his words immediately put Maggie at her ease.

  ‘I know everyone doesn’t approve of a woman of my age doing what I am doing.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t you? Men do it all the time,’ was Marcus’ calm response. ‘Although we are now just beginning to recognise that the ability to produce sperm does not guarantee the birth of a healthy child, and that a man’s sperm becomes less healthy as he grows older.’

  ‘A…a friend of mine has warned me that until I am over my third month I could miscarry the baby,’ Maggie said worriedly. Nicki’s warning had been on her mind ever since her friend had issued it.

  ‘That is true, of course, but the majority of spontaneous abortions before three months are caused either because nature has decided that the foetus is not viable for one reason or another, or because of the mother not being able to maintain the pregnancy. That is hardly likely to happen in your case, because the egg has already been screened before it was fertilised and implanted, and your own health has been thoroughly checked out. Of course, if you were to behave in a way that might prejudice your pregnancy, such as taking up a physically rigorous sport, for instance, then, yes, there would be a risk, but I really don’t think you need to worry,’ he reassured Maggie gently. ‘According to your medical notes you are perfectly healthy, and so, too, I am sure, will your baby be.’

  Her baby! Her baby…

  As she left the surgery Maggie realised that for the first time when someone had referred to the baby as being hers she had not felt an immediate need to correct them. Her baby…Hers and Oliver’s. Theirs!

  Maggie hummed as she let herself in through the front door and picked up the post that had arrived in her absence. She felt energetic and excited, full of joy and love.

  She would go and see Nicki again; perhaps she had overreacted, been over-imaginative. She was pregnant, after all, and her hormones would be all over the place.

  A wide, almost girlish grin curled her mouth. Pregnant…There was so much she needed to do. They hadn’t looked at nursery equipment as yet, or baby clothes. Nursery equipment, baby clothes…first they had to find a house, she reminded herself humorously. Hopefully, the estate agents might have sent them details of something worth looking at. She felt so much better since she had seen the doctor, so much more like her normal optimistic self, so much more positive and focused. She felt, Maggie recognised with delight, that she really and truly now was pregnant; that she was going to be a mother. And she intended to be the best, the most loving, the most grateful mother there could be.

  Dizzy with relief and happiness, she went into the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea b
efore sitting down to open her letters. She was not expecting Oliver back until later in the day. She had some work of her own to do, though, and…

  Tea slopped dangerously from the mug she was holding as she stared in disbelief at the letter she had just opened and read.

  Shock, nausea, fear—all of them surged through her, locking her stomach muscles, making her hands shake.

  ‘No…’ she whispered in horrified rejection, her immediate instinct to crush the letter into a tight ball, to rip it into shreds so that she never had to see it again, but she knew that every word it contained was already imprinted inside her head, and so instead she put it down on the table and read it slowly again.

  Maggie

  I had to write to you! I would have preferred to talk to you but I knew you wouldn’t listen. You aren’t a listener, are you, Maggie? You’re too selfish for that. You’ve always been selfish, I know that. I know everything there is to know about you, Maggie. I know you inside out. I know all about you and Dan!

  How can you live with yourself? How can you bear to face yourself every day knowing what you have done? The baby you are carrying belongs to someone else. You have stolen it and deserve to be punished. You will be punished for it, Maggie! It will grow up hating you because you have stolen it from its rightful mother.

  When I saw you the other day I knew that you shouldn’t be having a baby. Perhaps you shouldn’t be allowed to go on living! What do you think, Maggie? You know that I’m right, don’t you? Think about it. Think about what you’ve done!

  Maggie was barely aware of the door opening and Oliver walking in until she saw him standing in front of her.

  ‘Oliver,’ she whispered blankly. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I had to come home to find out how you went on at the doctor’s,’ he began. ‘I…Maggie, what is it? What’s wrong?’ he demanded as he saw her face, dread sharpening his voice as he asked hoarsely, ‘The baby…?’

  Numbly Maggie shook her head.

  ‘No. The baby’s fine…It’s this,’ she told him, tears filling her eyes as she showed him the letter.