The Baby Snatchers

by Chris Taylor

  A moment later, the girl’s shoulders slumped on a heavy sigh and her anger seemed to dissipate. She pressed a kiss against the soft hair that covered her baby’s head. When she spoke again, her voice was calmer.

  “Mom and Dad couldn’t have kids, so they adopted. First, Cam and then me. I don’t know why they bothered. Mom never took to motherhood. Some of my earliest memories are of her yelling at me for something or other. I could never do anything right.”

  Her lips twisted. “She hated my brother even more. He grew into a big kid. By the time he was fifteen, he towered over her. She hated that he dominated her physically. It only made her more malicious. Of course, Cam used to give back everything she doled out, and more. It wasn’t like she didn’t deserve it. She treated him like little more than hired help, only there wasn’t any payment involved.”

  Georgie’s heart filled with sadness at the thought of what the two of them must have gone through. “What about your dad?” she asked softly.

  Cynthia smiled sadly. “Dad was the only good thing in our lives, but he was no match against the viciousness of Deirdre Dawson. I was five when she ordered him to throw Cam out. I’m sure Dad didn’t want to do it, but she gave him an ultimatum.”

  Cynthia ran her hand gently over her daughter’s head. Her fingers stroked the petal-soft cheek. “Dad chose her. He took the easy way out. He chose to keep the peace between him and his wife and let his son fight his battles on his own. Cam went to live with the family of one of his high school friends on the other side of town. I haven’t seen him since.”

  “How do you know he’s in Sydney?”

  “We might have lived in a small country town, hours from the city, but news filtered back over the years. I heard he went into the Police Academy straight out of high school. A couple of years ago, I overheard one of Dad’s friends telling him Cam was doing pretty well as a police officer in the city.”

  “Is that what brought you here?”

  Cynthia lowered her gaze and slowly nodded. “Things were getting worse at home. For a little while after Cam left, Mom seemed happier. There were even odd moments when she’d treat me kindly. I missed Cam, but life was bearable. Then I grew up.” She grimaced at the memory and pain flickered across her face. Georgie’s heart clenched.

  “When I hit puberty, things changed again and it wasn’t for the better. I filled out, grew taller; attracted the attention of the boys. It wasn’t like I encouraged them,” she added defensively and Georgie nodded in understanding.

  “Mom started accusing me of all sorts of things, calling me awful names. I couldn’t even walk out the front door without her screaming obscenities at me. Dad used to tell me to ignore her; that she was going through the change of life.” Cynthia shook her head in disgust. “As if that excused everything.”

  The young girl’s breath came faster, harsh in the silence of the room. Her baby slept against her mom’s chest, oblivious to the tension that held Cynthia’s body taut. Georgie stepped closer. Her patient had not long ago given birth after a long and arduous labor. She didn’t want her upsetting herself unnecessarily.

  “It’s okay, Cynthia. We don’t need to talk about it anymore. I understand—”

  “You understand shit. You want to know why I’m here, alone in a labor ward with no one to call on for help? I’ll tell you why! Two years ago, I came home after spending an evening with my friends at the movies. Mom met me at the door. I’d hardly stepped foot inside before she started in on me, screaming about how I’d been out all night, spreading my legs for every boy in town. I did my best to ignore her, like I’d been doing for years. She followed me into my bedroom.” Her voice cracked. Her expression was distant and filled with fear. Once again, Georgie tried to intervene.

  “Don’t talk about it anymore, honey. I don’t want you to get upset. It’s not good for you, or for your baby.”

  Cynthia stared down at her daughter, still blissfully asleep. “I want to tell you. I want you to understand.”

  Georgie nodded, but tension knotted her insides. Though the girl mostly spoke with a refined tongue that evidenced a sound education, it was obvious she’d been living on the streets for some time. There had to be a good reason why.

  Cynthia drew in a ragged breath. She looked up at Georgie with eyes that were filled with agony.

  “I asked Mom to leave me alone, but she refused. Instead, she pushed me hard down on the bed and sat on me. She prised open my thighs, digging her fingers into my skin. She kept screaming at me, calling me names. She said she was going to prove I was a slut.”

  Georgie swallowed a gasp of horror. Anticipating where this was going, dread poured through her veins. She prayed in silent desperation that she was wrong about what Cynthia was about to reveal.

  “She tore off my panties,” Cynthia said in a voice dull with pain. “I think she was surprised I wore any, but it didn’t stop her. It was like she’d gone crazy, possessed with something so evil, I couldn’t bear to look at her. She forced two fingers inside me, crowing all the time that she could tell I wasn’t a virgin.” Cynthia gasped and shuddered. Tears ran down her cheeks. “It hurt so much.”

  The girl’s sobs now came in earnest, shaking her tiny frame. Georgie stepped forward instinctively, her heart breaking. Gathering the girl and her baby carefully in her arms, Georgie held them.

  Murmuring wordless sounds of comfort against Cynthia’s hair, Georgie waited out the storm. Her anger boiled out of control. With an effort, she clenched her jaw, forcing it down. She didn’t want the girl to misinterpret her anger.

  When at last Cynthia’s sobs quieted, Georgie slowly pulled away. Brushing the matted hair out of the girl’s eyes, Georgie offered her a reassuring smile.

  “Is that why you left?”

  Cynthia lowered her gaze and nodded.

  “Did you speak to your dad about what happened?”

  “No. I saw what happened with Cam and nothing had changed over the years. Dad was weak. He always took her side over mine. There would be no support from him.”

  “You’ve been living on the streets since you were fourteen?”

  “Yes.”

  “You came to Sydney, looking for your brother.”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you made any enquires as to his whereabouts?”

  Cynthia looked down at herself. Though she wore a clean hospital gown, the ground-in dirt and filth on her hands and feet was clearly visible.

  “I arrived in Sydney with nothing more than a few personal items in my backpack and the clothes I wore. I had a total of twenty-nine dollars and thirty cents in my purse. It didn’t take long for the money to run out. I moved around from shelter to shelter and all the time, I thought of Cam. I wondered if it were true that he was a police officer and that he was stationed in the city. I wanted to go to him, to find him, but I was scared.”

  “Of what?” Georgie asked gently, even though she had a fair idea.

  “That he wouldn’t recognize me. That he’d refuse to acknowledge who I was.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “That he wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me. I was part of the past—a past he’d long left behind. I was scared he wouldn’t take kindly to being reminded about where he’d come from.”

  Cynthia sighed quietly and settled herself and her baby back against the pillows. Idly stroking the infant’s soft cheek, she continued: “For months, I went back and forth, scrounging up the courage to approach him and then being too terrified to try. Once, I even got as far as the front steps of the city police station, only to turn away. By then, it had been a long time since I’d taken a shower and I was embarrassed by my appearance. A few weeks later, I met Albert.”

  “Who’s Albert?”

  “Josephine’s father.”

  “Tell me about him.”

  The girl’s expression softened and a small smile played on her lips. Georgie listened while Cynthia spoke about a boy a few years older than her who she’d met living on the street. They’d struck u
p a friendship that turned into love. All had been going well until Cynthia became pregnant. Albert reacted badly to the news of his impending fatherhood. The day after she told him, he walked out on her, abandoning her and their unborn baby. She hadn’t seen him again.

  Georgie listened and bit back a sigh at the desperateness of the girl’s circumstances. Unfortunately, it was an all too familiar tale. Ward Seven was a public maternity ward and it catered almost exclusively to the several hundred, mostly young, pregnant girls who arrived there every year without health insurance. Many of them were drug addicts, alcoholics or both. Most were without stable homes or reliable family support. The enormity of the problem saddened Georgie almost to the point of despair, but she refused to give up on the desperate women and their babies in her care. Cynthia and her daughter were no different.

  “I have a colleague who’s married to a police officer who works in the city. I could make some enquires and see if we could find your brother,” she said. “What do you think?”

  The girl shrugged, but Georgie caught the brief flash of hope in Cynthia’s eyes and resolved to do what she could to find the girl’s brother before she was discharged.

  “I could also put you into contact with someone from the Department of Family and Community Services. Would that be okay?”

  Cynthia was shaking her head back and forth even before Georgie had finished. “No way! There’s no way in hell I’m letting those interfering, old bitches steal my baby.”

  “They’re not going to take Josephine away from you, honey. All they’ll do is try and help you and your little girl. She’ll need special things like clean clothes and water to bathe in and a safe, warm place to sleep—and unless you’re going to breastfeed, you’ll need bottles and formula. The people from social services might help you find a better place to live and give you some assistance until you get back on your feet. If you don’t want to do it for yourself, think of your baby. Do it for Josephine.”

  Cynthia averted her gaze, but a moment later, she offered Georgie a shrug, which Georgie took as a yes. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief. At least the girl was prepared to accept help. If not for her sake, then for the baby’s. It was something.

  The door to the birthing suite opened and Georgie’s mother appeared in the room. As head of the labor ward, Marjorie Whitely was Georgie’s boss. It had taken five years of persuasion, but her mother had finally convinced her to leave her beloved pediatric nursing and retrain as a midwife. It meant that Georgie took orders from her mother, but so far, their professional relationship was working.

  “Is everything all right in here, Georgina?”

  “Yes, thanks, Marjorie,” Georgie replied, calling her mother by her given name, like the rest of the staff did. “Cynthia’s just given birth to a healthy baby girl. I’ll have them cleaned up and returned to the ward shortly.”

  Her mother nodded her approval. “Very good.” She cast her gaze in the direction of the young mother. “Congratulations, Cynthia.”

  Georgie’s patient smiled and ducked her head. “Thank you.”

  Marjorie returned her attention to her daughter. “Georgina, do you mind if I have a word with you outside?”

  Georgie glanced up in surprise, but nodded. “Of course.” She looked over at Cynthia. “I won’t be a moment. When I get back, we’ll get you into the shower. How does that sound?”

  “Great. Thanks,” Cynthia replied, and threw her a grateful smile.

  Georgie smiled back and then followed her mother out of the room. “You wanted to speak with me?”

  “Yes. That girl in there. What’s her story? Where are her parents?”

  Georgie’s shoulders slumped on a heavy sigh. “She’s a runaway. Terrible family life. She left home when she was fourteen.”

  “Where’s she living? From the look of her, it’s not somewhere I’d be happy sending a newborn. They’re so susceptible to disease and illness at this age.”

  “She didn’t give me an address, but she said she lives there on her own. She thinks her older brother is working somewhere in the city. I’m going to try and locate him. I also spoke to her about contacting FACS and she’s agreed to let me make the call.”

  Georgie’s mother pursed her lips. “That’s something then. I guess we can be grateful for small mercies.”

  “I’ll call them as soon as I get Cynthia and the baby settled back on the ward.”

  Marjorie nodded. “Good. Let me know how that goes.”

  “I will.”

  With that, her mother turned and headed toward the nurses’ station. Georgie slipped back into the room. The baby had wakened and Cynthia smiled down at her, a look of delight and wonderment on her face.

  “You’re so beautiful, Josephine. My beautiful little girl.” Another round of kisses were pressed against the baby’s head.

  “How about I take her for a while and let you have a shower? It’s been a long, hard day and you deserve a break. There’s a bathroom right through that connecting door. You’ll find soap and towels on the shelf. There are clean hospital gowns there, too, unless you’d rather change into clothes of your own. I could go back to the ward and collect something for you, if you like?”

  A flush of embarrassment slid across Cynthia’s cheeks. She averted her gaze. “No, that’s okay. A gown will be fine. I… I didn’t leave anything on the ward.”

  Georgie looked around the room for Cynthia’s belongings. A brown paper bag containing the cheap dress and sandals she’d arrived in were all that Georgie could find. She bit back another sigh. Things were even grimmer than she’d thought.

  How on earth was the girl going to care for a baby?

  CHAPTER TWO

  It took awhile, but right before Georgie’s shift was about to end, she received a call from a FACS employee. The woman, who identified herself as Cheryl Stuart, opened her monologue with an apology.

  “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to phone you back, but we’re absolutely snowed under. Two of the people in my office are away sick and another one’s on annual leave. It leaves me and one other—and believe me, she’s as overworked as I am.”

  Georgie wanted to commiserate with the woman about the never-ending issue with government resources that just wouldn’t stretch as far as they were needed, but time was running out. Cynthia would be discharged within a day or two. Something needed to be set in place quickly.

  “I’m sorry to hear about your rough day,” she said in a mollifying tone, “but I have a young girl who gave birth a few hours ago and I’m concerned about her living arrangements. She’s been estranged from her parents for two years and has good reason not to want to contact them. I understand she has a brother living in Sydney and I’m trying to track him down, but so far, I haven’t had any luck.”

  Her announcement was met with silence and then a loud and heavy sigh. “How old is she?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “So she isn’t that young.”

  Georgie felt a wave of anger. “She’s young enough, and certainly in need of your help.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, same old story. But it’s not like she’s eleven or twelve. I had a twelve-year-old the other week. New baby, living out on the streets. Nowhere to go, no one who cared. It kills me.”

  Georgie drew in a deep breath and eased it out in an effort to release the tension in her shoulders and neck. Cheryl wasn’t telling her anything new. She saw the same on Ward Seven every day.

  “If everything’s fine, this girl will be discharged tomorrow or the next day,” she said. “We’ll lose any chance we have of helping her and her baby.”

  “Yep, I know how the story goes.” Another heavy sigh and then, “What’s her name? I’ll see what I can do, but it won’t be before tomorrow.”

  “Cynthia Dawson. I’ll do my best to keep her here until you arrive, but please put her on the top of your list. We’re short of beds and if someone else comes in overnight, I’m not sure there’ll be anything I can do.”

  “Yea
h, yeah, yeah. Same shit, different day,” Cheryl muttered. “I’ll do the best I can.”

  After thanking her, Georgie hung up the phone and made a record of the conversation in Cynthia’s notes. She’d looked in on the girl a few moments earlier and had been pleased to see both Mom and baby were asleep.

  “How did things go with Cynthia Dawson?”

  Georgie looked up from the desk and acknowledged her mother’s question with a nod. “I got onto FACS. They’re overloaded, as usual, but they’ve agreed to come and see her tomorrow.”

  Marjorie grimaced. “Let’s hope she’s still here. We have a full house at the moment.”

  Georgie compressed her lips in silent agreement. “Let’s pray we don’t get anyone else in.”

  “How did things go with locating the brother? Did you find him?”

  “I’ve made some calls. I’m waiting to hear back.”

  “What are the chances you’ll locate him?”

  Georgie shrugged and refused to acknowledge the wave of despair that threatened. “Who knows? But I have to try. That poor girl won’t cope on her own. It’s a simple fact.”

  Her mother’s expression softened. “Don’t take it personally, Georgina. You’re doing the best you can.”

  Tears pricked Georgie’s eyes. She hurriedly swiped them away. “Why does it feel like I’m never able to do enough?”

  Marjorie patted her gently on the back. “What’s enough? When is it ever enough? We can’t blame ourselves for the situations these girls find themselves in. They’ve made bad choices. They have to live with the consequences.”

  Georgie stared hard at her mother and shook her head. “It’s not always that easy, Mom. Don’t you remember—?”

  “Of course I remember!” her mother snapped. “But your situation was different.”

  “How?”

  “You weren’t living on the streets, for one. And that boy took advantage of you. He—”

  “Jason didn’t take advantage of me, Mom. I know you find that hard to believe. I wanted it as much as he did. We were in love. It was as simple as that.”