by Terry Tyler
Davina rubs her forehead. "Sammy would scream his head off. And no antibiotics—we can't risk our kids' health."
"I can't ask you to do this, I don't even know if I can handle it—"
She takes a deep breath. "You'll have to. It's less frightening than carving up my children without an anaesthetic."
It's just a fuck, at the end of the day, she thinks, but she can't tell her husband it will be worse for him than it is for her.
She squeezes his shoulder. "I can do this. If you can deal with it."
He doesn't answer.
"Just once, right?" Davina waits for him to nod. "Okay, but you have to tell me you're going to be able to live with it."
Paul drags his hands down his face. "My feelings don't matter."
"I need to know. Can you deal with it?"
"Yes—yes. If it means keeping all of you safe."
"So you'll tell him yes, then." Davina's mouth is set in a grim line. "We get through this next couple of months, it'll be over, and this place will seem like a bad dream."
She will do this; the rest of it, she will deal with later.
He pulls her to him and they sit in silence until their children return.
Sam charges into the tiny flat, bringing the night air with him. "Have you finished talking about secret grown-up stuff now? Are we really going to escape? Where will we go? Back to our house near Auntie?"
Davina sits up, and touches his cold little cheek, pink from exertion. "That house isn't there any more, love. But we are going home. We're going back to Lindisfarne. We should never have left."
Part Three
February ~ March 2027
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Flora
UK Central
Three months to go! I feel really well, most of the time. I get tired, but thank goodness I am not suffering with water retention; a couple of the other girls are huge, and seem to have expanded all over. We have so many new Juno couples now, and half of them are pregnant already. Erika's been in France for two months, helping to set up the scheme there. I think Alex is a bit cheesed off that she's been gone so long, but it means I am involved in more decision-making, which is nice. I get so excited when new people sign up, and I love looking through the database for possible partners; it's great to think that I may make two people really happy.
Bronte and Nish are pregnant now, and she's become my best friend. She looks up to me, which is amazing, I've never had that experience before. Nish is brilliant with computers, so he's improved the Juno database to provide easier access to the applicants' details. Dex has been brilliant, too. He's so supportive, almost fatherly. I knew I was right to follow him.
My work with Juno gives me such confidence, which I need at the moment. Chester is struggling with the husband and father thing, you see. He is quite young to have this responsibility, of course, so I am trying to be understanding and allow him plenty of space.
I remember Mummy telling me that Daddy was very good when she was pregnant with me, but it wasn't a shock to his system like it is for Chester; unlike us, my parents had the chance to have fun together before responsibility.
Every day I remind myself of the important part I play in the future of UK2, but it's not all plain sailing. Chester still goes out a lot in the evenings, mostly to Spritz. The other night he was out until quite late and I began to feel unwell, all tight in my chest. He didn't respond to my call to his pager, I started to panic, and the tightness got worse. I didn't want to bother Alex or Dex because it was after nine-thirty at night; that was one time I wished Erika was around. So I went to see Bronte and Nish. Bronte was lovely to me, and Nish went out to find Chester. Once I was there, though, sitting on their sofa, I began to feel better, and the tightness in my chest eased off.
I felt so guilty because when they came back I was perfectly okay, and I was ashamed about creating a false alarm. Chester was a picture of concern in front of our friends. He thanked them for taking care of me, and said it was a good thing Nish came to find him because he'd had his pager switched off by mistake.
When we got back to our apartment, though, it was a different story.
"Can I not go out for a beer without having to haul ass back here every time you get lonesome? That's what your girlfriends are for, isn't it?"
"It wasn't because I was lonely," I said. "I didn't feel well, honestly."
He was too busy getting himself a beer out of the fridge to listen. "After all I've lost, I don't like being made to feel bad because I want to hang out with my buddies once in a while."
As I said, I do try to give him his space, but I couldn't help thinking that he hasn't lost much at all, compared with most people. He flew out to lovely Logan Island as soon as the virus kicked off, with his whole family, and stayed there until he was sent here. He's never been hungry, or scared, or dirty with nowhere to wash. He hasn't been attacked, or lost people he loved.
I said, very carefully, "You've been quite lucky, really, Ches."
He looked at me like he couldn't believe what I'd said. "You're kidding, right?"
Oh dear, was this going to be our first row?
"I just meant, you know, compared with some people." Like me, I wanted to say.
"Hell yeah, I'm so lucky!" He looked furious. "I've lost touch with my friends, I've lost my education, my prospects, the wonderful life I would have had, I've lost my car, our family home, everything. I tell you, you'd have peed your pants if you'd seen our place back in Charlotte—and now I'm expected to be happy about living in an apartment the size of a friggin' postage stamp, in this depressing country with its godawful climate. My brothers got posted back to the States, but what do I get? UK2. It's slim pickings for the youngest Odenkirk, I promise you. So excuse me if, now and again, I want to kid around with the guys, have a beer or two, and imagine, just for a couple hours, that I've still got a freakin' life!"
I felt as though I'd been hit. I put my arms across my stomach, and bit my lip, trying so hard not to cry. "I thought you loved me. I thought you were happy about me and the baby."
Then he looked sorry. He really did. He came over, took me in his arms and said he didn't mean it, of course he loved me, he was just having a bit of trouble adjusting, that was all. And everything was okay again, and we talked, and I said that he must always share his thoughts with me so I understand how he's feeling.
The next morning I told Bronte about this; I know she and Nish think Chester shouldn't leave me alone so much.
"We all have different ways of adapting," I said. "My mother used to tell me that you have to let men go off and do their men things."
She nodded, but she looked unsure.
"What?" Her expression annoyed me. "Have you got something to say?"
"Oh, it's probably nothing." She didn't look me in the eye, just kept smoothing her hand over her bump that's hardly even a bump yet. "It's just that—well, Nish told me that when he found Ches in Spritz, he was talking to this girl."
"And? We may have a binding partnership, but that doesn't mean he can't speak to the opposite sex!"
Bronte shut her eyes, opened her mouth, and closed it again. I waited. Then she said, "He had his arm around her."
My chest went all tight again, it was horrible. I said, "Well, I'm sure there was a perfectly reasonable explanation. Perhaps she wasn't feeling well." Then I walked straight out of her flat, before I burst into tears, because I don't want to show weakness; I'm Princess Juno.
I couldn't help it, I had to ask Chester about it as soon as he got home, because the panicky feeling was starting again, and that can't be good for the baby.
I sat and waited, feeling better once I'd actually said the words, because, after his sweetness the night before, I was so sure he would reassure me.
But he didn't. He said, "Jesus, Flora, are you going to be one of those chicks who accuses me of screwing around every time I talk to another woman?"
I flinched; he knows I find taking the Lord's name in vain offensive.<
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"If you must know, I was working. I was trying to recruit her for Juno. But that didn't enter your suspicious little mind, did it? And you can tell Nish to butt out, too. Before I make him."
I burst into tears. I felt terrible, like a horrible, moany old nag. But when I looked up at him I could see on his face that he regretted being so harsh, and he took me in his arms and told me I must learn to trust him, because he loves me. We went and curled up in bed and I would have had sex with him, even though it's so uncomfortable now, but he said it wasn't necessary, and all he needed was to lie there with me.
We're having teething problems, that's all. And I've promised I'll be more understanding about the transition he is going through.
In the middle of the night, though, I woke up feeling all tight-chested again. I must try to calm down, I really must. I got up and had some of the camomile tea that Bronte gave me.
I'm glad I've got Bronte. I miss Davina; I felt safe with her and Paul. Suzanne's usually busy, and Naomi's a bit off with me, lately, because Dex has taken me under his wing.
She says things like, "Dex making sure his little Juno princess is safe and warm in her cosy apartment, is he? That's more than he did for me when I was pregnant, and it was his bloody child!" Like it's my fault. I didn't even know them then.
None of my friends from Lindisfarne seem to like me any more. I'm worried about Paul and Davina. I hope they're happier at UK Mercia. But that worries me, too. I mentioned it to Chester, and he just laughed. He said, "Oh yes, I'm sure Mercia suits 'em just fine!" and wouldn't tell me what was so funny.
A few other people have been taken to Mercia, too. People who don't respect the rules. Which makes me wonder if it's a punishment place, not somewhere that's more free and easy. In which case I'm doubly worried for my friends, but nobody will tell me anything.
I feel cut off, sometimes. Lonely. When I feel like that I go to see Bronte and Nish, because they're always so warm and welcoming. They've made their flat a proper home.
We've started parenting classes now. Suzanne told me she wanted to be involved with this, because she's a fully qualified child psychologist, but she didn't get the job. Instead, it's run by a woman called Darcey who I don't like. The baby stuff is helpful, but she seems to think that bringing a child up is all about discipline, not developing their creativity and confidence.
She says it's okay to slap them if they're naughty.
"It's not that much different from training a puppy. Children will try to manipulate you, and you have to be strong; being tough will pay off in the long term, you'll see, when you have an obedient child."
Some of the Juno mothers feel the same as me.
"I'm not hitting my kid," Bronte whispered to me, during one of the classes.
"Nor me," said another girl, Lily. She's in a binding partnership with a boy called Christian, who used to be on Lindisfarne before I was there; he was a goth but was made to take out his facial piercings when he signed up for Juno.
After the class, Lily said, "I don't know if I want to bring our baby up the UK2 way. Christian and me, we thought we might leave once she's a few months old. See if we can find another place like Lindisfarne. Or we might start a community ourselves, if anyone wants to come with us."
"That's a great idea," said Nish. "Before the fall, I had a huge family. The kids would go between parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles; we all took care of each other. We could start something like that; we just need a few houses and a bit of land, we could find everything else we need!"
We were walking back from the Hub at the time; they were chattering away, really excited about their idea. I didn't join in, though. Chester would never be up for it. And I've got a funny idea that it might not be so easy to just leave, because so much has been invested in the Junos.
I don't know if we actually can leave. That thought frightens me.
Today I have a routine medical check-up. Jared says I'm well, but possibly lacking in some nutritional elements, so he gives me these pills to take.
"I don't like taking pills," I say, and hand them back to him. "I don't want to put anything in my body if I don't know exactly what it is. Not while I'm pregnant."
"Fair enough." He puts them back on the shelf. "Just make sure you get as much in the way of brown bread, dark leafy greens and nuts as you can. And meat, when you can get it." He peers into my eyes with this little light thing. "Are you alright? You don't seem your usual perky self."
"I'm fine."
Then Alex walks in, which is a bit of a surprise, and one I don't feel quite comfortable with; my check-up is supposed to be private.
"Just seeing how our princess is doing!" he says, and lounges against the door frame with his arms folded.
"I'm fine," I say again.
"Is she, Jared?"
Jared nods. "She's had the full examination with the gynae, and as far as I can see she's only one degree away from blooming, yes."
"Excellent." Alex walks towards me, rubbing his hands together, and he takes my hand. "Got to keep you in good shape, sweetheart. You're doing an important job for us."
I smile. "I know. Baby's doing fine, I'm doing fine."
"Good girl. Come with me."
He leads me into the consultation room, and asks Nurse Abbie to get us some peppermint tea. When she brings it in, he asks her to make sure we're not disturbed; I wonder what this is all about.
"You're very important to us," he says, and hands me my tea. "We so appreciate the way you've taken on this responsibility. Not just all that you do to progress Juno, but the commitment you've made."
His words remind me why I'm doing this. "Having a husband and family was always my ambition," I say, "but it's lovely to know that I'm part of something truly worthwhile, as well."
"You are indeed," he says. "And, as you'll be the first Juno to give birth, you're going to be involved in a super new pilot scheme; it's Dex's brainchild, actually."
"Really?" Sounds exciting!
"You're going to love it. Flora, for a maximum period of nine months, we're going to give you a home help. We're calling her your ICA. That's Infant Care Assistant. To give support to both you and baby, and keep that partner of yours happy, too!"
What? "Oh—that's really kind of you, but it's not necessary," I say. Oh dear, do I sound unappreciative? "Thank you, but maybe one of the other mothers would like the opportunity instead? It sounds wonderful, and please don't think I'm not grateful, but I want to look after my baby myself, and I know that Chester will settle down once he's born—"
"He will." Alex squeezes my hand. "He's been allowed his fun and games, but once baby's here Chester will need to be home more, at least during the first six months."
I feel my whole body relax; I hadn't realised how tense I felt, all the time. "Oh, thank you. Thank you. I have been a bit worried, to be honest. But if he's at home more, we'll be a normal family, so I won't need any help; I'm really looking forward to caring for my baby."
"Your ICA won't be there all the time," Alex says, as if he hasn't heard me. I don't think he's asking me if I would like help, he's telling me I'm having it. "But I know you'll appreciate her presence first thing, so that you can get Chester his breakfast, see him off to work with a kiss."
I smile. "I do that every morning."
"I know you do, sweetheart, but with a demanding little fella wanting Mom's attention, it might not be so easy. You'd be up to your pretty ears in feeds and nappies, and Chester could feel neglected. This way, you can have a lie-in together now and again. Now, your ICA will leave once Ches has gone off to work, so you can have the day to yourself. Play with baby, go to your parenting classes, have a cuppa with the other Juno moms."
Why's he saying 'moms', like he's American?
"I'm so looking forward to that part! Mum used to say she loved it when I was a baby, taking me out in the pram, and—"
"Good! So, you'll have your day, and then your ICA will return at about four pm to take care of baby's
needs so you can make yourself look good for Chester, cook him a nice meal and enjoy it together, talk about your day. How about that, eh?"
I'm a bit stumped. I don't want a stranger in our flat when Chester comes home, when we're having dinner. What do I say?
"What time will she, um, this ICA—what time will she leave?"
"Oh, she'll be there right through until morning, but she'll stay out of your way; she'll share baby's room, and aside from popping in and out to use the kitchen, you'll hardly see her. It's only like having a nanny! You'll express your milk so he can be fed with a bottle during the night, which the ICA will administer. She'll change him, wind him, bathe him; this way, you won't be wracked with fatigue, like most new parents! Won't that be great? Flora, Chester is a young guy; you need to keep him happy. Wear something nice for him, put your make-up on, make him feel special."
I feel annoyed. Like he thinks I don't know how to behave. "I do that anyway."
"Sure you do. But after the first six weeks, when intercourse can resume"—I feel my cheeks burn when he says that—"you'll need to make sure that the romance is still alive." He gives me a cheeky sort of smile, and I feel sick. "You'll be advised about exercises to strengthen your pelvic floor muscles, to make sure that relations are just as enjoyable as before."
I think I've had enough of this conversation.
"Alex, I'm sorry, you know I want to do all I can for Juno and UK2, and I'm massively grateful for everything you've done for me, but it's our home, I don't want this ICA there all night, and if you don't mind I'd rather not discuss the personal side of our relationship, because—look, please don't be angry with me for saying this, but it's private."
His expression changes. He's still smiling, but the warmth has gone. "You're wrong there, Flora. You get a lot of advantages with Juno, but privacy ain't one of them." He pulls something out of his inside pocket, and shows it to me.
It's my Juno contract, the one I signed.
