‘Why?’
‘Because of your age. You’re fifteen and I got you pregnant at fourteen. Once that gets out, I could be arrested and it’ll be the end of you and me and the band. And we are so close to getting signed by a major label.’ He put his thumb and index finger close together as if to emphasise his proximity to success. ‘You wouldn’t want to ruin that for me, would you? I’m doing all of this for us. You just have to wait it out and then we can get somewhere together. I promise.’
I gave myself a moment to imagine the house and the life we could share and how content we might be, before reality hit home – it didn’t matter what I told myself, the doctors weren’t wrong. I wasn’t destined to have the life I badly wanted.
I started crying and I expected Jon to ask me why I was suddenly so upset, but he didn’t say anything. Then as the sun caught his eyes behind his sunglasses, I saw they were closed. He had fallen asleep.
I’m glad it’s Mum who’s with me now, but I still want Jon. Once she gets over the shock, she will know what to do. She always does. And she will be able to tell him that what’s happened to our baby isn’t my fault. She will make him understand and he won’t leave me.
CHAPTER 28
MAGGIE
TWENTY-THREE YEARS EARLIER
I gasp. ‘You’re ...’ But I can’t finish the sentence.
‘I think it’s coming,’ Nina cries. ‘It’s really early and I don’t know what to do.’
Pain contorts her face and body and she clutches her stomach. Suddenly the truth hits me as to why I’ve been writing so many notes to excuse her from gym at school over the last few weeks. She blamed period pains when in reality it was quite the opposite. She didn’t want anyone to see her in PE kit and notice her belly. How many other things has she lied to me about?
‘Get Jon, I need Jon,’ she begs me.
‘I don’t know who Jon is.’ I shouldn’t feign ignorance while she’s at her most vulnerable, yet I find myself doing so. I might be in shock but I know I don’t want that bastard anywhere near her or this house. ‘Just concentrate on your breathing.’
She is sobbing now and short shallow breaths punctuate her sentences. ‘His name is Jon Hunter and he’s my boyfriend,’ she pants. ‘His address is in my coat pocket. I need him, I can’t do this without him.’
I recoil at her reference to their relationship. ‘Do you have a telephone number for him?’
‘No.’
‘Then I don’t think we have time for me to find him. And I don’t want to leave you alone.’
She isn’t as convinced as I am. ‘Should we call an ambulance?’ she says, and her body folds in on itself as the latest wave of contractions plough through her.
‘We can do this, you and me, together,’ I assure her. It isn’t the answer she’s expecting. On the surface I appear calm, but underneath I’m frantic because I don’t know what to do. My fifteen-year-old daughter is pregnant for the second time but I can’t nip it in the bud with illegally obtained medications as I did before. This baby is on its way.
I need to get a hold of myself, take control and do what’s best for Nina. And it isn’t calling for an ambulance. I don’t want to bring undue attention to our lives. If Social Services become involved, their questions might be too much for her to cope with. Undue stress might lead to catastrophic repercussions and they could take her away from me. I have too much to hide.
So there is only one thing I can do. I will deliver my grandchild myself. I assisted in bringing babies into the world during my midwife training and although it was under supervision, I doubt much has changed procedurally over the last sixteen years. Only if there are any complications and Nina’s health is at risk will I call for help.
She looks at me and she’s so scared right now. I need to get over my shock and reassure her. ‘I promise you that we can get through this. Have I ever lied to you?’ She shakes her head and I thank God she doesn’t know the truth. I move towards the door and hear her panicked voice.
‘Where are you going? Please don’t leave me,’ she pleads, and the fact that she needs me so desperately makes me feel overcome with emotion.
‘I’ll be back really soon, I need to get a few things together,’ I say.
I stand at the top of the stairs with my hand over my mouth, trying not to let her hear me as I break down. What kind of mother am I to let this happen for a second time? And not to have noticed her condition until it’s gone this far? This is all Alistair’s fault. Given the chance I’d kill him with my own bare hands for the mess he has made of our lives.
I return to her room as quickly as I can, making several journeys carrying clean towels and sheets, bowls of water containing diluted antiseptic and sterilised scissors. Then I prepare myself and the room for what is to arrive.
As the hours pass, I stroke Nina’s hair like I did when she was a little girl and she was poorly. I reassure her that everything is going to be okay even though I know that from the moment this baby appears, her life is going to be far from that.
‘I’m frightened of what’ll happen,’ she says.
‘It’s going to be all right. I’m here.’
‘No, I mean when the baby’s born. I’ve been reading about the condition, about the estroprosencephaly. I’ve seen pictures of what she’ll look like.’
