‘Just you stay exactly where you are and keep rubbing her shoulders,’ Marge heard the nurse say, just as another contraction gripped her.
They’d been at home, sound asleep when the contractions had started, a week earlier than expected.Of course, though, her hospital bag was ready, as it had been for the last two months, fully stocked, checked and double-checked, according to the list that had been provided by their prenatal nurse at one of the classes that they’d attended religiously.‘This is going to be the most organised baby that ever entered this world,’ Marge would joke, as Ian would come home with yet another baby book from the library, or she would speak to a medical professional in that field, and take down copious notes to be compiled and studied later.
The subject of the child’s father had been something they’d deliberated in the first days of their engagement, when they’d analysed different courses of action and settled on the one they felt to be the most morally sound.They’d contemplated the options for a couple more days, sat with their decision, and concluded that their chosen course of action was the best for all concerned.The child’s father had to be told.It was the only way, because how could they ever admit later that they had deprived the child of the chance to be loved just because it was an uncomfortable situation?No, there should be no secrets.
Over the next few days, they’d sat at the kitchen table and written draft after draft of a letter, until they were both satisfied that it conveyed everything that needed to be said.
The finished missive read…
I need to inform you that I am pregnant – something that will become very clear over the next few months.I’ve thought about many ways to broach this with you, but I’m afraid there was no way to do it that wouldn’t involve distressing exchanges and possibly words said that couldn’t later be retracted.Therefore, I wanted to put everything down on paper, to ensure that it is clear and there can be no misunderstandings.
The child is yours and will be born in October, all being well.I have decided to keep it, and I am not open to discussion on this point.However, I do recognise that this is my decision alone, and you must also have free choice in this matter.
I shall leave it up to you to decide if you wish to be a part of this child’s life, and if so, what role you would like to play.I would welcome your participation in the baby’s life, but I want to be clear that I will honour your decision either way.Furthermore, should you choose not to be a part of the child’s life, I will neither expect nor demand any contribution from you, financially or in any other capacity.In short, you can choose to parent this child, or never acknowledge that this child is yours.
If the latter is your choice, then I will fully accept it.All I ask is that we never discuss it again, and that you destroy this letter.Since the night of the child’s conception, we have moved on, never discussing it, and acting in a professional and cordial manner.I request that same courtesy is extended in the future.
She’d thought of a couple of ways to deliver it but discounted them both.Posting it carried risks that it could go missing or be opened by someone else.If she had it delivered by courier, and got no response, she’d never be positive that he’d received it and there might always be an element of doubt.In the end, she’d put the message in the letter to the test, by delivering it to him personally, putting it in his hands so that she would always know that he was fully aware of her situation.
‘What’s this?’he’d asked, nothing but curiosity in his expression.
‘A choice,’ Marge had answered.‘And please take the words on board, as I mean every one of them.’
That was how she’d left it.Ball in his court.
Another scream and this time the midwife reacted with a hint of calm, professional urgency.‘Okay, Marge, this is it.On the next contraction, I want you to push, okay?A deep breath, then press down as hard as you can.’
Always someone who followed the rules to the letter, that was exactly what Marge did.And then, at the instruction of the midwife, she repeated it on the next contraction too.And that was when the sensation changed, as did her world, because Estelle came quietly, with only a gentle cry to alert them to her arrival.
Marge’s first feeling was an overwhelming, gushing sensation of love.
Her second was sadness that the baby’s father would never feel that same adoration for his child.Because from the moment she’d given him the letter, he’d acted like it had never existed.No conversation.No reply.No acknowledgement of any kind.Instead, he’d carried on as if, like their encounter, it had never happened.She supposed she should take heart in the fact that he’d abided by at least one of her requests.It was the least he could do.The very least.
And perhaps it was for the best, because she watched, as the midwife handed her swaddled child over to the man that she had married just six months before, in a simple ceremony at the registry office, witnessed by strangers, but sealed by the kind of love and commitment that Marge knew would last their lifetimes.A man who was twice the person that Estelle’s biological father would ever be.
‘Oh, Marge, she’s perfect.’Ian whispered, before handing her over.‘Here you go, my darling.Here’s our daughter.’
19
AMBER
Amber was still pretty sure that her heart rate hadn’t returned to normal since she’d looked up from her mug of mistress-discovery-consolation-tea and seen Estelle Drummond standing there.
I mean… There was probably more chance of winning the lottery than being in the same place at the same time as the one person in this city that she made it her life’s mission to avoid.Actually, Murray Atkins and his wife were definitely on that list now too, but that wasn’t the point.
At first, she’d hoped that Estelle hadn’t spotted her, but that optimism had been kicked out of the cafe when Estelle had walked straight towards her.
‘Amber?’
‘Hey, Estelle.’A completely inadequate and inappropriate response to seeing your former best friend for the first time in two years, after you’d stopped speaking to her, blocked her and completely cut her out of your life.
Which, now that Amber heard herself pondering that, did sound a smidgeon extreme.In her defence, what Estelle had done had hurt her almost as much as Ewan’s betrayal.If Amber were honest, maybe more.Back in college they had matching mugs that said, ‘A boyfriend is for high shelves and luggage – a best friend is for life.’Amber had believed at least the second part.
There had then followed a pause so pregnant it could have shot out triplets, before Estelle shocked her again, by turning her attention to Amber’s tea companion.
‘Hi.Are you Bernadette?I’m so sorry to bother you, but I’m Marge Drummond’s daughter.’
‘I guessed that.I always loved your name.And Amber here was just telling me how she and you were friends.It’s such a small world,’ Bernadette had said, with a warm smile that Amber thought must come naturally to her.She’d make a great therapist, because she had the kind of aura that made you want to talk to her, to tell her your problems, and a reassuring way that could make you believe that everything was fixable and it would all work out fine.Although, Amber wasn’t entirely convinced that was true at that moment.
