Chosen Child (2 page)

‘We’ll probably feel this way when they find us a child on
paper,’ said Ella, when they were sitting at a table overlooking the inside
play area. ‘It’s normal.’

‘When they find us a child the usual way, at least we’ll
know he ticks the important boxes. And we’ll be able to get to know him in a
quiet place, not in a bloody rabble.’ Rick jerked his head to the corner of the
marquee where two small boys and a thin little girl were quarrelling over an
electric racing car track. The boys weren’t letting the girl have a turn, and
she wasn’t taking it quietly.

Ella sipped slowly. Rick had given up on the afternoon. Why
was he being so defeatist?

The racing car dispute came to a sudden end when one of the
boys ripped up a piece of track and threw it at the girl before running off
with his friend. The girl stared after them, blinking hard and pushing long
dark hair behind her ears.

‘Oops,’ murmured Ella, and went over to the child, who was
fitting the track together again, her eyes bleak. ‘Want a hand with that?’

The girl looked about six or seven. She wasn’t wearing a
name badge, which made Ella wonder if she was up for adoption. Not that it
mattered; this child ticked none of their boxes. Ella watched as she banged the
track into place.

‘I can’t do it anyway,’ she said, her voice trembling. ‘But
they should have let me try.’ She slotted a car into place and lifted the hand
control to demonstrate she really couldn’t do it.

Rick crouched down and picked up the second control. ‘I used
to have one of these. Wonder if I can still make it go.’

‘Who’s that on there?’ said the girl, pointing to the
medallion round Rick’s neck.

Ella laughed. ‘St Christopher. He brings good luck to
travellers. Just right for this game, isn’t he?’

‘It’s got a bash.’

‘That’s because Rick dropped it one day and then drove over
it. So maybe it’s not so lucky after all.’ Ella knelt beside the track. ‘Let’s
have a race. You and me on the red car, Rick on the yellow one.’

The girl slid over and together they grasped the red control
stick. A whiff of peach shampoo tickled Ella’s nose, and tears welled up in her
eyes. Why, why couldn’t she have a child of her own? Life was cruel, and there
would be no happy end for them this afternoon. All Rick wanted was to go home
and let Liz get on with the task of finding them a little boy. Swallowing her
disappointment, Ella held the girl’s hand over the control and tried to keep
the car on the track.

‘Faster!’ cried the child, pressing harder, and inevitably
the red car spun off course.

Rick swept past with the yellow one and stopped. ‘Have
another go. The trick is to slow right down when you go into the curves.’

The girl gave him a suspicious look, then tried again. The
red car crept along the bottom curve, accelerated briefly on the straight, then
drove sedately round the top bend and into the garage area.

One of the foster carers came into the tent, relief on her
face as she hurried towards the girl. ‘There you are! Oh – you’re playing cars?
Where’s your name badge?’

‘I took it off,’ said the girl. ‘Kids were being stupid.’

Ella almost laughed. The words were so direct, and the woman
clearly hadn’t expected to find this child playing cars or anything at all.

The girl waved the handset towards Ella and Rick. ‘Then
they
came and
he
told me how to
do it and I drove a round by myself!’ Her voice was positively triumphant. She
gazed from Rick to Ella and beamed suddenly, showing a gap where a bottom front
tooth should have been.

Oh my God, thought Ella, her breath catching in her throat.
Oh my
God
.

Friday 9th May

Butterflies crashing around in her tummy, Amanda Waters
picked up the pregnancy test and re-read the instructions. It was pretty
straightforward – all you had to do was pee on the stick and wait for three
minutes. Then, if a blue line was showing in the window, you were pregnant.
Early morning was best, apparently, so she was spot-on there; it was only half
past six. She took it through to the bathroom, sighing when the first thing she
saw was Gareth’s SOS pendant by the basin. How many times had she told him
there was no need to remove it when he showered? One of those days he’d have an
accident without it and if anyone tried to give him penicillin they’d make
things a whole lot worse – and it would be Gareth’s fault, not hers. There was
no point having the stupid thing if he wasn’t going to wear it.

Now for the test. Amanda smiled wryly as she remembered how
she’d found out she was pregnant with Jaden. She’d fainted in the middle of
Marks and Spencer’s food hall, and when she didn’t come round straightaway they
called an ambulance. The doctor at A&E asked a few questions, then insisted
on doing a pregnancy test. They’d had a big celebration that day, her and
Gareth. This time, everything was different.

Amanda left the test stick on the window ledge and went to
make coffee while she waited. Jaden would be up soon and the peace would be shattered,
but at least he hadn’t wakened when Gareth left. She hated it when that
happened; starting the day at six-fifteen put poor Jaden out of sorts all
morning.

She set the kitchen timer for a full five minutes to be sure
and stood watching it, hands clasped under her chin and stomach churning. What
would she do if it was positive? Hell, she didn’t even know who the father
would be. James was a lot more likely. Gareth had been so involved in looking
for a new job he’d barely had time to come home recently, never mind have sex –
but she couldn’t be sure, that was the problem. Was it possible to predict to
the day when a child was conceived? Somehow, Amanda didn’t think so.

But thinking about James made her smile in spite of the
nerves. It was one of those crazy things. She’d been drafted in to serve
coffees at a conference Gareth’s company’d held three months ago, and James
came to her aid when she was trying to carry too many empty cups. He swooped
up, relieved her of half her armful, and followed her out towards the kitchens.

The few minutes they’d spent chatting were enough to ignite
something that had been missing in Amanda’s marriage for a long time. James was
funny in a clever, sarcastic way and he made no secret of the fact that he was
attracted. Against her better judgement Amanda agreed to his suggestion of
dinner the next evening. She told Gareth she was going out with the girls, then
met James in the new Italian restaurant in Hayle where she confessed that she
was married and a stay-at-home mum to her eleven-month-old son. Rather to her
surprise he didn’t mind.

‘It’s better to be married to your kid’s father, makes it
easier for the kid,’ he said, leaning across the table and taking her hand.
‘But most relationships are pretty open nowadays, don’t you think?’

Amanda was happy to be swept away, and three months later
they were still meeting regularly. James’ small flat in Hayle was within easy
driving distance of St Ives but far enough away for discretion, and ‘nights out
with the girls’ had become weekly occurrences. Sometimes they had an afternoon
together, when James wasn’t working and Jaden was on a play date. It was ‘just
an affair’ for them both, but it was the most fun Amanda’d had for, oh, for
months. James came to the house occasionally too, but Amanda didn’t enjoy these
dates as much. Sleeping with James in her and Gareth’s bed, Jaden napping in
the next room – it didn’t feel right. The good part was watching James play
with Jaden – he was great with kids; it was lovely to see the little boy’s face
light up when James started another silly game for him.

The timer pinged and Amanda went back to the bathroom. Her
instincts had been right; she could see the blue line from the doorway. Another
baby was on the way, and when this child was born she’d have two
under-two-year-olds. Golly. She’d always wanted a big family, but oh, dear,
this wasn’t the best way to go about it. This was plain messy. And yet – she
was pleased, wasn’t she? Yes, of course she was pleased; she loved kids – but
what was she going to tell James – and Gareth?

Nothing yet, she decided, as Jaden yelled from his room. She
would see a doctor, if possible work out who the father was, and take it from
there.

It wasn’t until she was clearing up after Jaden’s breakfast
that reality hit Amanda. She sank down on a chair and stared at the fruit bowl.
There had never been any talk about her relationship with James being anything
more than a fun-filled couple of dates a week. How would he react when she told
him she was having a baby? And what did she know about the man, anyway? He
worked as an IT specialist in Brompton & Son, a local company who designed
aircraft engines and provided half the region with jobs. He was a minimalist.
He liked red wine, Greek food, and sex… and for all she knew, she could be one
of a string of girlfriends. In fact she probably was, you couldn’t call two
dates a week spent mostly in bed a relationship.

And he was way more likely than Gareth to be the father of
her baby. Her new baby.

Amanda shivered, settled Jaden on the floor with a saucer of
raisins, and lifted the iPad. The World Wide Web would tell her when the baby
had started – maybe James wasn’t the father.

Okay, she’d had a period on the 2nd of April so she was more
than a week overdue. Amanda googled ‘estimate conception date’, and typed April
2nd into the box on the first site she came to. She peered at the result. So
her probable ovulation date had been April 16th, and according to this, the
‘window of conception’ fell between April 12th and 20th – a whole week. This
wasn’t going to work, she could tell.

Sick at heart, Amanda reached for her phone and went into
her appointments diary. Those dates included not one but two weekends, one of
which was Easter, so she must have slept with Gareth at least once during the
‘window’. And she had certainly slept with James.

A heavy, dull feeling in her middle, Amanda read further
into the website. There in the FAQ section was the very same problem, and the
answer was exactly what she didn’t want to hear.
When you have
intercourse with more than one partner around the time of ovulation and a
pregnancy results, it is impossible to determine who the father of the baby is
based on dates alone
.

Amanda bit her lip. A paternity test was the only way to
find out who the baby’s father was. That wasn’t going to help her any time
soon.

Jaden was toddling around the room, putting a raisin on
every piece of furniture. Amanda sat watching him, lethargy sweeping through
her. Poor little boy – what would happen to them all? They’d had such plans,
her and Gareth. This house, a rented semi on the edge of town, was to be home
until they’d saved enough for the deposit on a place of their own. Amanda
didn’t care where they lived, but Gareth was hankering after a cottage in one
of the villages further up the coast. Her husband’s life had turned into a
vicious round of saving, job hunting and doing courses to make himself eligible
for a better-paid position. Which he’d found last week. But somewhere along the
way the passion had gone out of their marriage.

Jaden arrived at the bookshelf and deposited a raisin beside
a framed photo of the three of them last Christmas. Smiling faces, a happy
family. A lie. Tears ran silently down Amanda’s cheeks, but Jaden noticed. He
hurried over and pressed a hot, sticky raisin into her hand.

‘Mum-mum-mum,’ he said, and Amanda had to laugh. Did he mean
‘Mum’ or was he encouraging her to eat up? As soon as she laughed he did too,
and Amanda lifted him and danced him round the living room, new strength
sweeping through her.

A baby was good news no matter what and she would get this
sorted. The first thing to do was see how James – the probable father –
reacted. Then she would decide what to do about Gareth. It might be best for
them all if she and Gareth put some work in to save their marriage. But was
that what she wanted?

Early afternoon was the best time to get hold of James.
Amanda waited until Jaden was napping, and settled into the corner of the sofa
to phone. She would tell him there was something important they had to talk
about tomorrow; she didn’t want him to pick her up expecting a quick drive to
Hayle and their usual romp in bed.

‘Amanda, hi – I was just about to call you. I’m afraid we’ll
have to cancel tomorrow’s appointment.’ James sounded bright, and she guessed
he was in the office.

Amanda’s heart thumped in her chest. ‘Oh no, James.’

‘Sorry, but the boss has sprung a meeting on us and I can’t
get out of it. We’ll reschedule – how about Tuesday?’

He was definitely being overheard. But no way could she wait
until Tuesday to tell him what was going on. Breaking news like this on the
phone wasn’t ideal, but what else could she do?

‘I’m sorry, but there’s something you should know.’

He made an inquiring noise in his throat and she took a deep
breath. Now for it.

‘I’m pregnant.’

He was silent for several seconds, and she could hear that
he was walking now. The sound of a door closing came down the phone.

‘Are you sure? Whose is it? His voice was low and guarded.

‘Of course I’m sure. But I have no idea if it’s yours or
Gareth’s. It’s about a million times more likely to be yours if we’re talking
about numbers of sperm, but there’s no way to tell yet.’

‘How the hell did it happen? You said contraception was no
problem. What are you going to do?’

It was the question she’d been dreading. If he tried to make
her have an abortion, that was them finished. End of. ‘My coil must have failed
for some reason. And I’m not getting rid of it – you can’t make me.’