Love Is a Secret (14 page)

21

From Expectent Mum to What Mums Know: I’ve heard that the best way to have a girl is to have sex at least four days before you ovulate. Thats what I did and Im sure that both the babies I lost were girls.

Lisa sent the message; it gave her a nice warm feeling to think she might be helping. It had also helped pass the time. The clock on the monitor said it was 3.05 a.m. but the noise next door still hadn’t died down. Maybe if she went back to bed she could block her ears with the pillow.

‘Oh!
Oh!
Oh!’

Kiki’s screams of excitement were so clear she might as well be on this side of the wall, Lisa thought. She banged on it in protest, bruising her knuckles, then turned over, pulling the duvet over her head.

‘Oh!
Oh! Oh!
’

Maybe Kiki was making a girl right now. Lisa stroked her tummy gently to shield it from the noise.

The ohing had stopped now. Instead, Kiki was giggling and Lisa could hear a deeper voice too. Then the gasps again. What did they want? An audience?

Irritably, Lisa sat up in bed, clasping her arms round her knees. She was so awake now that even if the row next door stopped she knew she wouldn’t get to sleep. The neon light on her alarm radio showed it was now 3.16 a.m. Kevin used to wake up in the middle of the night for nookie, she recalled wretchedly. And to think he was a dad now. With Kelly! What a bitch.

Stop, she told herself. Earth Mother had sent her a long message recently, pointing out how bad it was for the baby if you had negative thoughts. Lisa forced herself to think of roses, big, blowsy, pink ones, like she’d seen in the market the other day. Earth Mother said that Barbara Cartland, who wrote romantic novels apparently, had thought beautiful thoughts when she was pregnant. It was lucky, and Lisa was all for that.

Luck was so important in life. That was why you had to do everything the right way – even getting out of bed. She swung her legs over the side. Right slipper first, then the left. Switch on light
after
she’d put on her slippers.

Lisa parted the curtains to look outside. Even though it was so late, there were loads of lights on. Down below, she could see a group of kids walking across the concrete yard and up the stairs leading to her block. They were singing and pushing each other.

Lisa braced herself for the thumps on her door.

‘Wake up, Lees. We know you want it!’

Don’t move. Don’t say anything.

‘Come on, let us in, love.’

One laughed coarsely. ‘Yeah, let us in. We bet you’re warm inside!’

More laughter. Lisa sat on the edge of the sofa, not daring to move in case she made a noise. She could hear them moving on now but still her heart was pounding. They didn’t mean any harm, she told herself. Some of them were hardly older than her kid brother. Just bored, they were, and who wouldn’t be in a place like this?

Lisa stroked her stomach again. When she had her daughter, she would never be bored or lonely. But right now it was only 3.42 a.m. and she had the rest of the night to kill. It didn’t help that the computer took so long to start up again.

From Earth Mother to What Mums Know: Thought I’d add my bit about the sadness of miscarriages. I’ve had four myself but it’s usually nature’s way.

Not that again. She’d thought more of Earth Mother. She scrolled down the message board. Here was a new person called Flipper who hadn’t had any miscarriages but was still trying to get pregnant. And Rainbow who – blimey – had had a miscarriage before her daughter:

‘You never forget, but a new baby helps to heal the pain.’

That was more like it. But if she didn’t have this baby soon, the pain would kill her.

When Lisa woke, the sun was pouring through the window even though the council hadn’t cleaned it since last Christmas. Her heart sank at the thought of work. Maybe she could call in sick. Besides, she had so much to do that there really wasn’t time to go to the centre today. She needed at least three more sleepsuits, according to the list Earth Mother had sent, and another cot mobile. She fancied a Moses basket too, but it would be difficult to get one out of the shop without being spotted. The last time she’d looked, they’d had security tags on them.

She got dressed, had a slice of toast and headed for the bus stop. For once the bus was on time and an older woman even gave up her seat. ‘You need it more than me, love,’ she’d said, eyeing Lisa’s bump. And Lisa had felt a thrill shoot through her.

It lasted all the way to town and she didn’t even mind that the shops were packed. Mind you, it would be just her luck if someone from the centre saw her. Still, she could always say she’d felt better and had to go out to get some shopping.

‘This one’s pretty!’ An oldish woman was holding up a dress for her husband’s inspection.

He frowned. ‘Too frilly. What about this?’

‘I fancy this one,’ Lisa couldn’t help saying. ‘I bought it for my daughter, Hayley, last week and she looks lovely in it, like.’

The woman nodded. ‘It is nice.’ Her eyes travelled to Lisa’s loose dress.

Lisa loved it when strangers did that. ‘I haven’t got long to go now with the next.’

‘Take it easy,’ said the man.

Lisa felt a stab of gratitude. ‘I will.’

She took the sleepsuits towards the window to check the colour against the light. For a minute there, she’d really believed she’d bought that dress for Hayley and that Hayley was alive and well to wear it. If Kevin hadn’t bunked off, it might have been true.

Then she stopped, unable to breathe. Just inside the shop, near the reduced rail, was the most beautiful baby she had ever seen. Its tiny face was soft in sleep, its rosebud mouth slightly twitching. She – it had to be a she – had a pink blanket lightly draped over her.

And she was totally, utterly alone.

Lisa found herself walking up. ‘Hello, darling. Aren’t you lovely?’

She stroked the baby’s cheek. It was softer than anything she had ever felt. It would be so easy to take hold of the pram and . . .

‘Sweet, isn’t she?’

Lisa swivelled round. It was the woman she’d been talking to a minute ago. ‘I couldn’t help looking,’ she said shakily.

The man nodded, grinning. His fingers, she noticed, were stained with nicotine, like her ex’s, but he seemed so much nicer than Kevin. ‘We’re always being stopped by strangers who say exactly the same.’

Lisa’s voice came out low and wobbly: ‘Better keep your eyes on her, then. You can’t be too careful nowadays.’

‘I put her there because it’s a bit quieter,’ said the woman, confidentially.

‘She’s such a light sleeper. Is yours?’

‘What?’

‘Your daughter. Is she a light sleeper?’

‘Yes. Very.’

Suddenly she hated these people. Really hated them for having something she wanted so badly that it hurt like a heavy stone in her chest. ‘Better go now. I’ve left Hayley with my mum and she’ll be expecting me.’

She’d got just three shops further down, when she felt the hand on her arm. ‘Excuse me, madam, but I’m afraid I have to ask you to come with me.’

Lisa shoved away the short, squat, burly man in security uniform. ‘I didn’t take it. I didn’t! I was just looking.’

‘Well, what are you holding, then, madam?’ he asked scornfully.

Lisa looked down. In her hands was a pink sleepsuit. Clear as daylight. Why hadn’t it had a security tag? People were turning to stare at her. Her fingers and armpits began to sweat. ‘It’s a mistake. I saw someone I knew outside the shop and I started talking to them. I forgot I was still holding it.’

‘This way, please, back to the shop.’

She tried to shake off his hand but he had a really firm grip. ‘Leave me alone. I’ve told you, I wasn’t nicking anything, like. It’s a mistake.’

‘You can explain to the manager. Can’t you?’

The security man had his hand firmly on her arm. Lisa’s skin crawled with embarrassment as he marched her past the sleepsuit rails and the till, where that couple with the baby were waiting,  the pram safely with them now.

‘Everything all right, love?’ asked the man, frowning.

Lisa couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

‘She’s crying,’ says his wife. ‘Do you feel poorly, love?’

Lisa choked back a sob. ‘They think I nicked this,’ she whispered hoarsely. ‘But I didn’t. I just forgot I had it.’

‘This way, miss, please,’ the security man said impatiently.

‘Hang on a minute.’ The man, who was even bigger than the security bloke, stepped up close. ‘There’s been some mistake. This young lady was talking to us just now by the door. You can see how upset she is. She can hardly talk. Like she said, she forgot she was carrying something.’

The security man hesitated. At the same time the manager came up. Lisa breathed a sigh of relief. She was a different one from last month when she’d almost been caught then.

‘What’s going on?’

Lisa didn’t have to explain. The couple started doing it for her.

‘You’ve treated her disgracefully. Everyone knows how forgetful you get when you’re expecting. I’m always forgetting stuff. And you said you were in a rush to get back to your mum, didn’t you, love? Isn’t she looking after your other kid?’

Lisa nodded tearfully. The story seemed so real that she almost believed it herself. The manager glanced at the other customers, who were all agog. Clearly she didn’t want an audience any more than Lisa did. ‘I’m sorry. There appears to have been a mistake. Perhaps I can make it up to you with a voucher.’

‘You need more than a voucher,’ said the mother, sharply. ‘She’s only a girl. Look at the state you’ve got her in.’

‘It’s all right.’ Lisa sniffed convincingly. ‘A voucher would be fine.’

The beautiful baby with the rosebud mouth began to cry and her mother rocked the pram. ‘Sure you’re all right, love?’

Lisa nodded. ‘Thanks for everything.’

‘Any time.’ The man gave the manager and the security guard a nasty look. ‘Lucky we were here.’

CV – DRAFT ONLY

Susan Thomas, 36 [No, she’d make that 34.]

Past experience: sales executive on local newspaper.

Recent experience: none. Career break as mum.

CAMPAIGN POSTER – ROUGH COPY TO BE APPROVED BY JOY

Keep our centre open! Greenfields Centre is for children who need extra help. The council intends closing it to merge with a bigger centre with less one-to-one attention. We’re planning a protest walk on Saturday 22 September and we need your support.

FROM FREDDY

Dear Mum, Hope this postcard reaches you safely in America. It’s SO boring in Oxford. There’s nothing to do. Can we come and see you? Love Freddy

MESSAGE TO ANNABEL CRAWFORD

Hi Annabel,

This is the THIRD time I’ve messaged and you still haven’t replied. Ben still hasn’t got a job and Dad’s cross about it – but don’t die – Ben’s going out with the girl from the supermarket’s cheese counter because he says she gives him titbits. Heard Mum crying in the bathroom yesterday but she said she had something in her eye. School starts soon, worse luck. Please come home soon.

Love Georgie

WHAT MUMS KNOW

KEEP SENDING IN YOUR NEWS AND VIEWS! JOIN OUR ONLINE DISCUSSIONS ON:

More advice on how to conceive a girl.

Can you trust your ex to look after the kids safely during access weekends?

How often do you ‘do it’? Go on, girls – come clean!

TIP FROM BAD MUM

When the kids shout at you, whisper back. They’ll stop yelling eventually, so they can hear you.

CHUCKLE CORNER FROM PUSHY PRINCESS

If he wants breakfast in bed, get him to sleep in the kitchen.

THOUGHT TO KEEP YOU SANE FROM CAMPER MUM

If all is not lost, where is it?

22

Caroline just managed to squeeze on to the tube before the doors shut. Losing so much weight after she’d found out about Roger – perhaps she should call it the ‘affair diet’ – had its compensations.

Breathing through her mouth – the stale air reeked of sweat – she wedged herself between a man with a large holdall, which pressed against her knees, and a woman in a navy suit with a pushchair, briefcase propped behind it.

Caroline decided that the woman was dropping off her child at some smart office crèche – so many firms had them nowadays – before a gruelling day after which she would drag the poor kid home again. At least job-sharing meant she could have some time at home, except on days like today. Zelda had rung last night in a panic because Aurora’s earache was worse. Could Caroline swap days and go in tomorrow? She’d make it up either later in the week or early next.

It was a relief to have an excuse to get out of the house, even though Georgie’s sports club wasn’t on this week, which meant Ben was nominally in charge of her. In practice, this meant he still wouldn’t get up until midday so Georgie would be left to her own devices. Twelve, nearly thirteen, was a difficult age. Too old for a childminder. Too young to be left alone.

‘Let the passengers off the train first,’ the loudspeaker reminded them.

The holdall man exited, as did the mum with the pushchair. Miraculously, there was a seat on the right. Caroline headed for it, only to be beaten unapologetically by a man with almond-shaped sunglasses, who kept looking at the girl in boots beside her.

How often do you ‘do it’? Go on, girls – come clean!

Very crude – was it her imagination or was
What Mums Know
getting that way? – but she would read the responses. Meanwhile, possibly fired by the almost tangible heat between the chap in sunglasses and the girl in boots, Caroline spent the rest of the journey hanging on to the rail above her and wondering what else she had missed out on in life.

‘Morning, Caroline.’

‘Hi, Pat. How are you doing?’

Pat was the features secretary. Always on time. Always reliable. A single mother who didn’t moan. Occasionally she asked Caroline’s advice on issues like how she could get her three-year-old daughter to stop coming into her bed. Otherwise she seemed wonderfully in control. Caroline often thought this was ironic, considering that, unlike the secretary, she was features editor of a Parenting page, yet was struggling to be an all-round mum.

‘Thought it was Zelda today.’

Caroline dumped her bag next to her desk and poured herself a cup of water from the machine. ‘Aurora’s ill again. We’ve swapped.’

‘Her appointment’s here already.’ Pat gestured towards the meeting room. ‘Got here early so don’t rush.’

‘Appointment?’ Caroline flipped open the diary that she and Zelda shared. There it was. Ten a.m., PR for EFT. ‘She didn’t tell me. What’s EFT?’

Pat waved a brochure. ‘He gave me one of these.’

Zelda could have mentioned it. Then again, she’d sounded distraught over Aurora. Bother. Caroline had hoped to spend the morning making one last attempt to find an affair case history, not do the toys piece.

‘Be an angel and bring us in some coffee. And I know this is naughty but can you come in after twenty minutes and say Diana needs me urgently? I really haven’t much time for this.’

Pat nodded understandingly. ‘The toys look good, actually, and he seems a nice bloke. Not pushy.’

Caroline drained her water and walked reluctantly towards the meeting room. Zelda had done this to her before. If they were going to job-share, she really had to be more organised.

‘Zelda?’

‘Actually, I’m Caroline. Zelda’s not in, I’m afraid.’

A very tall man stood up from the chair by the desk, holding out his hand. ‘Hello. Nice to meet you, Caroline.’ His gaze held hers. Nice eyes. Warm smile but not over-effusive like so many PRs. Olive skin – Sri Lankan? Public-school accent. Professional manner. Good-looking. Navy jacket with slightly worn lapels and grey trousers. Firm handshake. Which made the pit of her stomach wobble and an inexplicable apprehension swim up to her chest and diffuse throughout her body.

Fifteen minutes later, Mark had almost finished outlining the virtues of EFT – promoted hand co-ordination in toddlers; firm evidence that the toys encouraged mental stimulation.

‘The range sounds really interesting,’ said Caroline, wishing they’d had toys like this when her lot had been younger. ‘We might include them in the Tried and Tested feature we’re working on.’

‘Fantastic.’ He leaned towards her, pointing out another product. His sleeve had a button missing and she could see the dark hairs on his arm as it rode up. ‘You’re welcome to borrow some if you’d like to try them out on friends.’ His eyes travelled to the ring on her left hand. ‘Or your own children, if you have them.’

Caroline shook her head. ‘Mine are too big for this.’

‘Mine too. How many have you got?’

Why was he looking at her like that? ‘Three.’

A flicker of something (sadness?) passed over his face. ‘We’ve got Florrie who’s twelve, nearly thirteen, and Freddy, who’s eleven.’

Florrie and Freddy?
Florrie and Freddy?

‘Do they get on well?’ she asked carefully.

Mark laughed. ‘I wish. Florrie’s very self-opinionated and Freddy’s going through a really difficult stage at the moment. He’s into kicking and other bad behaviour and it’s driving me mad.’

Kicking? Freddy?
Was this possible?

She doodled nervously on her notepad. ‘That must be hard for your wife.’

The shadow flitted across his face again. ‘Actually, she’s working abroad so I’m in charge. A sort of part-time dad. They’re at a holiday club at the moment but school starts soon.’ He folded up his papers. ‘Sorry. You don’t want to hear all this.’

Oh, yes, she did. ‘No. I mean, yes. I know what it’s like, juggling kids and a job. Zelda and I job-share, as I explained, which is why you’ve got me today.’

‘I’m glad I did. I mean, you seem to understand.’

‘Most parents would.’ She hesitated, needing to know if this was coincidence or not. The only way to find out was to drop him a clue. ‘My eldest daughter, Annabel, is having her gap year, which is freaking me out. It’s awful not knowing where she is. Then I’ve got Ben, who’s just done his A levels.’ She took care to say his name clearly. ‘And Georgie, who’s nearly thirteen and sports mad, not to mention being addicted to the computer.’

Just one look at Mark’s face was enough to prove her ‘test’ correct.

‘Ben?’ Something flickered in his eyes. ‘Is he a little job-shy, by any chance?’

She nodded, incredulous.

‘And Georgie plays rugby?’

Another nod.

‘They say it’s a small world,’ he said softly.

Caroline’s mouth dried up. This man – this
stranger
– knew about Roger’s affair! He’d seen her pathetic message all about that woman’s phone calls and the pictures. How awful . . . She could feel her neck breaking out in red blotches, the way it always did when she was embarrassed. ‘This is weird,’ she said, her voice cracking. ‘Really weird. And why did you call yourself Mimi?’

He looked worried. ‘Honestly, I’m not one of those online oddballs you read about. But I thought if I registered as a dad, no one would take me seriously – plus the fact it’s called
What Mums Know
. I get so many funny looks at school . . . And I wanted to get some honest advice from people who wouldn’t judge me.’

‘I think I see.’ She felt her palms sweating. ‘But that stuff about my husband I sent out . . . Do you mind if we forget it? It doesn’t seem professional and I wish I’d kept quiet now.’

‘I don’t. I think it makes both of us more human.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘It’s nice to know you journalists have the same feelings as the rest of us. You’re meant to be tough nuts.’

‘I hate it when people assume that,’ said Caroline. ‘I’m not a newspaper hack, you know. My pages are very different. Anyway, PRs are meant to be pushy and can’t write grammatical press releases.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Does that include mine?’

She considered. ‘Yours are OK, actually.’

He had a nice smile. ‘I reckon we’re even with our confessions. And maybe it isn’t such a coincidence, after all. We work in similar fields. I heard about
What Mums Know
through Great Publicity and I wouldn’t mind betting you did too.’

She nodded. ‘They say we’re only six handshakes away from everyone else in the world. Cyberspace must bring us a lot closer.’

‘Exactly.’

What was wrong with her? She couldn’t take her eyes off his face and her knees were weak, like a teenager’s. ‘I can’t help wondering, though . . . Why is your wife working abroad? I don’t mean to sound personal but it’s quite unusual, isn’t it?’

Mark looked away. ‘She’s an unusual woman.’

Caroline’s instincts told her to wait.

‘Hilary is . . .’

‘Caroline.’ Pat was at the door. ‘Sorry to interrupt but Diana needs you.’

Mark was up in an instant. ‘I won’t take any more of your time. Thanks very much.’

Caroline gathered up her papers and pad. Her hands didn’t seem to belong to her. ‘I enjoyed meeting you. Send me some of the products and I’ll let you know if we use them.’

‘Thanks.’ He glanced at the door. Pat had gone.

‘Nice to meet you, Mimi.’

His hand was warm. ‘You too, Part Time Mum.’

She wandered back to her desk in a daze.

‘What did you think?’ asked Pat.

‘Er, about what?’

‘Nice toys, weren’t they? He left me one for my daughter to try out.’

Clever. Or generous?

‘Good-looking too. Like that gorgeous actor in
Holby City
.’

‘Was he?’

‘Well, he certainly thought you were fit. You should have seen the way he was looking at you.’

‘
Pat!
’

She giggled. ‘Oh, nearly forgot. I took a message from someone at an organisation for Singles. Here’s the number. Said she might have someone who could help you.’

Sometimes seemingly impossible features managed to come together. A social group for the over-thirties had sent out an email to members, asking if anyone would talk about how they had repaired their marriage after an affair. Someone called Carmen had agreed to be interviewed on the phone later that afternoon, after she’d got back from work. Jubilantly, Caroline emailed Diana accordingly. Her reply was swift.

We need two more cases. Put a freelance on to it.

Not ‘well done’, just two more at the double. Diana had been a writer once. Had the demands of editing instead of writing made her forget how hard it was to find people who were prepared to bare their soul in print for very little money? Reluctantly, Caroline called two of their regular freelancers, stressing the urgency of the piece. Then she rang Ben on his mobile.

‘Leave a message.’

Curt. And said so fast that it was hardly intelligible. Please, Georgie, pick up the house phone.

‘Yeah – what now?’

‘Georgie!’ She was shocked. ‘That’s a really rude way to answer the phone.’

‘Sorry, Mum. I thought you were one of my friends. Anyway, I read online that you shouldn’t give your name or anything like that cos child molesters can track you down. And you wouldn’t want that, would you?’

The child was too smart for her own good. ‘Have you had breakfast?’

‘Yes. Toast. Stop fussing. I asked Beth round. Is that all right?’

‘As long as Beth’s mum knows. And don’t cook anything. I’ve left you a salad in the fridge. Ben still asleep?’

‘What do you think, Mum?’

‘Georgie, a bit more respect,
please
. OK, I’ll ring later in the afternoon. And if you go out, mind how you cross the road.’

‘Mum, I’m not a baby.’

More’s the pity, thought Caroline, putting down the phone. Whatever she’d thought at the time, babyhood was easier to deal with. At least you knew where they were.

Caroline would have preferred to interview Carmen, who lived in York, face to face but there wasn’t time. Anyway, interviews like this were often done on the phone and sometimes people revealed more that way than if you were with them. Luckily, Carmen seemed quite happy to chat away, maybe because she was a telesales operator. ‘I took my husband back because he was sorry, and I felt the kids needed a dad.’

‘I can understand that.’ Caroline’s pencil flew across the page. Over the years, her shorthand had got rusty so now it was combined with longhand, and only she could understand the result. ‘But how did you cope at the beginning, in bed? How did you stop yourself thinking about him doing it with the other woman?’