The Baby Snatchers (2 page)

“Are you sure?” the girl asked, her eyes
still filled with uncertainty.

“Yes, honey. I’m sure,” she said and offered
her another smile. “Say hello to your daughter. You’ve waited a
long time to meet her.”

The girl pulled back the towel and studied
her baby. It took awhile, but at last, Cynthia cracked a smile.
“Hello, sweet baby,” she whispered. “You’ve taken Mommy to hell and
back and I bet this is only the beginning.”

Georgie listened to the girl’s murmurings
and tried to dispel her disquiet. Quickly and efficiently, she
delivered the placenta, taking care to check that it was intact.
Satisfied, she disposed of the waste and peeled off her gloves.

After washing her hands, she opened
Cynthia’s hospital chart and began writing up a report of the
birth. Flicking through the sparse pages, she noticed there was no
one listed as an emergency contact or even as next of kin. She
couldn’t help but wonder what support system the girl had in place
and how she’d cope with a newborn once she left the hospital.

“Have you got someone at home who can help
you out with the baby over the next few weeks?”

Cynthia kept her gaze fixed firmly on the
baby and shook her head. “No, there’s just me.”

Georgie frowned. “You live alone?”

“Yeah. Ever since my asshole of a boyfriend
took off. As soon as I told him I was pregnant, he couldn’t get out
of the door quickly enough. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him
since.”

“Where do you live?”

“Here and there,” the girl replied
evasively. “I move around a lot.”

“What about your family? Are they able to
help out? The first few weeks are always the hardest, while you’re
getting to know your baby and working out how to cope. It can be
overwhelming for all new moms.”

Cynthia shook her head again. “Nope, just me
and…Josephine.” She stroked the baby’s tiny cheek. “Yeah,
Josephine. That’s what I’m gonna call you.”

Georgie bit her lip in indecision. At the
beginning of her shift, she’d noticed Cynthia’s general air of
neglect. Her hair was lank and unwashed. Her bare feet were stained
with dirt. The smile she gave her little daughter showed a decided
disregard for her dental health and now that the stress of the
birth was over, Georgie detected the unmistakable smell of body
odor.

Surely she couldn’t send a newborn home
to what could very well be substandard living conditions without
drawing it to someone’s attention?
She flipped through the
hospital notes again, looking for some indication social services
had been involved, but there was nothing. The girl had presented to
the emergency department of the Sydney Harbour Hospital late the
night before with signs she was in active labor.

She’d been admitted to Ward Seven. Georgie
had taken over her care from the night nurse hours earlier. The
labor was long but uneventful, and she’d assisted in the delivery
of a healthy baby girl. Georgie grimaced and couldn’t help but
wonder how long the baby would stay that way if her living
conditions weren’t up to grade. With mounting concern, she
sighed.

Cynthia turned her head to look at her with
fear in her eyes. “There’s something you’re not telling me! What
the hell’s wrong with my baby?”

Forcing a smile, Georgie set aside the chart
and moved closer to the bed. “Your baby’s perfect. There’s nothing
wrong with her.”

The girl continued to stare at her with
mistrust. “Then why do you keep sighing?”

Georgie drew in a deep breath and eased it
out. “I’m a little worried about your living arrangements and the
lack of support at home. Taking care of a new baby is difficult.
I’d feel more comfortable if I knew you and Josephine had some
help.”

Cynthia lowered her gaze to the baby in her
arms. “We don’t need any help. We’ll get by just fine on our own.
Won’t we, Josephine?” She pressed a kiss upon the soft, dark hair
that covered the infant’s head. “Just you and me, baby. That’s the
way it’s gonna be.”

Georgie chewed her lip in indecision. There
was no doubt the girl had bonded with her child and would take care
of her the best she could, but from the look of things, she was
barely able to look after herself, let alone a newborn. Tactfully,
Georgie tried again.

“Cynthia, you’re sixteen. There must be
someone I can call to let them know about you and Josephine. Your
mom, perhaps?”

The girl stared at the bed covers. “I never
knew my mom. I was adopted at birth, like Cameron.”

“Who’s Cameron?”

“My brother. Well, my adopted brother, but I
don’t think of him like that. He might be eleven years older than
me, but he’s as real a brother to me as flesh and blood.”

Georgie seized on the possibility that
Cameron could provide Cynthia with some support. “Does Cameron live
in the city?”

The girl shrugged, her eyes still downcast.
“Maybe. Last I heard he was a cop, stationed in the city.”

“How long has it been since you’ve seen
him?”

“Ten years.”

Georgie started in surprise. “Ten
years
?”

“Yes,” Cynthia replied, her jaw jutting out
at a stubborn angle, as if daring Georgie to question her
statement.

Georgie curbed her curiosity and said
simply, “I don’t understand.”

Anger flashed in the girl’s eyes. “My
family’s a fuck up, all right. Surely you’ve figured that one out
already.”

A moment later, the girl’s shoulders slumped
on a heavy sigh and her anger seemed to dissipate. She pressed a
kiss against the soft hair that covered her baby’s head. When she
spoke again, her voice was calmer.

“Mom and Dad couldn’t have kids, so they
adopted. First, Cam and then me. I don’t know why they bothered.
Mom never took to motherhood. Some of my earliest memories are of
her yelling at me for something or other. I could never do anything
right.”

Her lips twisted. “She hated my brother even
more. He grew into a big kid. By the time he was fifteen, he
towered over her. She hated that he dominated her physically. It
only made her more malicious. Of course, Cam used to give back
everything she doled out, and more. It wasn’t like she didn’t
deserve it. She treated him like little more than hired help, only
there wasn’t any payment involved.”

Georgie’s heart filled with sadness at the
thought of what the two of them must have gone through. “What about
your dad?” she asked softly.

Cynthia smiled sadly. “Dad was the only good
thing in our lives, but he was no match against the viciousness of
Deirdre Dawson. I was five when she ordered him to throw Cam out.
I’m sure Dad didn’t want to do it, but she gave him an
ultimatum.”

Cynthia ran her hand gently over her
daughter’s head. Her fingers stroked the petal-soft cheek. “Dad
chose her. He took the easy way out. He chose to keep the peace
between him and his wife and let his son fight his battles on his
own. Cam went to live with the family of one of his high school
friends on the other side of town. I haven’t seen him since.”

“How do you know he’s in Sydney?”

“We might have lived in a small country
town, hours from the city, but news filtered back over the years. I
heard he went into the Police Academy straight out of high school.
A couple of years ago, I overheard one of Dad’s friends telling him
Cam was doing pretty well as a police officer in the city.”

“Is that what brought you here?”

Cynthia lowered her gaze and slowly nodded.
“Things were getting worse at home. For a little while after Cam
left, Mom seemed happier. There were even odd moments when she’d
treat me kindly. I missed Cam, but life was bearable. Then I grew
up.” She grimaced at the memory and pain flickered across her face.
Georgie’s heart clenched.

“When I hit puberty, things changed again
and it wasn’t for the better. I filled out, grew taller; attracted
the attention of the boys. It wasn’t like I encouraged them,” she
added defensively and Georgie nodded in understanding.

“Mom started accusing me of all sorts of
things, calling me awful names. I couldn’t even walk out the front
door without her screaming obscenities at me. Dad used to tell me
to ignore her; that she was going through the change of life.”
Cynthia shook her head in disgust. “As if that excused
everything.”

The young girl’s breath came faster, harsh
in the silence of the room. Her baby slept against her mom’s chest,
oblivious to the tension that held Cynthia’s body taut. Georgie
stepped closer. Her patient had not long ago given birth after a
long and arduous labor. She didn’t want her upsetting herself
unnecessarily.

“It’s okay, Cynthia. We don’t need to talk
about it anymore. I understand—”

“You understand
shit.
You want to
know why I’m here, alone in a labor ward with no one to call on for
help? I’ll tell you why! Two years ago, I came home after spending
an evening with my friends at the movies. Mom met me at the door.
I’d hardly stepped foot inside before she started in on me,
screaming about how I’d been out all night, spreading my legs for
every boy in town. I did my best to ignore her, like I’d been doing
for years. She followed me into my bedroom.” Her voice cracked. Her
expression was distant and filled with fear. Once again, Georgie
tried to intervene.

“Don’t talk about it anymore, honey. I don’t
want you to get upset. It’s not good for you, or for your
baby.”

Cynthia stared down at her daughter, still
blissfully asleep. “I want to tell you. I want you to
understand.”

Georgie nodded, but tension knotted her
insides. Though the girl mostly spoke with a refined tongue that
evidenced a sound education, it was obvious she’d been living on
the streets for some time. There had to be a good reason why.

Cynthia drew in a ragged breath. She looked
up at Georgie with eyes that were filled with agony.

“I asked Mom to leave me alone, but she
refused. Instead, she pushed me hard down on the bed and sat on me.
She prised open my thighs, digging her fingers into my skin. She
kept screaming at me, calling me names. She said she was going to
prove I was a slut.”

Georgie swallowed a gasp of horror.
Anticipating where this was going, dread poured through her veins.
She prayed in silent desperation that she was wrong about what
Cynthia was about to reveal.

“She tore off my panties,” Cynthia said in a
voice dull with pain. “I think she was surprised I wore any, but it
didn’t stop her. It was like she’d gone crazy, possessed with
something so evil, I couldn’t bear to look at her. She forced two
fingers inside me, crowing all the time that she could tell I
wasn’t a virgin.” Cynthia gasped and shuddered. Tears ran down her
cheeks. “It hurt so much.”

The girl’s sobs now came in earnest, shaking
her tiny frame. Georgie stepped forward instinctively, her heart
breaking. Gathering the girl and her baby carefully in her arms,
Georgie held them.

Murmuring wordless sounds of comfort against
Cynthia’s hair, Georgie waited out the storm. Her anger boiled out
of control. With an effort, she clenched her jaw, forcing it down.
She didn’t want the girl to misinterpret her anger.

When at last Cynthia’s sobs quieted, Georgie
slowly pulled away. Brushing the matted hair out of the girl’s
eyes, Georgie offered her a reassuring smile.

“Is that why you left?”

Cynthia lowered her gaze and nodded.

“Did you speak to your dad about what
happened?”

“No. I saw what happened with Cam and
nothing had changed over the years. Dad was weak. He always took
her side over mine. There would be no support from him.”

“You’ve been living on the streets since you
were fourteen?”

“Yes.”

“You came to Sydney, looking for your
brother.”

“Yes.”

“Have you made any enquires as to his
whereabouts?”

Cynthia looked down at herself. Though she
wore a clean hospital gown, the ground-in dirt and filth on her
hands and feet was clearly visible.

“I arrived in Sydney with nothing more than
a few personal items in my backpack and the clothes I wore. I had a
total of twenty-nine dollars and thirty cents in my purse. It
didn’t take long for the money to run out. I moved around from
shelter to shelter and all the time, I thought of Cam. I wondered
if it were true that he was a police officer and that he was
stationed in the city. I wanted to go to him, to find him, but I
was scared.”

“Of what?” Georgie asked gently, even though
she had a fair idea.

“That he wouldn’t recognize me. That he’d
refuse to acknowledge who I was.” Her voice lowered to a whisper.
“That he wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me. I was part
of the past—a past he’d long left behind. I was scared he wouldn’t
take kindly to being reminded about where he’d come from.”

Cynthia sighed quietly and settled herself
and her baby back against the pillows. Idly stroking the infant’s
soft cheek, she continued: “For months, I went back and forth,
scrounging up the courage to approach him and then being too
terrified to try. Once, I even got as far as the front steps of the
city police station, only to turn away. By then, it had been a long
time since I’d taken a shower and I was embarrassed by my
appearance. A few weeks later, I met Albert.”

“Who’s Albert?”

“Josephine’s father.”

“Tell me about him.”

The girl’s expression softened and a small
smile played on her lips. Georgie listened while Cynthia spoke
about a boy a few years older than her who she’d met living on the
street. They’d struck up a friendship that turned into love. All
had been going well until Cynthia became pregnant. Albert reacted
badly to the news of his impending fatherhood. The day after she
told him, he walked out on her, abandoning her and their unborn
baby. She hadn’t seen him again.

Georgie listened and bit back a sigh at the
desperateness of the girl’s circumstances. Unfortunately, it was an
all too familiar tale. Ward Seven was a public maternity ward and
it catered almost exclusively to the several hundred, mostly young,
pregnant girls who arrived there every year without health
insurance. Many of them were drug addicts, alcoholics or both. Most
were without stable homes or reliable family support. The enormity
of the problem saddened Georgie almost to the point of despair, but
she refused to give up on the desperate women and their babies in
her care. Cynthia and her daughter were no different.