My Husband's Wife(110)

Weeks?

‘I’m afraid you won’t be able to pick her up for some time, but you can talk to her.’

‘Babies can hear when you do that,’ butted in Ed. He sounded so knowledgeable, but at the same time smugly aware that he was the expert compared with her. ‘We used to talk to Tom all the time.’

‘But how can it hear if it’s so ill?’

‘You’d be surprised, dear. You can go home in a few days – the surgeon did a nice clean job, although you’ll need to rest and not lift anything heavy. You can visit baby every afternoon and evening.’ There was a little sigh. ‘We used to have a special place for parents to stay over, but I’m afraid that went with the cuts.’

Scarcely hearing, Carla continued to stare at the rat. Its puffed-up little stomach was rising and falling with a strange steady regularity. The rest of it could hardly be seen with the mask and wires. This was her punishment! This was what she got for taking another woman’s husband. And now she was going to be truly trapped – far more than before. How could she go back to work? Ed had already been against that idea, but it would be impossible if her child was sick.

Furiously, she turned on Ed. ‘Why did you get me pregnant?’

‘There, there,’ said the nurse, patting her shoulder. ‘You’d be surprised how many of my ladies say that. But you’ll change your mind when you get to know baby better.’

Ed was staring at her with a shocked look on his face. ‘Come on, Carla. You’ve got to be strong for our little girl.’

But this thing didn’t look like a girl – or a human being for that matter. ‘I don’t want to see it,’ she said, hearing her own voice rise in hysteria. ‘Take it away. I want my mother. Why isn’t she here? Get me the phone. Now. I need to speak to her.’

‘Carla –’

‘No! Stop being so controlling. Give me your mobile.’

Ed and the nurse were exchanging looks. What was going on?

‘Carla, darling, listen.’ He put his arm around her. ‘I didn’t want to tell you until you felt stronger. But your grandmother rang when you were in labour. I am afraid your mother has been ill.’

Carla stiffened. ‘How ill?’

‘She’s been treated for cancer for some time now. Your mother didn’t stay with an aunt that Christmas. She was actually in hospital. In fact she’s been in and out since then too.’

Her mouth went dry. ‘But she is better now? She is coming over to see her granddaughter?’

Ed tried to hold her but she pushed him away. ‘Tell me. TELL ME.’

His eyes were wet with tears. So too were the nurse’s.

‘Your mother died, Carla. Just after you gave birth. I’m so sorry.’





53


Lily


Back on the seafront I race away from Joe, seagulls screaming overhead. It’s only then that I realize something so obvious that I wonder why I haven’t thought of it before. If I can prove that Tom isn’t Ed’s child, I can surely stop him from having access. He doesn’t need to know who the real father is.

And, more importantly, I can prevent my husband’s wife from doing the same.

One small way to claw back some of my life. To take my child for my own.

But if Joe’s DNA matches, then my child would have a murderer for a father.

In the distance, a small boat bobs up and down on the waves.

That’s when another idea comes to me. Far better than the last.





54


Carla


Mamma had taken her last breath without her by her side? ‘But I never said goodbye,’ she sobbed down the phone to Nonna.

Her grandmother was weeping too. ‘She didn’t want to upset you.’ In the background, she could hear deep howls of male grief.

Nonno. He cared after all?

It transpired that they had all hidden it from her. Only now did the signs add up. Mamma’s gaunt appearance before she had left. (The cancer had just been diagnosed.) Her frail voice over the phone. Her later insistence that letters were better than expensive phone calls. Her promise that she would come over to England when the baby was born but at the moment she was ‘busy’.

And now, on top of the grief, she had to cope with this scrap. This thing.

You’ll feel different when you’re able to hold her. That’s what Ed and the nurses kept saying. But when they finally placed the rat in her arms, there was a high-pitched electronic sound. ‘It’s all right, dear,’ the nurse said. ‘It just means baby isn’t ready to come off the oxygen yet.’

It was all so scary. How could she possibly take it home if it couldn’t breathe on its own?

‘These things take time,’ said the young doctor briskly.

‘I keep telling her that,’ butted in Ed as though he were medically qualified himself.

Once more, Carla felt like a child who got everything wrong every time she opened her mouth. If only Mamma were here to help. She would know what to do.

Sometimes Carla thought they had taken her real baby away. The rat didn’t look anything like her or Ed. Even worse, they had been told that premature babies often had some ‘developmental issues’ which might not, according to the consultant, be apparent until later. How was she going to manage with the uncertainty?