Baby on Board: Secret Baby, Surprise Parents / Her Baby Wish / Keeping Her Baby's Secret

‘Ready?’ she asked.

Stupid question. He was showered, wearing faded jeans and a soft suede jacket that emphasized the width of his shoulders and brought out the amber flecks in his grey eyes. He had obviously been there for some time since all trace of the breakfast disaster had been removed and he was sitting at the table, looking through the local paper.

He closed it, got up and said, ‘Can I do anything?’

‘G-get the buggy? It’s in the mud room,’ she said, opening the fridge, fitting a bottle into its own special little cold box, slipping it into the carrier that contained all Posie’s essentials, exactly as she’d seen Phoebe do dozens of times. Keeping her hands behind her back to hide fingers itching to help.

What she wouldn’t have given for that yearning now. To see Michael instead of Josh setting up the buggy, take Posie and fasten her into the little pink nest. Put the carrier in the rack beneath it.

‘Not bad,’ she said. ‘For a first effort.’

He didn’t answer but took the handle of the buggy, wheeled it into the hall.

The steps weren’t exactly easy to navigate, as she knew from experience, and, having opened the door, she made a move to help. Unnecessary. Josh just lifted the buggy, with Posie and all her belongings in it, and carried them down the steps as if it weighed no more than a feather.

A nice trick if you could manage it, she thought and, since possession was nine-tenths of the law, by the time she’d shut the door and reached the footpath he was already walking away from her, forcing her to trot to catch up.

‘Slow down,’ she said crossly. ‘This isn’t a race.’

Without taking his hand off the buggy, he lifted his elbow and, glancing down at her, said, ‘Hang on. You can slow me down if I’m speeding.’

He wanted her to put her arm through his? Walk along arm in arm as if they were Michael and Phoebe…?

As if they were a couple. Lovers…

She swallowed, imagining her hand against the soft suede, her fingers resting on the hard sinewy flesh beneath it. She wanted that closeness in a way that was beyond imagining. Wanted it too much to be able to risk it.

‘You’re all right,’ she said.

He didn’t argue, simply stopped, took her hand and placed it under his arm. ‘Whatever happens, you’re not on your own, Grace,’ he said, then, without giving her time to resist, to object, he continued, rather more slowly, on his way.

The suede was as soft to the touch as a baby’s breath, while beneath it the familiar muscular arm seemed to burn through to her fingers, setting light to the memory of him standing in the kitchen, naked to the waist, in the early light.

As a girl she’d clung to his waist when she’d ridden behind him on his bike, pressed to his back, sheltered from the force of the wind by his body. That had been a secret thrill, one that had given her more of a rush than the speed at which they had been flying along. One that Josh hadn’t ever known about.

This was different. This closeness was not some careless thing, just part of being on the back of a motorbike. He’d made a deliberate choice, just as he had on her first day at school when he’d tossed her his spare helmet. As he paused, turned to cross the road, and his sleeve brushed against her cheek it was like the sun coming out. She wanted to lean into it, suck up that protective warmth.

All illusion. This was not his world. In a week, two at the most, he’d be gone, chasing endless horizons. That was fact. He’d be somewhere out of reach and she’d be alone.

And, with that thought, the true finality of what had happened crystallised in her mind. Until now she’d been skimming along, keeping the wheels ticking over, taking care of Posie. Coping with the details. Standing numbly in the church through hymns and eulogies. Even watching her sister and her husband being lowered into the dark earth, it hadn’t seemed real.

Each morning, her first reaction was that momentary panic at waking in an unfamiliar room, the remembering that she was in the guest room next to the nursery because her sister was away for the weekend.

Only after that came the sickening moment when she remembered that Phoebe was never coming home again. But then Posie claimed her attention and there was no time for anything but the essentials. Laundry, feeding, bathing her, changing her. She was a full-time job all by herself.

Now, walking with Josh in Michael and Phoebe’s place, an icy hand gripped at her stomach, her heart. This wasn’t just for a few days. This was her life. There was only her to be responsible, make decisions, make sure that this precious baby… little girl… teenager… had the best life that she could give her.

‘Grace?’

Josh stopped as she pulled away, gasping for breath, and, ignoring her as she took her hand off his arm, as she tried to keep him away, he let go of the buggy and, catching her by the shoulders, pulled her against him.

‘They’re gone, Josh,’ she said, looking up, wanting him to see, to understand. ‘They’re never coming back.’

His only response was to wrap his arms tightly around her, press his cheek, his lips against her hair as if he could somehow keep out the world.

‘Hush… It’s all right.’

All right…

All right!

‘How can anything be all right ever again?’ She pulled back, flinging up her arms to push him away. ‘It needs more than a hug and words to fix this, Josh. It isn’t just us, there’s a baby involved, one that you and I made, and we’re responsible.’ She knew she was making a scene, that people on their way into town were turning to look, but she didn’t care. She had to make him see. ‘It’s not just for this week, or next week, but for ever. We’re not just spectators in Posie’s life, we’re her—’

Josh grabbed her by the arm and pulled her, pushed Posie off the street and into the quiet of the park.

‘—parents.’

Except it wasn’t ‘we’. It was her.

Or was it? Josh had said he had gone through Michael’s papers last night. What had he found? What had made him warn her that she was bottom of the heap?

‘Do you know what guardianship arrangements Michael made for Posie?’ Because a man who’d taken time to plan his own funeral to make things easy for whoever was left to pick of pieces in the event of his death wouldn’t leave something really important like that to chance. ‘Stupid question. Of course you know. You’re his executor. Even when you weren’t talking to him, Michael still told you everything.’

‘I can’t tell you anything until I’ve spoken to Michael’s lawyers.’

He let go of her arm, leaving a cold empty space, but that was what he always did. Went away. University, gap year, for ever. He leaned forward over the buggy, tenderly tucking the blanket around Posie where she’d kicked it loose in her sleep, then began to move on through the park.

‘Can’t? Or won’t?’ she demanded, planting her feet, refusing to take another step until he gave her an answer. ‘What is it you’re keeping from me?’

He stopped. ‘It won’t help.’

‘I think I’m the best judge of what helps me, Josh.’

He glanced at her. ‘You’re wrong about Michael telling me everything. He didn’t share whatever decision he’d made with me, which suggests there were unresolved issues.’

‘I think we can both guess what they were.’

He shrugged. ‘Maybe. There was some correspondence with his lawyer regarding the surrogacy and it’s clear that Michael and Phoebe intended to draw up new wills once Posie was legally theirs, but as far as I can tell nothing had been signed.’

‘So that means…?’ She lifted her shoulders.

‘I won’t know for sure until I’ve talked to the lawyer. Even a draft setting out their wishes would be something.’ He stretched out a hand. ‘Come on. The sooner I get there, the sooner we’ll both know where we stand.’

He didn’t move to take her hand as he had before. This time he waited for her to choose, to meet him halfway. And, ignoring his hand, she tucked her own back under his arm. A gesture of trust.

‘Maybe I should come with you.’

‘You can trust me, Grace. I’ll look after your interests. You’ll be better occupied at the craft centre.’