Prologue
Curled up on the sofa like a kitten, all pouted lips, soft breaths and waves of hair spilling over the cushion. The most beautiful child ever to be born.
I touch your shoulder to stir you into a half-sleep, too grown now to be taken in my arms. Instead, you lean against me as I lead you to bed, mumbling how you are not tired and don’t want to go. Once I pull the sheet to your shoulders, in mere moments those eyelids flutter closed, traitorous lashes swept downwards once more.
Then I wait awhile at your bedside, hand at my chest.
How can you be mine? You were unplanned, a surprise, an unexpected gift. Somehow, you made your way into my life and burrowed into a space that wasn’t there. Now I don’t know where you end and I begin. You are my heart. My world. My daughter.
And I will do anything to give you the best life I can.
Anything.
1
Rebecca
Good food, interesting company: a Friday night dinner with the partners and directors of Jack’s advertising agency and their spouses had been surprisingly pleasant until Jack mentioned their wedding last year, which – inevitably it seemed these days – led to the topic of babies.
It was a gift from heaven for Linda McCray, the wife of the financial director, sitting across the table from Rebecca in the managing director’s large dining room. Judging by her vacant gaze while her husband discussed profit margins with the man to his left, she’d been politely bored for most of the meal, but her ears pricked up at the mention of marriage and babies. ‘You’ve been married a year? It’ll soon be time for the pitter-patter of baby feet then.’
Rebecca forced a smile. This dinner was important to Jack. It was the first time he’d been invited to the house and he had been uncharacteristically nervous. Having started in the creative side of the business, then moving to management, further promotion would only happen if he ‘fit in’ with the board. Rebecca had teased him but she hadn’t felt at ease since they’d got here, either. She was usually employed by people like this, not sitting at the table making small talk. Like a good little wife. ‘No, we’re not having children.’
Linda’s eyes widened and her face turned a shade pinker. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise…’
Rebecca should have just let it go, let her think that they weren’t having children because they weren’t able to. It would serve her right to squirm because she shouldn’t have made assumptions. But something – possibly the third glass of Malbec – made Rebecca feel belligerent. ‘It’s not that we can’t. We just don’t want children.’
Linda’s face changed immediately and she lowered her voice, leaning closer. ‘Is it Jack? Because men change their minds. My husband…’
Rebecca shook her head. ‘No. It’s both of us. I don’t want children. Never have.’
Then there was the smile. The I Know Better smile. ‘Maybe you’re just not ready yet. They are a lot of work, but it’s the best thing you can ever do, believe me.’
The best thing Rebecca could think of doing was travelling first class round the world. Not pushing a small person out of herself. Still, they were at a dinner at Jack’s boss’s house; it wasn’t the time for a full-on debate on a woman’s right to make choices about her own body. She smiled tightly. ‘Maybe. I’ll let you know if I change my mind.’
But Linda wasn’t for turning. At the other end of the table, three men were discussing the new menu at the golf club, and Jack’s head bobbed up and down as he tried to add to their analysis. His thick head of blonde hair made him look like a young child trying to make a good impression on the grey-haired grown-ups. Rebecca was on her own. At least Linda was keeping her voice low. ‘We only have a finite time in order to have a baby, you know? If you keep putting it off, it might be too late. What happens if you regret it?’
Rebecca twisted the silver bangle on her wrist, wishing she was at the other end of the table discussing the golf club. It might be a good venue to add to her portfolio. Plus, it would save her from this irritating conversation. From experience, women like Linda seemed to find her lack of interest in having children personally offensive. She tried to keep her voice light. ‘What happens if I do have children and regret it though? This way, if I do suddenly have an epiphany in my fifties, at least it’s only me that I’m letting down, isn’t it?’
She picked up her wine glass to signal the topic over, but before she could change the subject to something innocuous, Linda kicked it up a notch. ‘But what about Jack? What if he wants children? Don’t you owe it to him?’
Was she serious? Had they woken up in a Jane Austen novel? Shouldn’t she be taking Rebecca for a turn around the drawing room before she imparted her sage advice? Rebecca was about to tell her exactly what she thought of that opinion when, thankfully – for Linda’s sake – Jack caught the end of their conversation. He reached for Rebecca’s hand under the table and squeezed it. ‘Don’t worry about me, Linda, I’m in complete agreement. Like kids; couldn’t eat a whole one.’ He winked at Rebecca. ‘Anyway, George tells me you’ve got the planning permission for the renovations on your house. When does it all kick off?’
Rebecca returned the squeeze of Jack’s hand. He was good at diverting trouble. She wasn’t normally one to fly off the handle but she was so tired of people like Linda preaching on about the wonders of motherhood. It was like a cult. She had nothing against children. She’d even been one once. She adored her nephews. Wasn’t averse to the children of friends. But she had no desire to have one of her own. Ever.
Back home, after repressing her rage through the dessert and coffee and the cheese course, Rebecca was finally ranting to Jack on the sofa in their living room. ‘Can you imagine if I reversed the conversation? Told her that she shouldn’t have had children because of the overpopulation of the world? I’d have been lynched.’
Jack kissed the top of her head. ‘There’s no point reasoning with someone like that. They think their way is the only way. You shouldn’t rise to it.’
It was easy for him to say. Somehow, no one judged a man who wasn’t bothered about having children. But when a woman said it, she was either an unnatural witch or a deluded soul headed for a life of lonely regret. ‘I just wish people would keep their opinions to themselves.’
‘Yep, me too. But you’re not going to change the Linda McCrays of this world. Plus, have you seen their son? A sweaty, spotty, sullen teenager. She’s probably jealous of your freedom. And that’s before you point out that you don’t need to sort out a babysitter to go on the weekend in Bruges that your ever-loving husband is planning.’
It took a minute to realise what he’d said. Rebecca sat up. ‘Are you? Really?’ She reached over and kissed him. This was a perfect example of what she had tried to explain to Linda. Why would anyone want to risk what she and Jack had by putting a baby into the mix? She leaned back and looked at him. ‘Did you check the calendar first?’
Jack laughed. ‘Of course. I barely go to the toilet without checking the calendar. I do value my life, you know. That’s also why I’m telling you now rather than springing it on you. I learned from Parisgate.’