If this baby looks anything like him, Ill give it up Ill give it life and then give it up! Laura said in a flat voice, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Bit late for second thoughts now, love, the doctor replied briskly. Youll have to wait it outunless you fancy never having kids at all.
Laura stumbled out of the consulting room and slumped onto the clinics stiff waiting-room sofa, trying to steady herself. She wanted to cryout of anger, out of sheer unfairnessbut instead, she lifted her head and watched through the window as the autumn wind mercilessly shook the last clinging leaves from the branches.
She felt just like those branchesutterly helplessand this baby, once so desperately wanted, now felt like a cruel mistake. Three months ago, shed been overjoyed. How quickly things had unravelled.
Outside, she overtook a beaming coupleher husbands arm snug around his wifes shoulders, both grinning like lottery winners. The sight twisted the knife deeper. Laura trudged to the bus stop.
Home at last, she locked herself in her room for nearly an hour. Her mum, Margaret, hovered outside, pleading for her to eat something, but Laura stayed silent. Defeated, Margaret retreated to the kitchen, sinking into a chair. The flat was thick with unspoken tension.
Eventually, Laura emerged and sat opposite her mother at the table. Silence stretched between them like a bad Wi-Fi signal.
* * *
If it looks like him, Ill give it up Laura repeated dully.
Margaret snapped to attention. For heavens sake, Laurathink before you speak! (Full names were reserved for Serious Talks.) A hardworking, decent girl like you, giving up her own child? What will people say? Your relatives? Your colleagues? And its not the babys fault its fathers a rat!
Who cares what people think? Laura burst out, wild-eyed, trembling like a cornered animal.
*I* care, Margaret said firmly. And Ill help you. I wont let you abandon my grandchild.
Help? With what? You can barely make ends meet as it is!
Well manage, Margaret insisted. People survived the Blitzthis is 1989, not the Dark Ages.
Laura exhaled sharply. Fear gnawed at her. The future was a fog of unknowns. She had no idea the 90s would serve up their own special brand of chaosall she knew right now was that David had left her.
Theyd married six months ago after a year and a half of dating. No red flags, no warningsjust a happy, good-looking couple.
Laura remembered the day David came home a different man. Hed tried to act normal, but the distance in his eyes was unmistakable.
A month of prying later, just as he walked out, she learned why.
* * *
It all traced back to a school camping trip. Seventeen-year-old David had met Emilyfell head over heels in two weeks. They exchanged addresses, but after moving house, he lost hers. No letters ever came.
Hed moved onor so he thought. Then, three years later, he met Laura. Convinced Emily was just a teenage fling, he married Laura. They started trying for a baby.
Then Emily placed a newspaper ad.
David saw it. He booked her a hotel room in Londonjust for old times sake, he told himself.
One meeting was all it took.
* * *
At work, Lauras colleagues tiptoed around her. A new hire sighed, A babys such a blessingmy husband and Ive been trying for five years.
Exactly*with* a husband, Laura muttered.
No joy left in this pregnancyjust the sting of abandonment.
At home, Margaret hovered, desperate to distract her. Then Davids mother, Susan, showed up in tears. Shed wanted David and Laura to stay together. She *hated* Emilynot least for stealing David halfway across the country (never mind that hed gone willingly).
Between two doting future grandmothers, Laura felt both smothered and strangely comforted. But one fear eclipsed everything:
*What if the baby has his eyes? His smile?*
Could she spend a lifetime looking at her child and seeing the man whod betrayed her?
* * *
The day Laura was discharged, she wasnt expecting a crowd. But there they wereMargaret, Susan, Lauras best mate with her husband, her older sister with a niece in tow, even her entire tiny office.
Everyone wanted a hold of the baby. Everyone cooed over him.
Back home, Susan cradled her grandson, tearfully whispering, Spitting image of David.
Laura heard. She took the baby and said firmly, Not David. *Ethan*.
Margaret and Susan exhaled. Crisis averted.
* * *
Twenty years later, in 2010, Ethan was a third-year uni student. At home, he doted on his two little sisterspractically raising them himself when they were toddlers.
Laura had remarried five years after Ethans birth. Her new husband adored Ethan and fathered two more children with her. She loved her daughters, but Ethan? He was her soul.
That panicked moment in the hospitalswearing shed give him up if he resembled Davidnow horrified her. She couldnt even think about it.
As for David? He and Emily divorced after five years. She moved abroad with their daughter. He remarried, saw Ethan occasionally.
Laura didnt interfere. She felt nothing for David nowjust the vague acknowledgement that hed contributed half of Ethans DNA.
And that was that.
