Evelyn pressed the power button, watching the screen go black, and gathered her things to leave.
Evelyn Mathews, theres a young lady here to see you, the receptionist called, popping her head round the door. Says its a personal matter.
Send her in. Lets see what this is about.
Into the office stepped a petite, curly-haired girl in a skirt so short it seemed to float above her knees.
Good afternoon. Im Charlotte. Ive got an interesting proposal for you, she said, voice as crisp as December frost.
Right. Good afternoon, Charlotte. I cant imagine what business youd have with me weve never met, have we?
Not you, no. But I know your husband, Oliver, rather well. Here, she said, tossing a sheet of paper onto the desk with careless flair.
Evelyn picked it up and squinted at the stark black text.
Charlotte Harper. Pregnancy: 5-6 weeks.
Whats this meant to be? Why hand it to me?
No mystery. Im pregnant. By your husband.
Evelyn gaped at her, the room flicking in and out of focus like a television losing signal.
And what, exactly, do you expect me to do? Send congratulations?
Charlotte leaned in, lowering her voice to a private register. No, Im after money. If, of course, you care about keeping your husband.
And why money, precisely? Evelyn said, fingers drumming on the polished wood.
Ill have a termination and vanish from Olivers life. He knows nothing I thought it only fair to come to you first. If you decline, hell leave you for me. Everyone knows you cant have children. I know it too. Whatll it be?
Evelyns thoughts tumbled over themselves in her mind, a muddle of confusion and suspicion.
How much for your secret?
A paltry £30,000. Pennies to you, really. In exchange, your marriage will live out to old age, Charlotte purred, a hint of mockery around her lips.
How generous! Leave your number. Ill consider and get back to you.
Dont dither too long. Times short and Ill need it if Im to see a doctor, Charlotte replied, scribbling her number before gliding out as if she had all the time in the world.
Mrs. Mathews leaving now? The cleaning ladys waiting the receptionist called from the corridor.
Yes, Angela, Im off. See you tomorrow.
Evelyn slid the incriminating note into her handbag, feeling as if she were moving in water. She reached her car on autopilot, the world shifting weirdly, headlights and city streetlights flickering like stars beneath a glassy sea.
Who was this Charlotte? Could Oliver really have fathered a child with her? The street outside her home wound up like a ribbon, folding in on itself as she considered the possibilities.
Once inside, she gingerly unfolded the paper again, as if some hidden message might reveal itself if she stared long enough. Oliver would be home soon.
Honey, Im back! Something smells delicious!
Come in and see for yourself Evelyn called, perched in her favourite armchair, legs crossed, gaze fixed unblinking at her husband as he entered, unwinding his scarf.
Youre staring whats up? Its unnerving
Oliver, who is Charlotte Harper?
Oliver frowned. Shes from the suppliers office. Why?
She claims shes pregnant with your child. Here, have a read.
Oliver snatched up the paper and read quickly, face whitening. What? Thats ridiculous Ive never shes lying. I havent touched her. Hows that possible?
You tell me. She wants £30,000 to disappear with an abortion. She says if I refuse, youll go with her, since Im supposedly barren.
I dont understand any of this! I swear on my season ticket, Evelyn, theres nothing between us. Its madness.
Thats what I thought, said Evelyn, unmoved. I never said you were a saint, but I can sense a liar and she reeks of lies. She just wants a payout.
If you want tests or anything, Im game. Nothing to hide, promise you. Silly girl with dreams of riches! I need no one but you, darling.
Well then, lets eat.
The next day, Evelyn rang Charlotte and requested she return to her office. Within half an hour, Charlotte breezed in, eyes glittering.
Well, Charlotte, Oliver cant be the father. I trust him. No quick fortune for you. Go on then have your abortion. Im not paying.
Charlotte snorted. Youre an odd one. Blind faith, thats what it is. Had a look in the mirror recently? Youre forty, love no matter how good you look, therell always be girls younger and prettier.
Anything else?
Yes. Maybe youd like to buy the baby, then. Do whatever tests you like. Olivers the father, Im certain.
But he swears he never touched you how?
Charlotte drew a slow breath, eyes gleaming. Fine. Ill tell you the truth. Month and a half back, were at a company event with drinks flowing. One of his mates told me hes married to a wealthy lady who cant have children, even through surrogacy. Thought to myself, cashing in on a kid wouldnt be half-bad.
I tried coming on to him but he was ice-cold. Most men, well, lets say I dont struggle for attention. Young, fit, pretty they drool. But him? Nothing. Wounded my pride.
I tried a new tactic. My sisters a pharmacist; she gave me a little powder that makes people forgetful, dozy. I slipped it in his drink always carry some, just in case. Took him back to mine. He was as docile as a toddler. Luck had it, I was ovulating. He remembers nothing. Quite possible, actually. I have a video, if you want proof.
She dropped her mobile on Evelyns desk, flicking through clips. There was Oliver, utterly vacant, undressed and oblivious to the world.
Abortions no trouble for me tough as old boots. But easy moneys better. I doubt youd want a scandal, what with your job and all police and all that, unnecessary bother. I thought youd jump at my offer. Since you havent, Ill carry the baby and you can buy it at birth. Ill see the doctor, eat right, the lot. £30,000, and the babys yours.
Evelyn sat, thunderstruck, her head pounding. How could this be real?
Charlotte, I can hardly speak. You belong in prison, you con artist.
Needs must! Debts to pay. My sugar daddy pegged it, so now its this or nothing, Charlotte shot back. Mull it over, Evelyn. Ill ring in three days.
When shed gone, Evelyn gulped a glass of water, her head throbbing like church bells. What an outrageous nightmare.
She told Oliver that evening, and he was ashen.
I was tricked and used Shell face the law for this
Oliver, worse things happen nowadays. Lets suppose we check if the childs truly yours. Nowadays, they can run a DNA blood test after seven weeks of pregnancy. Lets get that clear first. And weve always wanted a child of our own. Not meant to be, so we thought.
Adoption never felt right for us. But if the childs yours well, its still a part of us, odd as it is. Maybe, just maybe, fates throwing us a lifeline, for us and the baby. Ever think of that?
Oh, dont you start praising her Nonsense! She should get the abortion and leave us alone! Not a penny for her trouble.
He stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
Evelyns mind slipped backwards in time, as if walking through a foggy garden
She and Oliver had been at university together. Love at first sight absolutely inseparable. Theyd got married, scraping by in a rented flat. After graduation, Evelyns career took off rocket-quick, her uncle helping her start her business with a loan she repaid in spades. Oliver opened his own little shop, and both were thriving. All they wanted was a family but luck wasnt theirs.
One evening, after dinner in a cosy bistro, theyd wandered home through winding streets. Out of the shadows, a group of drunk men attacked; one lunged at Oliver with a knife. Evelyn shielded him and took the blade herself.
She hovered between life and death; when she pulled through, the doctors regretfully explained shed never have children her womb and ovaries gone.
Oliver did his best to comfort her, blaming himself for her loss.
Sometimes Evelyn would slip into an old parish church, lighting a candle for her loved ones, dropping coins into a silver dish for the poor.
Once, passing the churchyard, she gave a coin to a stooped old lady by the gate.
The old woman pressed her gnarled hand on hers and whispered, Thank you, my dear. I see sorrow gnaws at you, but dont let it. You will have a child in a most unusual fashion.
Evelyn simply sighed and moved on. Old womens talk, she thought how could they know?
Work became her solace, and her marriage grew even deeper. But now
Evelyn insisted Oliver take a DNA test. Charlotte gave her blood, too, at nine weeks pregnant.
The result was clear: Oliver was, indeed, the father.
Well? Believe me now? Charlotte smirked. Ready to pay for your little one?
Heres my answer, Evelyn said coldly. If we wanted, we could find a surrogate far cheaper than £30,000. But since things are as they are, well agree. £15,000 and we take the child. Everything legal, clear.
I asked for thirty! No bargaining!
Were not haggling. Its this or nothing; we could have called the police, remember? Take it or leave it.
***
Oliver, Ive arranged it. Were going to have a baby.
Silly business, Evelyn Still, if its meant to be
Perhaps fate itself thinks so.
Throughout the pregnancy, Charlotte attended her appointments, did her tests, and followed instructions to the letter. When the time came, she delivered a healthy, robust boy.
Charlotte relinquished all parental rights, and Oliver claimed his son. The dreaded paperwork, the meetings, the secrecy all behind them. Charlotte, bundled her cash, vanished. Whenever asked, Evelyn and Oliver simply said the baby came from a surrogate.
Thanks for giving birth to my husbands son, Evelyn said the last time they met.
And the little boy, now named Archie, lived with Evelyn and Oliver Mathews.
Oliver, look how much he looks like you
Do you reckon? I never could read babies though he is rather handsome, just like his dad.
Remember the old woman by the church door I told you about? She did say a child would appear to us in an extraordinary way
Oliver and Evelyn gazed at their son, the future a mystery, happiness swirling about them like early morning mist.
Sometimes the universe answers prayers in the most peculiar of ways.
***
Months later, watching the evening news, Evelyn learned that Charlotte Harper had been found dead in her flat. Circumstances mysterious; investigation ongoing.
Shed played her part out to the bitter endAs rain tapped the window, Evelyn turned the television off, pressing her palm gently on Archies tiny back as he slept curled against her chest. His soft breaths anchored her, fragile and precious.
She stared at her reflection in the darkened glass, feeling sorrow twinge for Charlottea woman lost in her own hunger, unable to imagine another way. Yet Evelyn felt no fear, only a mournful gratitude for what had been delivered out of chaos and ambition.
Oliver appeared in the doorway, a tender smile lining his tired face. He stroked Archies silky hair as Evelyn looked up.
Lifes odd, isnt it? he murmured. We lost so much, and now hes herealmost like it was meant to be.
Evelyn nodded, wiping away a single tear that she would never explain. Whatever else happened, we have him. Thats all I need. I thinkI finally can forgive what life took from us.
They sat together as dusk faded, threading their fingers over Archies tiny hand. Outside, the rain eased and a single star pierced the clouds, shimmering and defiant.
Evelyn pressed her lips against her sons delicate head. Welcome home, Archie, she whispered, her heart wide open at last.
The world beyond their windows still harbored secrets and old griefs, but within these gentle arms, Evelyn knew she had found something unbreakablea love unraveled from pain, now whole and radiant.
And as night drew in, the family curled together in the quilted hush, trusting the promise of dawn and the strange, wondrous ways hope could find its path.
