‘That’s it then, yeah? No more after this,’ said Charlie. Finally he’d pitched up at her bedside and now he held his newborn son in his arms.
‘Yeah. No more,’ agreed Nula, lying back dishevelled, exhausted and cut to ribbons. She had more stitches up her fanny than a fucking tapestry. But she was happy and in a private hospital bed, not out on the main ward with the rest of the oiks. She looked around. Harlan was there, staring at her with that flat emotionless gaze of his. ‘You didn’t bring Milly.’
‘No, I left her with Jill, I didn’t want you getting overtired. You been through enough. You can get out of here and catch up with Milly then. Won’t be long. Or I can bring her in tonight, if you want.’
‘Yeah,’ said Nula. ‘That would be nice.’ Poor little Mills, she thought, watching Charlie – that arsehole – as he cuddled their son. Milly wasn’t going to get a look in, not now Charlie had his boy.
Charlie was so happy he felt he could burst with it. He couldn’t believe it. His own son. Milly was great, but she was a girl. It wasn’t the same. You couldn’t have girls involved in the business; it was too rough. Then he looked down and saw Harlan staring up at him with that cold questioning expression he always wore.
‘Look, Harlan. Your baby brother!’ he said, grinning. Well, sort of, thought Charlie. Not even a half-brother really, because Harlan wasn’t blood, not like this little fella.
He knew it was mean, what he was feeling. Wrong. But shit – would they even have bothered to adopt at all, if this tiny miracle had occurred before all that adoption bull crap happened?
Now Charlie was wondering vaguely how difficult it would be to give a kid to the care system. Bloody nigh impossible, he reckoned, given all the twists and turns he’d gone through with those official bastards. Or maybe he could palm Harlan off on one of the girls on the manor? Well, it was a fact that Harlan was a funny little fish, cold as a fucking haddock really. He’d never exactly warmed to the kid at all.
Yeah, because you thought that was it for you. No son, only this thing to fill in the gap. You’d accepted that.
Oh, he’d treated Harlan well enough. Bought him the best gifts at Christmas and on his birthdays, gifts that matched Milly’s in expense. He was careful to do that, to try and play fair, treat the kids as equals. But Harlan’s reactions were always muted. Fucking kid always seemed to be watching you, somehow. As if he didn’t understand normal reactions but was sort of copying yours in the hope that his own would look right.
‘Can I hold him?’ Harlan asked, his eyes on the baby.
‘Nah,’ said Charlie. ‘Not yet, he’s too little. You might drop him.’
Harlan nodded and looked at Nula. Nula held out her hand. She wasn’t mother of the year, not by any means, but she could see how Harlan must be feeling right now. Yes, he might be a bit strange, maybe even sadistic – she could never forget him and Nipper burning the cat’s fur on the day they’d opened the petting zoo – but of course he was going to feel cast aside. Charlie was in raptures over the new baby. He had never been like this with Harlan, not even when he’d been a novelty, freshly adopted.
Nula forced a smile and said: ‘You’re going to help us get the nursery furnishings finished, aintcha, Harlan? Now that we’ve got it all decorated nicely.’
In fact Nula had felt so insecure, so uncertain about the baby’s arrival that she’d left all of this until the last minute. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to jinx it. It was that she didn’t believe that she and the kid would pull through. But here they were – to her shock – safe and well.
Harlan said nothing, and Nula felt a twinge of irritation. If the kid was just a bit livelier, a bit bubblier, then she felt that her arsehole of a husband would respond to him better. There would be similarities then, at least. But there were none. Harlan’s attitude niggled her more than she cared to admit, so God alone knew what it did to Charlie.
‘Can I hold him when we get home?’ asked Harlan.
Nula shot Charlie a look. To Harlan, she said: ‘We’ll see.’