CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

‘The baby is now completely formed. From now on, its time in the uterus will be spent in growing and maturing until it is able to survive independently of its mother.’

Now it was Saturday morning, and the house was full of people. Dad ruffled her hair every time he went past, grinning. It was after she’d said that she wanted to stay living with him in Whitecross that he’d started to smile, and he still hadn’t stopped. She hadn’t really thought before about what he might be going through. There hadn’t been room for anyone else’s feelings. Now she began to take in the truth that he’d loved her all the time. Even when he was furious with her. Disappointed, upset.

Over the next two days she told him, bit by bit, all that had happened. Almost all. She didn’t tell him about Evie’s baby, or the horrible, lurking fear that Evie had had a plan of her own, her own reasons for taking Mia on and looking after her. It had become a regular nightmare: waking, sweating, with the stomach-churning sense of something lost, missing. Not something, but someone. You didn’t want a baby, but we do.

After breakfast, Dad telephoned Becky’s mum, and then Will’s mum, and then Miss Blackman. Mia grimaced when he called her Julie.

‘You’ll have to get used to it. Sorry, but you can’t expect me to do without a love life forever.’

‘But why her? A teacher. My teacher. She’s not nearly good enough.’

‘Well, at my age, you take it where you can.’

‘Dad!’

Now they were all here, except Miss Blackman. She’d thought it better ‘to leave the family to themselves for a bit’. She did have some sensitivity then.

‘Why do you have to invite them all over? They’ll just go on at me.’

‘To celebrate you being all right, silly. Coming home safely. They’ve all rallied round, helping me. They’re not going to be making judgements, Mia. Not now. We’ve all moved on a bit. Can’t you imagine what we’ve been through, worried sick about what might be happening to you, not knowing where you were?’

‘Don’t start again.’

‘OK. We agreed. Anyway, I want to celebrate, OK? These are our friends, Mia. We’re going to need them. You know that. We won’t get through the next months without them.’

All these mothers. Becky’s had brought pizza for everyone. Homemade.

Becky rolled her eyes at Mia. ‘Can’t we go upstairs?’

They lay on Mia’s narrow bed. Just like old times. Almost. Becky lay on her side, propped on one elbow, and looked at Mia’s stomach with her.

‘You still couldn’t tell though. I mean, maybe it’s fatter than usual, but no one else would notice.’

‘Have you seen Will?’

‘At school, of course. Not much outside. No one’s been going out much. Ali’s given up on him. She fancies the new history teacher.’

‘Oh no!’

‘Well, you know her. She’d have had your dad if she could.’

‘But Julie got there first. Julie!’ They giggled.

‘Your fault. You running off brought them closer together.’

‘Depressing, isn’t it?’

‘Well, at least you don’t have to go to school there any more.’

‘No. I could go to the school-girl mother’s place.’ Mia wrinkled up her nose. ‘If I wanted.’

‘Do you?’

‘Dunno. I’ll go and see it probably. I’d have to live at my mother’s place. Don’t think I want to do that. Better here, with Dad. And you. And everyone. Even if it is a dump.’

‘Good. I’ve really missed you, you know. She’s not how I imagined her, your mum. Alice.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, she seems really nice. Friendly. Attractive. I can’t quite imagine her running off, leaving you all.’

‘She talked about it the other morning. When she first got here.’

‘What did she say?’

‘It was awful. I was so tired – and I’d rather not know really.’

‘Tell me. What did she say?’

Mia tried to explain. It didn’t seem to make much sense now. She told Becky about the baby, the miscarriage.

Becky sat up on the bed. ‘So when did she leave? How old were you?’

‘Six. Nine years ago.’

‘You nearly had a little sister. Or brother, I suppose. They’d be about nine now. Weird, isn’t it?’

A nine-year-old little sister.

But she hadn’t stayed. Had taken flight.

Mia and Becky lay on the bed, listening to snippets of adult conversation drifting up the stairs.

‘What about Laura? And Kate?’ That was Alice’s voice. Mum.

Laughter spiralled up from the kitchen.

Annie, Will’s mother, said something about exams.

‘They can wait. That’s not the most important thing right now.’

Becky nudged her in the ribs. ‘Did you hear that? That must be a first for your dad. Blimey!’

The door pushed open slightly and the cat padded into Mia’s room. He stared up at them with his big round yellow eyes and then jumped on to the window sill. His jaw quivered involuntarily as he watched small birds hopping branch to branch on the tree.

‘Silly old Apple Pie! He won’t go out; it’s too cold and wet. The birds know. The garden’s covered in them this morning.’

‘So, when will your baby be born, Mia?’

‘May. I think. When you’re all doing GCSEs.’

‘But we’ll still be around. To see you and that. I’ll help you. It’ll be amazing, Mia. We’ll all help.’ Becky had her dreamy look again.

‘I guess.’

‘What about you and Will?’

‘I don’t know. It sort of feels like it’s nothing to do with him really. I know he’s the father and that, but it was my choice, wasn’t it, to keep the baby? I don’t expect him – well – it’s up to him to choose what he does, about the baby I mean. I don’t want to force him into anything. It wouldn’t work, would it?’

‘I suppose not. But he’s still its dad. You can’t change that. And kids need both parents.’ Becky flushed. ‘Sorry, Mia. But they do. Even if you had to do without your mum.’

‘She was there when I was really little. It was Dad who wasn’t at first really. You know, always at work or working at home, thinking about other things all the time, not us. That’s what Mum meant. That’s what the trouble was with them; what it was like for her, doing everything.’

‘Becks? Mia? Pizza’s ready!’ Becky’s mother called upstairs.

They sat up again. Becky looked around Mia’s bedroom critically. ‘We’ll have to do something about this room. You haven’t changed anything in here for years!’

‘Guess not. I can be your new project. You can re-design me, for your GCSE Textiles assignment. “Room for a teenage mother and baby.”’

‘Two rooms. Yours and a nursery. Stars on the ceiling, and a sort of watery theme: seaside, with shells and starfish and a frieze of little crabs going round the walls.’

‘Just one room actually. The baby will be with me. I’m not going to shove her off in another room all lonely-only.’

‘Or him.’

‘Well, yes, or him.’

‘You can find out, you know. In advance.’

‘I wouldn’t want to. That would spoil it. You know, the first meeting.’

‘We can think of names together! Make lists!’ Becky was getting excited again.

Mia laughed out loud. She hadn’t laughed like that for ages.

‘Let’s get our pizzas first.’