I first met Magda in SureLife’s cafeteria, a private fertility clinic a few miles out of Chester. James and I were attending due to multiple fertility problems. The clinic, owned and run by leading embryologist Doctor Hughes, is cutting edge and offers all the latest procedures. It also has a fertility support group attached to it which the clinic encourages patients to join. That’s where we first met Annette and Ron. Of course, Magda and Annette are still waiting for their child, and I can’t help thinking that, by having a baby, I’ve somehow broken the bond we once shared.
‘Are you going to tell her what else he said?’ Annette smirks, the psychic’s revelations clearly amusing her.
‘Why, what else did he say?’ I pick up my latte and take another sip, the bitter liquid turning cold as it slides down my throat.
Magda shoots Annette a look. ‘Erm… just that you need to be careful, Louisa.’
‘What do you mean, be careful?’ The card from earlier swims into my mind’s eye, the image of the stork stiffening my stomach muscles. Earlier, after putting the phone down on Magda, I dumped it into the outside bin, its presence in the house feeling almost demonic.
‘It’s probably nothing. You don’t believe in psychics after all,’ she says, clearing her throat.
‘Well, you do,’ I reply a little too firmly, my insides now turning themselves outwards. ‘Tell me what he said.’
She takes a deep breath. ‘He mentioned you, by name. Your friend Louisa is…’ She hesitates, her eyes flicking up into her head as if remembering.
‘What did he say, Magda?’
‘Louisa is in grave danger… Somebody is coming to take what they feel is rightly theirs.’
‘Look, I really have to go. I’ll see you both soon, all right?’ I take one last swig of cold coffee before reaching out for Cory, pins and needles working their way down my arms and into my fingertips.
‘But we haven’t even eaten.’ Magda looks genuinely upset as she passes Cory over to me. ‘You’re not worried, are you? Claudio is often wrong. I wouldn’t think too much of it.’
‘No, it’s not that.’ I place Cory into his pram, the coffee shop suddenly too stuffy, the air close enough to choke on. What was I thinking? The place is probably littered with germs, no place at all for a newborn. ‘I, erm, I just remembered that James wanted us to go somewhere. Look, I’m sorry – enjoy your lunch, dinner, whatever it is you’re having.’ I look down at my watch. How is it even four o’clock already?
‘Okay, sweetie, I’ll call you later.’
I gulp for air as I exit the coffee shop, the high street now littered with shoppers, all racing around like an army of ants who have lost their leader. I fight my way through them, keeping my head bowed, adrenaline snaking its way through my veins and making me dizzy. Dusk is already beginning to creep around the edges of Chester, the thatched roofs of the city’s original Tudor buildings blurring against an iron sky. Tears prick the backs of my eyes as I struggle to push the Silver Cross pram back down the cobbled street, my stomach dipping in sync with the pram’s suspension.
I try to tell myself I am being ridiculous. That no person in their right mind would believe the ramblings of a woman with multicoloured hair and a Spanish spirit guide. But as much as I tell myself to stop being ridiculous, I can’t seem to loosen the feeling of impending doom which coils around my insides. After all, somebody is trying to frighten me, whether him or a sick bastard who knows what happened nine months ago. Realistically I know it can’t be who I think it is. He doesn’t even know where we live, doesn’t know very much about me at all. And yet, what other explanation is there? Who else would want to hurt me in this way?
I know I need to confess everything to James. Even though I promised myself I never would.
I reach Town Hall Square, which is heaving with people, the annual Christmas markets pulling them in in droves. Surrounding the masses, wooden sheds, dressed from head to toe in festive attire, offer up European feasts. The sweet aroma of hot sugary waffles collides in the air with spicy Bratwurst, the fruity tang of mulled wine rekindling memories of Christmases I’d rather forget. Claustrophobia claws at my insides as I fight my way through the crowd. I keep my eyes buried into the floor, the ground a stampede of shoes and boots, some flat and bulky, others pointy with scuffed toes. Cory starts to cry and thrash around under his quilted pram cover. Quickly checking my watch, I realise it is now four-thirty and I haven’t brought his five o’clock feed with me. I zigzag the pram from left to right, trapped in a mass of bobble hats and fur-lined anoraks, the bulky pram wheels clipping the back of worn-down Ugg boots and flattening plastic cups that litter the floor.
‘Watch it, will you, love!’
‘Sorry.’
‘Nice baby you have there.’
I spin my head around, my lungs emptying of air as I take in the man’s facial features. Steely blue eyes pin me to the spot, a flash of orange hair poking out from underneath his hooded top. ‘What did you just say to me?’
He doesn’t reply.
I attempt to dodge past him but he sticks his filthy trainer out under the front pram wheel, blocking my path. ‘Are you all right? You don’t look very well.’ He laughs, his hand reaching into the pram, his spindly fingertips now inches away from Cory’s face. ‘Let me take the baby. You aren’t very well.’
I feel my legs buckle underneath me, his words too much for my mind to process. As my head connects with the cold, hard floor, I hear his parting words. ‘He’s mine, Louisa!’
CHAPTER TEN
Louisa
Then
‘Get off him, he’s mine!’
I snatch Timmy out of Paula’s hands and hold him tightly against my chest. His brown hair has something sticky in it like toffee and somebody has scribbled on his tummy in pink felt-tip.
‘Louisa, you know it’s not nice to snatch. I was only going to show you how to dress him properly.’ Paula smiles at me but there’s a bit of red lipstick on her top tooth which reminds me of blood. She’s still holding Timmy’s dungarees and I want to snatch them too because I’m worried he might be getting cold.
I don’t know why Bill and Bernie keep bringing me to see Paula. She looks like a clown and her room always smells of ginger biscuits, which is what Sam Butterworth says I am. The toys here are pretty cool though, especially Timmy. When I first became his mummy, Paula gave me a little bottle and asked if I’d like to feed him. I was really excited at first but then he started to cry which made me sad. I think the water was too hot for him, like the water which melted Esther. I stuffed the bottle into my coat pocket when Paula wasn’t looking and hid it under my bed at home. Well, it’s not my real home, not the one I lived in with Mummy. It’s another home with people called Bill and Bernie and their big fat cat, Arthur. Bill says he’s a greedy little blighter but he still gives him bits of chicken when Bernie isn’t looking. He winks at me when he does it and says it’s our little secret.
Sometimes, when Timmy is having a sleep, I play with the kitchen in the corner. The food isn’t real but I still like to pretend it is. My favourite is the beans, which all stick together, and the tomato sauce bottle. I don’t like the toaster or the white piece of bread which goes in it though. It makes me feel all sick inside my tummy so I hide it in the oven.
‘Hey, look what I have here.’ Paula puts her hands behind her back and widens her eyes. I wonder if there’s enough time to grab Timmy’s dungarees from in between her legs but just as I’m thinking it her hands reappear back in front of her. In each hand is a doll, one big and one small. The big doll has beautiful blonde hair and long legs the colour of a hotdog. The small one is ugly because she has ginger hair which is disgusting. ‘Do you think you’d like to play with them, Louisa?’ Paula holds them out towards me, her brightly coloured orange fingernails digging into their skin.
I shrug my shoulders and look down at the carpet. ‘Is the big one the mummy?’
‘If you’d like her to be.’
Happiness fizzes inside of me and I look back up to where Paula is still smiling. ‘You mean if I’d like her to be a mummy then she can be a mummy?’