Read The Baby for Free Online

on to hangers, to keep the carpet clear for the trek from bed to Moses basket in the middle of the night, which happens every other hour. Five weeks ago, Nicola didn’t know what a dawn chorus was. Now she hears the birds come to life outside her bedroom window every morning with a sense of doom that the night is almost over and she’s had exactly two hours sleep.
    She crumples her fists on her quilt. There are milk marks on her hoody and small splatters of an unidentifiable liquid, possibly baby sick, maybe more milk, on the thighs of her leggings. The same leggings that she’s been wearing now forthe best part of a month.
    She closes her eyes. Who bloody cares what’s she’s wearing? She’s so tired she doesn’t give a toss. The way she’s feeling right now, she’d happily wander round in nothing but a sleeping bag, so long as it meant she could sleep when she wanted.
    Her mum straightens her quilt cover, scowling.
    A small whimper and a starfish flash of fingers coming from the Moses basket catches Nicola’s eye. It makes her jump. She feels a cocktail of emotions tug at her insides, a mixture of fear and pride mingled with a horrible tiredness; it’s as much as she can do to turn her head.
    The baby. Eliza. The name chosen after a session on the internet with Ben because it means joyful. The most gorgeous curled up, pink creature you could ever imagine. Feather-soft. Papery, drawn-up thighs. Tiny shell fingernails. Delicate fingers which flash open and curl closed and move around even when she’s asleep. She might play the piano when she’s older.
    But also the greediest guzzler of time and energy that can possibly exist. Nicola feels like a shell. An empty, sucked-out shell with nothing better to do than shift around listlessly, waiting for the noisy demands of this beautiful creature.
    She’s had so many people ask her how she feels, so many questions … Are you pleased you had her? Do you want to give her up for adoption? Can you cope? Are you getting enough sleep? Are you safe to look after her on your own? Have you got help at home? What about school? What aboutafter school? What about your ambitions to work for Versace? Have you got enough money for nappies? Will you be applying for benefits? Where will she sleep? Are you sure you can cope? Are you sure you don’t want to give her up for adoption? Where’s the father?
    Social workers, midwives, health visitors, teachers from her school. But she doesn’t really know how to answer. How can she possibly describe the raw emotions drifting around?
    That’s why she spent so long in hospital. Nobody dared let her out. Nobody was prepared at home for a start. Her mum – and there’s only her mum, her dad left when she was a baby – works as a dinner lady at the local primary school, and then helps out at the after-school club every day. She can’t take time off work. She needs the money – more than ever now, as she’s told Nicola five hundred and eighty times since Eliza’s birth.
    The message is loud and clear: there is no time or money for this baby.
    Her mum, now satisfied with the quick tidy-up of her room, purses her lips and her eyebrows knot together. She nods to the stairs where Alice must be waiting. ‘She’s a bit strange, isn’t she? And why does she keep coming? Why not Olivia?’
    â€˜Shh, Mum, she’ll hear.’ Nicola pulls lank hair off her face. It’s gross. I really need a shower . ‘She’s sweet. She’s just a bit interested at the moment. You know what she’s like. Gets a bit obsessed with things … Anyway, she helps. She changed a nappy and helped with Eliza’s bath yesterday. It’s nice to have someone to talk to.’ It sounds sad. She knows that. It’s horrid and hurtful how almost everyone’s abandoned her.
    Her mum frowns at the doorway. ‘But I don’t understand why