She turned to face the shops on the other side, closed up for the night. Lights from the flats above were dimmed by drapes or blinds, and no shadows passed the windows.
Glancing over her shoulder, she wondered if the upturned dinghy could be another option. The shingles surrounding it were damp but accessible. No boulders or slippery seaweed to cause obstruction in the dark. How easy it would be to sail away to wherever the tide decided.
A gust of wind caught her mousey hair, flicking a long strand close to her eye, making her blink. It was enough to get her moving her weary limbs.
Checking the street and the windows up high for signs of life, Beth took a calming breath. No one was about, so she headed over to the door beside the flower shop.
Archie was snuggled, unaware of his fate. He was her life now, and she loved every inch of him, but it wasn’t fair he had a mother who was broken. Perhaps if she just had one week to herself to sleep, she would be able to think clearly, not feel scared, and figure out what to do.
If I left him, would he die? Would I?
Heart palpitations took centre stage. The hand reaching towards his warm cheek shook, and not from lack of gloves. Beth could feel parts of her cracking under the strain of what, she couldn’t say. It was just torture. Day in, day out. How was she still standing? How was she still alive when the fear that ran through her daily felt like death was upon her? Nothing made sense. Nothing but one thing.
She leaned into the pram, pushing a note into the side of the mattress. ‘I’ll not be far, baby boy,’ she whispered. ‘I love you so much.’ Closing her eyes, she raised her face to the sky, taking a moment to just breathe.
Something clanked over by the boats, and Beth looked around her once more. She wasn’t sure how she raised her index finger to the doorbell and pressed it. She felt as though she’d left her body and it was functioning on its own, under its own steam. She sprinted across the road and dipped low behind the harbour wall.
Each second passing could have been hours. Beth could barely breathe. Then it happened. The street door opened, the backlight revealing golden copper-brown streaked hair.
Beth peeked from her hiding spot, knowing the lack of lamps where she shivered would keep her hidden.
Spencer had one arm around the back of his neck as he stepped out to the pavement searching the street. He looked in doorways, then over to the boats. Shaking his head, he dipped low to the pram, then called out, ‘Hello?’
Beth lowered.
Take him. Take him inside.
She closed her eyes, willing the man to do what she asked. Not one part of her said it would be for the best if she just popped up and explained her situation.
Another call filled the air, then silence.
Beth slowly raised her head just in time to see Spencer lift the pram and carry it up the stairs to his flat. She waited awhile, knowing he would appear again to close his front door.
He peered down the street once more, hands on hips, and Beth could only imagine the scowl on his face. After what seemed like forever, he went back indoors, closing his world on hers.
Beth slumped to the cold ground and stared out to sea. If God should strike her down, she hoped it would be with immediate effect.
Chapter 7
Spencer
Having just opened his laptop to browse through pictures of past events on the Sunshine Centre’s website to grab some inspiration for the kindness festival idea, the doorbell rang.
Spencer sighed to the ceiling. ‘Typical.’ He’d just got comfy as well, snuggling on the sofa, a hot chocolate to his side, and a blanket on his legs.
The idea to ignore the caller, knowing it wouldn’t be Lottie because she was still in Devon with Samuel, didn’t last long. It still could be important, so begrudgingly he got up, sliding into his navy slippers.
Plodding down the stairway while stretching his back, he yawned. Who on earth was knocking for him at gone nine o’clock at night?
It took two looks to register the pram on his doorstep, and even then he was sure he must be seeing things. Checking along the street for the owner, he called out, but no one answered.
Bags and boxes were often left of a night outside the charity shop, and someone had placed a box of non-perishable food items in front of the Hub one night. Maybe the pram had just rolled his way. Although, why the owner had rung his bell was anyone’s guess.
Spencer gazed in the pram, expecting to see such items. His jaw hung loose as he came face to face with a baby. An actual real-life baby.
What the hell!
It didn’t matter how many times he looked, nothing changed. A sleeping baby was in a pram on his doorstep and there was no sign of anyone else in the street.
