In later years, I read all I could on denial of pregnancy, from dry scientific papers to sensational tabloid articles, and all the parenting forums in between. It happens in around one in four hundred pregnancies, and sometimes persists right up until delivery. The underlying causes are poorly understood, but the only doctor I ever discussed it with told me that mine was a classic case: isolated from friends and family, surrounded by people wrapped up in their own problems, at a stage of life not compatible with rearing a child. The fact that I was taking thecontraceptive pill, and that I’m tall and gained weight all over without a distinct bump, made its persistence all the more possible.
I lost all track of time on those hard bathroom tiles. Sometimes curled on my side, sometimes crouched on all fours, alternating between intense contractions of muscle and pauses for gasping in more oxygen. My mind surrendered to my body, and my body knew exactly what to do. A scream filled the room as I pushed the child out of me, and some period of time later it occurred to me that the noise must have come from my own throat. I opened my eyes. The tiny infant lay motionless in the corner under the sink, a blue tinge to its skin, the cord between us pulsing feebly.
A faint noise in the background had barely registered in my consciousness, but suddenly, a voice outside the door snapped me out of my stupor.
“Laura? Are you all right in there?”
It was Dominic. I tried to sit up, but my hand slipped on the tiles. Pain shot through my elbow. The door handle creaked.
“Bloody hell.” For a moment he filled the doorway. Then he was on his knees, bending over the baby, clearing slime from its nose and mouth. He rubbed it with the hand towel.
“Come on. Come on.”
A wet splutter came from the tiny body, followed by a wheezing sound. The blue sheen faded as it filled its lungs with air.
Dominic cradled it against his chest and stared at me. “Is it mine?”
I closed my eyes. I nodded.
I was vaguely aware of him scuffling and murmuring, but was jolted awake again by something bumping my side. Dominic leaned against my arm, pressing the baby onto my T-shirt.
“He’s hungry. You need to feed him.”
Despite my reluctance and the baby’s feeble appearance, someshared primeval instinct helped him achieve a few minutes of sucking. Dominic retrieved Ruth’s birth kit from the day nursery and cut the cord. All I could think about was my suitcase and my escape route, but when I finally looked at Dominic’s face, I was surprised to see no anger there. His eyes glistened as he gazed at the infant.
“My son,” he said.
As soon as the baby relaxed into sleep, I pulled my T-shirt down and pushed him into Dominic’s arms, sliding away across the floor to put a gap between us.
“I can’t,” I said.
Dominic stroked the baby’s head, and his voice was soft, entranced. “It’s okay. He can stay here. He’s Edwin and Seraphine’s brother. He belongs here at Summerbourne.”
I stared at him. “But Ruth...”
“It’s not up to Ruth. He’s my son. He’ll stay here.”
I looked at the spindly limbs and wrinkled skin; the vulnerability of this tiny child.
I shook my head. “I can’t.”
But Dominic’s eyes were glowing now, and he smiled as he rewrapped the baby in a clean towel.
“Ruth’ll be upset, I know, but we’ll work something out. We can tell people the truth if she wants to, but she probably won’t want to. Better to tell everyone we had twins again. It’s what everyone wanted, what we all hoped for.”
My thoughts were jumbled. Upset? Ruth would be incandescent. I tried to picture her absorbing the news, examining the evidence, realizing just how extensive my betrayal of her had really been. I curled over on the tiled floor, clutching my abdomen. Deep at the back of my mind, I held on to my flimsy guarantee of protection, the one defense I had against Ruth:I knew her secret. She wouldn’t lose sight of that fact. If I had noother way out, I could tell Dominic in a matter of seconds that Seraphine wasn’t his.
Dominic managed to tear his gaze from the baby to scrutinize me. “Take a shower, Laura. Get cleaned up. Ruth’s upstairs having a nap while Seraphine sleeps. I’m going to nip to the station to catch Vera in a bit—she’s coming for lunch; she has no idea yet. I’ll take Edwin with me and give her the good news.” He smiled down at the baby again. “You know, I might just tell her we had two, and then when we get back I’ll explain it all to Ruth. She’ll understand it’s the best way. We’ll sort it out.”
I groaned as a spasm seized my abdomen.
“Afterpains,” he said. “Have you got some painkillers? When you’re ready, I’ll get a taxi to take you straight back to your mum’s. You can sleep on the way. By tonight, you’ll be tucked up in your own bed, and this’ll all be behind you.” He gazed down at the baby again. “Come on, my little summerborn boy.” But in the doorway he hesitated, looked back at me. “Do you want to give him a name?”
I shivered. There was a name I had always thought I would use if I ever had a son.
“Danny,” I said.
Dominic released a breath. “Danny. Daniel. I like it.” He seemed to forget where he was for a moment, gazing down at the baby, cupping the tiny head in his hand. “Hey, little boy. This is your home, Danny. You’re going to grow up here with your brother and sister, and you’re going to be very happy. Aren’t you?” He kissed the baby’s forehead, then turned to me, blinking. “Get dressed. I’ll get some clothes on this one, and put him in the bassinet in the day nursery for now. I’ll talk to Ruth when we get back.”
