‘Hi, Nic,’ Penni says, her voice hesitant.
Nicola’s throat tightens. She juts her chin. ‘Hi.’ She steps back. ‘Come in before you freeze.’
They shuffle past her, brushing damp against her sleeves, wafting expensive perfume and aftershave that Nicola doesn’t recognise.
Penny and Paul live in Whitby. It’s only a forty-five-minute drive away, but it may as well be the moon. She’s never been invited into their home, but she snooped on Rightmove to see that it’s a beautiful, detached period cottage overlooking the sea. Because of course it is.
Nicola follows them into her tiny lounge and closes the window. It still reeks of cigarettes, and now it’s freezing too. She sees the room as they must see it – depressing.
Silence stretches.
‘Do you want tea?’ Nicola asks. She knows she sounds surly, but she doesn’t know how to be hospitable to the pair of them. Beneath her skin, bitterness swirls.
‘I’m fine,’ Penni replies. She exchanges a glance with Paul, who waves away the offer.
Nicola gestures to the sofa where they both sit gingerly. She’s now glad she covered up the coffee stains with the throw.
Penni draws in a shaky breath before she speaks, voice wavering: ‘Nic, I can’t have children. It’s official.’
The sentence lands like a brick. Nicola freezes. She’s heard the facts once before in a teary phone conversation from Penni – abdominal trauma that led to the development of scar tissue and adhesions, blocked tubes. But hearing it again, face to face, cuts her. Her fists clench.
Penni presses both hands to her belly. ‘There’s nothing we can do.’
Paul’s jaw twitches. ‘We wondered... we’d... like to ask something...’ He shifts in his seat, hands still shoved into his coat pockets. ‘Would you have a child for Penni? For us.’
Nicola’s pulse stutters. She laughs, a metallic sound. ‘You want me to have a baby? For you?’
Penni nods, eyes brimming. ‘I know it’s huge. I know you’re struggling. We’ll cover all the expenses.’
Nicola’s gaze slides from Penni’s teary face to Paul’s hopeful tilt. The rundown flat feels smaller than ever.
Nicola imagines herself pregnant. Imagines herself handing the child to her sister and Paul. Imagines the empty feeling after they leave. The stretchmarks and postnatal slump. ‘No, I’m sorry. I really am. But I can’t have a baby for you. It’s just... too much. I work cleaning offices. It’s a physical job. What if I get morning sickness, or some other complications?’
‘I know it’s a lot to ask,’ Penni acknowledges. ‘But you’re our only hope of having a child that would be genetically ours. We’d make sure you were looked after.’
Nicola breaks eye contact and shakes her head. The reason Penni can’t have children is because she fell out of that tree, and it was Nicola’s fault she was up there in the first place. Okay, it was an accident, but it was still her fault. Penni and Paul don’t say as much, but the accusation is there in the room with them, mingling with the stale smoke and damp air.
‘I don’t know if this helps,’ Paul says, ‘but we’re willing to pay you a substantial amount of money.’
Penni’s cheeks flush at his offer. They must have talked about it beforehand, but it’s clear they both find it distasteful to bring up. Nicola’s heart beats a little faster. This might change things. Big money like that would never normally come her way. Her life has been a relentless struggle, a slow slide; maybe this is the rope to haul herself up with.
‘How much are you talking about?’ she asks, knowing how mercenary she must sound, but unable to phrase it any other way.
‘Enough to set you up with a nice flat of your own,’ Paul replies.
‘Okay.’ Nicola swallows. ‘I’ll think about it.’
Penni’s features light up with a fragile hope. ‘Really?’
Nicola doesn’t respond. Just gives her sister an irritated glare that’s shorthand for ‘yes’.
‘Thank you, Nic.’
Nicola nods, letting the words settle between them, realising that everything is about to change.
Chapter Ten
‘I can’t believe you’re doing this, Nic!’ Penni’s voice cracks, the last consonant jagged, as she stands by the side of the hospital bed. Her arms are folded, fingernails digging angry half-moons into her skin, tears streaking her face.
