Soulless

Soulless
Claudia Evelyn returned home, her purse clutched tightly under her arm, a faint scent of hair spray lingering in the air.
Despite her respectable ageshed just celebrated her sixty-eighth birthdayshe indulged in frequent visits to her hairdresser.
Claudia had her hair tidied, nails buffed, and those modest treats kept her spirits lively, her mood light.
Claudie, some relative dropped by while you were out, her husband, George, informed her, settling himself into his armchair.
I told her youd be back later.
She said shed try again.
What relative?
I havent any left, Claudia scoffed, her tone as sharp as a fresh manicure.
Probably some distant cousin, coming to ask for something.
You shouldve told her Im off in the wilds of Scotland.
George frowned at her.
Why lie?
She seemed from your sidetall, dignified, reminded me of your mother, bless her soul.
I dont think she wants anything.
She was well-spoken, dressed smartly.
About forty minutes later, the doorbell rang.
Claudia opened it herself.
The woman standing before her truly did resemble her late motherimpeccably dressed: a crisp wool coat, leather boots, gloves, tiny diamond earrings that caught Claudias practiced eye.
Claudia invited her to the dining table, already set with tea and scones.
Well, if were family, lets properly introduce ourselves.
Im Claudia, no need for formality, I see we’re close in age.
This is my husband, George.
How exactly are you related? Claudia asked, her curiosity tinged with suspicion.
The woman faltered briefly, cheeks flushed.
Im Grace Grace Victoria.
Theres not much of an age gap.
I turned fifty on June twelfth.
Does that date mean anything?
Claudias complexion drained of color.
Oh, you remember, Grace said, quietly.
Yes, Im your daughter.
Dont worry, I havent come to ask for anything.
I simply wanted to see my birth mother.
I spent my life not understanding why Mum didnt love me.
The truth is, shes been gone eight years.
Dad was the only one who cared.
He passed just recently, two months ago.
He told me about you in the end, asked me to forgive, if Im able, Grace told her, voice trembling.
What on earth?
You have a daughter? George blurted out, dumbfounded.
Well, evidently so.
Ill explain later, Claudia replied curtly.
So youre my child?
Lovely.
You’ve seen me, then?
If youre waiting for me to be sorry or beg forgiveness, youre mistaken.
None of this is my fault, Claudia said coldly.
I hope your father told you everything.
If you expect maternal feelings from me, there arent anysorry.
Graces tone was meek.
May I see you again?
I live nearby, just outside London.
We have a big two-storey housedo come with George, if you like.
Perhaps youll get used to the idea that I exist.
I brought photos of your grandson, your great-granddaughter, maybe youd care to look?
No.
I dont want that.
Dont visit again.
Forget about me.
Goodbye, Claudia snapped.
George called a taxi for Grace and went out to see her off.
When he returned, Claudia had already cleared the table and was watching television, serene as ever.
Your composure is astonishing!
You could run an army.
Do you truly have no soul at all?
I always suspected you were cold, but never to this degree, George admonished.
Claudia looked at him, unruffled.
We met when I was twenty-eight, didnt we?
Well, dear, my soul was taken and trampled long before then.
I was a country girl, always dreaming of escape.
I worked hard, got into universitythe only one from my class.
When I was seventeen, I met Victor.
I loved him madly.
He was nearly twelve years older, but I didnt mind.
After my impoverished childhood, life in the city where I studied felt enchanted.
My grant barely covered anything.
I was forever hungry, so I gladly accepted Victors offers of cafes and ice creams.
He never promised me anything, but I was suregiven our lovethat hed marry me.
One evening he invited me to his familys cottage.
I went without hesitation, convinced that our bond was secure now.
The cottage meetings became routine.
Soon it was obviousI’d befriended too closely, and would bear his child.
I told Victor.
He was overjoyed.
Knowing my condition would soon show, I asked when wed marry.
Id turned eighteen; we could wed legally.
Did I ever promise to marry you? Victor replied, calmly.
No, and I wont.
In fact, Im already married he continued, just as casually.
What about our child?
What about me?
Youre young, healthy.
They could sculpt a statue of you.
Take academic leave at university.
Study while you can, later youll come stay with me and my wife.
Weve never been able to have childrenperhaps due to her age.
When you give birth, well take the baby.
How its managed isnt your concern.
I have influence with the council.
My wife heads a hospital department.
You neednt worry about the child.
After delivery, rest and return to university.
Well even pay you.
Back then no one spoke of surrogate motherhood.
I must have been the only surrogate mother at the time.
What else could I do?
Return to the village and shame my family?
I lived in their home until birth.
Victors wife never addressed meperhaps she was jealous.
I had the baby at their house, with a midwife.
The infanta girlwas taken immediately, never breastfed, and I never saw her again.
A week later, I was politely sent off, Victor gave me money.
Returned to university.
Then to a factory job.
Got a room in the married dormitory.
Worked my way up from master to senior quality control manager.
I had many friends but no one proposed, until you, George.
I was twenty-eight by then, neither eager nor reluctant, but it was necessary.
You know the rest.
Weve lived wellthree cars, a house full of comforts, a neat garden.
Holidays every year.
Our factory survived the nineties because our section made tractor parts no one else did.
Still surrounded by barbed wire and watchtowers.
We took early retirement.
We have everything.
No childrenand none needed.
Seeing the sort of children people have nowadays Claudia concluded, her confession heavy.
We havent lived well at all.
I loved youalways tried to warm your heart, but failed.
Fine, no children, but youve never shown mercy to a kitten, let alone a dog.
My sister asked for help with her nieceyou wouldn’t even let her stay a week.
Today your daughter came.
Your own bloodand you If we were younger, Id divorce you, but its too late now.
Living with you is like being next to an icebergfreezing, George replied, his anger raw.
Claudia flinched; George had never spoken so sharply.
Her peaceful existence had been shattered by her daughter.
George moved out to the garden cottage.
For years now hes lived there, surrounded by three dogsa collection of abandoned puppiesand countless stray cats.
He rarely comes home.
Claudia knows he visits her daughter Grace, befriended everyone, doting on his great-granddaughter.
He was always softhearted.
Let him do as he pleases, Claudia thinks.
Her urge to meet Grace, her grandson, or great-granddaughter never surfaced.
She travels alone to the seaside, unwinding, rebuilding her strength, feeling perfect.