The Faux Child

I remember working at a little health resort near Bath, the one you could only reach by the old steamtrain that chugged through the countryside. The commute was exhausting, but the pay was decent and the hours let me combine the job with my parttime nursery work. In summer the journey was tolerable, but in winter the darkness made the walk to the station feel ominous few people about, the old garages looming, and the cold seeping through my battered boots.

That night a hulking black Land Rover pulled up right beside the platform. The window rolled down and a man with a thick, bristly beard leaned out and asked, Fancy a lift, love?

I had never thought of myself as a beauty, and under different circumstances his cheeky tone might have flattered me. My feet were numb, my nose ran, and I still had seven minutes before the next train. More than anything I wanted to be inside a warm, firelit house. I pictured the halfhour ride on the train, the dash to the nursery, a quick stop at the shop, then home to stoke the coal stove and whip up dinner. There was little time for chatter, so I answered in the same playful spirit, Oh, youve got me all dazzled, havent you?

I stepped onto the frosthardened path. The Land Rover sped past, swerved back, and a different man cleanshaven, tall and solid leapt out, caught me by the arm and ushered me into the back seat.

The bearded fellow, his grin wide, called over the engine, You caught my eye, so youll join me for supper.

It didnt take long for me to see that he was heavily inebriated and not accustomed to being turned down. I burst into tears, pleading, Please let me go, my daughters waiting! Im thirtytwo, plain as a churchyard stone, and I cant hold a conversation to save my life. Im not even wearing a proper coat my neighbour lent me a fur that hides an old sweater and trousers. What would you serve for dinner?

The brutish driver, who had lifted me in, leaned toward the bearded man and whispered something. The beardman shook his head and said, Fine, dont sob. Im taking you back from the resort; didnt you see your cardigan? You look just like my mother, and she always dreamed of being invited to a proper restaurant. Come on, dont be stubborn. Want me to buy you a dress?

I just want to go home, I hiccuped. I have to fetch my daughter.

How old is she? he asked.

Four, I answered.

And the father?

Hes gone.

What? Hes gone? Should I go to another old woman? he pressed.

No, I said. His mother kept saying the child isnt real. We did IVF he agreed at first, then she claimed such children have no souls. Hes a good man, but hes easily swayed, so Ive taken to protecting my exhusband.

The bearded man nodded slowly. A notreal child, then. All right, lets go. Tell me where your nursery is, or whatever its called. Vinnie, drive.

I sank into the seat, my mind racing for an escape plan. It was clear the bearded man wouldnt simply let me off. My only hope lay with the hulking driver, who had given me a sympathetic glance.

When we arrived at the nursery, the caretaker and a cluster of parents who were bundling their children in cosy snowsuits fell silent and stared at me. Theyd never seen me in such a crowd before. My little girl, Poppy, however, was unperturbed. She immediately asked whether the bearded man was Santa Claus and whether anyone had seen her father. Shed been asking about him ever since, and Id grown used to it, never feeling embarrassed. When we got into the car, Poppy was fascinated by the steering wheel and declared she could drive herself.

The bearded man laughed, What a funny little thing. And you say youre notreal. Fancy some icecream?

I do! Poppy squealed.

We stopped at a roadside icecream parlour, then made our way to a supermarket where the bearded fellow filled a basket with oddities salted fish, exotic fruit, blueveined cheese. I would have preferred chicken and pasta, but a gift is a gift.

They dropped us straight at our doorstep, and the bearded man, now a touch sober, asked for tea. While I tended the stove, he stared wideeyed and remarked, I thought Id had a rough childhood Do you really have a toilet out in the garden?

Indeed, I chuckled.

By then I no longer feared him; he was merely foolish. His aide, a goodnatured lad, had slipped some milk, bread, proper cheese and childrens curds into the basket. Perhaps he had his own little ones at home.

After the unwanted visitors finally left, a wave of tears broke over me. I wept for my daughter, my heart aching as it had since the day my husband packed his bags and returned to his mothers house, leaving me heavily pregnant in our freshly bought cottage. He had said the child might be notreal, yet the house should stay ours.

The next morning, the same Land Rover waited outside the resort. The bearded man was gone; only his driver, Vinnie, remained.

Hop in, he said. Ill take you back to town.

Why? I asked. Do you think I look like your mother?

Enough of that, Vinnie snapped, offended. Im heading that way anyway, thought Id give you a lift.

Fine, I sighed. Wheres your boss?

Hes taking a nap. Dont be angry; hes alright. Yesterday was his mothers birthday if she were still alive, that is. He doesnt drink.

I merely nodded; it mattered little. I got in.

We rode in silence at first Vinnie wasnt much for conversation. Eventually he asked, Is the child really from a testtube?

Indeed, I replied.

Crazy, what people come up with, he muttered. Do you have any kids of your own?

No. Ive three younger siblings; theyve taken all my brain. One is enough for me.

Exactly, I agreed.

Poppy delighted in the car and begged to go back to the icecream shop.

I cant afford that, I said, feeling the sting of my modest wages.

Come on, Ill treat you, Vinnie offered, waving his hand.

On the way back Poppy fell asleep. When I fretted about how to lift her from the seat, Vinnie scooped her up and carried her toward the house.

What a light little thing, he remarked, and hardly a bother at all.

A few days passed without seeing Vinnie, until I again spotted a Land Rover, this time with a bearded driver.

Victor, he introduced himself, apologising for his earlier drunkenness. Id truly like to invite you to dinner at a proper restaurant, at your convenience.

At first I wanted to decline, but then I thought, why not? I could find a dress. The only problem was who to leave Poppy with.

Vinnie stepped forward. I can watch her.

Leaving a child with a stranger felt uneasy, yet Vinnies calm gave me a sliver of confidence. I suggested we take Poppy to the playroom, which would keep her occupied and ease my mind.

The dinner turned out to be amusing. Victor was chatty and a touch selfabsorbed, yet he possessed a certain charm. I hadnt felt like a woman in ages. When he suggested we attend an art exhibition the following week, I accepted.

Poppy loved both the playroom and Vinnies company. When he brought home a bag of groceries, I felt a pang of guilt for accepting too much help. These are from Victor, he said.

The parcels kept arriving every few days. I struggled to find the right words should I thank Victor, or refuse, since I earned a decent wage and could manage a loaf and butter? Still, Victor seemed to enjoy courting me, taking me to restaurants and cultural events whenever his busy schedule allowed. Vinnie, in turn, became an unofficial babysitter, and everyone seemed content.

One evening Vinnie whispered, Victors fallen for you. He even talked about marriage. The child scares him its still his.

His words struck a nerve. Marry me? I snapped. Im not interested in a rich man.

What do you need then? he pressed.

I shrugged, recalling my exhusband I certainly didnt want another one.

I dont know, I admitted honestly.

Suddenly Vinnie lunged, pressed his lips to mine. I flinched back, and he turned as red as a beet, stammering, Im sorry I dont know what Im doing then fled. I never quite understood whether I had felt relief or dread it was a bewildering moment, and I wondered how to act around him now.

The next day Poppy fell ill with a high fever. I had to take a sick note, something the resort frowned upon. Victor was disappointed; we had tickets to a theatre that night.

Maybe Vinnie can sit with her? I suggested.

What if she catches something? Victor replied, hesitant.

Ill go, I said, though I wasnt sure why I agreed. The tickets were pricey, and I didnt want them to go to waste, yet by evening Poppys condition improved. I bought a new, slightly daring dress, feeling a blush of embarrassment. At the theatre I struggled to find a seat, my thoughts always drifting back to my daughter. When Victor spoke of a skiresort holiday, I stopped him.

Listen, you buy me groceries and theatre tickets, thats generous. But I wont go on a holiday at your expense.

What groceries? he asked, confused.

The ones Vinnie brings, I replied. Hes a good soul. My mother loved skiing; perhaps someone else could take her there.

A sudden clarity washed over me. I took Victors hands and said, Your mother would have been proud of you, Im sure. But you dont need to prove anything. Find someone you truly love, build your own circle. No matter how you dress, Ill always be myself, just as your mother would have wanted. And I think I love someone else now.

Victors eyes welled up; he felt hurt, claiming he never understood women. Yet he drove me home and told Vinnie hed go his own way.

Poppy slept curled up with a stuffed bear Vinnie had given her. Vinnie dozed in his seat. I tiptoed over, leaned down, and pressed a gentle kiss on his lips. He woke, bewildered, and Poppy giggled, You ran off too fast yesterday. I didnt expect it. It scared me, you know? She kissed him again, and for that moment none of us were afraid.