I feed Willow in the taxi and she falls into an open-mouthed sleep. I have nothing other than my handbag. No nappies. No clothes. At least I have milk, and judging by how sore my breasts are, more milk is coming in. All in all, it could be worse.
When we pull up, I half-expect Rose to be standing there, her faux concern pasted onto her face, ready to launch into a speech about how this kind of behaviour is exactly why I can’t be a mother to this baby. Maybe she’s right. Still, I’m delighted to find that she isn’t here. For once, it seems, I’m one step ahead of Rose.
I ask the driver to let us out at the back of the library. My plan is ill-thought out at best. I’m not even sure it is a plan. All I know is that I have to call Wally. I have to tell him he is the father of my baby. Even if he is upset with me for not telling him, he will surely help me figure out the right thing to do. I know now that the right thing is not to leave my baby in Rose’s care.
I let myself into the library through the back door. It’s quiet inside, so I manage to make my way down the muted, carpeted hallway without being noticed. Through the opaque glass window, I can see people moving about in the staffroom, and I hear Trevor’s high-pitched, irritating laugh. I can’t chance going across the library to the secret cupboard, so instead go through the vestibule and into the bathrooms. Inside, I enter a cubical and sit on the closed toilet, resting Willow on my knees while I retrieve my phone. I have fifteen per cent battery left, which is astonishing to see – normally, I don’t let it get below ninety per cent, but I didn’t have my phone charger at the hospital. Still, fifteen per cent is all I need. I search for Wally’s number and that’s when I notice. No service.
‘Shit!’ I say. A baby noise bubbles from Willow, a squawk of sorts, as if in solidarity with me.
‘Fern? Is that you?’
I freeze, inside the cubicle. It’s Carmel’s voice.
‘It is you!’ she says, after a minute. ‘I recognise your shoes.’
I look down at my shoes – sequined silver sneakers that are unlikely to belong to anyone else at the library.
‘Are you alone?’ I ask.
‘Yes. It’s just me.’
I open the door. Carmel opens her mouth as if to say something but then she sees Willow. She sucks in a breath. ‘You had your baby!’
‘Yes.’ I smile down at her, wriggling in my arms.
Carmel creeps closer. ‘A girl?’
I nod.
Carmel’s hand goes to her heart. ‘She’s beautiful, just beautiful, Fern.’ She’s smiling, but suddenly her expression becomes concerned. ‘But why aren’t you in the hospital?’
My smile falls away.
‘What is it, Fern? Is everything all right?’
‘Rose wants to take my baby away from me.’
‘No,’ she says. ‘That’s ridiculous. She wouldn’t.’
‘The thing is . . . I agreed to it. I thought the baby would be better off with her. But . . . I’ve changed my mind.’
Carmel listens to me intently, her face full of concern. It’s the first time anyone has listened to me intently in a very long time. I feel unexpectedly teary. ‘Have you told your sister this?’
I shake my head. ‘Rose has a way of getting what she wants.’
‘Ah,’ Carmel says. ‘I too have a sister.’
We look at each other for a moment and I have a strange feeling. Like an understanding travelling between us. It’s nice.
‘So, what is your plan?’ Carmel asks.
‘I need to call Wally. I think he can help. But there’s no reception in here.’
‘Then we must find reception,’ Carmel says determinedly. ‘The library is quiet right now. Keep your head down and no-one will pay you any attention.’
Carmel checks that the coast is clear and then we head through the vestibule. Gripping Willow tightly, I push the door onto the library floor open. By the time I see the uniforms, it’s too late to turn around. They’ve already seen me.
‘Now,’ Carmel says, standing between them and us. ‘I really don’t think this is necessary–’
I don’t hear the end of Carmel’s statement as I have started to run. I don’t get far. A policewoman catches up to me as I reach the side door. She doesn’t grab me, perhaps because of the baby in my arms, but she uses her body to block me into a corner. If I were willing to let go of Willow, I could have taken her down with a hip throw. But I’m not.
‘We’ve spoken to your sister,’ the policewoman says. ‘You need to give us the baby. We’ll take good care of her, I promise . . .’
She reaches for the baby and I rear back, twisting away from her. It startles Willow and she starts to cry. I’m considering knocking the policewoman down with a leg sweep when I see someone standing at the front desk at the other end of the library.
Rose.
It’s Gayle at the desk, and she doesn’t appear to be giving Rose a satisfactory answer, because Rose slams her hand against the desk. Then she glances around wildly. When we finally lock eyes, for a moment I think I must have mistaken someone else for her. She looks different. She looks . . . like a madwoman.
‘Give her to me!’ she cries, running toward me. I hold Willow closer, knitting my fingers together. Breast milk saturates my chest.
‘Ma’am, I really need you to give me the baby,’ the police-woman says again.
I turn away from her, and from Rose.
