‘Wally, I have to tell you something,’ I say when I realise I can’t wait a moment longer to tell him.
His gaze slides from over my shoulder to meet my eye. It calms me. ‘What is it?’
‘The baby is yours,’ I tell him.
He closes his eyes and drops his chin to his chest. He is silent for so long I wonder if he hasn’t heard me. But when he lifts his head, his face is covered in tears.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I wanted to. I should have. But I didn’t think I was capable of raising a baby . . . you know, after what happened with Billy. And you . . . you said you didn’t want a baby.’
‘I did say that, didn’t I? I don’t know why. I guess because it was a theoretical answer. I enjoy answering theoretical questions. But if you’d told me you wanted a baby . . . or that you were pregnant . . . I promise you would have got a very different answer.’
‘I would?’
He nods. I feel something, actually feel it, shift inside my chest. I’m about to ask what the answer would have been when someone comes to the door.
‘Knock, knock?’
A woman in black slacks and a pale blue blouse is standing there. She’s wearing black orthopaedic sneakers. ‘I apologise for interrupting. My name is Nadine Riley – I’m an administrator here. I understand your daughter has been up in our paediatric unit in the care of your sister, but that your sister has been unexpectedly . . . called away?’
‘That’s right,’ I say.
‘I see, well, as your adoption paperwork hasn’t been finalised, the hospital policy is to keep the baby here in the room with you. I’m told you will be moving back to the maternity ward shortly, but in the meantime, one of the nurses is bringing your daughter here to you . . . Ah, here they are now.’
I stop breathing. Nadine Riley moves to the side and a young nurse enters the room, pushing a crib on wheels. My hands begin to shake. I see the top of her head through the clear plastic crib. Someone has removed her little hat.
‘I have a little girl here who would like to see her mother,’ the nurse says, strolling into the room smiling widely. She is the perky sort of nurse – young and blonde with a high ponytail, white teeth and fresh, clean skin. She parks the crib beside my bed and applies the brake before reaching for her. Neither Wally nor I speak, or even move. My heart beats so fast and hard I contemplate whether I might be having a heart attack.
‘Ooh, is this Dad?’ the nurse says, gesturing to Wally. ‘Of course it is, silly me, she’s got your hair. She really is just a darling little thing. Who wants to take her?’
She gathers her up with the ease of someone who spends much time around newborns, and then glances from me to Wally, as if expecting a tussle. She doesn’t get one. We are both too shell-shocked. Wally is so still I think he may have ceased to breathe.
‘Give her to him,’ I say, finally. ‘He’s got some time to make up for.’
Wally remains frozen for just another second. Then he nods, visibly relaxes a little, and opens his arms.
Wally stays in the chair beside my bed for twenty-four hours. When he’s not tending to Willow or checking on me, he’s downloading parenting books onto his phone and reading them furiously. He introduces me to an app for my every parenting need – a tracker for feeds, sleep times and nappy changes; a white-noise maker; a height and growth chart. Rather than feeling overwhelmed by this, I find the ritual of entering information into the different fields surprisingly soothing. I am hopeful that soon the new rituals and routines will become a new kind of normal.
For someone who didn’t want children, Wally certainly appears enamoured with Willow. He holds her like one might hold hot tea in a fine china cup and looks at her the way one might admire a favourite painting or sculpture. In the middle of the night, I wake to find Willow in his arms and him looking down at her like this. I watch for an indeterminable amount of time. The sight of them nearly overwhelms me.
‘I’m glad,’ I say, startling him, ‘that you are my person.’
He looks up at me and smiles. ‘I think a few people might fight me for that role.’
My face must convey my confusion.
‘I don’t think you realise how many people you have, Fern. Carmel. Gayle and your library colleagues. Owen. And yes, me. And don’t forget Willow.’
I take a minute to consider that. While I’m doing so, Wally says, ‘Rose said you weren’t capable of raising a child. I suspect she may have convinced you of that too, right?’
I shrug.
‘Is it just the Billy thing that worries you?’
‘It’s mostly that. But also my sensory issues. You have to admit, I’m not the ideal mother. What if the baby wants to watch fireworks? Or have a birthday party? I couldn’t even handle school pick-up or drop-off with all those shrieking children and swarms of mothers in puffer jackets, making small talk.’
Wally thinks about this. ‘Okay,’ he says. ‘Well, I’ll do the school pick-ups and drop-offs and the birthday parties.’
‘You? When? When would you do the school drop-off? When you’re in your van creating your app? When you are travelling around the world promoting FollowUp?’
‘I sold FollowUp, Fern.’
I blink. ‘You sold it? Already?’
He nods. ‘For a lot of money. It makes the deal for Shout! look cheap. So I can do the school run every day, if you like. And you can stay home, or go work in the library, or come to school pick-up with me and wait in the car. You can do whatever you like!’
But it can’t be that easy. Nothing
