Mrs. Quinn's Rise to Fame by Olivia Ford

Author:Olivia Ford [Ford, Olivia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2024-01-30T00:00:00+00:00

20

Chocolate Teacakes

She lay on her bed, watching the life inside her push against the wall of her stomach, a part of her and yet exercising its own free will. A fleeting movement shot across the side of her bump like an eye under an eyelid. She pressed on it lightly and it retreated as if it were playing a game, determined not to be found. Her secret had become her greatest ally, a source of company and comfort in her isolation. Stroking it in circular motions, she admired its perfect roundness. With each day that passed, she felt heavier with the weight of carrying two hearts.

Easing herself onto her tired feet, she made her way to the kitchen and reached for the biscuit tin. Using her bump as leverage to prize off the lid, she was met with the metallic reflection of her own face. Forcing the lid back on, she searched for alternatives. A slice of bread? An apple? Neither would do.

She pulled on her duffle coat, pushing the toggles through the loops but leaving the bottom two undone so that it skimmed shapelessly over her bump. With three months to go it was almost impossible to disguise, but she had to at least try—just in case she saw someone that she knew.

“Where are you going?” said her father, making her jump.

“Just to the shops.”

“I can go? What do you need?”

“I’ll go, I need some fresh air. I haven’t left the house all week . . .”

He hesitated, his face lined with worry.

“Wait a moment,” he said, disappearing upstairs.

It had been a month since she had told him her secret, and they had only spoken in stilted exchanges, as if they were each a reminder to the other of the hurt, the shame.

When he returned, she noticed he was clutching something in his hand.

“I think you should wear this, if you’re going out in public,” he said, holding a dainty gold band in his palm, which she recognized as her mother’s.

She paused before taking the ring and pushing it over her swollen knuckles.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice flat. “I won’t be long.”

He pulled out a chair, gesturing for her to sit down.

“I’ve spoken to Aunt Ethel,” he said.

She nodded, bristling at the thought of her reaction, certain that she would bask in her failure.

“She said there are places you can go.” He looked at the table, at the floor, at her mother’s ring. “Homes for girls in your situation. You can go and have it and no one will ever know.”

“And what about the baby?”

“They will be adopted by a married couple who have the means to raise them and give them a happy, loving home.”

“Like a naughty girls’ home?” she said, twisting the ring around her finger.

“They’re not called that.”

“How long do you go for?”

“You go for six weeks before the . . . arrival, and six weeks after.”

She looked away as she processed his words.

“Aunt Ethel has made contact with one; she thinks it’s best for you and best for the .

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