The Maid's Room: 'A modern-day The Help' - Emerald Street by Fiona Mitchell

Author:Fiona Mitchell [Mitchell, Fiona]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton
Published: 2017-11-15T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Jules stands in the hospital shop looking at the magazines on shelves, the starved cut flowers in buckets, the rows of chocolate boxes. She pulls a strand of wilting orchids from one of the buckets, looks at the chocolates then returns to the bucket again and chooses an additional bunch of flowers, pink lilies this time, their petals withered.

Her phone hums. She opens her bag. The screen flashes: ‘Caller Unknown’. She thinks about not picking up, but she drops her bag to the floor, lays the flowers on top and pushes the phone to her ear.

‘Is that Mrs Harris?’ the voice says. It’s the woman from the charity.

Jules says, ‘Yes,’ quieter than she intended to, so tries again and almost shouts it.

‘I have good news,’ says the woman. ‘We have a baby. One of our volunteers has a daughter who needs to go into hospital in two weeks, so she can’t continue looking after him any more.’

Jules swallows. This is all she needs. ‘Er, right.’

‘You sounded enthusiastic,’ says the woman.

‘I, erm …’

‘It’s not a problem if you’ve changed your mind.’

‘No,’ says Jules. ‘It’s just … I …’ She can’t seem to find the right words. ‘No, I want to do it.’

Does she? Just what is she saying?

‘That’s great.’

‘Boy or girl?’

‘He’s a little boy we call Khalib. He’s six weeks old.’

‘I haven’t got a cot or anything.’

‘The volunteer has a bassinet, clothes.’

‘Hang on a minute. Don’t you want to interview me first?’

‘Well, you’ve filled out the application form. We have your Green Card number.’

‘But the flat … Don’t you want to see my flat, so that you can make sure it’s, well, you know, baby friendly?’

‘It’s not necessary,’ says the woman.

Surely it is, thinks Jules. She could have towers of newspapers in there, walls infested with cockroaches.

‘I’ll have to, erm …’ Jules’ job. She’s not one for shirking, but what the hell, she does want to do this. ‘How long will this be for?’

‘A fortnight at most. The volunteer could probably drop the baby off with you, but I’ll keep you updated via email…’

The woman rings off. Jules stands with the flowers still on her bag, the phone in her hanging hand. She looks at it, feeling the urge to text someone. I’ve got some news. She’s wanted to say those words for a long time, to David most of all. Wrapping a positive pregnancy test with spangly paper and giving it to him to open. She dials his number.

‘It’s happening,’ she says.

‘What is? Are you all right?’

‘The fostering charity just rang. They want us to look after a baby.’

‘Huh?’

‘That charity I told you about. They have a little boy.’

‘Oh.’ She hears him swallow.

‘What?’

‘It’s a bit sudden, isn’t it? We haven’t had an interview. They haven’t even checked out where we’re living.’

‘They aren’t as strict about stuff like that here, I guess.’

‘Are you sure you haven’t got your wires crossed? It just seems really odd.’

‘They said we’d be getting him in a couple of weeks.’

David gives a befuddled, breathy laugh. ‘Is he okay, the baby?’ he asks.

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