Star took a breath and centered herself. “Look, it’s not your fault. I absolutely didn’t mean for this to turn all recriminatory. You had your own lives; I totally get it. I just missed you both.”
“Oh, Star.” Maggie held one hand to her heart. “I’m sorry we weren’t there for you. You shouldn’t have had to go through that alone.”
“I had Troy and his mum, and while Dad didn’t exactly talk about it, he made sure I was comfortable afterward and cooked me soup.”
“That’s not good enough. We’re your sisters! We should have been there. We let you down.” Maggie’s lip wobbled as she spoke, and Star wondered if she was imagining Verity finding herself in the same predicament and having no one to turn to.
“I did wish you were here with me.” Her voice was quiet. “That was probably the time I missed you the most. But I got over it and I’m fine. It was the right thing to do.”
Simone nodded. “Of course it was.”
“Absolutely,” agreed Maggie, dabbing at her eyes. “No question about it.”
“So that’s how I know I can get pregnant. I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, Simone. And I might be the last person on earth you’d want to carry your child. But the offer is there. No strings attached.”
“What if you decide you want to keep the baby?” asked Simone. “You’ll have carried it for nine months, you’ll have bonded with it.”
“I won’t,” she assured her. “It will be your baby. I’m not going to change my mind. I’m healthy; I eat well, I don’t smoke, I haven’t done drugs for years, not class A’s anyway, and I’m still young enough—just. And most importantly, I want to do this for you.”
“I—I don’t know what to say,” Simone stammered. Her face was a flurry of conflicting emotions.
“Quick, put out a news bulletin: Simone North is lost for words!” Maggie joked.
“Can I think about it?”
Star laughed. “Of course! You don’t have to decide right now. I’m just telling you that the offer is there, and it’s a serious one. Take your time, although you know, don’t take so much time that I start the menopause like Maggie.”
“Cheers, Star!” Maggie snorted and gave her the bird. “I’ll have you know that I am in my prime. Hot flashes, sleepless nights, and yo-yoing emotions aside, perimenopause has gifted me with the libido of a horny teenager.”
“No wonder Joe always looks so chipper!”
“I’ll need to talk to Evette, is that okay?” Simone was oblivious to the sidetrack the conversation had taken.
“Well, obviously! It’s Evette’s baby too.”
“Of course. I’m not really thinking straight. I have to go,” she said. “I need to talk this over with Evette.”
“Okay.” Star smiled reassuringly.
“Are you all right?” Maggie asked, standing up and taking Simone’s arm to steady her. Simone was swaying.
“I’m fine. Just . . . a bit overwhelmed.”
“Let us walk you back to the cottage,” said Maggie, a crease of concern between her eyebrows.
“No, honestly, I’ll be fine. It’s just—it’s a lot.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Simone!” Star chuffed. “Stop trying to be so bloody stoic all the time and let us in. You don’t have to handle everything on your own!”
“Says the woman who went through an abortion all by herself at fifteen!” said Maggie pointedly.
Star smiled grimly. “Touché.”
“Or the woman who didn’t tell us she was being evicted because she didn’t want to be a burden!” Simone added, regaining some of her composure under the protection of a sister on either side of her.
“Double touché.” Maggie laughed.
The sisters linked arms as they walked out into the cold night.
“Let’s make a pact,” said Star. “Here and now. Let’s promise to stop being islands and start being sisters again.”
“That’s a good pact,” said Maggie. “I promise.”
“Me too,” said Simone, tilting her head to rest it against Star’s.
It was a cloudless night and the stars looked as though they’d had their wattage ramped up. There was no wind now, and it was so quiet that the clock in the church tower could be heard ticking its way to midnight. Nothing had changed; each sister’s future was still as uncertain as it had been the day before—maybe more so. But that night, with the stars above their heads and promises warming their hearts, their worries didn’t seem quite as insurmountable.
* * *
Her sisters had gone, and Simone was alone with her thoughts in the cottage, phone in hand, ready to call Evette. A mental ravine of possibility had opened up before her and stopped her in her tracks. She was looking down into it, her feet right on the edge of a precipice, deciding if she was brave enough to jump. Could they do this? Could it be as simple as Star was making it out to be? They’d have to find the money for the embryo transfer, which wouldn’t be easy. Okay, so she wouldn’t be pregnant herself, but it would be her egg, her baby, and her own biological sister carrying her child for her.
Her mind flip-flopped between the positives and the dangers. Obviously, she would need to make sure that Star fully understood the implications of what she was proposing to undertake. She’d always been impulsive, often to her own detriment, and this wasn’t something to be taken lightly; if they went down this road, sudden cold feet would have dire consequences. Simone’s head began to swim. It was too much. All of it. The hope and the worry were piling in on her from a great height and she couldn’t breathe—she was drowning in a cacophony of feelings that were too big.
Unlike Star, she was not in tune with the universe, she did not entrust things to fate. Simone was measured and methodical. Lying back on the sofa, she took a calming breath and began to compartmentalize her feelings. The worries went in one box, the excitement went in another, and so she continued, sorting her mind in this way until all that was left was the very essence of the issue: herself and Star. And then she knew. Star was many things, but above all she was her sister, and she knew within her very atoms that her sister would rather break her own heart a million times than risk Simone’s. She allowed the calm acknowledgment to flow through her.
This was how she was going to have her baby.
She pressed the call button on her phone and waited for her wife to pick up.
* * *
At first Star couldn’t place the vibrating sound that had punctured her sleep. When she finally realized it was her phone ringing, she snatched it up clumsily as though she were wearing mittens and saw that the time was nearly 2 a.m. No good phone calls ever happened in the dead of night.
“Hello? What’s wrong? Who is it?” she asked in disorientation and panic.
“It’s Evette. Don’t worry, nothing’s wrong. I’m sorry to call you so late, again, but it couldn’t wait. I need to talk to you.”
Star flicked on the bedside lamp and pulled herself up to sitting, blinking in the light. “Okay. Good morning, Evette. What do you need?”