She didn’t. Elizabeth paid, went out to the car and picked up her glasses from the passenger seat. Sure enough, when she opened her laptop, everything came to pass just as the cashier had described.
Elizabeth scanned her emails. Mostly junk, or group emails from Hunter she was safe to ignore. Another missive from Linda Jetter detailing the moods and movements of Shelly the cat. Was it wrong that Elizabeth cared so little? The subject line of the newest email read ‘Our news’ and it wasn’t a sender that she recognised: [email protected]. She opened it.
Dear Elizabeth,
I wanted to call, but this seemed safer. I wanted you to hear me without voices being raised or accusations flying.
The first thing to say is that I am very sorry. I never intended for any of this to happen. I betrayed your trust and I am not proud of myself. You brought me into your home as an educator and I did not behave in a way that was proper. I understand that you must be very angry. My own parents are not very happy with the news either. You should call them!
Elizabeth pushed her laptop away. Was this woman trying to make jokes? She had only avoided being accused of statutory rape by a few months! A slight tremor had taken hold of her right hand. She couldn’t remember when she had ever been this angry. She wanted to commit violent acts, cause bodily harm, scream at somebody. Elizabeth read on.
You will not be surprised that my life has not turned out the way I had planned. I have a failed marriage—
Elizabeth let out an involuntary grunt of disapproval.
—and a failed business. Please don’t think I am trying to make excuses but Zach was the first person to make me feel good about myself in a very long time.
A scarf. Elizabeth wanted to get a long scarf, wrap it around Michelle’s neck and pull really hard.
When I found out about the baby, I was shocked （I promise you, we had been careful）， but then I began to realise that all of this had happened for a reason. I hope you can understand and forgive me. You have a child—
Yes, I do, thought Elizabeth, and you have robbed him of what’s left of his childhood. The nerve of this woman!
—so you know what it means. I want to reassure you that this is my journey. Zach can’t be a father right now and I don’t want to ask that of him. He must continue on his own path. I am so sorry to have brought pain to your family, but please know that you have given me a gift for which I will be forever grateful.
Was this woman mentally stable enough to look after a baby? And as much as Elizabeth longed for this creature to vanish, surely her son should have some sort of say in what happened next. There was also a tiny part of her heart that rebelled at the notion of her grandchild being spirited away. She glanced back at the final paragraph.
I hope to see you in New York with Zach. Please don’t judge me too harshly. I have made terrible mistakes but I finally feel that I have got something right.
Yours in motherhood,
Michelle.
Hope. Understand. Forgive. All Elizabeth wanted to do was throw her laptop out of the car window into a ditch.
THEN
Patricia began to ring the bell and didn’t stop till she heard the key in the lock. Mrs Foley stepped into the room. She didn’t seem at all surprised to find Patricia standing on the bed, backed against the wall, pointing at the basket on the floor.
‘A baby? Why have you …？ I don’t understand. A baby. Why is a baby in that basket?’ Her voice was little more than a breathy rasp.
Mrs Foley stood very still and replied calmly. ‘That’s little Elizabeth. She’ll be needing fed soon. I’ll bring up a bottle.’ And before Patricia could say anything else the door had been closed and locked. She jumped from the bed and began to hammer at the door with her fists.
‘Edward! Edward! Where are you?’ He must know the answer to this mystery. Where had the mad old crone found a baby? Patricia imagined some poor mother out in the world somewhere frantic with fear, wondering where her child had disappeared to. Behind her a small cry came from the basket. She banged on the door some more but then the crying got louder. Patricia bent down to the basket and for the first time looked at the baby’s face. It was crinkled up in mid-cry but stopped as Patricia’s face loomed into view and cast a shadow. The large blue eyes stared up at her and the infant’s arms began to conduct a tiny orchestra. Patricia felt the urge to pick up the small human and hold her close but she stopped herself. This baby had to go back to where it belonged, and that meant she mustn’t fall into Mrs Foley’s trap. If she came back to find Patricia nursing the child then it would be so much harder to make her return the baby to its rightful mother. She got up and went back to the door.