Chapter 1
Carlisle, 8th May 2024
The sky is grey and misty; an ominous portent of rain. And yet, the rains have failed to materialise, and the air is unseasonably warm and clammy. The ’Baby I love You’ maternity clinic is located in the east of the historic city of Carlisle, just north of the A69 (Warwick Road). The car park is quiet, save for the staff cars and a meagre smattering of visitors. A ‘hot red’ 2022 (22R) Vauxhall Corsa 1.2 turbo Sri parks, a dozen or so yards from the entrance to the clinic. Lucy Hollins, recently turned twenty-six, perches in the driver’s seat. Single and carefree, no matter the loneliness of her double bed, this slim and attractive blonde has a string of failed relationships behind her, with seemingly little hope of finding ‘Mr. Right’, certainly not in such a dreary backwater.
Her sister Anna, raven and cherubic, sits in the passenger seat, glowing with rude health. Some sixteen months her elder, Anna is noticeably pregnant with her second child and has been happily married for the past four years. The women gaze in silent wonder at the Ultrasound image of a twenty-two week old baby boy on the screen of Anna’s Honor 200 Lite. “He’s amazing, isn’t he?” Anna cooed. “I can’t believe I’m carrying a baby boy.”
Lucy smiles brightly and reaches out for Anna’s hand. She wasn’t supposed to know that her sister had secretly hoped for a girl; a baby sister for their toddler, Rhuari. “You’re not disappointed?” she asked softly. “I know Euan will be thrilled, but…”
Anna blinks. “What is it? What’s wrong, Lucy?” she pressed urgently. Lucy has gone quite pale; eyes wide, jaw sagging in disbelief. Anna follows her sister’s gaze towards the entrance to the clinic. A striking teen, fresh-faced and athletic, with bright pink hair, paces across to a stationary Kawasaki Z125 motorcycle. She wears a leather bike jacket, stonewash drainpipe denim jeans, and black Dr. Marten’s 1460mid-calf boots. Anna gapes in silent bewilderment at the angelic teen. “She’s barely out of nappies” she gasps in stunned disbelief. She turns to eyes her sister searchingly. “Do you know who she is, Lucy?”
“Pay it no mind. Silly girl” Lucy shakes her head despairingly.
The rider passes the girl a helmet, which she quickly dons, before effortlessly straddling the rear seat of the motorcycle. The driver thrums the throttle and tears away, heading for the exit.
***
The Lobby is bright, neat, and modern. A large sign on the far wall, facing the Reception Desk, is flanked by colour images of historical landmarks of the city, and the ancient counties of Cumbria and Northumbria. This is the Head Office of Lawler Merricott LLP, the most prestigious realty Legal firm in the north of England. Lucy Hollins, a slim and attractive blonde in her mid-twenties, eyes the clock to the left of the entrance door and sighs irritably. It was now twelve-thirty-three, several minutes into her allotted lunch break, yet her mind was clearly focussed on matters more pressing than food. Almost as if he had read her thoughts, the far door swung open, and Lionel Lawler, founding partner of the firm, breezed into the room, a wry smile playing at his lips.
She thought him devilishly handsome, despite their obvious differences in age, for Lionel was now in his mid-forties, still chiselled and athletic, with neat brown hair and eyes of the palest blue. A widower of some thirteen years, a father to two children, one of whom was now adult, with an unspoken repute as a womaniser, his suit is expensive (Hugo Boss), his brogues are polished to a glossy sheen, and he strolls with the swagger of a man at ease with his station in life. “Nothing for the next two hours” Lucy announced cheerily. She raised an eyebrow mockingly. “Last appointment is at three.”
Lionel smiles brightly. “I could take you out to lunch?”
Lucy rises from her chair. She glances quickly left, and then right. “You could fuck me silly instead?” she mused briskly.
Lionel’s blue eyes flash with delight. He nods eagerly. A smirking Lucy stoops to pluck her handbag. She steps around the desk and paces to the door. Lionel follows dutifully.
***
The bedroom is cast in a pale green haze, dimly lit by natural light through the curtains of the window at the far side. A digital alarm clock on the bedside cabinet marks the time as 05:34. An unnaturally pale Lucy Hollins starts from her slumber. She groans weakly. “Oh, my days…Not again…” she mused bleakly.
She leaps out of bed, garbed in a pale cream satin nightdress and races to the door, her right hand cupping her mouth.
***
Lucy kneels before the toilet basin. She vomits violently into the abyss. The woman groans weakly. She vomits again, gagging and retching. Her breathing is laboured; her skin an almost deathly pallor. She balks, yet no vomit comes. It is over, at least until the morrow.
Lucy stands and steps to the washbasin, swilling her mouth with cold water. She turns and flushes the toilet, bitter tears streaming down her cheeks. She glances up at the medicine cabinet above the sink. A Clearblue pregnancy testing kit sits atop, next to a bottle of Optrex eyebath and a tub of Vaseline. “How could I have been so fucking stupid?” the woman sighs despondently.
She falls quickly to her knees and sobs hysterically.
