From whom did you have the child? Lorna Whitcombe snapped, eyebrows shooting up.
I told you, from Charlie! Beatrice replied.
I dont mean who he is, I mean I finally discovered who I was having a baby with! Lorna said, halfsmiling, halfscowling.
Mum, you wont believe me if I say it was an accident, Beatrice said, a shy grin tugging at her lips.
Accidents can get you pregnant, love, but you cant accidentally give birth, sorry, thats not how it works! Lorna looked at her with a raised eyebrow. Or are you trying to tell me you acted in a fit of passion?
Beatrice sighed. I got pregnant, and then Oops, what now? And the little bloke says his first words: Hello, Mum!
Not quite how it went, Beatrice pursed her mouth. It happened when everything seemed fine.
Dear me, those good periods have been going on for five years! One minute up, the next down. You ought to have realised long ago that a relationship with Charlie is a dead end! Lorna huffed.
I thought hed changed, Beatrice protested.
People can change, not men who behave nicely at first and then make you want to smash something! Lorna flailed her arms. Hes torn your nerves apart, and yet you keep crawling back!
Its like a wooden cloghammer. Everyone else spots the problem quick, but you keep tripping over the same stone. And now youve got a son!
If you dont like me coming back, I could just move out! Beatrice said, hurt.
To Charlie? Lorna asked, chuckling.
Beatrice gave a halflaugh. The idea of moving out was absurd; even in the worst case it wasnt on the table.
Mum, I could rent a flat, Beatrice said. Ive saved a bit, plus a little nest egg. I wont disappear!
Oh, fine, Lorna sighed. Nobodys after you. So, whats the plan now?
Well raise little Elliot together, then Ill get a garden job, and go back to work, Beatrice answered.
And what about the father? Lorna pressed.
Nothing yet, Beatrice shrugged. Charlie wants to marry me and be the official dad, but
He hasnt even been added to the birth certificate? Lorna asked, eyebrows arched.
Why would I put him there? What could he possibly give the child? He talks a big game, but I cant even compare him to a proper bloke! He promised me a car for the baby and a flat if I said yes.
When he visited last week to see his son, I asked, Do you want to see the child? He needs support, you know? He handed over £5,000. The babys only a month and a half old!
And you? Lorna asked, genuinely intrigued.
That was the last time I saw him. I pushed his money down his throat and told him it wouldnt even buy a pack of nappies. Then I sent him packing!
What happened next? Lorna leaned in.
The very next day he rang, demanding visitation rights. I told him to recognise paternity officially, otherwise Id sue for maintenance. He went silent.
Oh, Beatrice, Lorna shook her head. Where do you find these men? First husband was a surprise, now Charlie! Hell bring you more trouble than hes worth.
I chase him away, Mum, but he never goes! I curse, insult, hurt him, and he just shrugs it off like water off a ducks back. Im done with him! Hes all talk, no substance.
Why did you even have his baby? Lorna asked for the umpteenth time.
Mum, Im thirtyfour now
***
Beatrices love life has become a favourite topic at every dinner party. Whenever her name pops up, people lean in, because nobody else seems to get tangled up the way she does.
Shes got the looks, the brains, the whole package, yet her taste in men is baffling. Her first serious relationship started at university, when she moved into a flat with a lad who boxed for a living.
What were you thinking, dating a boxer? her mum asked. Hes got no brain, just a throat!
I hoped hed lift both his muscles and his mind, Beatrice defended herself.
And what drove you to the club while his head was still underdeveloped? Lorna said, shaking her head. Did you think you were only there to dance?
I told you I did! Beatrice snapped.
Bobby, the boxer, tried to keep up, but once he saw other blokes dancing around Beatrice, he staged a oneman training camp. He avoided heavy fights, and for two years he disappeared from the scene to redeem himself.
After that, Beatrice drifted until she met Andrew. He had the looks and the brains to match. He adored her, practically worshipped her, but his job was a disaster. He earned a modest salary, while Beatrice, fresh out of university, was making double that.
She ignored his low pay, hoping hed soon climb the ladder. She even tried to coach him a bit, and he took her advice without a fuss, admitting she was the smarter one. They got married, the wedding paid for by her parents, because who really cares about the brides wallet?
Two years later, Andrew turned into a punching bag. He got jealous of a colleague, took her to a work party, and when they got home, he handled Beatrice on the first night. She ended up in hospital.
Divorce followed, and Andrew barred her from the flat theyd shared. Beatrice, after a night in a shelter, returned to collect her things, her savings for a car, and some jewellery. Andrew claimed ignorance, saying the flat only contained his stuff and that hed never seen the jewellery. The police got involved; his belongings ended up in a skip, the moneys origin unknown, but the jewellery was clearly hers, as shed posted photos online as proof.
When he stubbornly refused to return everything, Beatrice filed a theft report, then withdrew it once he finally handed over the car money and the jewellery. She laughed, Well, thats one way to end a saga.
Enter Charlie. For five years Beatrice dated him, never meeting anyone else. Why Charlie? He loved her madly, showered her with compliments, stared into her eyes, and, most importantly, he was harmless. He never raised a hand.
Beatrice swore never to repeat the boxingbag routine, so she chose Charlie because he seemed incapable of violence. He talked a lot, promised the moon, but did nothing.
Shed moved from her hometown to Manchester for university and stayed. She lived in a onebedroom flat on the fifth floor of a fivestorey council block cheap and perfect for saving for a house. When she started seeing Charlie, she also met his mother, who beamed at Beatrices beauty and intelligence, declaring, Well refurbish this flat, then Ill move in with my sister and leave it to you!
Three years passed, and the renovation never finished. Charlie kept saying there were setbacks, but nothing changed. One day Beatrice drove over to his mothers place, felt a pang in her stomach, and ran to the bathroom.
Nothing improved in that flat for three years no renovation, no progress.
She finally decided to send Charlie packing, refusing his feeble excuses about buying a house as a surprise. She wasnt rushing into marriage; shed learned the hard way not to trust empty promises.
After four years together, Charlie finally ruined the birthcontrol. When Beatrice told him she was pregnant, he suddenly became the most attentive man shed ever known, showering her with money and affection. But his enthusiasm lasted only three months; the abortion was too late, and then he vanished.
He disappeared for half a year, even missing the birth and discharge from the hospital. Beatrice, through a friend, let him know the baby was born and that theyd moved back to her mums town. Charlie turned up, shouting, Im the father, I want to see my son! I have a right! He never went to the registry office to formalise paternity.
***
Mum, Im thirtyfour! When am I supposed to find a proper husband? Beatrice repeated.
You thinking of going back to Charlie? Lorna asked, surprised.
Of course not, Beatrice waved it off. Hes just a donor, not a dad. Ill get rid of him eventually. At least I have a son!
Shed been thinking about that ever since Charlie vanished during her pregnancy. He was healthy, goodlooking a perfect donor candidate!
Lorna opened her mouth to answer, but the doorbell rang.
Whos that? Beatrice called, heading to the door.
Its me! Charlie stood there. You shooed me out again, but Im not mad. Can you lend me some money for a train ticket home?
What? Beatrice burst out laughing. You made a baby and now you cant even pay a fare? Im the mother of your son, and youre asking for cash?
My son? Charlie tried to peek over her shoulder, as if the baby were in the hallway.
He isnt on any official record! If you want to be a dad, pay for the child! My word is final: get a court order for paternity, start paying maintenance, and youll keep your parental rights. Miss a payment and youll lose them forever.
Beatrice, just give me £1,500 so I can get home! Charlie pleaded.
Beatrice tossed a couple of notes onto the floor and slammed the door.
He never returned.
With that temperament, love, youll raise a good lad, but you wont find a husband, Lorna said. Good luck, dear.
Thats my lot, Beatrice shrugged. At least I have a little boy, and thats more than enough for a happy, normal family without any Charlies.
