I am so, so sorry it's been so long! I was ill over xmas and new year and I've had a lot of real life stuff on, and I just haven't had any time to sit down and write until this week. But I'm back properly now and I promise you won't have to wait so long next time! Thank you so much MegWritesx, Guest, Aggie, Katie and for reviewing the last chapter, and to all of you for being so patient with me.

Reviews would be amazing as ever- it would be very reassuring to know if I still have any readers left!

And this chapter is for Sydney, who is a total superstar. She knows why.

-IseultLaBelle x

Chapter 14

Aberdeen, May 1991

"Chloe? Chloe, look. You see, it's a tunnel, isn't it? Look, you can crawl through it, like that other baby's doing. Shall we try that? Yeah? Look, if Mummy puts you down here." Ange places Chloe down at one end of the pop-up baby tunnel… thing, because god only knows what its proper name is, runs around to couch down on the other side, peer back at Chloe through the tunnel opening. "There you go, look. Chloe! Chloe, are you going to come to Mummy? Yeah? Come on, can you crawl through to Mummy, sweetheart? Chloe!"

Chloe just blinks back at her from her position lying on the floor, face down, glances upward, prime crawling preparation position and thoroughly unimpressed.

Don't be so ridiculous, Mummy, her eyes seem to tell her.

Ange sighs. "Chloe! Chloe, come here!"

"Mamama," says Chloe hesitantly, maintains her gaze at Ange through the play tunnel opening, but still there's no indication that she's even going to attempt making her own way back to her.

"Nope. You're cute, and I love you, but I'm not going to do it for you, Chloe. I'm making you do this becauseI love you, okay? Otherwise we're going to keep getting visits from that awful health visitor, and I'm not sure which one of us hates her more. So you need to learn to crawl. Okay? And then we need to get you saying your first words, and standing, and if we can do all that and get you onto the stupid growth chart thing properly, then maybe she'll leave us alone. Chloe, can you say 'mama?'"

"Dadadadada."

"No, we don't need those, do we? Dads are totally overrated, you don't need a dad, sweetheart. Mama."

"Mamamamama."

"So close. We'll keep working on that one, okay? But can you come here? Chloe? Look, can you come to Mummy? Or you can bum shuffle it if you're really not feeling the crawling, the nice doctor we went to see last week said some babies skip the crawling and go straight from bum shuffling to walking, didn't she? Chloe!"

But all Chloe does is whine loudly in protest, and all of a sudden, Ange is aware of all the other mothers staring at them.

The perfect, Aberdeen middle class old-enough-to-actually-be-mothers and their perfect, developmentally-ahead babies, Ange ponders bitterly.

That just about sums up everything she hates about coming here, really.

If it was down to her, they wouldn't be doing baby group at all.

It's the worst part of her week; she starts dreading it days in advance and she and Chloe are only thee an hour.

She hates the way the other mothers all look at her like she's worthless, scum of the earth, awful chavvy teen mum, hates that she's the youngest mother there by a good ten years, feels horribly out of place, imposter-like, and she knows she's managing just fine with Chloe, knows Chloe is loved and cared for and secure.

But she also knows that Chloe is one of the oldest babies now the rest that started with them have moved up to the next group, and still she's the smallest, the only one that isn't crawling, hasn't mastered her fine motor skill milestones she should have, either, hardly manages to make use of the play equipment provided in the church hall unless Ange practically does it all for her.

And she knows that the other mothers have most definitely noticed, that they and the group leader have already labelled Chloe as behind, clingy, struggling already and she's not even a year old yet, so how much worse is it going to be by the time she's starting school?

IsChloe going to be starting school when she should be, even?

She'd thought that was more or less a given, that her baby girl's development might be behind but it surely isn't thatbad, not yet, until Chloe's paediatrician refused to give her the reassurance she was practically taking for granted would be offered up at her appointment last week, told her it was too early to see either way and threw her completely.

The other mothers at Chloe's baby group, on the other hand…

Ange knows they wonder. Or maybe that isn't fair; maybe they aren't wondering at all, but she's so consumed by the guilt and the unknown of it all herself, so paranoid, so ashamed, that she's convinced anyone looking at her and Chloe would know straight away what an awful mother she is, the damage she might have done to her baby girl before she was even born, the reason she's so tiny, so anxious the moment she can't quite see her mother, still behaving as though she's seven or eight months, rather than almost a year old.

Maybe she's just so paranoid about it herself that it's all in her head.

Then again, maybe not.

Nome of the other mothers who bring their babies here have made even the slightest effort with her, steer their children away from Chloe as though they're afraid whatever it is that's meant she still hasn't caught up to where she should be yet is contagious, as though their perfect, advanced, actually on the percentile chart babies are above her own. That, and she strongly suspects they've all already branded Chloe as the child of the teen mother, made all sorts of assumptions without even giving her a chance, and that might not affect Chloe now, but she can't help but worry what it might do to her by the time she's old enough to understand.

Those are just some of the reasons Ange hates baby group with a passion, and she'd never go back if it were down to her, but it isn't.

Chloe's health visitor has arranged for her to come and interact with other babies and practice all the developmental milestones she's failed to hit with the toys and the play equipment (which is a joke, because Chloe hasn't mastered anything well enough to take advantage of the toys and the play equipment on offer, and so realistically, none of the other babies were ever going to take any notice of her, really), and for Ange to get to meet some other parents (again, total joke, given the other mothers won't even give her a chance), and she's made it perfectly clear that Chloe has been given these sessions for free because she's classed as 'disadvantaged,' whatever the hell that's supposed to mean.

She's also made it perfectly clear that the whole thing is entirely non-negotiable, no matter how strongly Ange protests.

She truly couldn't think of a worse way to spend her Thursday afternoons.

Why can't they just all leave her to it?

She's a good mother. God knows she messed up spectacularly at the start; but that was different, she didn't know about Chloe, then.

Ever since Chloe was born, she's been a good mother. Maybe she's never going to win mother of the year, but she's not bad at it, either. She's done everything right, Ange knows she has.

Everything with Chloe has been completely, unrecognisably different to how it was with Darren.

Ange has made sure of that.

Chloe comes first. Right from the start, Chloe has come first, always will come first, now, forever.

Ange just can't imagine ever feeling any different about that.

She loves her. She loves her more than she's ever loved anyone before in her life, but it's so much more than that. It's as though there's an inherent need, an aching inside her, yearning to protect her, her perfect little baby, precious, beautiful, ray of sunshine, hers.

And they've got a brilliant system going.

She sticks around after school for half an hour to make a start on her homework, gets to the community centre where her mum teaches highland dancing and ballet and modern dancing and yoga and new-age meditation bullshit by 4pm, picks up Chloe. She takes Chloe home, makes her dinner, feeds her, plays with her, tries to gently encourage her to pull herself up on the baby walker thing her own grandparents bought for her baby girl, sings to her, offers her all the toys that are still way beyond her abilities and tries not to blame herself when Chloe won't even try, just wants her to entertain her instead. She baths her, reads her a bedtime story, kisses her goodnight and then she comes downstairs to finish off her homework once Chloe is fast asleep, because she's absolutely determined to finish her Highers this time and build a better future for Chloe, but there's no way in hell she'll be doing it in a way that negatively affects her in the short term.

Ange knows she's doing everything right.

Whatever the reason Chloe hasn't caught up to where she should be, it's not because of anything she's doing wrong now.

She does know that.

Sometimes it's hard to remember, but deep down, she does know it.

And most of the paediatricians and nurses and health visitors and various assorted specialists she's had to take Chloe to see over the last year have looked beyond her age and her defensiveness about the whole messy pregnancy she had with her second baby, the disaster she made of being a mother with her first baby, in all fairness. They've been patient with her tendency to take worrying about Chloe to ridiculous extremes, seem to understand, always willing to reassure her when necessary.

That's why Chloe's consultant's reluctance to commit either way as to whether Chloe will ever quite catch up with her peers, be doing all the things she should be by the time she's due to start P1, has freaked her out completely.

But the point is, everyone Ange has taken Chloe to see at the hospital, at the GP, anywhere else they've gone for Chloe's check-ups since she finally got her out of the Glasgow Children's Hospital NICU have been supportive, reassuring, tried their hardest to convince her that she's doing brilliantly at the whole being a mum thing this time around, that Chloe is lucky to have her, clearly loves her, advancing at her own admittedly slow pace at the moment and that has to be taken as a good thing. (Well, almost everyone, and she's a teen mum who gave birth to a scarily tiny, premature baby after seven months unaware she was even pregnant and another frantically concealing it, off her face on weed and cheap cider and chain smoking in between sleeping around for more weed and more cheap cider and occasional hard stuff, after all- she can't exactly expect everyone involved in Chloe's medical care to be friendly and forgiving.)

So if she's really doing the amazing job at being an eighteen year old, reformed, clean, sober mother to a tiny, struggling, overly clingy and dependant and reluctant to try anything new almost one year old they all keep telling her she is, then why is the stupid health visitor so adamant it's an absolute, non-negotiable necessity that she keep bringing Chloe to a church hall baby group clearly neither of them are getting anything out of?

And if she isn't, and they're all lying to her, then what difference do they really think an hour a week in a cold church hall becoming increasingly despondent is going to make?

Surely they should be sending Chloe for speech therapy, physiotherapy, even, if they're really concerned?

Are speech therapists and physiotherapists for babies even a thing?

Chloe wails again, louder this time, glances up at her mother with more desperation than she'd like.

All the baby books are adamant she should be happy to explore on her own by now, as long as she can still see her mother at a safe distance, ready to step in if needed.

So why won't herbaby?

"Chloe! Chloe, look, you can do it." Ange moves back around to pick her up, tries gently encouraging her forwards, knows deep down that there isn't a hope in hell of her baby girl suddenly getting the hang of shuffling herself forwards all by herself when she's shown no signs of being ready whatsoever, but knowing it doesn't stop her hoping. "Look, what if I… no? No, you're just going to lie there, aren't you? Okay. Okay, fair enough, then. You're staying there, though, I'm not picking you up," she warns. "You need to work out how to do this, sweetheart. We're going to keep at this until you get the hang of it."

"She's still not crawling, then?" one of the other mothers smiles at her pityingly. "How old is she now?"

"She's going to have her first birthday the week after next." Ange scoops Chloe up protectively, glares, dares the other mum to comment, because she's been here enough times now to know exactly where this conversation is going. "She's just quite small for her age…"

Chloe wiggles in her arms, tries to pull off the bright yellow flower headband she put on her this afternoon in between getting in from school and bringing her here (because she can't do anything about the other mothers judging Chloe for having a teenager for a mum, but Ange will not have them judging her appearance and concluding she looks neglected, living up to the baby of a teenage mother stereotype).

"Oh… I'm sure she'll get there. She was premature, wasn't she? I remember you saying the first week you brought her. We've been really lucky with Shona. She was premature, too, but she was crawling by the time she was six months. Have you spoken to her paediatrician?"

"She's fine." Ange shoots her the dirtiest look she can possibly manage. "She's just… she's just really, really not that bothered about moving around on her own just yet. Are you, Chloe? Hey?"

"Mamamamamamama," Chloe babbles obliviously, grabs a fistful of Ange's hair.

The other mother grimaces a little, and perhaps it's in sympathy, admittedly, but Ange isn't feeling like giving her the benefit of the doubt.

"Her speech isn't great either, is it? Shona's pronunciation was much clearer by the time she was eleven months, she was starting to use proper words, too. Maybe you should think about getting her seen by a…"

"She doesn't need to be seen by anyone!" Ange snaps angrily. "She's fine! She's just… doing everything at her own pace. That's all. I'm… I'm not worried."

That last part isn't quite true, of course, but no part of her wants to think about the awful, depressing paeds appointment she took Chloe to last week.

"Do you take someone with you?" the other mother- Ange can't for the life of her remember her name- frowns, unconvinced, judgemental. "When she has her check-ups. You know, just to be sure someone's fully comprehending everything that's being…"

"So what are you saying, that just because I'm young, I can't look after my own daughter?"

"Of course not. Only… I've been through it too, having a premature baby. Shona's consultant says they've usually more or less caught up by this age, if they were born around the thirty-six-week mark, and Chloe was a thirty-six-weeker too, wasn't she? I'd have expected her to be doing pretty much everything a full-term baby would at this stage after everything Shona's consultant has said, that's all. You're doing an amazing job, I don't doubt that. Chloe's very lucky to have you. I just think… needs to be assessed for…"

"So you think there's something wrong with her? Is that it? Who made you a paediatrician?" Ange glares furiously, lifts Chloe off her lap and into her arms, grips onto her, stands, fight or flight mode well and truly activated. "Worry about your own baby, yeah? Stop commenting on mine. Come on, Chloe," she soothes, cuddles her tightly, storms towards the doors back out of the church hall to grab her bag (not the pram, because it's only a five-minute walk up the road or so to get home, and Chloe has made her dislike for it perfectly clear over the last eleven months), out the building and crossing the road with Chloe by the time the baby group leader runs after her, wraps her coat around them both, grips onto her baby with one hand temporarily so she can use the other to adjust the headband now sliding off the back of her head, counts her fingers, fusses over her because it's the one thing she cancontrol, because everything she does now is always, always for Chloe.

"Angel! Angel, wait! Please! Angel!"

Ange sighs.

"I'm not coming back in!" she shouts over her shoulder to Sonya, the baby group leader. "Look… we'll come back next week, yeah? Maybe. Probably… okay, okay, so we'll definitely come back next week. I just… I'm not coming back in today!" she protests. "I'm taking Chloe home and we'll be back next week, but I'm not taking her back in there today! And it's Ange!"

"Ange, then! I'm sorry!" Sonya runs across the road, holds up her hands apologetically to the bus driver forced to come to a premature halt ahead of the traffic lights. "I'm sure Joanna didn't mean to upset you…"

Ange rolls her eyes, rocks Chloe gently in her arms. "So you heard exactly what she said, and at no point did it cross your mind to tell her she was being out of order? Being a young mum doesn't mean I'm useless…"

"Joanna didn't say that, Ange…"

"Oh, come on, don't tell me that wasn't what she meant! I'm just… I'm sick of it, okay!" Ange protests. "I'll keep bringing Chloe, because the health visitor wants me to and I'm all for anything that might help Chloe. But I'm so sick of the way they all look at me. They don't have to like me, the other mums. I'm not saying that. Believe me, I'm pretty used to people not liking me. But they don't have to treat me like I'm a shit mother just because I was half their age when I had Chloe, either."

Sonya's expression softens. "What if I have a word with everyone when we finish today, and…"

Ange shakes her head firmly, defiant. "That will make it worse."

"You don't know that, Ange…"

"Yes. Yes, I do. My… my school in Glasgow tried that, after I had my first baby. And then again, after…" She holds onto Chloe tighter now, because the pain is still there, and the mere thought of giving up Chloe the way she had to give up Darren threatens to tear her heart to pieces all over again. "After I gave him up for adoption. You know, before I came back to school. It didn't work. It just made everything so much worse, I'm not going there again. Look… it doesn't matter, okay? I'm… I'm used to it. You know, the people looking down their nose at you because you're a teen mum thing. As long as they don't take it out on Chloe, they can think what they like about me. So I'm taking Chloe home now," Ange tells her firmly, turns, carries on walking before Sonya can protest. "I'll be back next week, okay! You don't have to report me to the health visitor people."

"Kaaaalala," says Chloe uncertainly, winds Ange's hair around her small fists.

"I know, sweetheart," Ange tells her quietly, buries her face in Chloe's hair. I know."

It's too soon to know, either way. That's what the paediatrician told her at Chloe's appointment last week.

It's far too early to know if Chloe is falling further and further behind where she should be developmentally because she's just slow to catch up, nothing to worry about in the long term, or because Ange's drug and alcohol abuse the best part of her entire pregnancy has left her with foetal alcohol syndrome and a whole host of other conditions, if she's the worst mother in the entire world and she's just going to have to live with it, be reminded of all the damage she's done to her beautiful little girl, all the things she'll never be able to do because she didn't get her shit together in time, whenever she looks at her.

Chloe…

"Shall we go to the park, Chloe?" Ange suggests brightly, puts on her best baby voice, cheerful, upbeat, hides the panic and the aching in her heart. "Yeah? Shall we go and sit in the park for a while before we go home? Yeah? Come on, then. That's your favourite place, isn't it, sweetheart? And we can see if there are any of your doggy friends there today, can't we? You're so going to end up being a vet when you grow up, aren't you? Or a… well, we'll see. I love you, my sweet girl," she whispers, mentally scanning the park for the puppies she knows are friendly and suitably gentle before they're even in through the gates, and she swore she'd never be a god person, but how can she not when Chloe seems to love them so much. "Shall we go around to the lake and see if that bench we like is free? Yeah? And then we'll see the dogs if they're there, won't we?"

Chloe blinks, glances around curiously.

"What do you reckon, then?" Ange asks her. "Chloe? I reckon we go back next week, and we keep going until the health visitor says we don't have to anymore. But I'm not making an effort with the other mums anymore, okay? Sorry. We don't really need friends at the moment, do we? Friends with babies, I mean. We've got my school friends, I think they love you more than they love me, to be honest. And we'll try again when you're old enough to have your own friends. But we're not doing trying to be friends with that lot. Nope, I don't need mum friends, do I? Honestly, and they think teenagers are immature. I've got you, my lovely girl, why would I need any other friends? Hey? You're the only one I can have a sensible conversation with half the time."

"Hararara," Chloe babbles, as though to prove her point.

"Exactly. You get it. That's just what I was thinking, too, you're totally in synch with Mummy. Aren't you, darling? Shall we sit here? Come on then."

"Mamama."

"You're so close, Chloe! You're so, so close. Can you say 'Mama?'"

"Anana."

"Nope. You're not calling me Ange, I'm not being that mum. Sorry. You're just going to have to keep working on it. The age gap's questionable as it is, sweetheart, you can't call me Ange. No one will ever believe you're mine, for a start."

"Aaaaaaaara."

"I totally agree."

"Kuh!" Chloe waves her arms excitedly, points.

"Oh, are you looking at the ducks? Or the dogs? I know you like dogs, sweetheart, but we don't know that dog, do we? That one might not be baby friendly."

"Alalalalala."

"You think he is? Or she. Might be a girl, I guess. We'll have to ask the owner if they come over, won't we? Yeah? Okay. Let's do that. Chloe, can you say dog?"

"Uh."

"Oh, okay, did Mummy pick a tricky one?"

"G…. Garara. Mamamana."

"Interesting. I thought maybe dog might be easier, you've only got one syllable to get out for dog, haven't you? Fair enough, though. You're the expert. Look, Chloe. Look, what if Mummy puts you down- hey, it's okay. I'm not going to just let you fall, sweetheart, I promise. Look, I've got your hands, you can't fall, can you?'" She holds Chloe gently into a standing position at her feet, grips onto her hands tightly, holds her upright, makes sure she can lean back against her legs because there's no way in hell her daughter is going to work out how to balance all by herself out of nowhere. "There you go. You're so clever, aren't you, Chloe? Hey? Good girl."

Chloe glances between her mother and the ducks swimming across the lake towards them curiously, eyes wide, definitely interested, but no part of her seems bothered about trying to reach them by herself, breaking away from Ange's grip the way the other babies at Sonya's baby group do.

Ange sighs heavily.

"You take your time, sweetheart," she tells Chloe gently, heartfelt. "There's no rush. I'll always love you, no matter what, okay? Whether you catch up with everything you're supposed to be learning to do or you never get there, it doesn't matter. I'll still love you more than anything else in the world, my sweet girl. And if… if I've… hurt you, somehow, if you're going to have to struggle your whole life because of all the damage I did to you when I was pregnant, then I'm so, so, sorry, Chloe. Mummy is so, so sorry…"

"Muh-mee," says Chloe proudly, smiles at Ange with a look of pure, baby adoration. "Mummy, Mummy, Mummyyyyyyy."

Ange bursts into tears.