A/N mentions of miscarriage.
'Once I got my head around the idea, I really loved her.'
She smiles lazily, looking up from the sofa, yawning. The house is silent, it wouldn't be for long. But, for the moment she was going to embrace the, much needed, silence.
Blissful.
But not for too long, it made her uncomfortable. The silence could be unnerving. She knew she'd have to get used to it; it would frequent her more over the next few years.
She had told everyone she was going to get a childminder and a nanny, but when the six-pound four once bundle entered the world on the 10th November, she didn't ever want to let it go.
Her hand ghosts over her belly, as if the bump were still there.
It had been gone a good few year; she was in the same shape pre-pregnancy.
Except, she was different.
The scales didn't really matter, not anymore.
She should be looking forward to the full nights sleep she would be getting tonight, but she wasn't.
She was dreading it.
She'd been tired, but now she was sick with worry.
The house would be silent again.
No crying new-born needing her mother's attention.
No baby needing to be comforted.
No toddler who was running around the warm house after her bath, just as Carla was trying to put her bed.
It was going to be nearly a day she was away from her mother; pre-school was bad enough.
But a whole night?
No, but she hadn't much of a choice.
A custody battle had ensured, and she had to concede to her ex-partner.
From tonight, she'd stay at the man, who she barely knew, and his family.
She wondered if she was the token, an older child, and a young baby.
Would it have been the same if she were a boy?
Peter now had two boys, was her little girl a token?
To complete a family portrait, perhaps?
She can hear some shuffling around on the monitor, deciding that now was the time to go and see the child. Everything was ready for Peter, her bag was by the door containing everything but her blanky, who would ride shotgun with her.
She'd get their dead on 5:15.
Just in time for her dinner.
She wondered if she'd eat as early tonight. She didn't have a small person to cater for, it would just be her tonight.
It had always been them, really.
Even when they'd been together, he wasn't really interested, choosing booze over them.
He just knew it was her that wanted a piece of her daughter, Peter couldn't give two hoots. It had suited him that she hadn't asked for maintenance. She could afford her on her own.
She wanted him to have no input in the child's life.
She was doing such a good job too; she didn't need a dad. She didn't need this, but she didn't have a choice.
In the coming weeks, it would be every other weekend, rather than every Saturday.
Her living abode would, once again, seem to big.
She sits with her daughter for far too long, pulling her close and reading a story. She has stuff to-do, but this is more important.
'Mumma's gonna miss you.' She whispers, as the child places a hand on her cheek, almost as if the four-year-old is reassuring her.
It should be the other way around, but it didn't matter.
She'd tried not to drag her into the battle, but they'd fought dirty throughout the battle. Not that she expected any less.
After all, his custody battle with Leanne was her fault. She'd be damned if she'd see her daughter go through the hurt, they'd put her half-brother through.
Only now, as a parent, did it hit her.
What she did to the boy, his family.
Yet, she didn't feel totally awful because without it, she wondered if she'd have her baby.
Her beautiful little girl, the thing she was proudest of.
She'd decided that she'd visit her surrogate dad, tonight.
His daughters godfather and grandfather.
She'd have a nice conversation with him, he'd promised that he'd cook them dinner, having called him whilst her daughter was napping.
He was the male role model she needed in her life, stoic and dependable.
Honest.
Respectful.
Caring.
Kind.
Loyal.
He was everything her father wasn't and the only man she needed in her life.
And he adored her.
As a man of few words, he loved her.
It didn't matter that there was no blood connection, no official family tie.
But they were a family.
In their own way, their own little family.
Her, him, and Hayley junior.
A fitting tribute to a woman they both desperately loved and missed.
Hayley Grace Connor.
She could only ever have been called Hayley, once she got her head around being pregnant, she was set on her baby, if she were a girl, she was going to be called Hayley.
She didn't know where Grace came from, but Hayley Grace fitted her.
A pretty name for an extraordinarily pretty, little, girl.
'Give granda' a hug?' She suggests, as they move from their position on Carla's bed, shaking her head.
'Oh, I will baby.' Carla promises, 'we'll miss you, but I'm sure you'll have fun.' She can get the words out, neither Peter nor dad. She'd had to have Roy tell her the news because the name would be followed by a load of expletives.
Something not for a four-year-old child's hearing.
Roy had tried to be positive about it, trying to get her daughter to think she'd enjoy it. She was a mummy's girl and she'd been reluctant to leave Carla.
She's sure that she'll be okay, after a few attempts, when she realises it means two of everything. More birthdays, Christmas' and easter.
But at this moment, she didn't care.
Christmas was five months away.
Her daughter's birthday four.
Her first day at big school was a mere seven weeks away. The date was on her calendar just in case she could forget.
She knew she wouldn't, but she put all her daughter's life on the kitchen calendar.
The dance lessons, piano, swimming, medical appointments. Reminders of when she needed to have her uniform, getting her feet measured for proper school shoes and this.
It was the only thing that wasn't bright and breezy in the kitchen. Instead of the funky colours she used for everything else, this was written in black roller point pen. Easily concealed behind a picture of the pair of them at the beach, last summer.
But she knew it was there and it gave her an uneasy feeling.
A queasy feeling.
Just like she'd felt as she'd peed on the stick, dreading the outcome.
Except, it would be the best thing she's ever done.
A gift from Hayley.
'I'll be over at 9' she tells her daughter, as an unwanted figure appears. 'We'll do something fun. 'ave a think for me.'
'Swimming?'
'You are such a little fishy.' She laughs, unbuckling the child. 'How about I see if me you and, if I can persuade him, grandad could go to Blackpool?' She isn't fond of the place, but it holds special memories for Roy and her daughter loves it, almost as if she's a reincarnation of Hayley.
Everything that is good in the world.
'Hiya Hayley, Carla.' A solitary nod to his ex, as he tries to coax the little girl towards him, as she nervously glances towards the door.
A beautiful woman with her arms around a chubby baby, her protruding abdomen evident.
Another boy.
It's clear what Peter and the new partner had been doing, how much time they had on their hands. Behind them, a moody teenager, clearly here under duress.
He doesn't live with them either, they'd brought him into the custody battle, wanting them to be a family.
A similar custody arrangement as to what he has with Leanne.
Pretending to be a family, even for two days every two weeks.
'She goes to bed at 7:30, please don't differ from this, it messes her up for days.' She tells him, tersely.
'Okay.' She doesn't trust him, but she doesn't have any evidence that it is going to go tits up.
Not yet.
'C'mere baby girl.' She whispers, edging closer to her, breathing in her scent.
She goes to pull her in closer, tell her everything is going to be okay.
But it's not because it's not true.
She'd heard the heartbeat, felt the flutters, mapped her future.
The future her baby, the little girl she'd never though she wanted, wouldn't get to live.
The one she loved so very much.
She's crying, her body having just betrayed her in the cruellest way.
Because there wasn't going to be a baby.
The silence broke her, and her body betrayed her.
There wasn't going to be the stretch marks and the weight to lose, maybe just a few pounds. She wasn't looking forward to those marks, but she desperately wants them.
Yet, it was still betraying her now because she'd started lactating. A cruel reminder that she'd never feed her baby, she yearned to be able to feed and nourish her baby. Something she'd never been sure about, but now she wasn't there she didn't have a choice about it.
She'd failed.
She wanted to be able to house her baby for the 40 weeks she needed.
The baby she had just found out was a little girl.
As she knew her baby was gone, giving it a sex made it that little bit more real. She could give it a name, but no one would know it.
People have short memories, it's unlikely anyone will ever remember she was pregnant, barring a few people.
And that hurt more than she ever thought was possible.
She hadn't wanted a baby, but then she was there, and she loved her more than she ever thought possible. Even though she wasn't here.
Not yet.
Not ever.
She wasn't going to have her own family, Roy looked out for her, but she didn't have her own child.
Because she was gone and there was nothing, she could do to change that.
She knew she'd never be able to feel pain like it, she'd just given birth to a baby.
A late-term miscarriage.
Not a still birth, even though she'd given birth. Laboured a little life that had no chance of survival.
She knew how Liam felt, with baby Paul.
She felt broken.
Numb.
Empty.