The Accidental Mother Read Online Free Page B

like she had a temperature and sore throat just by looking at her. Sophie had had to hold the baby at one point, and it had looked up at her. Two huge black, blank eyes peering out from a wrinkled, pinkish lump devoid of any recognizable emotion, and Sophie hadn’t got it. She didn’t understand why Carrie was so crazy about the baby. About both her children, actually. It had to be more complicated than just hormones duping all new mothers into eternal slavery. Kids had to have something going for them, but how could anybody be so in love with a leaden lump of alien life-form that looked like it had no humanity in it whatsoever, just an unremitting, single-minded will to suck mankind dry of everything that it had to offer? No, Sophie hadn’t taken to the baby at all, but at least Bella could talk and seemed quite sensible.
    “I like your shoes,” the three-year-old had told her as they stood by the font. “And your pretty, beautiful clothes. Like Barbie.” She had reached for Sophie’s hand, and Sophie had held hands with her for twenty minutes, even though she’d feared the slight stickiness of Bella’s palm was not caused by chocolate alone.
    Later that night, at Mrs. Stiles’s house, Sophie had sat up with Carrie long after everyone else had gone home or to bed. They had stockpiled three bottles of wine that Mrs. Stiles had bought for the occasion and were two-thirds of the way through the second bottle.
    “Oh, my God,” Carrie had said with the practiced, hushed giggle of a mother. “What about that time we got caught in the boys’ changing room of St. Peter’s! My God. I thought Mum would literally kill me. She didn’t, though—she just looked at me and told me she was disappointed in me and so was Jesus.” Sophie had remembered the occasion—they had only narrowly avoided suspension. Her own mother had been too busy worrying about a new litter of puppies to be that cross. “Silly girl,” she had told Sophie when she heard. “If that Carrie told you to jump off a cliff, you would. Just don’t do it again love, okay?” she’d said.
    “It was a fifth-grade dare, wasn’t it? Who could get Toby Barnes’s boxers out of St. Peter’s. What were we thinking? It just goes to show what clueless virgins we were. If we had any sense at all, we would have stayed well clear of Toby Barnes’s boxers.”
    “Yes,” Carrie had said. “Unlike Ursula Goodman. She got far too close to them. Pregnant at fifteen. Exiled to Welwyn Garden City. Nightmare.”
    Sophie had poured out the last of the wine. “Well, you’re a young mother. You seem to love it,” she’d said. “But then again, I suppose it’s different when you’ve got someone to share it with.”
    Carrie had nodded and drained her glass in one gulp. “God, this stuff is rough,” she’d said, laughing. She’d paused then, and Sophie had waited, sensing that she wanted to say something.
    “You know we bought the house after the wedding?”
    Sophie had nodded.
    “Well, mortgages and kids make you think about stuff. We made wills and even got life insurance!”
    Sophie had nodded approvingly. She’d made a will soon after she’d bought her flat and arranged a policy to cover her mortgage in case she got knocked down by a bus. It was just sensible. Tidy. She was impressed that Carrie and Louis were even thinking that far ahead. Perhaps Louis was good for Carrie after all.
    Carrie went on. “Recently I’ve been thinking that my will doesn’t do enough. I have to make provision for the girls in case anything happens to me, to both of us I mean. Name a guardian, you know.” Carrie had smiled at Sophie. “Someone who’s not my mother. So I was wondering, Soph—would you do it? Would you be the girls’ guardian? You’re the only person I know with a proper job.”
    Sophie had laughed. “Oh, I’m flattered!” she’d said.
    “Yes, well, you know what I mean. You’re the only person I think I’d trust with them.”
    “Really?”