Not My Daughter

‘Anna? Are you ready for our meeting?’

‘Yes, just chatting through some things.’ I turn back to Sasha, but she’s already scrambling up from her seat.

‘I think I’ll go—’

‘Sasha, why don’t we schedule another time to talk?’ I rise as well. ‘So you can tell me a little bit more about what’s been going on?’

‘It’s all right.’ I watch unhappily as she backs out the door. ‘I’m all right,’ she says again, and then she’s gone.

I turn to Lara, who looks unimpressed. ‘What was she whinging about, then?’

For a head of Human Resources, Lara is not the most sympathetic person on the planet.

‘She was concerned about something,’ I say as I click my mouse to print off the performance reports. ‘But she was uncomfortable telling me.’ And you scared her off, I add silently. I’d never dare say it, and Lara knows it anyway.

‘Someone told her she looked pretty, I suppose?’ Lara says, rolling her eyes. ‘Girls these days.’ She turns quickly, her heels like sharpened points, naturally expecting me to follow. With a sigh, I gather up the reports. I know this meeting will just be Lara’s attempt to justify not giving anyone a pay rise, and I am not looking forward to sitting through it. I love my job, but dealing with Lara requires a level of skill and caution I find exhausting, even though I certainly should be used to it after so many years. At least it provides a distraction from the thoughts about eggs and babies that have been circling in my mind all weekend.

* * *

As the days pass, I fight a restless, edgy feeling; I realise I am waiting for Milly to ring. I text her once, just to check in, and she gives a brief reply. It’s not that unusual, but for the first time it feels as if there is something unspoken that has settled between us, and I start to think about how, if Milly does take up my offer, this might affect our friendship.

I don’t want to believe it would, or even could, at least not negatively. Milly and I are solid. We always have been. This, if anything, should bring us even closer together, giving and sharing so much, a child that would bind us together forever. At least, that’s how I want it to be. Yet something about Milly’s silence niggles at me, like a stone in my shoe.

When another weekend rolls around without more than a few texts from Milly, though, I start to wonder. I can’t remember the last time we’ve gone this long without seeing each other. I consider ringing her, but I wouldn’t know what to say – So do you want my egg? It feels ridiculous, as well as overwhelming.

And then, on Sunday night, she calls.

‘I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch,’ she says a bit breathlessly. ‘I’ve just been trying to sort out everything in my mind…’

‘It’s okay.’ I sink onto the sofa, Winnie on my lap. I am relieved she has called, but I am also anxious too, waiting for her verdict. Waiting for Milly to call the shots, as she always does.

‘I’ve been thinking about your… your offer a lot,’ she says after a moment. ‘It’s so kind and so generous, Anna, but…’ She pauses, and I tense, unsure if I want her to accept or refuse. My ambivalence alarms me, because I don’t entirely understand it. ‘Could I come over?’ Milly asks abruptly.

‘Of course. Do you mean… now?’

‘Yes, now, if that’s okay. It’s just… this whole thing… Matt and I have been doing some research. There’s so much to think about, and I wanted to talk to you about it. Because I don’t want you – or us for that matter – going into this lightly…’

‘I wouldn’t.’ My offer might have been made in the spur of the moment, but it was still sincere. ‘But yes, of course. Come over.’

When Milly arrives just fifteen minutes later, she hugs me quickly and then paces the length of my small sitting room, a dark-haired bundle of nervous energy as always. You could power a city with Milly’s energy; it practically crackles from her wild hair, the quick strides, the way she rubs her hands together. Today it feels even more intense than usual.

‘Do you want a drink?’ I ask. ‘Coffee, tea… wine?’ I think I have a dusty bottle in the back of the cupboard. I’m not much of a drinker when I’m home on my own. It reminds me too much of my childhood.

‘Just water, please,’ she says with a distracted smile.

I go to the kitchen and pour her a glass from the tap. When I return to the sitting room, Milly is still pacing. I hand her the glass and then draw the curtains against the dark night. It’s raining, the patter of icy drops on the pane sounding like bullets, but it’s cosy and warm inside my flat.

‘So, what’s up?’ I ask lightly as I sit on the sofa. Winnie, having sniffed Milly and then decided not to approach, jumps into my lap.

‘Everything, it feels like.’ Milly turns to face me and then sinks into the armchair opposite the sofa, a huge, squashy one in nubby purple velvet that I bought from a charity shop. With sympathy, I notice how tense and tired she looks, Milly amped up, on hyper-speed.

‘How are you doing, Milly? This has all got to be so tough.’

‘Yes, well.’ She rakes a hand through her hair, which springs wildly up around her face in a dark halo. ‘There is a lot to deal with. I’ll need to start HRT soon, and of course there’s this…’ She gestures to the empty space between us, and I nod, waiting. Milly leans forward, her eyes bright with both urgency and determination. ‘Did you mean it, Anna? Do you really mean it, that you’d be willing to do that for me? Because I can’t stop thinking about it. It feels like a lifeline, but it also feels… strange, I suppose. It’s such a big thing. And I suppose I’m worried you might regret it, you know, down the line.’

‘Why would I regret it?’ I ask as I stroke Winnie, letting my hands slide over her soft grey fur as she purrs like a car motor.

‘I know in the past you’ve said you didn’t,’ Milly says hesitantly, ‘but considering things now, I have to ask. Do you think you might want children yourself one day?’