Free Surrogate – a psychological thriller by Tim Adler
Authors: Tim Adler
other hand, I truly loved her and wanted her to be happy.
Mole said, "I was reading that you have to eat lots of vine leaves when you're pregnant. They're stuffed with folic acid."
"It's not you who's going to be pregnant. Don't tell me you're getting one of those phantom pregnancies. I hope you're not going to get lots of cravings for coal and ice cream in the middle of the night."
"I am, and I'm going to eat and eat until I'm big and fat and you won't love me anymore."
She blew out both cheeks and made me laugh. Looking at her perched on a barstool in her mini kilt and with her blond bob, she looked so bloody cute I wanted to kiss the tip of her upturned nose. That was when I saw her. Alice had walked in off the street and was looking around uncertainly. A big lumpy girl dressed in a jumper and a plaid maxi skirt. Her reddish hair was parted in the middle and fell down to her shoulders. Not the most conventionally attractive of women, that's for sure, but even then I could sense there was something about her, a malevolence that seemed to suck the energy out of the room. I realise this must sound perverse, but I found it sexually exciting, and sex should always have a touch of cruelty in it, like angostura bitters clouding a glass of gin. However, I’m getting ahead of myself.
I raised my hand and Alice came over. "You must be Alice," said Mole. "This is my husband, Hugo." We shook hands, and I asked how her hotel was.
"Ooh, it's lovely," Alice said. "It's got those little gold chocolates that you see on telly." Mole and I exchanged a look behind her back. We talked for a bit about her train ride down and whether she had found the restaurant all right, and then the waiter came over and told us our table was ready.
Our corner was beside the fish tank. Alice watched fascinated as tiny fish quivered in the water while the waiter handed out menu cards. "This place specialises in seafood," I said, opening my menu. Alice concentrated on hers and said she'd never had scallops before. Mole and I both ordered turbot. "Very good, very fresh," the waiter enthused while taking our menus back.
"So, Alice. What do you think of London so far?" I asked.
"It's much bigger than Manchester. I thought I'd get one of those buses to take me round tomorrow before I go home. You know, Buckingham Palace, the Houses of Parliament, Harrods."
"That's a good idea. I've heard they're really good fun."
I was just about to get into other places she must see on this, her first visit to London, when Mole interrupted me. She was determined to get down to business.
"Alice, I was wondering if you could tell us a little more about yourself. Who your parents are, where you grew up, that kind of thing. All we know about you is the piece of paper the clinic gave us."
Alice reached across the table to get a bread stick, and her jumper showed off the swell of her heavy breasts. As she reached, I also noticed a thick scar on her wrist. What the hell was that about? A childhood accident, putting her fist through a window, or something more sinister? "I grew up in Salford. Me mum's a cleaner in the local school, where me dad's the caretaker."
"But you went to university in Manchester, right?"
"Salford Metropolitan," Alice corrected her. "It used to be the polytechnic. I did sociology but I couldn't find a job anywhere. I ended up working behind a bar."
"And you're still working at this pub?" Mole continued, unperturbed.
"Um, these are delicious," Alice said, reaching for another bread stick. "No, I got made redundant just before Christmas. They let everybody go. I've been on Jobseekers since then. It's really bad. There aren't any jobs. That's what made me think about surrogacy. A mate of mine did it, and she said it was dead easy. She made twenty grand."
"So there's nothing keeping you in Manchester anymore? You could move down to London?" Mole pressed on.
"I suppose so. I hadn't really thought about it. P'raps I could get a job in London. There are
Mole said, "I was reading that you have to eat lots of vine leaves when you're pregnant. They're stuffed with folic acid."
"It's not you who's going to be pregnant. Don't tell me you're getting one of those phantom pregnancies. I hope you're not going to get lots of cravings for coal and ice cream in the middle of the night."
"I am, and I'm going to eat and eat until I'm big and fat and you won't love me anymore."
She blew out both cheeks and made me laugh. Looking at her perched on a barstool in her mini kilt and with her blond bob, she looked so bloody cute I wanted to kiss the tip of her upturned nose. That was when I saw her. Alice had walked in off the street and was looking around uncertainly. A big lumpy girl dressed in a jumper and a plaid maxi skirt. Her reddish hair was parted in the middle and fell down to her shoulders. Not the most conventionally attractive of women, that's for sure, but even then I could sense there was something about her, a malevolence that seemed to suck the energy out of the room. I realise this must sound perverse, but I found it sexually exciting, and sex should always have a touch of cruelty in it, like angostura bitters clouding a glass of gin. However, I’m getting ahead of myself.
I raised my hand and Alice came over. "You must be Alice," said Mole. "This is my husband, Hugo." We shook hands, and I asked how her hotel was.
"Ooh, it's lovely," Alice said. "It's got those little gold chocolates that you see on telly." Mole and I exchanged a look behind her back. We talked for a bit about her train ride down and whether she had found the restaurant all right, and then the waiter came over and told us our table was ready.
Our corner was beside the fish tank. Alice watched fascinated as tiny fish quivered in the water while the waiter handed out menu cards. "This place specialises in seafood," I said, opening my menu. Alice concentrated on hers and said she'd never had scallops before. Mole and I both ordered turbot. "Very good, very fresh," the waiter enthused while taking our menus back.
"So, Alice. What do you think of London so far?" I asked.
"It's much bigger than Manchester. I thought I'd get one of those buses to take me round tomorrow before I go home. You know, Buckingham Palace, the Houses of Parliament, Harrods."
"That's a good idea. I've heard they're really good fun."
I was just about to get into other places she must see on this, her first visit to London, when Mole interrupted me. She was determined to get down to business.
"Alice, I was wondering if you could tell us a little more about yourself. Who your parents are, where you grew up, that kind of thing. All we know about you is the piece of paper the clinic gave us."
Alice reached across the table to get a bread stick, and her jumper showed off the swell of her heavy breasts. As she reached, I also noticed a thick scar on her wrist. What the hell was that about? A childhood accident, putting her fist through a window, or something more sinister? "I grew up in Salford. Me mum's a cleaner in the local school, where me dad's the caretaker."
"But you went to university in Manchester, right?"
"Salford Metropolitan," Alice corrected her. "It used to be the polytechnic. I did sociology but I couldn't find a job anywhere. I ended up working behind a bar."
"And you're still working at this pub?" Mole continued, unperturbed.
"Um, these are delicious," Alice said, reaching for another bread stick. "No, I got made redundant just before Christmas. They let everybody go. I've been on Jobseekers since then. It's really bad. There aren't any jobs. That's what made me think about surrogacy. A mate of mine did it, and she said it was dead easy. She made twenty grand."
"So there's nothing keeping you in Manchester anymore? You could move down to London?" Mole pressed on.
"I suppose so. I hadn't really thought about it. P'raps I could get a job in London. There are