Free Surrogate – a psychological thriller by Tim Adler Page A

plenty of restaurants here. I could be a manageress."
    Mole nodded. "Oh yes, there are plenty. What I'm getting at is, I want to be really involved in the pregnancy, making sure you eat the right kind of stuff, get plenty of rest. How would you feel about it?"
    "Don't make nowt difference to me. It's your baby."
    I didn't like where this conversation was going and wanted to head it off at the pass. "Alice," I interrupted. "What do you like doing? In your spare time, I mean."
    "I like real ale, and I like Rugby League," she said.
    I laughed, "Oh God, don't tell me you keep pigeons as well."
    Now it was Alice's turn to laugh. She was not as unattractive as her photo suggested. She reminded me of a girl you might see in the office standing over the photocopier when you're a bit hung over and you wonder just what it would be like ...
    "No, I'm not that bad. What about you two? What do you do for a living?"
    "Well I'm in the insurance business. Planes, ships, everything needs insuring." I did not want to get into the complexities of reinsurance right now.
    "And I'm in the art world," said Mole. "I work in an art gallery, although that will stop when our baby's born." We looked at each other, and I felt warmth spread across my chest. There, she had said it. Our baby.
    "I've never had much time for art, paintings an' that," Alice said. "I'd like to learn, though."
    The waiter brought our plates, and Alice tucked into her spaghetti. She had what you'd call a healthy appetite and was nearly finished when I was only halfway through my grilled fillet.
    "Mmm, these are yummy. Bit like fishy chicken nuggets," said Alice, spearing another scallop.
    "What you're doing, it's a big step," Mole said. "Will this be your first child? Have you had a baby before?"
    That was something that had never even occurred to me. In my heart I knew that Mole was slightly more intelligent than I was; it was as if she could see further, like that afternoon in Forget's surgery, and sometimes I felt myself struggling to catch up. After all, I was in my exalted position only because of an accident of birth. Alice shook her head. "No, I've never been pregnant. I don't even have a bloke." She looked up and held my gaze for a fraction of a second longer than she ought to have done. Somewhere at the back of my mind, a discordant note was sounding. The truth is that even then, right at that moment, I somehow knew this was going to turn out badly. A sixth sense.
    "How do you know you're going to enjoy being pregnant?" I said. "What I'm trying to say is–" What I was really trying to say was how did she know she could even get pregnant? Wallace-Jones had said most surrogates already had families but enjoyed the full feeling of carrying a baby.
    "Me sister's got three kids. Her husband says he just bloody looks at her and she's up the duff. Me mam comes from a family of seven. I don't think I've got any worries on that score." She glanced at Mole. "Sorry. No offence, mind."
    Mole acted as if she hadn't heard her. "So why are you doing it then?"
    Alice looked at my wife as if she was stupid. "It's the money, innit? Beggars can't be choosers."
    This was the moment I was waiting for. I remembered that Dad had warned me about our surrogate developing maternal feelings. "I just want to be clear about this," I said. "This is purely a financial transaction, right?"
    Alice looked at me blankly. "I'm not going to run off with your baby, if that's what you mean."
    We ordered coffee, and I paid the bill using the company credit card. Besides, how would Brian Sibley know that Alice wasn't a broker from Willis or Marsh?
    We said goodbye outside the restaurant, our breath smoking in the cold. Watching Alice disappear into the night, I asked Mole what she thought.
    "She's not who I expected, that's for sure. All that stuff about real ale and Rugby League. I thought she was going to say she kept ferrets next."
    "Did you notice the scar on her wrist?"
    "What do you mean?"
    "There's a