Free Tall Poppies by Louise Bagshawe

but Nina swore she was not for sale. Once she had a job, she’d pay whatever it took to rip his bastard out of her. By next year, she’d be in control of her own life - she could reapply to college then.
    It was difficult to pinpoint the moment she’d changed her mind. After she started at Green Earth, Nina meant to make a doctor’s appointment, but she kept putting it off. She told herself she was settling in, but two weeks passed, then three, and she still hadn’t done it. Walking down Atlantic Avenue in the summer evenings, past the
     
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    Arab bakeries and falafel stands, she’d watch the black robed mothers cuddling their downy-haired babies, and feel an unexpected tenderness. Or she’d notice a little girl trotting behind her morn in a shopping mall and wonder what her own baby might look like. Somehow she shoved the issue to the back of her mind. It was easy to ignore it, af least at first. Nina had no morning sickness, no cravings for sardine and jelly sandwiches, nothing. Her already voluptuous body didn’t seem any different, except for a little tenderness around the breasts.
    Two months into her job, the third month of pregnancy, Nina found herself stacking jars of baby applesauce. She froze as she stared at the label, showing a chubby baby with a gap-toothed smile. And she knew she’d changed her mind.
    Nina wanted her child. No matter who the father was. She wanted someone to love. She wanted to take her to the park and buy her dolls and building bricks. She wanted to play with her. She wanted to give her all the joys, all the caring, that her own parents never bothered with. She knew it sounded selfish, but that was the way she felt.
     
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    Come on, Nina, you have to be kidding, she lectured herself. What about college? You think you can work your way through college with a baby?
    But what about college? That was unreal, that was another world. St Mike’s and Jeff’s world. This was life, earning a wage and making the rent. She could survive without a college degree. She looked again at the applesauce.
    A baby would be family, and that would be worth anything.
    It’s going to be tough, the nagging voice of reason warned her. But Nina had made UP her mind. Tough I’m used to.
     
    Nina always remembered the day she told Frank. It was bitterly cold, freezing grey slush on the streets, gaudy Christmas decorations everywhere, Chanukah lights in a few windows, another New York winter. She found herself looking in toy stores, full of holly and kings and neon Santas, and wondering how she’d handle Christmas with her kid. The only thing she didn’t like about being Jewish was Christmas. There was no getting around it, Chanukah gifts couldn’t compete with the orgy of Christmas celebrations, food and trees and lights and cards and presents, bombarding you everywhere you went. You felt guilty as a kid for feeling so left out, because even if it was all about money, lots of Jewish parents scrupulously ignored the twenty-fifth. Hers had, for sure, although Nina was sure it was more to avoid spending any dough than for God.
    She decided she’d just make a bigger deal of Chanukah. Her baby would have no cause to complain. That was when she knew for sure. ‘Frank, I got something to tell you.’
    ‘You’re leaving,’ Frank said anxiously. Nina had onl
     
    been around a few months but it felt like for ever. He didn’t know how he’d get along without her.
    ‘No, but I hope you won’t be mad … I’ve decided to keep the baby.’
    ‘That’s wonderful,’ the old guy said. His face blossomed into a vast crinkly grin. ‘You’ll be a great mom. I guess I’m gonna have to give you a raise.’
    He trundled over and hugged her. Nina almost wanted to cry. Nobody had given her such imple friendship for as long as she could remember.
    Frank added, ‘I been thinking about giving you a share in the profits, anyway. Five per cent on top of your wages. Since we’re making some, these