Barbara Hannay - Expecting Miracle Twins

She wondered despondently where she should start her search for accommodation. It would have to be somewhere cheap and she didn’t know Sydney very well.

‘Rotten luck for you,’ chirped the girlfriend and she grinned smugly at Mattie as she rested her chin possessively on Jake’s shoulder.

‘You haven’t explained how you know Will,’ Jake drawled.

‘I’ve known him all my life,’ Mattie told him and it was perfectly true. Even though she hadn’t seen much of Will Carruthers in recent years, they belonged to a circle of friends who’d grown up together in Willowbank in Outback New South Wales.

‘Will’s sister, Gina, is my best friend,’ she explained. ‘And Gina and Will organised between them for me to live here for twelve months.’

Jake frowned as he digested this and then he shrugged. ‘In that case, I guess there’s no reason why you can’t move in. After all, there are two bedrooms.’

His companion let out an annoyed huff.

Mattie’s mouth opened and shut, then opened again. She really didn’t want to have to start searching for somewhere else, and this pair would only be here for a few more days. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind? I don’t want to intrude.’

He uttered a gruff sound of impatience. ‘I’ve offered, haven’t I? Anyway, I don’t plan to be around much.’ He turned to the girl. ‘We may as well hit the town now, Ange, while—’ He paused and gave Mattie the briefest flicker of a smile. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Matilda Carey.’ She held out her hand rather primly. ‘Mostly I’m called Mattie.’

‘Jake Devlin,’ he said, giving her hand a firm shake.

‘Pleased to meet you, Jake.’

He indicated the small, silky terrier-cross in her arms. ‘Who’s this?’

‘Brutus.’

Jake chuckled. ‘Oh, yeah, he’s a real brute, isn’t he?’ Then he remembered his companion. ‘This is Ange.’

Mattie smiled at her. ‘How do you do?’

‘Oh, I’m fine,’ Ange responded sulkily.

‘Would you like a hand to bring your things inside?’

Jake’s courtesy surprised Mattie, but its effect was offset by the predictably dark look on Ange’s face. ‘Oh, heavens, no,’ she assured him. ‘I can manage easily. I only have a canary cage and a few suitcases.’

‘A canary?’ Jake looked both amused and puzzled. He scratched his head and the gesture caused all sorts of muscles in his chest to ripple magnificently.

Mattie was about to explain that she’d inherited the canary from her grandmother but, once again, his chest distracted her.

‘Jake.’ A warning note had entered Ange’s voice. ‘We’re heading off now, right? I’ll get my things.’

‘Sure,’ he said and he began to close the buttons on his shirt.

Mattie watched as the two of them hurried away to find a taxi and then she went into the flat. It wasn’t quite the exciting introduction to her new home that she’d pictured. The unpalatable music, although diminished, still throbbed from the stereo and she quickly switched it off.

She crossed the lounge room, skirting the coffee table with the abandoned wine bottle, bowl of nuts and glasses, and went through to the kitchen. The sink was littered with dirty dishes and the dishwasher door hung open, as if someone had intended to stack it but had been distracted by a better idea.

Down the hallway, she found the bathroom and she was not surprised to see wet towels dumped on the floor, as well as a pair of black lace knickers. Mattie had shared flats before and some of her flatmates had been untidy, so she was more or less used to this kind of scene. It was weird, then, that the sight of those knickers depressed her.

The next room was a bedroom, dominated by a king-size bed—unmade, of course. The bed’s tangled sheets told their own story, as did the empty champagne bottle on the bedside table.

An inexplicable hollowness in Mattie’s stomach sent her hurrying on till she came, at last, to a neat bedroom at the back of the flat.

It was much smaller than the main bedroom and there was no view of the bay, but it was perfectly clean and tidy.

And mine, Mattie thought. That was something. Actually, when she gave it further thought, she realised that she would probably have taken this room for herself anyway, and kept the front room with the view for visitors.

Then again, she mused, mulling over this as she headed back to unload the car, she probably wouldn’t have too many visitors this year. Gina and Tom would want to visit from time to time and so would her parents, now that they’d recovered from the shock of hearing what she planned. But she’d agreed with Gina that they should keep their surrogacy arrangement very private, so she’d told her other friends very little about her move to Sydney.

Mattie’s decision to move to the city had not been made lightly. She and Gina had talked it over at length. They both knew that if she’d stayed in Willowbank, they couldn’t possibly keep the surrogacy under wraps. And Gina had been sensible enough to recognise that her constant vigilance of Mattie’s pregnancy would be stifling, so they’d agreed it was better this way.

In some ways, however, it was going to be a lonely year. That was the one thing that had concerned the psychologist when she’d explored Mattie’s motivations and commitment to the surrogacy process. Mattie had managed to convince her that she was perfectly happy with her own company. As a children’s book author and illustrator, she was used to spending long hours lost in her work.

‘Do you have a partner? A boyfriend?’ the psychologist had asked.

Mattie had told her there was no special man in her life. She didn’t add that there hadn’t been a special man in her life for almost three years.

‘What if you meet someone in the next few months?’ the other woman had prompted. ‘A pregnancy will restrict your social life.’

Mattie had thought it best not to mention that her social life had been on hold for quite some time. ‘It’s only one year out of my life,’ she’d said with a shrug.

‘But you’re going to need support.’

‘The baby’s parents will come to Sydney for regular visits,’ she’d responded with jaunty confidence. ‘And my friends and family are only a phone call or an e-mail away.’

She’d wisely avoided announcing that she hadn’t asked for support, but the truth was that Matilda Carey made a habit of giving support to others, rather than receiving it. Her impulse to help and rescue had begun so far back in her past it was as vital to her nature as her heartbeat—and that wasn’t going to change in a year.

It was past midnight when Mattie heard the front door open and the sound of heavy footsteps on the terracotta tiles. She expected the murmur of voices or laughter, but all she heard was a thump and a muffled curse, as if someone had tripped, then more footsteps and, eventually, taps turning on in the bathroom.

The footsteps continued on to Jake’s bedroom and Mattie pulled a pillow over her head. If those sheets were going to be tangled again tonight, she didn’t want to listen to the sound effects.

She was washing up her breakfast things when Jake stumbled into the kitchen next morning, bleary-eyed and unshaven—like a bear with a sore head, her mother would have said.

‘Morning,’ Mattie said breezily, flashing a careful smile over her shoulder.

He replied with a grumpy monosyllable.

‘There’s tea in the pot and it’s still hot, if you’d like some.’

Jake shook his head and scowled at the sparkling clean kitchen benches. ‘What’s happened to the coffee plunger?’

‘Oh, it’s up here.’ Mattie reached into the overhead cupboard where she’d put the plunger pot after she’d washed it last night.