Please Don’t Take My Baby
‘I’m going to love my baby and give her lots of attention,’ Jade said. ‘I’ll show my mum she’s wrong.’Jade, 17, is pregnant, homeless and alone when she’s brought to live with Cathy. Jade is desperate to keep her baby, but little more than a child herself, she struggles with the responsibilities her daughter brings.Cathy is worried as soon as Jade arrives: she’s never looked after a pregnant teenager before, but none of the mother and baby carers is free, and – seventeen years old, seven months pregnant and homeless – Jade is in a desperate situation.But Jade doesn’t want to listen or advice and although her daughter is born safely it isn’t long before Jade’s in trouble with the police.Cathy knows that Jade loves her daughter with all her heart, but will she be able to get through to Jade in time to make her realise just how much she might lose?
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Certain details in this story, including names, places and dates, have been changed to protect the family’s privacy.
HarperElement
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First published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2013
Copyright © Cathy Glass 2013
Cathy Glass asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
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Cover images © James Jordan Photography/Getty Images (posed by models); Shutterstock.com (background)
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Source ISBN: 9780007514915
Ebook Edition © April 2013 ISBN: 9780007514922
Version 2016-08-15
Damaged
Hidden
Cut
The Saddest Girl in the World
Happy Kids
The Girl in the Mirror
I Miss Mummy
Mummy Told Me Not to Tell
My Dad’s a Policeman (a Quick Reads novel)
Run, Mummy, Run
The Night the Angels Came
Happy Adults
A Baby’s Cry
Happy Mealtimes for Kids
Another Forgotten Child
Please Don’t Take My Baby
Will You Love Me?
About Writing and How to Publish
Daddy’s Little Princess
The Child Bride
Saving Danny
Girl Alone
The Silent Cry
Contents
10. ‘Like You See on the Telly’
19. ‘Please Don’t Take My Baby’
England has one of the highest teenage pregnancy rates in the developed world. Last year nearly 40,000 teenage girls gave birth and nearly 60,000 terminated a pregnancy. These figures are truly shocking. And while some of the girls’ stories have happy endings, many do not.
We’d just sat down to our evening meal when the doorbell rang. I sighed. Why did salespeople always manage to time their calls with dinner? Double glazing, cavity-wall insulation, religion, new driveway, landscape the garden or fresh fish from Grimsby: whatever they were selling, 6.00 p.m. seemed to be the time they called, I supposed because most people are home from work by then and it isn’t so late that people won’t answer their front doors.
‘Aren’t you going to see who it is, Mum?’ Paula, my eight-year-old daughter, asked, as I didn’t immediately leave the table.
‘Yes,’ I said as the bell rang for a second time.
Standing, I swallowed my mouthful of cottage pie and went down the hall to the front door, ready to despatch the salesperson as quickly as possible.
‘And don’t be rude!’ Adrian called after me.
As if I would! Although it was true I usually sent away cold callers efficiently and effectively, which to Adrian, aged twelve, could be seen as rude and certainly embarrassing.
‘Don’t be cheeky,’ I returned, as I arrived at the front door.
It was dark outside at six o’clock in January and, as usual, before answering the door at night, I checked the security spyhole, which allowed me to see who was in the porch. The porch was illuminated by a carriage lamp and gave enough light for me to see a lady in her early thirties, dressed smartly in a light-grey winter coat, and whom I vaguely recognized from seeing in the street. I guessed she was collecting either money for a charity or signatures for a petition on a local issue: traffic calming, crossing patrol, noisy pub in the high road, etc.
‘Hello,’ I said with a smile as I opened the door. The cold night air rushed in.
‘I’m sorry to trouble you,’ she began. ‘You’re Cathy Glass, aren’t you?’ I saw she wasn’t carrying a charity-collection tin or a clipboard with a petition to sign.
‘Yes,’ I said, surprised she knew my name. I certainly didn’t know hers.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you. My name’s Meryl Dennis. I work at Beachcroft School. I’m the games mistress – I teach PE. I expect you’ve seen me around? I live at number 122.’
