It was Beulah that gave the game away. The cat who had assiduously ignored Hannah, now started to show an interest in her. She would sit next to Hannah and mewl incessantly. Sometimes she would jump on her lap and then knead her stomach with her paws. Carl noticed the change and began to question Hannah about it.
"The cat's acting weird. What's up Beulah, why are you upset?"
Hannah dismissed his fears as best she could, but he continued to probe. After one particularly noisy evening courtesy of the cat, Carl was getting annoyed. He was not irked by Beulah, she could do no wrong, he was blaming Hannah. It was time to tell him the news.
Hannah explained to Carl that she was pregnant and she watched as he exploded with fury. It was not the reaction she had been hoping for, but it was not unexpected either. They had never discussed having children because each time she had hinted at it he had shut her down. She had been in awe of Carl and nervous of him, but this time she was truly afraid.
Carl's lip curled and he threw his plate across the room. "You stupid fucking cow. You know somewhere in your thick head that our life is not what you would call normal. What made you think that a baby would fit into this?"
"It was a mistake." Hannah whispered.
"A mistake that I will have to deal with." Was Carl's ominous answer.
The stalling and evasion meant that Hannah was over three months pregnant when he found out. There would be no turning back now. The silent treatment continued for a few days, before normal, or what was normal for them, life resumed. Banned from telling anyone, large T shirts and stretchy trousers did the job of hiding her condition.
A test had provided the confirmation. So far, no doctor had been consulted. The secrecy and lack of medical attention were worrying as the pregnancy progressed. Afraid to mention it to Carl, Hannah wore her big clothes and kept quiet, whilst panicking inside about what may happen in the future.
Jane, ever observant and wary, had voiced her suspicions. A furious denial had been met with a raised eyebrow. Not allowed to tell anyone, no consultation with a midwife, no tests or scans. What would happen when the baby started to come? Only books and internet articles could provide Hannah with answers.
As she entered the seventh month, it could no longer be hidden. At this point Carl declared that they were moving and within two days they had packed and were leaving the cottage. Clothes and personal items were put into boxes and suitcases, but much was being left behind.
"What will happen to all of the furniture?" Hannah asked.
"It will stay here for the next tenants."
"But we bought all of it. It is ours."
"I know. We are renting the place to someone else, so it is still ours."
"How is that possible. Surely the owner rents it out, not us."
"Just shut up, Hannah. I know what's going on, so that is all that matters."
"Oh, okay."
Her thoughts went back to Mr Grundy and his house full of money. How they had moved into the place so shortly after his death had always been a mystery. What Carl was saying wasn't allaying her fears about the possibility of some nefarious scheme being the reason for their occupation of the house.
The cottage had felt isolated, outside of the small village, but their new home was completely remote. Carl drove her to an old farmhouse on the side of a mountain. The nearest shop was eight miles away. There was no way, not being a driver, that Hannah could go anywhere without Carl. The, old fashioned word for the period when one was giving birth was confinement. How apt that word now seemed.
"Don't you think that I should see a doctor?" Hannah was worried
"You feel alright, don't you?" Carl was not.
"Well, yes, but it is getting closer to the time and we're not ready in any way."
"We don't need anyone interfering in our lives. Everything will be fine."
"Have you delivered a baby before, because that is what will happen. What if there are complications? I think we should at least register with a local doctor in case of problems."
"It will be fine."
"You keep telling me this, but now that we are getting closer and closer to the baby being born, I am getting anxious."
"Trust me. I will look after you."
Carl stroked her hand and looked into her eyes and Hannah felt her panic subside. When he was there it was okay. Left alone, all the ways things could go wrong crowded in on her mind once more. Just two outfits for the new baby had been acquired. No crib or pram, no nappies or bottles had appeared in the house. Each time she had talked to Carl about it he had told her not to worry.
No one, other than her and Carl, knew about the pregnancy. Jane had been suspicious, but did not know for sure. The last time that Hannah had seen her she had been given one of those padded envelopes. "For protection." Jane had said. When Carl wasn't around, she had found the lace object inside and a note which said it was a Hamsa to protect one from the evil eye. It was a bit late for that.
By now every day dawned with a threat hanging over Hannah. The date was coming close and what might happen next was frightening. There would be complications and she would die. The baby would die. They would both die. Even more worrying, they would both be fine, but Carl would get rid of the child. He had shown no interest in any part of her pregnancy and their lack of preparation for the arrival was very sinister.
When she went into labour, she could not stop sobbing about what lay in her immediate future. The pain was awful, but that barely registered as the thought of what was to come plagued her. Death was waiting for one or both of them. Carl was present all through her labour, which went on for many hours. He was surprisingly patient and caring considering his disinterest in the child. He was worried about her, but not the baby.
He did tell her to push and when the child had been born, he checked that Hannah was okay. Carl had cut the umbilical cord, wrapped the baby in a blanket and handed him to Hannah. In a funereal tone he had announced that the child was a boy. He was relieved that Hannah was okay, but the boy was a real problem.
"Why are you so disappointed?" Hannah held her child and looked at Carl's miserable face.
"A boy is no good. It will take after me and that will be a problem."
He stroked Hannah's hair and then eased the infant from her arms.
"Are you going to kill him?" she asked.
"No Hannah, he's my son. He cannot stay here though. I will give him away."
She was alive, her boy was alive and it could have been much worse.
It was difficult for Hannah to combat Carl's will at the best of times, but having just given birth she was exhausted. Inside she was screaming as he took the baby away, but Carl's presence stopped her from complaining. He had put his spell on her again and this time he was using it to steal her child.
Carl looked into his son's eyes and he knew that he had inherited the curse. It would be the last time he would stare into the boy's face, he thought. Hannah managed to stand and once Carl had laid him in a box, she tucked the Hamsa into the blanket. The baby, who would be named Anthony by a stranger, was taken away from his mother and deposited on a pavement outside of a shop.
Carl's father, Patrick, had sent him and his mother away, but Carl could not give Hannah up. Her beneficence was strong and he would not find another woman like her. The child would find a new home and would likely grow up to be just like his father and grandfather. He would not however, be a drain on his mother's precious resource of kindness which kept Carl from a total meltdown.
Carl was not without pity and he was aware of the pain, both physical and mental, which Hannah was going through. Hannah noted that he did all the cooking and cleaning and looked after her as best he could for the next few weeks. The attention and the charm meant that she gradually emerged from her misery. Even after he had stolen her baby, Hannah could not hate Carl. That did not mean that her feelings for him had not changed.
The television news featured pleas for the mother of the abandoned baby boy to come forward. There were articles on the internet which gave the details of how a baby had been found in a box outside of a convenience store. The affable looking Mr Billings appeared in photographs and told how he had found Anthony. Hannah liked the name her child had been given.
The reports and articles were prolonging the agony for Hannah. Carl wanted her to go back to being how she was before all of this baby business started.
"Don't put the television on Hannah. Not the news anyway. It only upsets you."
"If there is something about Anthony, I might get to see him."
"And how will that help you. Hannah, he is gone, but he is safe. Be thankful for that and let's move on from this."
"It's hard, Carl. He is, was, my baby. Give me some time."
"Of course. I am going to take the laptop away for a while as well."
"Oh, why?"
"Because you keep searching for stories about him. This is for your own good."
Those words, Hannah thought, for your own good, why did that always mean the exact opposite.
Carl could not completely put Anthony out of his mind either. His own father Patrick had left him behind and had never tried to make contact. Surely, he must have had similar thoughts about his own son. It was possible that Patrick did not even know Carl's name. Time would pass and although Anthony would not be forgotten, Hannah's pain would abate.