Where Women are Kings Read Online Free PDF

court shoes and elastic-waisted trousers, and their husbands, quietly sitting beside them, at their lists written in marker pen – short, much shorter than theirs. She looked down at her jeans and wellies that she’d worn straight from her work at Battersea Dogs’ Home; she’d been doing rehoming assessments all morning and had come straightfrom work and, because she’d stupidly forgotten her shoes, she was covered in mud and probably worse. She looked at Obi’s three-piece suit and shining shoes from his court date, his cufflinks – how they mismatched. Him, a lawyer with an extensive publication record and a masters degree in ethics, and her, a helper in a dogs’ home with an N.V.Q. level three. They would never get through it.
    ‘OK, well, time is of the essence. Any loss in the family? Parents?’ Ricardo looked at his watch. He seemed stressed. Nikki didn’t envy him. Rehoming dogs was hard enough, but children? She couldn’t imagine. ‘I hate to rush everyone, but we are already cutting into resolution time.’
    Nikki thought of her parents. She imagined her dad, his shuffling backwards and forwards between the kitchen and the living room, carrying cups of tea on a wooden tray, her mum with her legs stretched out in front of her on a pouffe, her feet spilling over her slippers, the look that always passed between them, even now, despite shuffling and puffy feet. ‘Both of my parents are fit and well,’ she said. ‘They had me older, so it’s something I will have to face in the future, but for now they’re both fine.’
    ‘Anything else?’ said Ricardo ‘Any losses that may have led you here – particularly from the last ten years?’
    Nikki took a deep breath. ‘I had four miscarriages. I don’t know if that counts. I mean, it was early on, really, so I’m not sure if it counts as loss. I’ve been quite lucky, I suppose.’
    She could feel all eyes on her but she couldn’t look up. Stupid tears. Now they would think she couldn’t even cope. How could she adopt a baby? She couldn’t even speak without crying.
    ‘And then I had a stillbirth.’
    People held their breath. Nikki heard them all inhale.
    ‘I’m very sorry to hear that.’ Ricardo looked at Nikki. ‘What was the baby’s name?’
    She swallowed. Gulped. ‘Sorry?’
    ‘What did you call the baby you lost? I can see you’re finding it hard, Nikki. But it’s very important we can talk about loss in an open way. I can see, Nikki, that this is really difficult for you, talking about the stillborn.’
    The stillborn. Still born. She was. The. Her. The wetness of it all. The smell of blood and dead things. Those things she could talk about. But saying her name, a simple name – that was impossible.
    ‘Rosy,’ said Obi. And then he whispered, ‘Ify.’
    ‘Tell us. Tell us. You need to be able to talk about these things. Imagine a child and the losses they would have suffered. If you can’t talk about and resolve your own grief then how can a child talk to you? Especially if you want to consider the possibility of adopting an older child …’
    A child. An older child. That was Obi’s idea. But still: a child.
    Any child.
    Nikki pressed her leg into Obi. She took a breath.
    ‘What was her name? The baby you lost? You need to say her name. We need to hear it from you as well as Obi.’
    Nikki turned her head from Obi, let her leg move away from his. There’s a child at the end of this, she told herself. A baby. Or a child we could really help. She remembered Obi’s face when she’d agreed, how he’d held her, the sadness in his eyes completely lifted. ‘This was meant to be,’ he’d said. ‘We are meant to help children, and that’s right for us.’ And she’d let her arms imagine holding something tightly. The weight of air.
    ‘Ify,’ she said. ‘Our baby was Ify.’ And Nikki suddenly remembered her wide-open eyes, gold-flecked and beautiful.
    Obi started talking. ‘I lost my mum when I was a