Gemini

By Caroline Robb

A romance begins in 1943, in wartime Britain, between Annabelle, an English pianist, and Andrew, a United States Airforce Engineer. An accident separates them before she can tell him she’s pregnant, as he’s flown back to America.
She has identical twin daughters via a caesarean section but is deceived into thinking she’s had only one baby - by the Adoption Agent. Annabelle had changed her mind about adoption but Andrew had heard otherwise.
The Adoption Agent gave one child to Annabelle and the other to Andrew in America. Neither parent or twins knew there was a twin sibling until the twins meet in their twenties and begin the process of unearthing the truth about their birth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press UK
• Release date: Sep 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781982284138

Book preview

Gemini

CAROLINE ROBB

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Copyright © 2021 Caroline Robb.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by

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problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The

intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help

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ISBN: 978-1-9822-8412-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-9822-8413-8 (e)

Balboa Press rev. date: 08/26/2021

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

To my Flamingo friends and family

Ah! Love! Could thou and I with Fate conspire

To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things

Would not we shatter it to bits – and then

Re-mould it to the Heart’s Desire!

The Rubayyat of Omar Khyyam

Chapter 1

Liverpool, England June 1945

Annabelle lay unconscious under anaesthesia, illuminated under the large, circular theatre light. Green-gowned theatre staff stood in various positions, the anaesthetist at her head monitoring her blood pressure and breathing whilst keeping a firm hand on her oxygen mask. Mr Drummond, the obstetrician, stood close to his patient’s side holding a steady scalpel in his gloved hand.

He was ready to incise her abdomen and discover why a normal pregnancy had turned into an emergency. As far as he knew no complications were expected for the single child she was carrying.

He parted the green sterile towels for access to the skin, making an incision supported by diathermy to seal off small, severed blood vessels that dripped as he cut.

As he opened the abdomen, the uterus became visible. With further incisions he performed a transverse incision into the muscle of the lower section, opening it wider, before reaching into the cavity to remove the baby’s head, first.

He gasped finding another baby within. ‘Well’, said Mr Drummond: ‘Look what we have here! That would explain a lot.’ Now he knew why a caesarean section was necessary. There had been a problem of obstruction, he thought, but not for the reason he’d been given.

Carefully he swept their bodies, individually and head-first, up into the open-air as he announced, ‘They’re identical twins. Both their umbilical-cords are bound to the same placenta.’

Quickly he clamped and cut each baby’s cord, freeing them so that the midwives could take them clear off the operating table: to clear their airways and ensure they could breathe.

Simultaneously, both sets of lungs expanded bringing similar cries from the new-borns as they took their first breath. The theatre staff nodded and smiled, always glad to know their babies were alive.

An extra operating room midwife came to the rescue. Whilst only one cot had been made available, with a suction tube and oxygen at hand, they now needed two. The head midwife in attendance swiftly organised another set of equipment whilst both babies were placed in the same cot until another was provided.

Once the placenta was removed and it was confirmed that the uterus was clear of unwanted material, Mr Drummond sutured the tissues he’d incised, and diligently wrote up his medical notes, as was his routine, adding the anaesthetist’s list of drugs used for anaesthesia. But twenty minutes later, as though his notes were irrelevant, the head midwife informed him that the twins’ mother should have no knowledge of the twin birth. As far as he knew she’d only had one baby.

Half an hour earlier Jan Perry stood with a sense of foreboding outside the operating theatre of the maternity Unit. Representing the Adoption Society and, their head of district for a decade, she’d never felt so forlorn or distressed about a baby’s birth and the outcome of what would follow. She looked down the empty, dimly lit corridor then back to focus on the muffled voices leaking under the theatre door. What where they doing now, she thought? How long will it take?

She tried to dismiss her wicked thoughts, ones telling her that all would be solved if the baby died during the caesarean section.

She’d had such high hopes when Annabelle’s baby had been added to her books, mainly because an American adopter had been willing to pay hundreds of pounds for her child. The money would have been most welcome for The Adoption Society that was eking out a living in war-torn Liverpool.

It was months before that Jan had been contacted by an American lawyer, working on behalf of an Andrew Reid, asking specifically for the adoption of Annabelle’s child. The lawyer had been discreet and unwilling to reveal how his client knew about the forthcoming adoption. He hoped Jan, Mrs Perry, would acknowledge his client’s confidentiality.

At that time Jan had been overcome with excitement, imagining the praise she would receive from her superiors in higher office, envisaging them rubbing their hands at the thought of such a lucrative contract: how her name might have been mentioned referentially in their corridors, applauding her wisdom and competence, leading perhaps to notions of promotion.

But that was then. Now, Jan’s ambitions had sunk like a lead balloon after an encounter with Annabelle’s father, who’d stormed into the unit twelve hours ago, demanding her attention.

He’d rushed up to her, looking urgent, stating he wanted an important word with her. Jan had registered the anger and distress on Mr Roberts’ face, where ushering him into a private office seemed the wisest move in the event their discourse became loud and reached the ears of other staff and patients.

He was a tall, slim man who dominated her by at least twelve inches, Jan perceiving an immediate disadvantage. She felt diminutive but, as always, professional. She didn’t perceive how her appearance was seen by others. Her brown hair, streaked with grey, drawn back into a bun, made her look severe rather than approachable. The grey suit she wore, once expensive ten years ago and part of her choice to look official, now looked drab and overly washed and ironed. It had fitted her then but now the jacket strained on the buttons she felt determined to fasten.

Once in the office she observed his effort to stay calm although he looked like a ticking time-bomb waiting to go off. She nodded towards a seat, noting his refusal and preference to stand. She deliberately stayed silent, not wanting to delay a man who might otherwise explode, looking expectant for him to start, then watching him clear his throat as a prelude to begin.

‘I am not a man who likes to make a fuss on any occasion. But you’ll appreciate when I’ve spoken, that this is a very special occasion. I hope you’ll be patient and willing to hear what I have to say in relation to my daughter, Annabelle.’ Peter Roberts began coughing after his first sentence, a symptom from an old war wound but, something he did more often when he was emotional.

Jan waited, fearing the worse, but sat statue-still emphasising her effort to listen.

‘No one knows Annabelle the way I do. She’s a gentle, forgiving person who would rather blame herself for any event rather than others.’ Peter began to raise his voice when he uttered: ‘ You might have coerced her into submission: getting her to sign the adoption papers by convincing her she was guilty of an immoral act, or that someone else, someone married, could bring the child up better than herself. I personally have no qualms with an unmarried daughter. Her pregnancy is a natural state of affairs and she’s part of a loving family who will welcome her and the baby with open arms. I have just seen Annabelle who, in so many words, has demonstrated to me she’ll be bereft if she loses the child she’s been carrying. Part of her distress has been the fear of telling you she’s changed her mind and whether she can officially stop the contract she originally signed.’

Peter stopped for a moment before strongly and emotionally stating: ‘ I have told her we definitely can, and I intend to see it through. You need to know how vehement I feel about my request. My wife died in childbirth, when Annabelle was born, and I have no intention of losing another member of my family.’ Peter stopped, almost in tears at the thought of his deceased wife. ‘Also’ he added, ‘Annabelle is frightened she will die in childbirth like her mother. I think she has enough to contend with.’

Jan was lost for words. She was defeated. She knew that if this man stated his plea in a court of law the judge would have no option but to agree. Even she was moved but only for a moment before she considered the consequences for herself. It certainly wasn’t in her interest.

How she wished Mr Roberts had been a man of a lower class, one she could convince and sway towards her way of thinking – as she’d done so often in the past. But Mr Roberts was not of that ilk. He appeared extremely literate with the ability to state clearly and assertively what he wanted in a very convincing manner.

She now felt trapped, knowing she’d have to hand the child over to the biological parent, and felt snared without an official key to free herself from such a dilemma.

All Jan could say was: ‘What do you want me to do?’ Even though she had little doubt what the answer would be.

‘I would like you to bring me the adoption papers Annabelle signed so that between us we can make it official that the adoption is now cancelled.’

With an expression of submission, Jan rose quickly out of her seat and swiftly walked into another office. She was glad to be out of his sight to hide the tears that were filling her eyes. She felt humiliated and defeated, having always thought of herself as a strong character- until now!

Her hands trembled nervously as she located Annabelle’s contract amongst the files. Then, dabbing her eyes to conceal her mood, she reluctantly returned to the office where Mr Roberts was still standing erect.

She didn’t meet his eyes when she placed the document into his hands.

He glanced at the papers in his hand. ‘Thank you’: he said calmly with a small smile. ‘I appreciate what your work must entail: making childless couples very happy. Having the joy of a child they might never have had. So perhaps you will take comfort in knowing you have made a prospective grandfather and a mother very, very happy.’

On that departing salvo he tore up the contract into shreds in front of her, missing the paper bin before swiftly leaving the office. Jan was stunned, still looking at the door where he’d left, then stooped to literally pick up the pieces.

Jan replayed the reveries of the previous day through her mind, fidgeting to stand still, as she continued to watch the operating-theatre doors. She was now wondering why she bothered to be there. The quietness of the corridor was offering no distraction for her accumulating thoughts, only reinforcing her hopelessness and a feeling of being very alone.

Suddenly the corridor she was standing in came to life with the distant, then closer sound of footsteps running towards her. The feet belonged to young Jenny Ryan, her new recruit to the Society, who followed her like a shadow in eagerness to learn the trade.

Jenny knew what had transpired between Jan and Mr Roberts, never seeing her superior in such an agitated state. ‘Keep it confidential.’ Jenny had been told: ‘It’s between you and me for the time being.’

Jenny had felt hopeless and of little help yet honoured her mentor would confide in her, something she hadn’t done before.

As Jenny came to a full stop in the corridor, she was looking into Jan’s face with an expression of excitement, incongruent to the despair Jan was experiencing. ‘What is so joyful?’ Jan said sternly, endeavouring to shock her junior into reality.

‘Haven’t you heard?’ Jenny said breathlessly.

‘Heard what?’ Jan was beginning to get annoyed and angry enough to air it on anyone.

‘Annabelle has had twins! Twin girls!

‘Twin girls?’ Jan had wished the death of one and now there were two. She wasn’t thinking clearly.

Still breathless Jenny said enthusiastically. ‘I’ve thought this out in the last few minutes. It came to me quickly. Doesn’t it mean we could give one baby to Annabelle and the other to the lawyer. That would solve your huge problem.’

Suddenly, as though a light had gone on in her mind, Jan registered the meaning of her junior’s suggestion. ‘Of course! You clever girl. That is a great possibility but I need to think! And quickly.’ Jan stood quietly for a moment in deep thought.

‘Alright. We might just be able to make it happen.’ She went into a conspiratorial whisper when she asked: ‘Have you told anybody else outside of the operation theatre, Jenny?’

‘No!’

‘Good: then don’t. Not to a soul until I’ve sorted something out with Miss Job, the Head Midwife. I need to hurry now before Annabelle wakes up from the anaesthetic.’

Jan sensed she was about to swim in uncharted, unofficial waters, a position she’d never wished to be in. But desperate times demanded desperate measures, she quoted to herself.

She padded down her blouse and checked her hair for stray wisps as she prepared to put on a professional persona for Miss Job. She had to be convincing, she had to keep her cool, she had to win.

With every footstep towards the office she prepared her speech. She wasn’t going to mention Annabelle’s dire treatment from the time she arrived, at least not directly: but it could be enough to slightly blackmail the Head Midwife, if needed.

Jan had heard that Annabelle would have died from neglect, if her deteriorating condition hadn’t eventually been recognised. Being short of staff Miss Job had put Annabelle’s care into the unpredictable hands of a junior midwife, Miss Gibbon. It wasn’t so much Miss Gibbon’s lack of professional knowledge that forged the problem but more her religious belief that unmarried mothers were the scum of the earth and best kept at arms-length.

But arms-length wasn’t enough. Miss Gibbon kept her distance by flitting cheerfully amongst the married mothers she felt were more deserving for her services, neglecting Annabelle almost completely. When Annabelle cried out in pain, Miss Gibbon smiled to herself as though to say ‘Serves you right!’ And the more Annabelle cried the happier she made Miss Gibbon.

It was only when Annabelle reached screaming point, at a pitch that spread throughout the unit, that Miss Job ran from her office to investigate. Within minutes, backed by four decades of experience, she recognised Annabelle’s deteriorating state. Her patient was severely obstructed, dehydrated and had a racing foetal heart. She had an emergency on her hands. This was not a time to be petty and worry about the usual calmness of the antenatal ward.

Shouting at the top of her voice Miss Job summoned her second in command, Miss Daniel. The midwife rushed out of the office the minuet she heard her manager’s voice. ‘Miss Daniel, call Mr Drummond the obstetrician and Doctor Walker the anaesthetist who’re on call. Tell them we have an emergency. Call the theatre staff and technicians and tell them to set up the operating room, immediately, or get another midwife to do that. Send as many midwives that are available. I need an intravenous saline and dextrose drip, I’ll put up myself. Miss Roberts is severely dehydrated!

‘I need a urinary catheter to drain her bladder in case it’s adding to her obstruction. Bring the nearest theatre-trolley, or get a porter to do so, so that we can transfer her as soon as possible.’

The mothers-to-be in the vicinity stared above their bedsheets wondering what was going on, but for once no midwife attempted to placate them, not when time was of the essence and lives was at stake.

Unable to move, because her feet felt like concrete, Miss Gibbon gaped in alarm at the enhanced activity around her. Miss Job whisked past her, and for a second stopped to mutter in an angry voice: ‘I’ll see you later. This is not the time.’

Over an hour ago, Jan had watched Miss Job’s emergency administration from the side-lines, not being expected to participate. Now she had to confront the Head Midwife with yet another challenge.

She’d have to be gentle on her, Jan thought, and allow Miss Job to get her breath back and think straight so that she clearly understood her message.

Jan was relieved that Miss Job was in her office. ‘I hate to put any more pressure on you at this time’, Jan said, ‘but I have to tell you something important that needs swift action.’

‘What can that be?’ Miss Job said looking tired and unfocused.

‘First, has Annabelle woken up from the anaesthetic yet?’

‘No. And what she’d been through it could take some time.’

‘Good’, Jan said, so far relieved. ‘I have a request that must be addressed soon.’

‘What is it?’

Jan preened herself for economy of the truth. ‘I had a contretemps with Annabelle’s father yesterday about cancelling the adoption. That was before we knew she was having twins. He and Annabelle agreed that if there was a possibility of a twin-pregnancy they would accept one child and allow the other to be adopted.’ She lied. ‘However, they also agreed not to have any knowledge of a second child because the distress for Annabelle would be too much.’ She lied again. ‘This is what I want to avoid.

‘So I’d like you to tell the theatre staff not, and I emphasise not, to tell Annabelle she’s had twins. That is, the theatre staff will have to keep this knowledge strictly to themselves – with an emphasis on Annabelle’s welfare.’

‘I’ll go now’, Miss Job insisted, ‘before the theatre staff disperse and tell the world. I’ll get back to you soon and let you know the result.’

She headed, with purpose, straight out of the office into the operating theatre ante-room to find the staff removing masks and gowns, and washing their hands in the sinks. She checked to see that Annabelle was still asleep and, thankfully, she thought, being attended by a very vigilant midwife.

Jan remained in Miss Job’s office using the solitude to think, undisturbed. Her mind was still racing, running with the tasks she still had to achieve – especially ones that covered her tracks. The paperwork was the first concern. She had to manipulate and falsify the documents so that nothing was suspected. She thanked God she’d kept a copy of Annabelle’s contract – one she’d hidden from Mr Roberts. She needed to share all the vital, albeit secret, details with Jenny, collaborating in a venture she wished had never existed.

She must have been sitting there for fifteen minutes when Miss Job’s returned, interrupting her thoughts.

‘Phew!’ Miss Job exhaled. ‘I could have lost a mother and child, or should I say twins, today, had things not turned out better. Annabelle’s labour was obstructed by the first twin lying in a transfer position over the birth canal. She couldn’t possibly have delivered normally. I still have some concern that she may contract puerperal septicaemia, but I’m comforted by the fact that Mr Drummond, our best obstetrician, rarely has such complications.

‘But, what you are waiting for, Jan, is the assurance that none of the theatre staff will breathe a word. I emphasised it was in Annabelle Roberts’ interest and that you will be taking charge of the paperwork. So, I know they are going to endorse her confidentiality.’ Miss Job took a breath before continuing.

‘In my position I have to take full responsibility for Annabelle Roberts’ care and, I respect you will do the same for the twins’ discharge. So, I relinquish the rest into your capable hands. Talking of capable or uncapable hands, I have to see Miss Gibbon soon before she does any more harm and, I’ve decided to dismiss her and advise her to get more training in another establishment.’ Miss Job couldn’t conceal the anger she felt for her neglectful charge but then changed her expression back to the confident, unfazed professional.

Jan had just looked on, admiring Miss Job’s style of management and how she had the ability to smooth the way for others – including herself.

‘By the way’, Miss Job stated firmly, ‘the twins are binovular, which in layman’s terms means they are identical. We’ve put name-bands on their arms, labelling them ‘A’ and ‘B’ but you must keep the bands on otherwise you won’t know one from the other.’

‘I can’t thank you enough, Miss Job.’ Jan said, wanting to move quickly. ‘ I’ll go now and put the wheels into motion.’

Jan returned to her own office to find Jenny animated in eagerness to hear what had transpired.

‘It’s all sorted’, Jan began, ‘at least from the point of concealing the twin birth.’ Then she divulged all the details that her collaborator should know.

Excited, Jenny couldn’t keep her thoughts to herself any longer. ‘I don’t know where I’m getting all this information from these days but you mentioned they had arm-labels ‘A’ and ‘B’. Why don’t we call ‘A’, Anna, and ‘‘B’ Bella? Both parts of their mother’s name.’

Jenny was getting even more enthused. ‘Also, you know my aunt is always going on about horoscopes, well Anna and Bella were born under the sign of Gemini. That’s the twins.’

Jan ignored the horoscope dimension, which was the least of her worries. ‘That’s a great idea, Jenny. So that’s what we’ll do. Give Anna to Annabelle.’

Jenny, who felt she’d matured ten years in her job in the last few hours, looked so pleased and said: ‘‘Now I don’t want to sound disrespectful but, I’ve given it some thought. You are older than me and one of these days, in years to come, I might still be working in the Adoption Society and someone may turn up with a query about the twins. Knowing Annabelle has baby Anna will make it easier for me if that ever happened. But maybe we could also tell Annabelle that her baby has been christened, to be sure she keeps the name.’

‘Yes, we’ll do that Jenny. But I wouldn’t worry too much about any future queries. We’ve had a war and hospitals have been bombed in the Blitz and records have been incinerated along with them. Who knows what will happen to our records? Jan said conspiratorially. ‘Why do you think we are in this dismal building: the previous one was bombed.’

Jenny looked more hopeful.

‘Ok’, Jan said with urgency, ‘we must get started on the paperwork so that I can contact the American lawyer and make arrangements for baby Bella’s discharge.’

Chapter 2

Two weeks later Jan and Jenny sat in a room in the Adelphi Hotel looking smarter than usual, with baby Bella in a cot beside them. They both felt overwhelmed in a luxurious surrounding they were unused to.

An extremely smart looking American nurse, in outdoor clothes, sat opposite them. She called herself Nurse Tyler. Tyler spoke with an assertive American accent, taking them back for a moment but sounding exotic to Jenny.

‘Thank you for all the documents’, Tyler said. ‘I’ve read them thoroughly and note that baby Bella is in good health and that the adoption contract is in order. The baby’s passport has been cleared by yours’, and our, attorneys: or as you call them in England, lawyers. I’ve brought adequate clothing for the child so, as soon as we’ve dressed her, we, that is the helper and I, can start our journey.’

Jenny couldn’t help but ask: ‘How are you travelling?’

‘We have a plane to catch in four hours and, a taxi arranged for us at three thirty from the hotel. You can now leave Bella in our hands. Can I say, on behalf of the adopters, thank you Mrs Perry and Miss Ryan for your committed assistance.’ She gave a small but official smile to conclude their contact.

Jan and Jenny took the cue and left. Jenny couldn’t contain her amazement. ‘Wow! Baby Bella’s flying all the way to America!’

Jan looked more serious because of the different agenda on her mind. ‘When I get half a chance’ she said with some adamance, ‘I’m going to sniff around and find out how the adopter found out about Annabelle’s adoption. The Society are holding the answers close to their chest, but there must be files on it hidden somewhere. It might take years but believe me, I’ll find it!’

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A green Morris Minor drove through a leafy suburb of Liverpool and turned into a drive in front of a large, detached red-brick house. There were large sash-windows on either side of a central wooden front door and above, windows on the second floor framed under triangular gables. The greenery of tall trees and shrubs framed the dwelling, the windows winking in the mid-Summer sun, under a blue cloudless sky.

After turning off the engine the driver slid from his seat and opened the passenger door for Annabelle, who carefully moved into a standing position to steady the swaddled baby she held in her arms.

She stood for a moment admiring the rambling wild roses climbing around the porch-door and turned to take in the rest of the foliage and flowers that had sprung to life in the front garden. With a deep sense of relief, she said: ‘ Home at last. It’s good to be back in Melody Rise.’

Peter almost cradled his daughter towards the house sensing she was not as physically strong as she was pretending to be.

As the front door opened, her family, all smiles with outstretched arms, gave her the welcome she was hoping for. Her sister, Julia, was out first with her two-year-old twins toddling beside her. Lizzy and Ellie couldn’t contain their excitement, putting their arms around Aunty Annabelle’s legs in a warm embrace, then competing to see the new baby’s face. Next followed brother Toby, who’d taken leave from the Royal Air Force especially for the occasion. He looked lovingly into her face, showing an expression that said: I know what you’ve been through but you’re in safe hands now. Behind them, in the background, with less energy than his younger family, Al, Annabelle’s seventy-three-year-old grandfather stood with joyful tears in his eyes. He waited until Annabelle reached him so that he could embrace her like all the others.

They hugged Annabelle carefully again, ooing and arrhing over baby Anna, as