Teenage mum Ange and baby Chloe was just too much fun to write and your reviews were lovely, so I've written you a bonus scene. The next instalment of Baby Bird the bedtime story will be in the next chapter!

Feedback is always welcome, it really helps to know what you guys are thinking. You are also allowed to tell me what you don't like :)

This chapter was almost entirely fuelled by G and Ts (Clementine tonic water is LUSH), I apologise sincerely for any typos!

-IseultLaBelle x

St Andrews, August 1992

"Oh my goodness, your baby sister's socute, Ange," Michelle, her new neighbour along the corridor in her student halls exclaims. "What's her name?"

She's leading Chloe back through the hallways to her own room, dragging the suitcase she's just collected from her mum's car behind her in one hand, ring and little fingers of her other hand held in her little girl's tiny grip, still far too little to hold her hand properly.

And she's hoping, emphasis on the hoping part, that Chloe will answer for herself, or as best as she can manage, still in the adorable but ever-so-slightly haphazard stage of being totally floored by pronouncing her own name. Because she's going to have to manage on her own around strange adults in a few days, Ange reminds herself, once her mother is back at university herself and they're trialling two mornings of preschool a week.

But all Chloe does is shuffle behind her, leans against her leg shyly, thumb straight into her mouth.

"Oh, okay. We're trying to stop doing that, aren't we?" Ange tells her, bends, scoops her up, balances her against her waist, switches into mum mode on autopilot. "What's your name?"

Chloe just curls inwardly; small fingers play with Ange's hair as she buries her head in her chest.

"Sorry," Ange apologises. "Sorry, she's a bit shy. Until you get to know her, at least, then she never shuts up. This is Chloe."

"Hi, Chloe," Michelle tries brightly, looks back to Ange as Chloe only clings on tighter, shy, overwhelmed, Ange reasons, after all the excitement of two hours in the car and arriving in a strange place full of even stranger people, constant trips to and from the car moving everything in. "You're so lucky. I've got the one brother, two years younger than me. Two years is a horrible age gap, we're at each other's throat all the time."

Ange smiles for a moment, contemplates, buying time. "Well, she can be a little terror when she gets going."

She thinks about it. Just for a moment, she thinks about it, considers what the next year living on this corridor might be like if she goes along with her new flatmate's assumption, passes Chloe off as her little sister. Just for a moment.

But when it comes down to it, she just can't do it.

"Chloe," Ange shifts her gently, trying to prompt her. "Chloe, who am I?"

"Mummy," says Chloe, finally takes her thumb out of her mouth, uncurls herself, looks straight at her mother happily.

Perhaps it's taking the easy way out, cowardly, leaving to her two-year-old to explain for her.

It just never quite gets any easier, that first time going through it all.

More often than not, it's fine after that first time, with people her own age, at least. But that first time never gets any easier.

"Oh, she's yours?" There's an element of surprise in Michelle's voice now, though she's evidently trying so hard to conceal it. "Sorry, I didn't realise. How old are you?" she asks suddenly, then seems to think better of it. "Only if… sorry, you don't have to answer that, I didn't mean to…"

"No, no, it's alright. I'm nineteen," Ange tells her, can feel herself flushing a little now, always hates this part. "And Chloe turned two in May, didn't you, Chloe?"

She might as well just get it all over with now, she figures. She might as well get it out in the open, give Michelle the facts she needs to do the maths, work out how old she was when she became a mother- Chloe's mother, at least- let her tell the whole corridor, even the whole building, if that's what she wants. At least it'll be done then.

Michelle can judge her all she likes.

All of them can.

She wouldn't change Chloe for the world, no matter what, despite how she came into the world, despite how impossibly hard it's been at times.

Despite everything.

She cares more about Chloe than she'll ever care about fitting in with her new neighbours in the halls of residence, than being liked by her course mates.

In fact, she's absolutely certain that she cares more about Chloe than she'll ever care about anything else, ever again.

"She's two?" Michelle repeats. "Oh, she's tiny, isn't she? My cousin's baby just turned two, but I think he's about twice the size of her."

"She's probably not going to be tall," Ange agrees. She wraps her arms around Chloe tighter, protective, still a sensitive topic. "She's always been tiny. She's not… she's not staying here," she covers quickly, suddenly realising it might be best to clear this up now, before a rumour spreads around the building that they're all going to have to live alongside a clingy, temperamental toddler. "She's going back home with my mum tomorrow, she's going to look after her for me in term time. My mum's here, Chloe's not staying with me tonight, or anything, she's just gone to move her car."

"Oh, sure. Is Chloe's dad at uni too, then?"

"She doesn't have a dad," Ange says firmly.

She doesn't mean for it to come out quite as defensive, as hostile, as it does.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean… Well, she's gorgeous."

Ange smiles. "Thank you."

"It must be hard," Michelle offers. "Having to leave her, I mean."

"Yes, it's going to be… different. But I'm going to come home in the holidays, and I'll come and visit every few weeks, won't I?" Ange tries to engage her daughter. "We've talked about this, haven't we?"

"Tain," says Chloe shyly, peers up at Michelle from the safety of her mother's arms.

"That's right, and Nana's going to bring you to visit me on the train, isn't she? If I ever manage to peel you off me for long enough to unpack."

"I could take her," Michelle offers. "If you want, if that would help. I don't mind entertaining her for a bit."

"Oh… I think we're alright." Ange clutches Chloe tightly to her chest, knows she's being fiercely overprotective, given it's just a casual, friendly offer, one it's clear she can turn down without causing offence but she doesn't care.

That's the difference, she ponders absentmindedly.

That's the difference between Darren and Chloe.

With Darren, she was always more than happy to palm him off on the first person who even looked like they might be open to the idea, overwhelmed, far too young, desperate for all the breaks she could get.

Maybe it's how she had Chloe. Maybe it's everything she went through with Chloe before she was even born, everything that came after. Maybe it's because of everything that happened with her first baby, in a strange sort of way; maybe this is just maternal instinct kicking in on overdrive to make up for how badly it let her down last time around, something inexplicable, all-powerful, that she's simply never going to be able to be as relaxed with Chloe as she was with Darren, won't ever quite feel comfortable letting her out of her sight, even when she's leaving her with people she trusts completely.

Christ, what is she even doing here? Why did she ever think this was a good idea, why didn't she just take a gap year, find a part-time job in Aberdeen, give herself an extra year or two with Chloe…

"Thank you, though," Ange covers quickly, suddenly aware that her sharp, instant dismissal might have come across a little rude. "Maybe next time? She's… I'm a bit nervous about leaving her," she admits. "Not with you, I'm sure she'd be fine with you, I mean leaving her with my mum long-term…"

It's ridiculous, really, to think that Michelle- or anyone, even, anyone else in halls of residence, at least- is going to understand.

Her life is worlds away from theirs.

They're all more or less the same age, yes, but the rest of them have never known responsibility even remotely comparable to being a single mother to a two-year-old. Their biggest worries besides their grades over the next year are going to be where they're getting wasted tonight, where the best deal on vodka is this week and whether they'll have enough money left to live on something other than cold baked beans and iron bru on Sundays when the canteen is closed come the final weeks of term, while hers are going to be if Chloe is happy and settled without her, if she's eating, if she's finally growing and gaining weight like she should be, if she's found her favourite toy rabbit she's mislaid somewhere around the house and won't go to sleep without…

"Mummy suh-dih do-da," offers Chloe, glances up at Michelle curiously, shyness beginning to fade.

"Yes, Mummy's studying to become a doctor," Ange translates, smiles apologetically at Michelle.

Although, she considers, at least her new… is it too early to say friend?... will appreciate that at least part of her anxiety over leaving Chloe in someone else's care is that nobody but her, not even her own mum, at times, Chloe's nana, can make any sense whatsoever of Chloe's awful speech.

God, how on earth is Chloe going to cope with preschool, even in two lots of three and a half hours a week? Because that's the trouble, at twenty-seven months she's reached the stage at which she's very clear on what she does and doesn't want, happily babbles away, but her speech is so terrible for her age that understanding her seems to be near impossible for anyone else…

All of a sudden, Ange feels rather sick.

"Is she?" Michelle asks Chloe, puts on her best talking to children voice. "Wow. And are you helping Mummy move in?"

Chloe nods. "And Tecka."

"Yep, and then we're going to Tesco, aren't we, because Mummy forgot to pack the towels."

"Mummy, sheh."

"Oh, okay, you want to show Michelle your shells you found on the beach? It's why I'm so late moving in," Ange explains, grips onto Chloe with one arm haphazardly, rummages in the pocket of her jeans with her free hand, places the assortment of shells into Chloe's small hands. "She slept the whole car journey and then she was totally hyper by the time we arrived, I had to try and wear her out a bit before we could do anything else."

"Oh, wow, they're pretty, aren't they, Chloe?" Michelle tries.

"Sheh."

"Yes, they're shells, that's right. We're still working on your Ls, aren't we? Those are really, really tricky." Ange smiles gratefully, hopes Michelle will get the message, realise that she's trying to thank her for making an effort with her daughter when she'd probably much rather be hanging out with any one of the other new arrivals that doesn't come with a two-year-old as an add-on. "It's a bit unfortunate, really, given mean Mummy gave her the worst possible name. Chloe, what's your name?"

Chloe frowns in concentration, busy examining her seashells. "Ko-ee."

"Oh my goodness, she's adorable. Chloe, can you say Michelle?"

"Me-sheh."

"Do you know what, I think that's going to be my new nickname. You're so clever, aren't you?"

"Me-sheh," says Chloe, holds out one of her seashells in her small hand. "Me-sheh, yeh-yuh."

"Oh, can I see? Thank you. It's…" Michelle glances across to Ange for assistance.

"It's yellow, isn't it?" Ange helps her out. "Good girl. And you've got a pink one, and a white one…"

"Me-sheh's."

"Oh, you're giving it to Michelle, are you? She might not want it, sweetheart…" Ange warns.

"No, no, it's okay. Thank you, Chloe, it's beautiful."

Ange smiles gratefully. "Anyway, we'll leave you in peace. Chloe, are you going to say bye to Michelle?"

"Bye Me-sheh-luh."

"Bye, Chloe. Thank you for my beautiful shell. Listen, it was great to meet you," Michelle tells Ange. "I don't know if you'll be busy with her tonight, but some of us are going to go out for drinks, if you want to come. I mean, it'll probably be well past her bedtime."

"Oh, I… thank you. Maybe. I'm not sure yet," Ange confesses. "She's staying tonight, but in a hotel with my mum, I just don't know if…"

"No worries. Let me know later, yeah? I'll be around. But no pressure. They'll be plenty of other times, won't there."

"Thank you." She's not just thanking her for being so understanding in that particular moment, hopes Michelle knows that. "I'll see you later. Come on then, Chloe." She sets her daughter down, waits for her to hold onto her fingers. "You're going to walk like a big girl for me, please. I can't bring the suitcase and carry you, can I?"

"Mummy," says Chloe, adamantly, the tone she always uses when she wants one of two things, as she walks along beside her obediently. "Mummy, Mummy…"

"Okay. Okay, we'll take the suitcase into my room, and then we'll go and sort you out, alright? Please don't want what I think you want," Ange murmurs under her breath, not when she's tried so hard to wean Chloe off wanting to comfort feed over the summer.

That said, she's willing to bet the halls of residence toilets don't have a baby changing table.

"Mummy," Chloe protests.

"Yes, I know, sweetheart. I know, we just need to find our way back to my room, don't we? In a minute, okay? You're going to have to be really patient for me."

"Mummy, no."

"Chloe, yes. I promise, we will deal it in a minute, okay? Look. Look, here we go, this is my room. Keep holding my hand, please. See, we're nearly there, Mummy's just got to unlock the door," Ange chats to her mindlessly, because already she's conscious of the huddle of students outside the next door down staring at her and Chloe, and she's desperate to avoid a full-on temper tantrum in front of them, especially when she hasn't met them yet, when it's the very first day. "Am I making a huge mistake, Chloe?" she sighs, finally gets the door open, pushes her in over the threshold, dumps the suitcase, bends down, heart sinking as Chloe throws herself into her arms, pulls at the neckline of her t shirt, clingy. "Oh, okay. Okay, that's what you want. I'm not going to be here after today though, alright? We've talked about this, remember? You're going to have to make do with Nana and the soya stuff out of a bottle. Am I getting it all wrong, moving to medical school?"

"You li Sadruh, Mummy," Chloe offers in response as her mother carries her across the room, sits down on the edge of the bed.

"Yes," Ange agrees. "Yes, I'm going to live in St Andrews. But just for a few months at a time. And then I'll come home and see you, okay, sweetheart? I promise."

"I come," says Chloe, shuffles in her arms. "I come, Mummy."

It's in that moment that Ange realises that while Chloe might be parroting back, saying all the right things on the surface, the reality is very, very different.

In reality, her poor baby girl has absolutely no clue what is about to hit her in just a few hours' time.