May forced herself to laugh. She wondered whether she should go to the doctor, get some of the antidepressants she had read about in magazines, or maybe some tranquillisers. She didn’t want to feel like a humourless bitch, she really didn’t, it was just that she couldn’t stop thinking about Sue, and more or less nothing made her laugh any more, even if she could see the humour behind it, analyse it in a technical way.
Helen arrived on Good Friday afternoon. May left Jenny with Alain and went alone to the station to meet her. She felt sick with anxiety. I wish I’d never suggested that Helen could come to stay with us, she thought, what have I got to offer someone who is feeling so down? What if Alain starts acting up, or worse, what if he is violent in front of her? Oh God, what have I done? The screechy, repetitive lyrics of ‘Wuthering Heights’ were playing on repeat in May’s head, over and over until she thought she would scream. It’s a mistake, she thought, it’s all a terrible mistake.
By the time Helen appeared, looking fresh and unruffled in jeans and a denim jacket and wearing her new baby in a sling, May was ready to run away.
‘Helen,’ she said and she grabbed her hand. ‘Helen, I’m so pleased to see you, you have no idea. Hello, Seb.’ May kissed the baby’s little head, nestling under Helen’s chin. ‘Hello, both of you.’
‘Wow,’ said Helen, holding May’s hands and leaning back to look at her properly. ‘Wow, that’s a greeting worth leaving Hull for. No, I tell a lie. Anything is worth leaving Hull for. I’d leave Hull for twenty-five new pence and it would still be a bargain. Look at you, the trendy London mum.’
May blushed. She didn’t look trendy, she knew she was no good at that, but she had made an effort. Washed her hair, plaited it, and put on a granny dress she had bought from a jumble sale.
‘I apologise in advance,’ she said, ‘for Alain and his smoking. I hope he behaves himself.’
Why did I say that, she thought, why was that the first thing out of my mouth?
‘And of course, welcome to London. It’s so good to see you here.’
‘You’ve got to remember that young Seb here, he’s never been out of Hull before. He’s not used to the noise and the bright lights. You’ll have to excuse him. Maybe Jenny can have a word with him.’
May wanted to cry. She had forgotten what good-natured humour felt like, humour with no additional edge intended to upset or humiliate. ‘I truly am so pleased to see you,’ she said. ‘You have no idea. I wish I could have been there for you, when this bad baby boy was giving you so much trouble.’
‘Ha,’ said Helen, ‘trouble, you have no idea. He’s going to have to be nice to me for the rest of his life if he wants any pocket money, if he wants to go on school trips, if he wants to eat anything other than gruel. And speaking of a life soaked in misery, I really cannot believe you are going to do it again. Seb is definitely an only child for ever, let me tell you; if he wants a brother or a sister we will definitely get a dog.’
‘Was it really that bad?’ May asked.
‘It was terrible,’ Helen said, standing still in the middle of the busy station concourse and looking directly into May’s eyes. ‘It was torture, just like real torture, and I was on my own. I could feel it when they gave me a caesarean, even though they told me I couldn’t. And it hurt like hell. But I’m on my holidays now, and I’ve nearly forgiven this poor little chap because I love him to pieces, and I’m pleased to see you. That’s my news. How’s things down here?’
‘Oh Helen,’ said May, ‘I’m so sorry for you, going through all that. They’re worth it, though, the babies, aren’t they?’
May had a terrible feeling that she was going to cry. It’s not your turn, she said to herself, for God’s sake let someone else be centre stage and stop being an attention-grabbing bitch. Don’t talk about Sue, whoever she is. Concentrate.
‘Hey,’ said Helen, ‘it’s OK, I’m here, tell me, catch me up, what’s been going on? I don’t get much of a clue from your letters, you know.’
‘I know,’ said May. ‘I’m a terrible letter writer. Sometimes I think I write how I want things to be, not how they really are.’
‘Do we have to go straight home?’ said Helen. ‘Seb had a massive feed on the train, all the way from Goole to Grantham. He’ll be quiet a bit longer, we could go for a cup of tea. Will Jenny be alright with Alain?’
May wanted to tell her that Jenny had never been left alone with her father before, that she always found an excuse to take her wherever she was going, that she had a slightly creepy feeling. Not that Alain would hurt her, he wouldn’t, but that he would whisper things in her ear, and that they would drip into Jenny’s consciousness somehow and harm would be done.
‘Yes,’ May said, ‘she’ll be fine. He adores her.’
May looked down at her feet.
‘Hey, this is me,’ Helen said. ‘I know what it’s like, remember? If you can’t look me in the eye that’s not good.’
May pinched her left wrist with her right hand.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m not used to being with someone like you. I haven’t really caught up with my old friends down here yet, and it’s harder to make new ones than I thought it would be. Let’s get that cup of tea.’
‘So Frank tried to come and see the baby, when we were still in hospital,’ Helen said as they walked. ‘He was shouting and screaming about fathers’ rights, I could hear him from my bed.’
For a moment May felt too overwhelmed to speak. She imagined the scene, and how frightened and alone Helen must have felt.
‘I wish I’d been there,’ May said. ‘I’m so sorry you had to go through that.’
‘I’m glad you weren’t,’ Helen said. ‘Honestly, I wouldn’t wish him on anyone. He’s scary, May, and the less he’s in my life the better. And Seb, Seb won’t be like him. I’m sure of that. I’ll bring him up differently.’
‘Of course you will,’ May said, ‘you’re going to do a brilliant job.’
The two women ordered tea in a dingy little Italian cafe just outside the station. May tried to relax but the feeling of dread wouldn’t shift.
‘So what happened, exactly?’ May asked. ‘With Frank?’ She wasn’t sure whether Helen would want to talk about it but she had to know, she couldn’t leave it.
‘I’d asked the nurses not to let him in and they were as good as gold. “She’s got to rest,” they said at first, and then when he came back the next day they said, “she doesn’t want to see you”, just said it straight out. They even called the police and the police spoke to him and he went away, but I’ve been getting phone calls with heavy breathing and sometimes I think I can see him at the end of the road when I look out of the window. I’m so glad I’m here.’
Helen looked round the dingy cafe and smiled.
‘Don’t get me wrong,’ Helen said, ‘if he can calm down, act like a human being, I’d love him to see Seb. Kids need dads, don’t they? Just not bad ones.’
‘Not bad ones at all,’ May said. ‘You did the right thing. You’re so brave. And for the record, I’m really pleased that you’re here too.’
I’m going to look after her, May thought. I won’t let her be on her own with it all any more.
‘Let’s talk about something else before we all start crying again. What about this little one,’ Helen said, pointing to May’s slightly swollen stomach. ‘Don’t tell me it was planned. Two babies in a year? How on earth are you going to manage?’
‘Thirteen months actually,’ said May, ‘no need to exaggerate. No, of course it wasn’t planned, but some people say it’s good to get it over with quickly, then you can bring them up together. I’ll manage, it’ll be OK. How much harder can two children be than one?’
May looked at Helen as she said the last part and neither of them could keep a straight face. They laughed so hard that the old lady behind the counter came over to check everything was OK.
‘We’re fine, thanks,’ said Helen, ‘only my friend here thinks that two babies may be as eas
y as one. What do you think?’
‘Mamma mia,’ said the woman, ‘you see this white hair?’ She pointed at her head. ‘This white hair, I get from babies, not from cafe and coffee and tea and sandwich. Mamma mia.’
She ran a hand gently over May’s dark hair, and went back to the counter, tutting.
‘Great,’ said May quietly, ‘thanks for the vote of confidence, oh ancient one.’
‘That’s the thing with us girls,’ said Helen, ‘we tell it like it is. Are you going to take me home to meet this super stud of yours? What’s wrong with condoms anyway? Never mind the stuff they say about breastfeeding, you can’t believe everything you hear, you know.’
‘Alain doesn’t like them,’ May said.
She knew how pathetic that sounded but this was Helen, her friend, and she had waited so long to have someone to talk to, someone who would allow her to tell the truth, put things straight in her own head.
Helen put her hand over May’s.
‘It’s OK, May, I’m on your side,’ she said. ‘I’m not having a go at you, or being difficult. I just want to help. It’s like seeing someone caught in a sticky spider’s web, you can’t get them out unless you’re prepared to get your own hands dirty. And the person in the web has to realise they’re caught.’
May laughed, even though she was feeling bad.
‘That might be the worst metaphor I’ve ever heard,’ May said, ‘but I take the point.’
‘Listen, mate, the way my brain feels now, that was a bloody stroke of genius,’ Helen said. ‘But seriously, do I need to know anything before I meet Alain? Subjects to avoid, ways to butter him up, that kind of thing?’
May stood still and tried to think. Everything seemed fraught. If she suggested that Helen ignored any particular subjects, say, women’s lib, babies, earrings, women called Sue, school, anything that could cause an argument, then Alain was perfectly capable of making an argument out of something else, if he was in the mood. On the other hand, there had to be some no-go areas or it would be terrifying.
‘I can’t think,’ May said. ‘Honestly I’m not sure.’
‘I get it, friend,’ Helen said. ‘Keep away from anything controversial and we’ll have our own chats later.’
‘Thank you, thank you,’ said May, a great wash of relief breaking over her head and dripping down her body. ‘I’ve been longing to talk to you. I knew you’d understand.’
Seb was protesting loudly by the time they reached the little flat, and Helen sat in a chair to feed him.
‘Hi, Alain, hi, Jenny,’ she said. ‘Sorry about this but if I don’t do it straight away he’ll get agitated and then we’ll never get any peace.’
Alain sat in the chair opposite Helen. Jenny was on his lap and May thought he looked like the perfect dad.
‘Can I get you anything? Cup of tea? You need to keep your fluid levels up when you’re breastfeeding, we’ve found that, haven’t we, love?’
May was taken aback for a moment by his niceness, his conspiratorial tone. Of course, it was for Helen’s benefit, but she loved it anyway and wished it could happen more often. Also, the breastfeeding comment was a surprise. They had never, as far as she could remember, had a conversation about keeping fluid levels up. It just hadn’t happened, she was sure it hadn’t. And another thing, was she being really mad and unreasonable, or was he positively gawping at Helen’s breast?
‘I’ll make some tea,’ she said.
They had agreed to relax the no-caffeine rule for the weekend in honour of Helen’s visit.
‘Did my wife tell you I can’t take caffeine in any form?’ Alain said. ‘I’ve got many allergies. What we don’t realise, in this world, is that everything is connected to everything else. Do you know what I mean?’
Alain leaned over so that he was uncomfortably close to Helen, who shrank back in her seat.
‘Good strong suck,’ he said, ‘he’ll be supping pints in no time.’
‘I hope not,’ said Helen.
May was mortified. Alain was behaving oddly, and it looked set to get worse. She had worried that Alain would be brusque, or removed, but this leering slobbering stranger was not something she had planned for. She stood in the kitchen making tea with shaking hands and tried to run through her options. Could she confront him about his behaviour in front of Helen? She would be safe enough while Helen was here, but terrified about what would happen when she left. And there was Helen herself, her special friend who was managing on her own to look after a baby after a difficult birth. Was it fair to get her involved?
‘Is there a problem with that tea?’ Alain shouted. ‘Only Helen here, she’s wondering why you’re taking so long. I don’t think she likes being left alone with me.’
‘Alain,’ said May, no longer able to pretend it wasn’t happening, ‘come on, this is our first visitor, be nice.’
She put the teas on the table and reached to take Jenny.
‘Let me give you a break,’ she said. ‘You’ve had this one for ages, she must be driving you mad.’
‘Nice,’ said Alain. ‘Nice? I was being nice, wasn’t I, Helen? I was joking, that’s what you don’t get. I mean,’ he turned to Helen, ‘if I said to you, my wife doesn’t understand me, you’d know it was a joke, right? But May here, bless her, she was born without the humour gland or whatever it is that makes us know when a thing is funny. She just ain’t got one, have you, merry May?’
He stood up and kissed May’s cheek.
‘Bye, girls – sorry – women, naughty me for getting it wrong. See you later.’
Alain pulled on a coat and left, blowing a kiss over his shoulder. May stood holding Jenny, trying hard not to cry. She was burning with embarrassment and shame and had no idea what to do.
‘That’s Seb finished for at least half an hour,’ said Helen, tucking her clothes back round her and sitting him up. ‘Now we have to work out what we’re going to do about you.’
May found it difficult to believe the matter-of-fact way that Helen spoke. No recriminations, no anger, nothing but concern.
‘I’m so sorry,’ May said. ‘I didn’t think, I don’t know why, I just thought it wouldn’t be like that.’
‘That’s what’s worrying me,’ said Helen. ‘Did you even notice how much he put you down? Or how much he was staring at my breasts when I was feeding Seb? Or, more to the point, did you realise just how drunk he was?’
‘Drunk?’ said May. ‘I don’t think he was actually drunk, that’s just how he is.’
‘OK, maybe not just drunk. But you know that peppermint smell on his breath?’
‘He loves polo mints,’ said May, feeling stupid even as she said it.
‘I’m sure he does, and so do most people with a drink problem. That’s not the only thing though. How long has he had those marks on his arms?’ Helen asked.
May felt rooted to the spot.
‘Marks?’ she said. ‘Ah, erm, those marks, well, he said that he had a kind of skin infection on his arms when he was younger, like acne.’
‘Like acne?’ said Helen, and as she said it May could hear how ridiculous it sounded.
‘Yes, I know, and that’s not all.’ May explained about the earrings, and Sue.
Helen looked at her. ‘Another woman is one thing, May, and it’s terrible, I know it is, but let’s establish some priorities. His sleeves rolled up a little, when he was playing with Jenny. May, I don’t know enough about it but I think they might be drug marks, maybe where he’s injected something, I’m not sure.’
May wished she could put her hands over her ears like a child, drown out what Helen was saying. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t thought herself, that was the thing, but she had decided that she must be wrong, chosen to ignore it. If she admitted it to herself then everything would have to change, and May was frightened.
‘Not necessarily,’ said May. ‘I mean, I know you mean it, you’re not being sensational or anything, it’s just that, well, you’ve seen the size of this flat. I would have s
een something, spotted something. Drink and drugs, he would have to hide them somewhere, wouldn’t he? I’d notice, wouldn’t I?’ May went to the window, lifted the curtain and looked out. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Sorry, I can hear how pathetic I sound. I don’t want to be like this, I’m not sure, I think it’s hormones or something, I just don’t know what to do.’
‘Come with me,’ Helen said. ‘Come back to Hull with me, we’ll manage. We can share childcare, help each other out, cook together, honestly it’ll be fun. And it will be safe. Believe me, I’m not trying to rock any boats, but this rickety old canoe? It’s rocking so hard already all I want to do is offer you a lifebelt.’
‘I’m not sure,’ said May, ‘I want to, I’m so fed up with living like this, honestly I can’t begin to tell you. I’m scared all the time, scared and lonely. I’m sure he’s seeing someone else. I lie awake at nights wondering how to manage. I cry at sad adverts on TV, but I can’t tell anyone or do anything because I really do think it might be my fault. I mean he’s told me, Helen, straight out, he’s told me that he never used to be like this, that it’s me who makes him behave like he does.’
It was such a relief to have finally told someone that May started to cry, and Jenny joined in.
Helen wrapped Seb in a shawl. He was sleeping now, and she laid him gently in the armchair before taking Jenny from May and cradling her with a rocking motion that calmed her.
‘It’s not your fault, May. I’m sorry, I don’t want to say this in the wrong way, but you’re a victim, not a criminal. He is as responsible for his behaviour as you or I. And I don’t think people change, May, I don’t think they do. Everything I’ve read makes me think that Alain will still be dishing out psychological cruelty when he’s an old man, and if you’re with him he’ll still be thumping you. Is that what you want?’
May was crying too hard to speak. She couldn’t believe that Helen’s longed-for visit had disintegrated so quickly. That the paper-thin backdrop she had constructed so carefully had been torn down.
Hello, My Name is May Page 17
