Stranger Still

by Marilyn Messik

  “Ten minutes, we’re only about ten minutes away,” Glory, aware of the other woman’s distress had cut down on the usual briskness, “would have been quicker but the snow’s pretty bad you know.”

  Alison Olivia grabbed my arm with her other hand, “Please, will you do it now? End me. You can, you’ve done it before haven’t you?”

  “Don’t,” said Rachael.

  “Of course not,” I said.

  “But you promised,” Alison Olivia wailed, twisting away from me in panic and desperation, “you gave me your word, you said…”

  “Stop that. Right away please.” Rachael who’d been listening too, wasn’t going to waste time with hellos, nor did she seem to feel a gentler approach might help. She’d gone straight into Alison Olivia’s head. She was used to being obeyed and Alison Olivia was used to obeying, she swallowed a sob.

  “And none of that.” Rachael instructed. I did sometimes wonder whether she’d missed her vocation with the Samaritans. “Alison Olivia, no… I’m sorry, can’t be doing with that, too long. Going forward, you’re Alison. Can you work with that?” The newly named was as stunned as Rachael intended, but there was still a small spark left.

  “Look, I don’t know who you are and I don’t give a damn what you call me, but you have no idea what I’ve done.”

  “Own free will?” asked Rachael.

  “No.”

  “Well then.”

  “No, no - you don’t get it. He can’t do what he does without me, my death’s the way to stop him - my revenge, his payback. But… “

  “He’s implanted something, made sure you can’t. So you want us to. You want to wash your hands of damaged minds in his menagerie and check out. Right? Nobody packed an emotional punch quite like Rachael.

  “What else I can do?”

  “Don’t know yet. But you’re no use to anyone if you’re dead. Anyway, we’re here now, make your mind up.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Events had leant towards the surreal from the moment Laura had slipped that pill into my drink and they simply carried on in that direction. I was now aware of muffled activity upstairs but could hear nothing clearly.

  “Soundproofing,” murmured Alison, “if there’s screaming down here, it can’t be heard upstairs.” Up till that point I’d been keeping an inward eye and ear on the blanket wrapped around the unpleasantness upstairs, and felt huge relief as Ed’s mind joined mine, took over and I knew I could let go. Alison felt a shift too and automatically tensed to receive the pain.

  “No,” I said, “we’ve still got him.” She relaxed, then tensed again as the room suddenly got extremely crowded. David bowled in first and I wasn’t sure I believed my eyes.

  “What are you doing here?” I said.

  “No Stella, what are you doing here?” David rarely yelled, but as it was only righteous indignation that was holding back huge anxiety, I wasn’t judgmental; he was probably in the right and I owed him an apology. His hair was standing on end where he’d raked fingers through and he definitely didn’t have the cool, calm demeanour the NCT preferred in a birth partner. I could see I had bridges to mend, but I had questions,.

  “How did you know where to find me?”

  “I didn’t know where to find you, nobody did. Then I thought maybe you’d gone down to the school, I couldn’t get them on the phone, lines down in the snow, so I drove there.”,

  “The school? Why on earth would I go there?”

  “Well I don’t know, do I? Who knows what goes on in that crazy head of yours?” I glared at him, honestly, did he think I’d dashed out on a dark snowy December eve just for fun, and indeed since I’d been here, fun was the last thing I’d been having. I started setting this out for him but didn’t get far.

  “Not now,” Rachael hurried in which was worrying, I don’t think I’d ever seen her hurry before.

  “Where are we?” she asked,

  “Well I don’t know,” I said, “I came in a cab…”

  “With the baby?” she snapped. Glory who’d followed them in and was still in my head, snorted a brief laugh and answered.

  “Contractions seem to have stopped.”

  “Because it’s not safe, she doesn’t feel safe,” the renamed Alison said softly. She wasn’t used to putting forward a viewpoint. David, who’d taken my hand, suddenly focused on who had my other one and was unable to hide his shock. I felt that go right through her but she continued evenly.

  “It’s fact, if an animal is in danger; labour often stops until it can find a safer place.” I gave her hand another small squeeze. Considering this was a woman who hadn’t encountered a stranger for probably the last fifteen years, she was not only coping well with the influx of three of them, but attempting to hold up her end of the conversation as well.

  Glory nodded, “She’s right,” then to Kat who’d been undecided at whether she should be repelling boarders or welcoming allies said, “Hello, you here too?”

  “Really Stella?” Rachael said, “Did you really have to bring the dog?” I started to explain what had happened but didn’t have a chance to finish. “Come along, we have to go.” I obediently if cautiously swung my legs over the side of the bed.

  “Go?” David was indignant, “are you crazy? Go where? She needs an ambulance.”

  “David,” said Rachael, “There’s one room upstairs looks as if it’s been hit by a bomb, another where there’s a deeply unconscious man, and this lady…” she nodded at Alison, “would like us to kill her, before we go.” Rachael, now on one side of me with Glory on the other, hadn’t quite finished. “It’s complicated, police will be involved and goodness only knows who else. No. We need to go. Stella, shoes?” I nodded at my sorry pair of slippers under the chair.

  “Those are all I’ve got.”

  “Oh for goodness sake!” Rachael said, as Glory chuckled and flew them over for me to put on. They’d dried but I doubted become any more weatherproof. “Here, hold her.” David thus instructed and momentarily silenced, put an arm round my middle and didn’t even flinch as Glory floated me above the ground to make the going easier.

  I was coming down a little from the euphoria evoked by the appearance of Rachael and Glory and grateful to feel I was no longer in sole charge of the complicated mess I’d got myself into. Truthfully all I wanted was to be sitting up somewhere in the pink frilly bed-jacket my Mother had bought, holding my baby and smiling graciously as more flowers were delivered.

  As we reached the foot of the stairs Ed was heavily descending to see how we were doing, and Rachael shot him a question.

  “No,” I said as I intercepted; “Absolutely not.. You cannot bring him,”

  “Who?” David was looking from Rachael to me, but Alison had picked up, so knew exactly what was being discussed and I felt her horror.

  “I’m sorry,” said Rachael to both of us, “No choice,” and she showed us how she’d last seen Ruth; deeply and unreachably unconscious, Sam anguished and watchful by her side. For a few seconds, deep purple lavender surrounded us and Alison swallowed a sob as she caught and recognised it.

  Rachael answered her unasked question, “My sister. Now, what’s it to be, will you try and help us, or shall we simply help you?”

  * * * *

  I don’t remember too much about that journey, I was focused inwards, so don’t suppose I was great company. They’d come in the large smooth-running vehicle, more of a mini-bus really. It accommodated a lot of people in three rows of luxuriously leathered seating onto to which I gratefully collapsed. Kat had made a unilateral but firm decision not to go on the floor, so was wedged firmly on one side of me with David was on the other. I felt Kat’s positioning was more for her own comfort as opposed to compassion for my condition, but she felt pleasantly warm and solid at a time when not much else did.

  Rachael and Glory were in the row behind us, either side of a totally traumatised, erstwhile Alison Olivia. Rachael, no stranger to the effectiveness of emotional blackmail had persuaded
her to briefly postpone annihilation, but even as mentally and physically wrecked as she was, exhausted by incarceration, pain and loss of hope, there was still room for fear and she’d shrieked in shock at the sight of Ed advancing across the room to carry her upstairs. Poor Ed, truth be told, he was as terrified as she; convinced if she struggled she might snap one of those sad stick arms or legs. As a precaution, he briefly nudged her into unconsciousness, and by the time she drifted back she was safely in the van. Also in the van, locked securely in the back, dead to the world and staying that way courtesy of Ed and Rachael, was our additional and extremely unwelcome passenger.

  As we’d left the warmth of the house I’d been relieved to see the cab had gone, my conscience was a bit overburdened at the moment and I wasn’t sure I could take responsibility for him too so opted for an out of sight out of mind attitude.

  The weather had worsened considerably but drivers don’t come much better than Ed and the van was well able to cope with icy conditions, even so, there were a couple of times when we all felt the loss of grip and there was a communal indrawn breath at the resulting smooth, never-ending sideways slide, not released until Ed regained control.

  I’d assumed, as had David that we were headed for the nearest hospital. This alarmingly proved not to be the case, although I think I realised before he did. A silent but terse query to Rachael confirmed we were going back to the school. I wasn’t in the least bit happy about that and dreaded to think what David would say when he knew. I wasn’t even reassured to learn Mrs Millsop was a qualified midwife.

  “Why not hospital?” I wanted to know.

  “Can’t risk it. Safer with more of us together.”

  “But…”

  “Better safe than sorry.”

  “Of course, but…”

  “I assure you if things go wrong, we will get you to hospital.”

  “Gee thanks,” she ignored any sarcasm and I think then I must have dozed against David’s shoulder for a while before something woke me.

  “Oooh,” I said.

  David anxious, and who could blame him said, “What’s happening?”

  “Contraction,” I muttered and and Glory, who’d gone off duty, bustled back into my head to help.

  “No, no, no. No contractions yet,” said David, “hang on a bit, try and relax.” I didn’t have breath to respond but on the whole, I was getting pretty fed up with people telling me when I could or could not have contractions, whose womb was it anyway?

  “Hang on a minute,” David said, this time to no-one in particular, “shouldn’t we be there by now?” He wiped away some of the condensation on the window at which point he suddenly realised what he would have realised a lot earlier if he hadn’t been so overwrought. His voice rose in protest, “Where are we going?”

  Rachael said from behind us, “Private Clinic.” David turned to face her and I chose to zone out of the hissed and heated exchange that followed. I had more than enough on my plate and wanted only to lie down somewhere quiet. I very much hoped the baby had enough energy left to do what needed to be done, I didn’t think I’d be much help. Then David recognised the high gates opening before us and finally understood where we were, and as Ed skimmed through and we headed down the drive, there was another frank exchange of views.

  As we drew to a smooth halt beneath the over-ornamented portico, the heavy front door was flung wide and light surged out along with Mrs Millsop; a starched and capped Boadicea, primed for battle.

  “How far apart?” she barked,

  “Just under two minutes.” David was on it as I’d known he would be. Glory and I exchanged brief amusement.

  “Since when?”

  “They stopped for ages, started up again fifteen minutes ago.”

  “Right. Problems I should know about?”

  I giggled, “Don’t get me started!” Everyone ignored me whilst David whipped from a coat pocket my meticulously maintained record book, slapping it into Mrs Millsop’s waiting hand with military precision. At the same time, Ed passed him my hospital bag, my meticulously packed hospital bag, even in all the panic he’d remembered to bring it, what a husband!

  “No time to dilly-dally,” Mrs Millsop was in her element and as the only one present with practical experience automatically took charge. Behind us, I was aware of Rachael trying to persuade a reluctant Alison to leave the safety of the van and let Ed carry her inside, but poor Alison, having made it this far had reached the end of a tether pretty worn in the first place. Her breathing was fast and shallow and she was whimpering. Ed and Rachael in a swift exchange of thought were about to gently put her under again when Mrs Millsop, currently mistress of all she surveyed, spun on her heel, took the few paces back to the van, produced from somewhere about her person a brown paper bag and clamped it firmly over Alison’s mouth and nose.

  “Panic attack,” she said briefly, “Breathe in… aaannndout, that’s good. And again for me.” Focused briefly on the drama behind, I was unexpectedly engulfed in a heady waft of Yves Saint Laurent – Opium, if I wasn’t mistaken.

  I turned my head slowly. Surely not? But yes, “Laura?”

  “Stella,” she said and tried to take me in her arms. We were more or less the same height, but there was an awful lot of tummy between, she settled for holding both my arms. “Stella, darling, poor David’s been so worried, well we all have. You do know, you’ll have to be more thoughtful once the baby’s here.”

  I looked at David who shrugged helplessly, “She was at home when I got there, insisted on coming, didn’t have time to argue.”

  Laura laughed lightly, “Silly boy, I do have a stake in this.” but beneath the brittleness I read her guilt, her fear of what David would think and her agony of anxiety about what I was going to say next.

  “Well, I’m very glad to see you,” I said and couldn’t help a grin at this blatant untruth. Surprisingly she grinned back, genuine amusement lighting her face in the way her usual social smile never did. She held me tightly for a few seconds longer, squeezing briefly, before letting go, then started and looked down.

  “Oh!” she said, “the dog!” but neither she nor Kat seemed to have energy or inclination to do so much as a head toss and just stayed where they were. Laura was both relieved and grateful, she was also completely out of her comfort zone and baffled by my peculiar set of friends, none of whom she’d ever met nor heard about before. Behind us, Mrs Millsop removed the paper bag and said with satisfaction;

  “There, that’s the ticket!” and stepped back, getting her first look at Alison and not skirting the issue; “dear oh dear, look at the state of you.”

  Alison let out a sob strangled by a chuckle, “Haven’t looked in a mirror for years,” she said.

  “Probably best,” said Mrs Millsop firmly and without a trace of irony, just someone seeing a problem which needed dealing with. “We’ll get you sorted, Matron’s word, rely on it! Come along then Ed, get her inside, chop chop.” As she spoke, she moved Laura aside, retook my arm and marched us into the warmth. I just knew, had there been a sword to hand, she’d have been holding it triumphantly aloft. Propelled briskly forward, I was reflecting on how the carefully maintained, distinctly separate areas of my life had so suddenly merged, it was all a bit much; the sooner they laid me down with some whale song, the better.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  The baby obviously felt there’d been enough hanging around, and waited just long enough for me to be ensconced in a side-room off Mrs Millsop’s spacious clinic - better equipped than most hospitals - before making her imminent presence felt. I promptly lost a fair bit of self-control and NCT teachings, swore roundly at David, informed Mrs Millsop in no uncertain terms that I didn’t want her telling me what to do, and yelled for Glory.

  Glory and the baby in fact arrived at the same time, both in a rush but with no undue fuss, although when Mrs Millsop, who’d had enough experience to ignore my instruction to get lost, swaddled her tightly and moved to hand the small parcel to Davi
d, he was spark out on the floor and not one of us had seen him go.

  “Should be shot,” grumbled Mrs Millsop under her breath, handing the baby to Glory, and unceremoniously hauling him out of her way, before plumping my pillows with a few punches and settling me more comfortably on the bed.

  “Bit harsh,” Glory was jiggling the baby gently.

  “Not him! Whichever idiot it was, thought it’d be a good idea to have Fathers in the room.”

  “Is he OK?” I leaned over to look; he was indeed out for the count.

  “He’ll live,” said Mrs Millsop with scant sympathy, “best out our way for now.”

  I held out my arms and Glory, who was more emotional than either she or I had expected, passed the parcel and I looked into the eyes and mind of my daughter. Other than a wave of protectiveness that had I been standing would have knocked me flat, I couldn’t feel anything at all to worry about. I glanced at Glory.

  “A normal baby girl,” she agreed silently. We both looked at the small being in my arms who stared back, in the wide-eyed, startled-owl way babies have.

  “Rightiho.” I understood Mrs Millsop’s default position was long-suffering and put-upon, and she was having a tough time right now, concealing how much she was enjoying herself. “This isn’t going to get the baby bathed, is it? And God only knows what you’ve been up to tonight - I certainly don’t want to – but let’s clean you up a bit, then you need to rest. Give me Baby.”

  “No.” said Glory and I together. I knew why I didn’t want to let her go, but Glory’s response was a little worrying. Mrs Millsop bristled but recognised a brick wall when she ran into it.

  “Few minutes longer then,” she said, “and I suppose you’ll both be wanting a hot cup of tea?” she was straightening the bed around me and moved Glory out of the way so she could tuck me in even tighter. “As for you Glory-girl, you’ll need to make yourself scarce soon, let Stella get some rest.” Glory turned to give her a quick, one-armed hug and was batted away impatiently, “Get off, silly so and so.” But I saw and was surprised by the deep affection between the two.