The baby was still lying on the bath mat, exactly as I had left her. She was still breathing, her little chest pumping madly up and down. I picked her up again, clutching her tightly as I looked for another way out. The window in my parents’ bedroom was locked, and there was no sign of the key. I ran into my room. My window was big enough to climb through, but it seemed an awfully long way down.
I pulled the pillows and blankets off my bed and threw them out the window, to make a softer landing. I thought of Sam’s toy soldier with its plastic parachute. If only I had a parachute like that. I pulled the sheet off my bed and tried attaching it to the baby, but she screamed and fought as I tied it round her waist. I tested it by dropping her gently on to my bed, but the ‘parachute’ didn’t do anything. She just flopped down hard, which set her off screaming.
The baby’s screams burned my ears as I struggled to think of something else.
“Shut up, will you?” I yelled, covering my ears. “I need to think.”
There was a drainpipe that ran all the way down the house. I doubted it would take my weight, especially with the baby, but I didn’t know what else to do.
I tied a sheet to the leg of my desk drawer, then I grabbed Sam’s sheet and knotted the two together. The combined sheets still wouldn’t get me all the way down, so I ran and got Mum and Dad’s sheet from their room and knotted that on too. I wasn’t sure if the knots were going to hold, but I knew we didn’t have long. The smoke was already seeping onto the landing, wisps of it filling the air.
“OK, we’ve got to go now,” I told the baby. “You’re going to have to be a very brave girl, OK?”
I ran back to the bathroom one last time.
“Mum, I’m taking the baby out the window. I’ll get help, I promise.”
Mum gave a little murmur in reply. I leaned over and kissed her on her forehead as she had so often done to me, then I closed the bathroom door to keep the smoke out. Dad had drilled that into us since we were little.
The baby yawned and wriggled in my arms as I carried her to the window. It was dark outside, but the street lamp was bright enough that I could see the ground. The blankets and pillows looked a long way down, like bits of litter lying on the ground.
I sat on the ledge and yelled for help, still hoping that someone would save us.
“Fire! Fire! Somebody call the fire brigade!”
I thought that someone would look up and see us, or they’d come charging down the street at the sound of my voice. Not just someone, my dad. I strained my eyes left and right, but there was no sign of him, and no sound apart from a cat slinking its way through the gutter.
I felt like I was going to fall, and I clung on tighter. I wasn’t particularly good with heights, I didn’t even like climbing to the top of the ropes in gym. But it was for real this time and I knew Mum was counting on me. I made sure the baby was tucked securely into my waistband. She barely moved as I climbed down and clamped my legs around the drainpipe. I clutched the sheet rope and began to lower myself down. It was hard going, trying to hold onto the pipe, the rope and the baby all at once. My heart pounded as I let go of the windowsill, and then I was falling, down, down, down. I grasped at the rope as I went, but I couldn’t grip on tightly enough to do anything other than a controlled fall.
I landed hard on the pavement, with the baby nestled in my clothes.
I sat up and peered inside my shirt. “Are you alright?”
The baby kicked me and I undid a couple of buttons so that she could breathe. It was a bitterly cold night, and I didn’t want her to get ill, so I kept her in there, nuzzling my empty breast, while I rubbed my bruised back.
The street, which had seemed so dead as I sat on the window ledge, sprang miraculously to life. All at once, there were helping hands all around me. Nice people. Strangers I’d never spoken to. Where had these people been all my life, I wondered. There were gasps of horror as they clapped eyes on the newborn. A woman put her hands out to take her from me.
“No!”
I stepped back, clinging to the baby for dear life. No way was I going to let her go. Then I looked back at my house and saw a huge jet of black smoke rising from the building.
“Mum! My mum’s still in there!”
11
Smoke billowed from the windows on both floors of the house, and rose up into the sky like a swarm of angry wasps. I couldn’t understand how it had spread so fast. One of the helpful strangers shepherded everyone away from the building. I didn’t want to move, but he told me I had to.
“The building might collapse,” he said.
At that, I started wailing.
One brave geezer ran back into the house to see if he could help Mum, but he stumbled back out moments later, hacking up something awful. I sank to the floor and let one of the strangers wrap her coat around me to keep me warm, but I never let go of the baby. I had left Mum to save her, there was no way I was letting her go.
Gradually, I let them take me further down the street, away from the fumes, but not too far, as I wanted to see Mum when she came out.
“I can hear a fire engine!” a kid yelled from down the street. He was jumping up and down with excitement. I glared at him. My tragedy was the highlight of his year. A real fire, and a real fire engine. Everything a young kid would wish for, as long as it wasn’t their home, and their family in danger. I kept looking out into the night, hoping for a miracle. Hoping for my dad.
The crowd surged towards the fire engine, everyone talking at once. One woman felt the need to point the fire brigade towards my burning house, as if the flames weren’t visible enough. I opened my mouth to tell them about Mum, but my throat went dry. Luckily, the crowd shouted to them that Mum was up there.
I pictured her trapped in the bathroom, the smoke surrounding her like an invading army. I worried they wouldn’t get there in time and I found my voice.
“It’s not just the smoke. She’s bleeding badly.”
“The ambulance is on its way,” one of the firemen told me. I recognised him, I thought. I’d known most of them, at one time. But that was back when Dad still worked there.
“My dad is Tony. You must have heard of him? Everyone knows him.”
I thought if they knew who Dad was, they’d try harder. Dad had been the best firefighter of all. He had been so dedicated, so determined to save everyone. He had never left anyone in a burning building, even if it meant breaking all the rules. I wished he would hurry up and get here, so he could get Mum out.
The firemen wore loud clothes, and shouted to one another in big voices. The little boy whooped with joy and tried to get a closer look as they assembled their hose in front of my house.
“Pipe down and let the firemen do their job,” his dad told him.
I watched as the firemen aimed gallons of water at the house. I pictured all the rooms filling up with water, like in an underwater world.
An ambulance siren blared in the distance and I prayed it was coming to help us. A moment later, it pulled into Cold Bath Lane and everybody clapped and cheered. I didn’t understand why. Mum was still trapped in the burning house. I couldn’t believe how long it was taking to get her out.
The woman who had lent me her coat shoved me towards the paramedics.
“She’s got a newborn under that shirt,” she told them in a loud, disapproving tone, as if she thought the baby was mine.
“What’s your name, love?” one of them asked.
“Jody.”
“Please, Jody. Give me the baby. I need to check if he’s OK.”
“It’s a she.”
I really didn’t want to hand her over. Mum had trusted me with her. What if they didn’t give her back?
“Come on, we need to get you both to the hospital,” the paramedic said. I couldn’t tell if he was kindly or not. He had a thick moustache that hid his lips, the way some people have a shrub in front of their houses so you can’t peer through the windows.
“But we can’t go without Mum.”
“There’s another ambulance coming for your mum. They’ll bring her straight to the hospital, as soon as they get her out.”
I looked up at the burning building. It was still on fire, despite all the firefighters working on it.
“We need to hurry. The baby needs proper care. You don’t want her to die do you?”
I shook my head.
“Come on then. Show me.”
I pulled my baby sister out from under my shirt and handed her over. She was very, very still. I thought she had been sleeping. The paramedic looked alarmed. He yelled for his mate to help him and I watched as they blew air into her mouth and pressed down on her tiny chest. I held my hand over my heart, where the baby had been. I felt very cold now. Her body had been a barrier against the coldness of the night.
“What’s happening? Is she dead?”
“Of course she’s not dead,” said the old lady who’d given me her coat. I hadn’t realised she was still standing there. Perhaps she was waiting to get her coat back.
The baby was the wrong colour, just as Mum had been. The redness had gone from her face, and she had turned an unnatural shade of blue.
Somebody took my arm and pulled me inside the ambulance. I had never been in one before, and it was a lot smaller than I had imagined. I sat where I was told and watched as they pumped life into my baby sister.
“Please, let me help!”
“You can help by staying out of the way. Now stay back!”
I sat back in my seat, and shivered as the ambulance sped into the night.
I shut my eyes and wished I could be somewhere else, anywhere else but here. If only I had gone down the pub with Dad. If only Sam had been the one who stayed, then he would be here now instead of me. I didn’t want to have to deal with this. I wanted to go back to being a child. Just a child. Not a real person, with life or death responsibilities.
“Is it my fault? Have I killed her?”
Nobody answered. The driver spun the wheel. His hands climbed over each other, as he raced to the hospital. The other two worked urgently on the baby, puffing into her mouth, and pressing her tiny chest so hard I expected to hear her ribs crack. No one paid any heed to me. I wondered if they even remembered I was there.
Salty tears splashed my legs as we skirted a pothole. My stomach ached horribly. I crossed my legs, but it was too late, I had already wet myself, pee soaking my shoes and socks and making a pale yellow puddle that trickled around the floor of the ambulance.
I pressed my lips together, hoping no one would notice. If anybody asked me, I would deny it.
I thought that Dad would be waiting for me at the hospital, but instead, two doctors ran up and grabbed the baby from the paramedics. They spoke too quickly, using long words I didn’t understand. I watched as they ran off with her, like she was the baton in their relay race.
“Jody?”
A woman in green scrubs took me by the hand and led me to a room full of empty chairs and posters of heart disease.
“You can wait here until your father comes.”
“By myself?”
A harassed expression came over her face and she glanced at the watch pinned to the front of her uniform.
“I’m sorry, but we’re short staffed. I’ll come and check on you in a bit, OK?”
Nothing was OK, but I had no choice but to accept it.
The lights flickered in turn, as if there wasn’t enough power for them all to work at once. I went over to the shelf and picked through the titles until I came to a battered copy of The Gingerbread Man. I slid it under my jumper, where the baby had been and hugged it tight. What was Mum going to say if I had killed her baby?
Soon, the woman returned. She told me her name was Chris, and whether she was a nurse or a doctor or whatever, but I couldn’t take it in.
“Do you know if my mum’s here yet?”
“Your mum? I don’t think she…”
“What about my dad?”
“Not yet, sorry. I’m sure he won’t be long.”
I stood rigid as she stared into my eyes, and poked about in my gob.
“Can you lift up your jumper please?”
I clutched The Gingerbread Man tightly. “No.”
She swallowed her impatience.
“I need to check the smoke hasn’t damaged your body. It won’t hurt.”
I held my book tight.
“Would you prefer to wait till your father gets here?”
I pictured Dad and Sam gawking at my bare chest, and I let go of the book. It fell to the floor with a clunk.
“My goodness, what was that?” she asked.
I pretended it was nothing to do with me.
I waited while she listened to my chest. Her stethoscope looked like the one I had in my toy Doctor kit. Had had. It was probably burned in the fire now.
“Sounds good. You’re lucky.”
I didn’t feel very lucky.
Hell is a place where you wait and wait, and nothing changes. I chewed my fingernails and peeled the flaky bits of skin around them until they were raw. I drank my hot chocolate and crushed the cup into the smallest ball I could. I couldn’t even remember how I’d come to have a hot chocolate. Someone must have come in and given it to me, but I’d blanked it out. Time moved oddly here, a series of shapes and shadows on the wall. Every so often, I was joined by a nurse or doctor who would squint at me, like I was a weird painting, and they couldn’t make out what I was supposed to be.
“Are you hungry? Do you want some comics? Something else to drink?”
“I want my dad.”
There was a heaviness on my legs. Someone must have covered me with a blanket. I didn’t remember going to sleep. It didn’t seem possible, with everything that had gone on. I couldn’t stand being all alone like this. I’d already waited for eternity. How much longer was it going to be?
The grown-ups continued to come in and look at me, addressing me with nicknames like Mate or Squirt.
“You doing alright, Mate? You need anything, Squirt?”
I decided it was because they couldn’t remember my real name.
It was nearly light when Dad arrived, Sam trailing behind him, tripping over the laces that never stayed tied for long.
“Dad! Dad!”
I jumped out of my seat and raced towards him, throwing myself into his arms. He stank of beer and fags, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t alone any more. He was finally here.
The baldest doctor noted Dad’s arrival and walked over to us, his mouth set in a straight line.
“Mr McBride?”
“Yes, what’s happening? Where’s my wife?”
The doctor cleared his throat. “The firemen were able to get her out of the building,” he said, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “But she had lost a lot of blood. An awful lot of blood.”
“Where is she? Can we see her?”
“I’m ever so sorry, Mr McBride, but we weren’t able to save her.”
12
I went all wobbly, like my skin was made up of lots of fuzzy lines. I leaned heavily on the cold wall, not caring that I had nudged a poster with my shoulder. A pin fell silently to the floor. I pictured Mum lying in the bathtub, the water draining down the plug, her legs vile and bloody. I wondered how dead she was, whether she could still hear me, if I spoke to her, or if she was so far gone that she heard nothing, and felt nothing. I wished that I could feel nothing too.
It’s all your fault, the voice in my head told me. You left her there to die. You killed her.
I staggered back to my chair and hid under the blanket. I didn’t want anyone looking at me. I just wanted to go home, except we no longer had a home.
Through the thin, knitted material, I watched Sam at the vending machine, punching all the buttons. Dad had slumped down onto a chair. His shoulders shook violently. I don’t think I’d ever seen him cry before.
“No, Mary Jane! How could you do this to me?”
I expected him to say something to me, to
make it right somehow, but he was too caught up in his own pain. Sam wandered up and down the room, stumbling into chairs and tables, his laces trailing behind him.
I rocked back and forth, waiting for the pain in my gut to subside. It wasn’t a sharp pain, like when I’d had my appendix out, or an aching pain, like when I’d eaten too many sweets. It was a horrible, slow pain that started in my middle, and spread out all over my body. Mums weren’t supposed to die. Mums were supposed to be there to look after you. I thought I’d have my mum forever. I didn’t know this could happen.
“Mr McBride?” a young doctor appeared in the doorway. “Your baby is stable now. Would you like to see her?”
I looked at Dad and an unwelcome reel of images played in my mind. I remembered his terrible argument with Mum. I shook all over, as the memories came flooding back to me. This wasn’t right. I had to say something. I had to say something now.
The doctor was already ushering him out into the corridor. Sam was right behind them, following Dad like a shadow. I struggled to keep up with them, as they walked up a flight of stairs, and through some double doors. When the doctor finally stopped, I went up to him, and tugged urgently at his sleeve. He looked down at me, his brow furrowed, as though he was thinking about something else.
“Just two at a time.”
I realised he meant the baby unit. It was directly in front of us.
“You can go in first,” Sam said.
I looked at him in surprise. It wasn’t like him to be so generous. I looked at the doctor again, ready to tell him, but he was already moving on. I followed him into a big white room, where a row of babies slept side by side in little heated boxes. It reminded me of a greenhouse, except instead of plants, they were growing all these tiny people.
“Which one?” Dad asked.
“That one.” I pointed to the second one from the left. Already, her tuft of black hair and dimpled face were imprinted in my heart, as if I had always known her.
“She looks like you,” Dad said. “With your mum’s eyes.”
I remembered how he had questioned whether the baby was his. I think it would have been easier for both of us if we could have pretended she was really mine, but I knew that wasn’t possible.
Cold Bath Lane Page 6
