by Dawn Goodwin
She shrugged it off, told herself she was just on edge because she was alone with Ben and carried on walking, but her pace quickened a little all the same.
The community hall was buzzing with noise and activity by the time she arrived. Little children ran in and around each other, climbing on chairs and crawling under the tables. It immediately made her feel better. However, Ben sat in his pushchair in the doorway with wide eyes as Maddie kneeled down to unclip his safety straps.
‘There we go, Ben. Out you come.’ She offered him her hand and he pulled on it to stand up. ‘Let’s get that coat off you.’ The room was stifling, the central heating notched up too far, and Maddie could feel sweat trickle down her spine underneath her jumper. She unzipped his padded coat and pulled it from his arms.
He stood watching the children zoom around him, not ready to engage with them just yet. Maddie’s heart ached. ‘What would you like to play with?’
He looked at her, then pointed at a table in the corner where there was some paper and crayons.
‘That looks like fun! Would you like me to come with you?’
He nodded and he led her by the hand to the table. He pulled out the miniature plastic chair and sat down very studiously before pulling a piece of paper towards himself and picking up a royal blue crayon.
Maddie stepped to the side and watched him as he pulled the colour across the paper with fervour, then set the blue aside in favour of a yellow crayon.
A little girl ran up, looked curiously at what he was doing and sat down on the chair opposite him. The crayon in Ben’s hand stilled for a second, then he continued to draw a yellow circle on the blue background. Maddie thought it looked like he was drawing a sun.
A woman came to stand next to Maddie. ‘Hi, I’m Chloe. That’s my daughter, Polly.’
‘Hi,’ Maddie replied. ‘I’m Maddie. I’m here with Ar— um,’ she coughed, ‘Ben.’
‘He’s a sweetie, isn’t he? So quiet compared to the other boys here.’
‘Yes, he’s quite sensitive.’
‘Jade not here this week then?’
‘I wanted to bring him today, just wanted to spend some time with him.’
‘That’s so nice, getting to spend time with you. Jade can—’ Whatever she was going to say was cut off by a loud female voice thundering over them, telling them to gather on the carpet as the session was about to begin. Chloe smiled and shrugged as her daughter grabbed her hand and dragged her away.
Maddie couched down next to Ben again and said, ‘Shall we find a place to sit? The music is starting.’
He got to his feet and handed her the picture he had drawn. There was a blue sky and a yellow egg shape for a sun and what looked like two people holding hands. ‘That’s fantastic, Ben! Is that you and Mummy?’
He nodded.
‘You are very good at drawing. She will love it.’
She sat on the carpet with crossed legs and Ben crawled up into her lap and leant against her. Maddie didn’t want to move or breathe in case he pulled away. A glow spread through her.
The woman taking the session had a habit of bursting into song at every opportunity and Ben giggled, sang and clapped his hands along with the other children. He looked happy and relaxed, clearly enjoying every minute.
Afterwards, as she clipped him back into his pushchair, Chloe came over to say goodbye. ‘Ben looks so happy today. He’s usually much more withdrawn. I’ve never seen him join in like that. It clearly makes a difference having you here. I hope we’ll see you again soon?’
Maddie smiled, feeling pride bubble through her, as Chloe waved and backed out of the door, riding the tidal wave of pushchairs.
Maddie didn’t want to take Ben home just yet. She was having too much fun. If Jade really did have friends over, she wouldn’t notice if they didn’t come straight home. Instead of heading back the way they came, Maddie steered the pushchair in the opposite direction. She reached into her bag and turned her phone off as they walked along the street and she chattered away to him.
‘I know,’ she said as they walked. ‘Let’s go to the library. I used to love the library when I was little.’
Maddie loved everything about libraries. The smell, the hushed atmosphere, the subtle buzz of activity. She peered around her at the rows and rows of shelves, the books lined up like soldiers, every one a different adventure with a million secrets ready to be discovered.
Ben seemed just as taken with the reverence of the place. He took it all in with wide eyes. Maddie suspected he’d never been in a library before. She left the pushchair at the side of the room and walked over to where a pile of children’s picture books were laid out on a low table.
‘Ok, let’s see what we have here.’ Maddie picked up a book called The Dinosaur that Pooped Christmas and showed the cover to Ben, who giggled at the dinosaur on the cover. ‘Shall we read this one?’
Ben nodded enthusiastically and Maddie lowered herself onto a large green beanbag. Ben curled up in her lap once more. Maddie made the story come alive with different voices for the characters and when it was over, Ben jumped up to pick another book.
Three stories later and Ben was snuggling into Maddie, his eyes heavy as he yawned. Maddie felt her heart drop. She knew she had to take him back home – she’d already been out much longer than intended – but she didn’t want this to end.
This was what she imagined it would be like. This was what being a mother meant – hugs and stories and crayon drawings. Jade was very lucky.
She wanted to spirit him away, pack everything into his pushchair and just keep walking. It reminded her of how she was feeling that day with Mia in the park – a sense of outrage that this little creature could be so much happier with her, that she could offer them so much more.
*
Jade took a shaky breath. Maddie and Ben had been gone for hours. She was starting to wonder if letting Maddie take him on her own had been a good idea after all.
At first it had been just a little niggle at the back of her brain, but as time ticked on and Maddie’s phone kept going to voicemail, Jade had to admit she felt the first prickling of unease.
The image of the woman in the park came back to Jade then – her shaking finger and quivering voice.
You need to keep an eye on your son when she’s around.
How could she have been so stupid? Just letting a relative stranger walk out of the door with him?
She’d been so focused on Stacey and Becca coming over to do her hair and nails before her date with Deon that she’d just wanted Ben and Maddie out of the way before the girls arrived.
Where the hell were they?
*
Reluctantly Maddie strapped Ben back in his pushchair, then on a whim, knelt down and told him to smile as she took a selfie on her phone. She knew she had been gone way too long, but her feet were struggling to find the way back home.
She took as slow a walk as she could, letting daydreams of another life flood her brain in which she lived near the sea with Ben, just the two of them, running on the beach, exploring rock pools, and eating fish and chips from the newspaper.
She felt like her heart was fracturing when she finally reached the entrance to the flats. She struggled up the stairs with the pushchair, trying not to wake Ben who had drifted off to sleep. She knocked on Jade’s door.
Jade flung it open, looking annoyed and worried. ‘I’ve been trying to phone you,’ she said. ‘I wondered where you two had got to.’
‘Oh, sorry, my phone must be flat. I took him to the library after the music class and I didn’t notice the time.’
‘Ok, well, next time make sure your phone is charged.’ Her voice was sharp-edged.
‘Yes, sorry. We had a great time reading books and stuff though. I really enjoyed myself. Thank you for letting me do that.’
‘God, you’re so weird. I’d have been bored to death.’
‘Not at all! I’d love to do it again.’ She paused. ‘Your hair looks nice.’ It sounded acc
usatory. She shoved the pushchair through the doorway just as Ben started to stir. ‘We’re home,’ Maddie said gently, running a hand over his head.
‘Oh, yeah thanks, just trying something new while I had the time. Took a pair of scissors to it and the hairdryer. A bit of me-time, you know.’ It looked like she’d done more than that. Her nails looked freshly manicured too.
Ben opened his eyes and his bottom lip started to quiver as he looked around him. ‘He’s probably still quite tired, sorry. Here, Archie drew you a picture,’ Maddie said. She pulled the drawing from her bag and handed it to Jade.
‘Archie? Who’s Archie?’
Maddie paled. ‘Sorry?’ she replied.
‘You said Archie.’
‘Did I? Silly me.’ She hugged her arms to herself and looked away.
Jade frowned, then looked at the picture, twisting it this way and that. ‘What the hell is it supposed to be?’
‘That’s the sky,’ Maddie said, pointing, ‘and that’s the sun, and that’s you and Ben holding hands.’
Ben sat still, rubbing at his eyes and said, ‘Mummy.’
‘Yes, Ben, that’s Mummy, isn’t it?’ Maddie responded.
‘He’s not going to be an artist when he’s older, is he?’
‘I think it’s sweet.’
‘Here, you can have it then,’ Jade said and gave it back to her.
Maddie was annoyed at Jade’s reaction, but let it go. She hovered, wondering if Jade would offer her a cup of tea, but nothing was forthcoming.
‘Right, well, I’ll leave you to it, but any time you want a break, you know where I am. Did you have a peaceful few hours?’ Maddie tried to see behind her for evidence of having had people over, but Jade was blocking her view.
‘Yeah, it’s turning out to be an easy day for me – he’s off to his dad’s again later. Well, I think you’ve deserved a cup of tea and a sit-down. Wow, look at the time.’ She made a play of looking at her watch. ‘Almost snack time for you, big boy. Thanks, Mads. See you soon, yeah?’ Maddie waved goodbye to Ben as Jade bustled her out of the door.
Once back in her own flat, Maddie airdropped the photo of herself and Ben to her laptop and printed it off. Then she stuck it to her fridge along with Ben’s drawing, where she would see it every day.
THEN
Positive.
There’s that little, telling line.
But I’ve been here before.
No, think happy thoughts.
The pregnancy test is positive. This time it will stick.
I sit on the edge of the bath, marvelling at the little white stick in my hand. Greg had said one more try and then we were done.
That one more try had resulted in a miracle.
Slow down, Maddie.
I force myself to take a few steadying breaths. My stomach is gurgling with joy, flipping over and crashing in on itself as I let myself consider what this means. The gurgling is surprisingly close to nausea, but I’m enjoying it anyway.
We’ve been here before, Maddie.
Yes, we have. Countless miscarriages; countless disappointments. And I can name each and every one of them.
Ok, I must be only a couple of weeks pregnant, so I need to not move for the next while, just get us past the twelve-week mark and maybe we’ll be ok. I put my hand on my stomach, but I can’t feel anything. Nothing is different yet. That’s one of the hardest things. It never feels like there is something in there this early.
But you can always tell when it’s coming out.
No, don’t think about that. Positivity breeds positivity.
Deep breaths. Slow movements.
Greg. I need to tell him.
I step gingerly from the bathroom and grab my phone from where I’d flung it on the bed along with the empty test box and sheet of instructions. I certainly didn’t need those. I’d done enough of these tests over the years to be able to write them myself. The money I’d spent on the tests alone didn’t bear thinking about.
I dial Greg’s number, but it goes straight to voicemail. I look at my watch. I was sure he said he was going to be in the office all day today. He should be there by now.
Frowning, I dial again. Still voicemail. I leave a message asking him to call me back urgently.
Now I’m fidgety. I was hoping to talk to him, share the news, hear the joy in his voice.
We’re like strangers, he and I. We hardly talk. He works long hours and seems to find any excuse he can to get out of the house now. As far away from me as possible.
But then, I don’t really ask too many questions about his day, his life. As far as I’m concerned, if he isn’t in the house, then I don’t have to feel the disappointment simmering from his pores, the pity when he looks at me, his frustration that I don’t want to go out, have a drink, see our friends anymore. All the strange diets and health regimes while I try and find a fix for my broken body. Gluten-free; dairy-free; vegan. None of them have worked. I’m in the best shape of my life and it has made no difference.
He can’t understand why I behave like I do – and I can’t explain it to him.
All I can focus on is what I don’t have in front of me. How many times has he said to me, ‘Look at what we have, Maddie. Look at our lives. I love you. We have a beautiful home, a successful business. That should be enough.’
But it isn’t. All the holidays and fancy restaurants can’t fill the emptiness I have inside me, a chasm of longing.
I’ve tried explaining to him that I don’t want to socialise with our friends anymore because I can’t hear any more of their stories about family life, how brilliant little Annie is at dancing, how Connor is top goal scorer for the football team. Even the stuff they moan about – no lie-ins, constant whining, tantrums – sounds charming to me.
But worse than this is the fact that they don’t tell us these stories anymore. They start, then they get that look on their faces, their eyes dart towards me and they stop, sometimes mid-sentence, before completely changing the subject to something inane, like the weather or the demise of British politics.
Greg says he hasn’t noticed, but I know he has. He can’t help but notice that the invitations to dinner parties have dried up. Thank goodness he has lots of work functions to attend, because he’d go stir-crazy stuck here with me every night.
I try his number again, but get the same response, so I head back to bed, still fully dressed, and lie with my legs propped up on a pile of pillows, a cup of jasmine tea at my elbow and daytime television on to distract me from letting my thoughts run wild with images of what our lives could be like if we had a little Evie or Casper or Lottie to keep us busy in nine months’ time.
When my phone does ring an hour later, the television has not distracted me in the slightest and I have ended up making a new list on my phone of possible names, ones I haven’t already used.
‘Hello? Greg?’
‘Hey, Mads. You ok?’ His voice is flat.
‘Yes. I’m good. Really good.’
‘Oh?’ His interest has been piqued.
‘I’m pregnant… again.’
There is a pause. ‘Ok…’
‘Did you hear me?’
‘Yes, I heard you.’ He doesn’t sound as thrilled as I thought he would. He sounds… tired.
‘You’re happy, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, of course. It’s just… Well, we’ve been here before. I don’t want to you to get your hopes up again.’
Suddenly I’m angry. Why shouldn’t I get my hopes up? Why shouldn’t I be excited? How dare he?
‘Fuck you, Greg!’
‘Excuse me?’
‘How dare you!’ I know I’m screaming at him, but I can’t stop myself. ‘Why can you not just be happy for me? For us? After everything we’ve gone through, you know how much this means to me. Is a little bit of excitement too much to ask?’
‘I’m sorry, Mads, I just—’
‘You know what, I’m not going to let your negativity ruin this for me.’
&nb
sp; I hang up and fling myself back onto the pillows.
Breathe, Maddie. Stress is bad for the baby.
I focus on my inhalations and exhalations, letting my pulse slow again, then start searching up new ideas for the nursery on Pinterest.
8
The shoebox sat on the kitchen counter like a bomb.
Maddie sat on the bar stool, her hands resting flat on the countertop.
This flimsy cardboard box held what felt like a lifetime of pain, crushed dreams and broken splinters of promise. It had the ability to completely eviscerate her and yet she kept it.
However, spending time with Ben yesterday had fortified her enough to face this. She looked over at the photo on the fridge, Ben’s smiling face, the sheer joy in her eyes.
She reached out slowly and lifted the lid of the box, setting it aside gingerly. The smell of lavender filled the air.
Inside, lying on a bed of scented, pale purple tissue paper, was what looked on the surface to be a pile of innocent pieces of paper. But each one could cut her like a scalpel.
The papers were tied together with a thin piece of silver ribbon, like love letters. And that’s what they were.
Love letters from a mother to her children.
The ribbon had started out as quite a long piece, but as Maddie had added to the pile, so the ribbon had shortened until there was now only enough to tie one small knot at the top.
She untied that knot now with quivering fingers and forced herself to look.
A photo of every scan done for every one of her failed pregnancies – and for each child, a hand-drawn card with a name, date of conception and date of death, each one decorated according to the scheme they had picked for the nursery. One had zoo animals; another flowers; a third rainbows – all painstakingly hand-drawn and decorated while she was grieving yet another disappointment. The cards had been a kind of art therapy for her, cathartic in a way and an important part of her attempt at closure. There had been no way of knowing for some whether they were boys or girls, so she had gone with her instinct and by her reckoning, she had had more boys. But that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that they were gone. And each one had taken a piece of her soul with them until she had felt like an empty husk, just a body carrying her around every day but drained of all feeling. Numb and hollow.
