by Lynda Renham
She stared at the flowers. Her mother had bought her flowers after the birth, a bouquet that had lasted weeks. She felt sad at the memory.
‘What are they?’
‘Chrysanthemums, I think.’
‘Mum liked to arrange flowers and …’
She trailed off as always. She wondered if she’d ever get a whole memory out into the open.
‘Would you like to talk about your mother?’
That familiar ache in her heart returned and she shook her head.
‘No, not yet.’
‘What are you feeling right now?’
‘Unsupported,’ she said, surprising herself.
‘By everyone?’
She fiddled with her wedding band. It looked strange sitting alone on her finger. Her hands were dry and the skin flaky. She’d decided to take her engagement ring off for a few days. She hadn’t realised how naked she would feel without it.
‘Not here,’ she said. ‘I feel supported here.’
But not believed, she thought. No one believes me. I’m all alone.
Chapter Five
I run my hands along the chiffon and turn over the price tag. It’s more than I can afford.
‘Why don’t you try it on?’ suggests Sharni.
I gently pull Ben’s hands away from a scarf that hangs on a rail nearby.
‘It is gorgeous,’ I say.
‘It would go great with this,’ she says, reaching for a lemon cardigan.
I hesitate. I hadn’t intended on buying clothes but the dress is nice and I am tempted.
‘Go on, try it on. Ben and I can wait here.’
She points to a seating area.
‘Okay,’ I say, taking a size twelve from the rail.
It’s been nice wandering around the shops with a friend. I’m exhausted but it’s a pleasurable exhaustion. I slip the dress over my head and then struggle to pull it over my hips.
‘How does it look?’ calls Sharni.
I step gingerly from the changing room.
‘It’s a bit tight. It’s a case of does my bum look big in this.’
She studies me.
‘Hmmm,’ she says thoughtfully.
I take that to mean my bum does look big in it.
‘I’ll get you the next size up,’ she offers.
A size fourteen goes over the hips but hangs slightly loose on my breasts.
‘It looks fabulous,’ says Sharni.
I study myself in the mirror and slip on the lemon cardigan. It is nice and I don’t often buy myself clothes these days. I check the price tag on the cardigan and gasp. I can’t pay a hundred pounds for two items of clothing.
‘Are you getting them?’ Sharni asks as I come out of the changing room. Ben looks up at me and begins to cry.
‘They’re quite expensive,’ I say.
‘Oh, you must treat yourself sometimes,’ she smiles. ‘Isn’t that why you work?’
I expect Sharni thinks nothing of spending a hundred pounds on herself. She’s right, though. I hardly ever buy myself anything these days. Not since we’ve had Ben. I don’t mind though. I’d much rather spend the money on him, but just this once won’t hurt.
‘You’ve talked me into it,’ I laugh.
‘They’re gorgeous,’ she says idly fingering the dresses on the rail.
I quickly pay before I have time to change my mind and then stroll back to Sharni. She has pulled out her camera and is snapping another picture of Ben.
‘That’s going to be beautiful,’ she says, squinting behind the viewfinder.
I’d lost count of the number of photos Sharni had taken. Our arms ache from carrying our numerous shopping bags. My throat is dry. I should have bought a bottle of water. I glance at my phone to see it is three-thirty. Ben is wide awake and he should really have had a nap by now. If I leave it much later I’ll be up half the night with him.
‘I should try and rock him off to sleep,’ I say.
I don’t want Sharni to think I’m ungrateful for the photos she has taken but she is overexciting him.
‘Shall we get a coffee?’ she suggests.
‘Sounds good,’ I agree.
My feet ache and the thought of a sit down is heaven. I can rock Ben in the stroller as we have our coffee.
‘I’ll get them,’ I say. ‘You bought lunch.’
We find a table in the busy cafeteria. I drop my bags gratefully and throw my coat over the back of a chair. The stores are unbearably hot and I grimace at the odour under my arms. What must Sharni think of me?
‘Okay to leave everything with you?’ I ask.
‘Sure,’ she says, glancing at her shopping list. ‘I must get some flowers before we go home.’
I open my mouth to ask about the vase but stop myself. It will sound so petty after all she has done today. I’ll wait a few more days. Maybe buying the flowers will remind her about it.
I look down at Ben who is flaying about in his buggy. He throws off his blanket and squeezes his eyes tightly shut in a moment of frustration.
‘He’s tired,’ I say with a sigh.
‘He’ll be fine,’ she smiles.
‘What would you like?’ I ask, my heart sinking at the sight of the queue.
‘A cappuccino for me,’ she says.
I make my way to the endless line of people. I had completely forgotten about Christmas and the crowds had been a stark reminder of just how close it was. I look over to Sharni and Ben. She’s rocking him in the stroller. I fish my phone from my bag and see there is a message from Chris.
I hope you’re having a good time with Sharni. I’m going to be late. Unexpected meeting. Eat without me. Will keep you updated.
Disappointment washes over me. I’d bought a decent bottle of wine to have with our dinner.
Okay, let me know how you’re doing I text back.
I find myself wondering how Chris can have an unexpected meeting and then hate myself for the thought. I really must not start that again. I’ve got Ben to think about now. I rub the back of my neck and move slowly forward in the queue. The clattering of cups and cutlery is making my head ache.
‘Next, what can I get you?’
I look up at the assistant and then glance at the cakes and pastries on the counter. I never thought to ask Sharni if she wanted anything to eat.
‘Erm …’
The assistant fidgets impatiently.
‘Two cappuccinos and …’
I lift my head to look at Sharni. The table is empty. There is no sign of her or the buggy.
‘Yes?’ says the assistant.
I scan the seating area where I was sure I’d left Sharni and Ben. The loud swooshing noise of the coffee maker makes me jump.
‘What else can I get you?’ asks the assistant.
I don’t understand why Sharni isn’t at the table. I’m sure that’s where I left them. A young couple are sitting there instead, sipping from their mugs. That can’t be right. I’m sure they weren’t there earlier.
‘Two muffins,’ I say absently while my eyes hurriedly scan the cafeteria. Maybe she’s gone to the loo.
‘Blueberry or chocolate?’
‘What?’
The assistant sighs and I feel the air of tension behind me from the other customers.
‘Do you want blueberry or chocolate muffins?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘I can’t choose for you.’
‘Blueberry,’ I snap and immediately apologise. There’s no sign of Sharni. My heart thumps in my chest. What was I thinking of, leaving my child with someone I hardly knew? Oh God, what if … My mind begins to imagine all sorts of crazy things. What if they haven’t really moved in next door at all? What if … Oh God, what have I done? What mother leaves her child with a total stranger? I rummage for the diazepam tablets and swallow two. I ignore the assistant’s raised eyebrows and lift the tray. I make my way hurriedly to the till. In my haste I push into the woman in front of me, spilling cappuccino into the saucers.
‘I’m sorry,’ I mumble.
My head is spinning and my trembling legs have difficulty walking to the table where the couple are sitting. I look for my coat on the back of the chair but it has gone. I feel dizzy and grab the chair for support. Should I phone the police? And If I do, what do I tell them? My neighbour has taken my child with my permission? Oh God, how could I have been so stupid. I place the tray on to a nearby empty table and wipe the perspiration from my brow.
‘Are you okay?’ the girl asks.
‘I’m just a bit hot,’ I say.
I fumble in my bag for my phone. I need to call Chris. Surely he will know what to do. Just as I go to punch in his number, it bleeps.
We’re by the window.
I turn and see Sharni waving from the other side of the room. How could I have missed her? I felt sure I had looked there. I struggle to control my breathing and try to relax. Maybe I should try to cut down on the diazepam. Dr Rawlins did say it could make me more anxious. I feel beads of sweat run down my forehead but by the time I reach the table my breathing has calmed.
‘You look really hot,’ says Sharni, taking the tray from me.
‘It’s stuffy in here,’ I say and wonder if she can hear the tremble in my voice.
‘We had to move,’ she explains. ‘The draft there was awful. I didn’t think it was good for Ben.’
‘I wondered where you’d both gone,’ I say, trying to keep my voice even.
‘He’s dozed off,’ she smiles and covers him with his blanket. ‘Ooh muffins,’ she adds, looking at the tray.
Ben is cosy under his blankets. His sweet cherub face peeks out from beneath and his eyelashes flutter against his cheek. I want to scoop him up and hold him close to me for ever.
‘I didn’t know what you liked so I got blueberry.’
‘Chocolate’s my favourite,’ she says, ‘but blueberry is nice too.’
I stupidly feel that I have done something wrong and I flop into the chair. I turn the stroller around to face me.
‘I can’t believe it’s almost Christmas,’ says Sharni, spooning the froth from her coffee. ‘What are you doing for Christmas?’
‘I don’t know, we haven’t really thought about it.’
‘Will you have your family come to you?’
I look down so she can’t see my face.
‘No, I don’t really see my family. My mum …’
‘I’m so sorry Clare. Families are important at Christmas.’
‘I have my family,’ I say sounding defensive.
I decide to get a proper tree this year. Not that silly artificial bent thing that Chris bought the first year we were married. I can decorate it while Ben watches. He’ll love that. I’ll play Christmas songs to him.
We sit sipping our cappuccinos and listening to the Christmas music from the café speakers, both in worlds of our own.
‘Why don’t you come to us?’ she says suddenly.
I’m so startled that I choke on my coffee.
‘Are you okay?’ she asks, her perfume drifting around me.
I see her through a haze of diazepam.
‘It went down the wrong hole.’
She sits back down and scoops her hair back.
‘It is hot in here,’ she agrees. ‘What do you think about Christmas?’ she asks again.
‘I … Won’t you have family?’
‘Not this year.’
I don’t like to ask more so simply say, ‘I’ll ask Chris.’
She must think I’m always saying I’ll ask Chris. I check the time on my phone and gasp.
‘It’s gone four,’ I say.
‘Yes, it’s getting late. You’ve got to get Ben home. Shall we go? We can get a taxi if you don’t want to wait for a bus.’
I hesitate. A taxi would be heaven but in this part of London the fare would be criminal.
‘I’ll pay,’ she says as though reading my mind. ‘I’d rather get a cab to be honest. I don’t know about you but I’m knackered.’
‘Clare, is that you?’
I turn to the voice and see Helen. She pulls out a chair and flops into it.
‘What are you doing here?’ I ask, and realise that I sound accusing. ‘I thought you’d be at school,’ I add apologetically.
‘I finished at three. I’m doing what I thought was early Christmas shopping. It seems I’m not the only one.’
‘We were just leaving,’ says Sharni, offering her hand. ‘I’m Sharni Wilson, Clare’s new neighbour.’
‘Hi, how are you settling in?’
‘Good,’ smiles Sharni. ‘Clare is giving me some fab ideas for the house.’
‘Great,’ says Helen, glancing at her watch. ‘I should run. The shops are only open for two more hours and you know how long Christmas shopping can take.’
Ben fidgets in his stroller and I rock it gently.
‘I’ll just get some flowers from the food hall and phone for a cab,’ says Sharni, picking up her bags.
‘She seems nice,’ says Helen, watching Sharni hurry to the food hall.
‘Yes,’ I nod. ‘I’ll see you at school tomorrow.’
‘It’s your appraisal tomorrow isn’t it?’ grimaces Helen.
‘I’m trying not to think about it.’
I hate appraisals. I’m feeling quite confident that everything will be okay but I have lost a few days this year when Ben was ill. I couldn’t leave him at the nursery with a fever. The truth is I don’t like leaving him at all but I have no choice. I need to work if Chris and I are going to keep up our mortgage payments. I kiss Helen on the cheek and bundle my bags under my arm.
‘Good luck tomorrow.’
‘Thanks Helen, I’m slightly anxious about it.’
‘It’ll be fine.’
The diazepam is taking effect and I feel calmer. I could shop some more but I need to get Ben home. I’ll have a hot bath when I get back and treat myself to a glass of the wine I’d bought. Ben can play in his pen. Sharni approaches and points to a cab outside.
‘Okay?’ she asks.
I nod and before I can stop her she has lifted Ben from his stroller. I close it down and follow her, relishing the thought of my hot bath.
Chapter Six
I rock Ben back and forth, while he screams blue murder. My head thumps with every movement. I should never have let him sleep for so long but it had been so nice soaking in the bath with a glass of wine. It had seemed such a long time since I had relaxed like that. I just didn’t want it to end. Now, I’m paying the price for my indulgence. Ben is wide awake and the wine which seemed so lovely earlier is kicking back and my head feels like it will burst with every one of Ben’s cries. I’ve only slept for an hour and the cocktail of diazepam and wine has sent my head swimming. It doesn’t matter what I do, Ben just won’t settle.
I check the time on my phone and groan. It’s three-thirty. My eyes are gritty from lack of sleep and the acidity in my stomach is making me nauseous. I look at the bedroom wall and wonder if Sharni and Tom can hear Ben’s screams. I expect not. I can’t help thinking of Sharni sleeping soundly next to Tom and find myself feeling irrationally resentful. It wasn’t her fault. I should have been more insistent about Ben’s nap.
‘Christ Clare,’ grumbles Chris. ‘Can’t you give him some Calpol?’
‘That’s not the answer Chris, and you know I won’t give him that,’ I say, feeling the irritation well up inside me.
‘I’ve got to get up for work tomorrow,’ he snaps, pulling the duvet over his head.
So have I, I want to snap, but I don’t. Instead I climb wearily from the bed, hugging Ben close and make my way to the cold sitting room.
‘Ben, please,’ I plead. ‘Just stop screaming.’
I fumble with the electric heater and click it on. I grab the throw from the back of the couch and wrap us both in it. I fleetingly wonder what Sharni would think of our interiors now. I lie back on the sofa and rock Ben in my arms. His screams jar in my head and I fight the urge to throw up. I hear t
he bed creak as Chris turns over. I close my eyes and think of the photos we’d have of Ben when Sharni prints them out. We don’t have any decent pictures of Ben. I consider asking if she would take one of the three of us, a family portrait. It would look lovely in a frame above the fireplace. My eyes snap open as an awful thought occurs to me. What if she publishes them in a magazine? My heart races and my breathing becomes shallow. I struggle to take deep breaths. I can’t take any more diazepam. Beads of sweat form on my forehead and I clasp Ben close. I’ll ask her not to. It would be an invasion of our privacy. She would surely understand. I don’t want anyone seeing photos of Ben. It’s not worth the risk. But, I assure myself, she’s a fashion photographer, not a baby and toddler photographer. I don’t suppose she’ll even keep the photos. Why would she? What interest would they be to her? My breathing slows and I realise that Ben has stopped screaming. I shift slightly and his eyes open.
‘Alright sweetie, mummy’s here,’ I whisper, rocking him gently.
I consider taking two paracetamol but I can’t reach my bag without disturbing him. I close my eyes. I’ll speak to Sharni tomorrow about the photos. Maybe I’ll ask for the vase back too. After all, she can’t possibly need it now. I gently feel Ben’s forehead to check there is no fever. Thankfully his head is cool. My eyes close and I feel myself drifting into sleep.
*
‘Clare, Clare.’
I open my eyes and a pain shoots through my neck. My arms are empty and I look for Ben.
‘Where …?’
‘He’s in his playpen. I let you sleep for a bit longer. Here’s some porridge.’
Chris pushes a bowl into my hand.
I try to get up but my legs are numb.
‘What’s the time?’
‘Seven. No need to rush.’
My head thumps and my eyes are blurry from sleep.
‘You should have come back to bed,’ he says.
‘I was going to but I must have dozed off.’
‘I’ve got to go. I’ve got meetings all day. Are you okay? You look rough.’
I put the porridge down and rub my eyes. Nausea overwhelms me and I take a deep breath.
‘You’re not working late again are you?’ I say and wince at the accusatory tone in my voice. I couldn’t bear another evening alone.
