by Alison Cole
"Okay." While I feed my baby, I suddenly begin to feel very sleepy. After all, it's early morning! Before I nod off, I look closely at the baby - she has curly, brownish-blonde hair. Her eyes are still shut, so I don't know what color they are. I've read that they won't actually take their true color on for several weeks. She has a tiny, button nose and a little rosebud-shaped mouth. Finally, I doze off, feeling Marcus tenderly lifting the baby out of my arms.
The next day, in hospital, my family and Marcus' family come in, all excited to meet the newest little Hadley. By then, she has managed to stay awake for several minutes at a time. Once I get over the exertion of labor and delivery, I feel fine - until I try to take a walk down the hall with Marcus. By the time I return to my room, I feel as though I'd run a marathon! I take an hours-long nap afterward, waking only when I hear Lizzie crying for a feeding. I see her daddy tenderly and carefully taking her out of the bassinet. He cuddles her for a few minutes while I rearrange my nightgown and nursing bra. Once she's in my arms, she roots around looking for my breast. As before, I jump when she begins nursing. We stay in hospital until my doctor is sure that Lizzie and I are healthy. Marcus stays during the day and returns home at night.
Chapter 12
Finally, it's time for us to be discharged. I am so nervous - will I know when it's time to feed and change her? How will I know what to do? By the time it's time for us to leave, I'm reduced to a bundle of weepy nerves. My nurse, seeing my tears, comes to me and cuddles me for a few seconds.
"Hush now, mum! You've done brilliantly here in hospital. We've been watching you and you've caught on through our coaching. You know how and when to change and feed your little luv. Besides, you have daddy here to help you out. He works from home, right?"
I nod, sniffling.
"Okay, mum, then you have everything you need. You're nervous and your hormones are dropping like a stone. That's why you feel like this. Tell you what - nap when your daughter naps. Rely on Marcus and your family. You're going to do just fine!" She hugs me again and, feeling slightly better, I hug her back.
At home, I take my nurse's advice and have a good lie-down when Lizzie takes her naps. This helps my mood tremendously. Thankfully, mum and my mother-in-law have laid in a good stock of meals they made and stored in our freezer, so all we need to do is thaw and heat them. Our first night home, we have Lizzie's bassinet in our room - which is a good thing. At two a.m., she wakes, bellowing. I sit straight up, frightened. What's wrong with my little girl? Then, I look at the time and realize she's hungry.
Marcus gets her for me, looking at me wide-eyed.
"My God, I didn't know she could get that loud!"
"I hope she didn't wake up our neighbors downstairs."
"We'd better start looking for a single house soon. I don't know how long they'll want to be hearing that, multiple times a night," says Marcus reasonably.
"Yes, I agree. Soon as I have my strength back, we'll start driving around and looking. It's a good thing we know that we can afford," I say. After a successful tour and the way album sales have been soaring, we are fortunate enough to be able to pay cash for a home.
It takes me only a few weeks, then I begin to feel more normal. One cold, clear Saturday, we bundle Lizzie into her car seat and take her to my parents' so they can take care of her while we house-hunt. I've been expressing and storing milk for her, so now she's got used to taking some feedings from a bottle.
We've talked about what we want in a house. Good neighborhood and excellent schools obviously. I don't know what Lizzie's interests will be, so a good public primary school will suffice until she's expressed her interests. With these requirements in mind, we've decided on a few neighborhoods to look through. We spot several possibilities and I note the addresses down so we can let our real estate agent know. After a few hours we go pick the baby up. Even though we have been gone for a short while, we miss her so much.
Every chance we get, we go out looking at houses we've identified from the adverts in the paper. So far, we've looked at a dozen homes. I remember the daydream I had, where Marcus and I were relaxing on the front lawn with our baby girl; the daydream where I came out of a big stone house. We see just such a house, believe it or not! Four bedrooms, so definitely room to grow; it has a large kitchen and a good-sized front and back yard, so we can picnic when it's pleasant out. Best of all, the house is in an excellent neighborhood, with several top public schools close by. After taking a tour of the house, we look at each other and realize that we have to offer for it! As soon as we get into town, we tell the agent that we want to do so. He looks very pleased and says he will let the seller's agent know. Then, we talk about any improvements that the house will need. We ask about the roof and any recent repairs and upgrades to the house, and our agent says he will get the information we need.
At home, Marcus and I put Lizzie into her crib, then tiptoe out and celebrate by making love. This is the first time since Lizzie was born, so I am nervous. But we fall back easily into the swing of things. Marcus takes it nice and easy with me, which is really sweet. Our lovemaking session is cut short by Lizzie's cries, but I am determined our next one will not be. Wrapping my robe around me, I go in and check on the baby. She needs a feeding and a nappy-change.
Being that it's nearly Christmas, Marcus and I put our tree up. This will be our first Christmas together as a married couple, and Lizzie's first Christmas, period! I'm kept busy fielding calls from relatives about what they should get for her. I tell them clothing, baby supplies and small toys we can play with to stimulate her.
Once our tree is up, I bring Lizzie from her room and hold her upright so she can look at its beauty. She waves her arms up and down - I think she is interested in the lights twinkling, but she doesn't yet understand the significance of the holiday. Still, Marcus and I spread a baby blanket on the floor and set Lizzie on it. We're lying down on either side of her, enjoying the feeling of our first Christmas as a family.
Nigel, our band manager, has set up a series of concerts in and around London right around the Christmas and Boxing Day holidays. These concerts are timed for right before we leave for our delayed honeymoon. At one concert, I peek out through the heavy stage curtain and look for Marcus. As per his usual habit, Marcus is sitting to one side, in the first row. I spot him and wave to him and he waves back with a big grin. Then, I see an odd sight - two young women are sitting in the row behind him, slightly to one side of him. One of the women is markedly overweight. I notice she is staring, totally fixated, on my husband! Her mouth is held agape and her eyes have a fire in them. I don't know why, but I suddenly get the willies and a sick chill throughout my body. I don't know who she is or what her purpose is for being there, so I decide I should alert Marcus. I go backstage and send him a text message, telling him what I've just spotted. I walk back to the curtain and peek through - Marcus' smile is completely gone. He texts me, saying he'll meet me backstage during intermission. By now, he knows our play sets cold, so, just a few minutes before intermission starts, he leaves his seat and shows his backstage credentials to the auditorium employee. Once he's given the okay to come backstage, he waits until we finish.
As before, the smile is completely gone from my husband's face. He takes my arm and sits me down, then tells me he's seen this young woman about quite often in the past few weeks. She's always close by and always seems transfixed on him. Now, I am really scared - for Marcus, the baby and me. We're new parents and we have a new and very tender life to protect. Are we dealing with some kind of stalker?
After I get my breath back, I grab Marcus' arms and tell him that we need to notify the police, if only for Lizzie's sake. I'm having flashbacks about Gemma and I don't want any repeat performances. Lizzie is with my mum and dad right now, and we'll pick her up straightaway after the concert is over. Marcus thinks about calling the police, then he nods. I call them and report what we've seen happening in recent weeks.
Two officers show up less than ten minutes befo
re the second half of our concert is due to begin. They come backstage and ask Marcus and me to point the girl out. Marcus points her out, describing her to a T. Short, overweight, dyed blonde hair, with lip and nose piercings. I spot something new - the girl is now whispering to a tall, very emaciated girl sporting a freakish, badly cut and multicolored Mohawk. The overweight girl is pointing to where Marcus had been sitting. I tell one of the officers what I've just noticed.
"She's probably wondering where Marcus has got to," I say.
"Mr. Hadley, please stay backstage for the second half of the concert. We're going to go find out why she's been following you. Mind, she has the right to be here. She's bought a ticket. But we can ask her about why she's been following you through town," says the officer.
Leaving the backstage area, they go to the audience seats. We still have a few minutes until the end of intermission, so we peek through the curtain. We see both officers approaching the women. The shorter, overweight woman becomes visibly angry and frustrated when she can't come up with a good reason for following Marcus about town. The officers respond by telling her that her behavior could legally be considered stalking. She grows even more angry at this, so I plead with Marcus to stay backstage until the end of our concert. A stagehand finds a comfy chair for him and he watches our performance from the side of the stage, just behind the blackout curtain. Right before we perform our final song, I look to the area where the two young women had been seated - now they're gone! This is proof that the draw for them was Marcus, not our band. I feel fear squeezing around my heart.
When we return to England from our holiday in Spain, we think the stalking situation has been dealt with by the police. We're living our life as normal, looking at new homes to buy in a frantic hurry. The first home we wanted already had an offer on it that the seller took. We were back to square one in finding a new home. One morning, I'm going back into our flat after tossing our bagged rubbish into the bin. It is blistering cold, so I wrap my coat around me and look around. I spot the same squat, overweight girl standing across the street, just staring at our flat. I don't want her to know I've just spotted her, so I wrap my arms around my chilled body - in truth, I'm chilled, both from the cold and from the fear I'm feeling. I hurry inside and upstairs, where I alert Marcus.
He peeks through the window sheers, trying not to be spotted. When he sees her staring right at our front window, he backs up fast, turning ghastly pale. He scoops up his phone and calls his dad, letting him know what's going on.
The two of them decide that the three of us will stay elsewhere until we know we've got the house we've offered on. That afternoon, we pack our immediate necessities and both of our dads help to get us moved to Marcus' dad's property. Because we don't want that girl to know that I spotted her, we wait until it's totally dark to get everything moved over. Fortunately, the flats where we live have got a fence with a back gate and entrance, so we move everything into trucks that way.
We move all of the baby's things, all my music and equipment and Marcus' research, books, router, modem and computers. After we get all our necessities settled, we decide we'd better move all our furniture as if we're officially moving house - Marcus' dad spots her when he's coming out from our flat. She came back! Of course, we call the police and they talk to her. Once they talk to us, we learn her name is Cara Wells. They warn her that what she's doing is officially considered to be stalking - and, if she doesn't stop stalking Marcus, she'll be arrested and charged with the crime. We learn that she took serious offense to the warning, but at least she left. Even so, I am sufficiently scared that the thought of unpacking and moving into a different home pales in comparison to my husband being stalked.
This situation with Cara has all of us, including my band mates, on edge. Marcus decides he's going to bring me to all my practices and drop me off. This new arrangement works for several weeks - until he calls me one afternoon, shortly before he's supposed to pick me up.
"Johanna, I've just spotted that Cara following me. I'm on my way to pick you up," Marcus says. I can hear the upset in his voice.
"Wait! Stop in a shop parking lot and I'll call the police right now. I don't want her to see where we practice - and I don't want her to know about Lizzie!"
"Good thought. Okay, I'm in that Ikea shop lot just a few kilometers away from the studio. I've got the doors locked and I'm staying here until the police show up."
I report this newest wrinkle to the police, who meet Marcus at the Ikea. They get a rough description of the car Cara is driving. Thankfully, the police have kept records of each of our calls and complaints. They are obviously aware that this is an ongoing situation, so they seem to take the threat seriously. But when they come back to the store after a lengthy search, they have only bad news to report - she's gone. And without a license plate, they can't track her to her home or work.
Marcus comes the rest of the way to the studio once he's been informed that Cara has eluded the police. After he picks me up, we try to relax in Marcus' dad's home. I have a very hard time staying put because I keep remembering Cara's odd-looking friend. Marcus asks me why I'm so antsy, and when I tell him about Mohawk Girl, he agrees that we do need to be careful about each other and Lizzie until both girls have been dealt with. After we agree on this, I feel marginally better. I sit on our couch, cuddling the baby, just wanting to be close to her.
The boys come to our new home and we have a meeting about what's been happening. As it turns out, Laslow is a veritable font of information about Cara Wells. Apparently, Cara went to school with Marcus and developed quite a big crush on him. Marcus thinks back, but he's unable to remember her, even when he looks through old school yearbooks. This means that Cara's crush is obviously unrequited. Still, she managed to track him down to our old flat and she started following him around. We live in Saint Albans, which is just a suburb of London. It isn't a tiny town, but it's a small-enough that, if someone is determined enough, they can track someone else down.
Okay, I'm done theorizing about this - I am seriously spooked! First, she remembered Marcus for all these years. On that, I can't exactly blame her. If he's this good-looking now, how did he look as a school boy? What spooks me is when I wonder how she found out where he lives now and what his schedule is! When I think of our little girl, I am hit with severe nausea. I run to the loo, where I am desperately, horribly sick. I come out after several minutes, sweating and pale. Marcus takes one look at me and immediately heats water for some tea.
I sit down and listen as the boys and Marcus discuss ways of throwing Cara off our trail. We can't live in the studio full-time, but I suggest it anyway. Short of building tall brick walls around our current location and our car, there's not much we can do. We come up with very few ideas. I sip slowly at my tea, wondering what, if anything, we can do.
The next few weeks are nerve-wracking. The police call to inform us that no progress has been made on finding Cara Wells. They filed a restraining order, but her address on file turned up to be abandoned. We assume she must be staying with the Mohawk Girl, but the police hadn't gotten her name at the concert. Marcus and I sneak back into our flat at night to take our Christmas decorations down - we need to make it look like we're still living there. Every time we're out and about, I'm obsessively checking the wing mirrors to see if she or her friend are following us.
One day, I'm in at Saint Albans Grocery, buying groceries we need. I have Lizzie loaded in a baby-snuggler tied around me. I'm pushing my cart of groceries back to the car. It's now a habit for me to look everywhere when I go inside or go back outside in public. I spot Cara when I'm leaving the market. I immediately go back into the store, cart and all. I tell the store manager what's happening, then I call the police. While I'm waiting for them to show, I remember - I drove Marcus' car! That's how she tracked me down! I call Marcus and tell him I'm going to be slightly delayed getting home. I peer out the shop window, looking for the police.
Finally, they show, but Cara has already fl
ed and they are unable to find her. Once I know she's gone, I load my groceries and Lizzie into the car and drive home - fast. I ignore the speed limits. I just want to be at home and in Marcus' arms. When I tell him that she tracked me down by looking for his car, he's not surprised - he's disgusted, but not surprised.
"Johanna, we need to make an offer on the other house we found. I'm calling the estate agent and put in a bid. I think, if we have a high wall and gate built, we can make ourselves a little safer," says.
Fortunately, we call on the right day. The estate agent has told us that our bid was accepted and we got the house! We can close on the house in as quick as two weeks! We set up the closing appointment and then we call Marcus' parents. We tell them how Cara tracked me down at the shop today by looking for Marcus' car.
"Mum, dad, our bid was accepted to buy an estate in downtown Saint Albans. Obviously, with this nutcase following us all over the place, we need to increase our protection. I'm going to find a contractor to build a high brick wall all around the property, with an automatic gate. In the meantime, what do we do about my car? Should we go ahead and buy a new one?" Marcus asks.
"Simple," says Marcus' dad, Gerald. "We do a switch. You use one of our cars and we use yours."
"Well, Gerald, that takes the heat off of us. But what about when she spots it and you're driving it?" I ask.
"Again, Jo, that's a simple solution. We paint it a different color - if Marcus doesn't mind. We'll, in effect, make his car disappear. Change the license plate on the boot and, voila! It's gone."
Thank God for clear, un-panicked heads! It's perfect! That week, Marcus and his parents put the car switch into effect. His dad signs the car over to us and we set up the insurance. Dad takes Marcus' car to a car shop and has it painted a completely different color, then he goes to the motor vehicle office and changes the registration, asking for a different license plate.
