Dot

by Araminta Hall

  ‘No.’ Then Dot was crying. ‘I can’t believe she didn’t tell me.’

  Her mother stroked her hair. ‘I expect she wanted to, Dot. Some things are very hard to say.’

  ‘What sort of friend am I? Too wrapped up in myself to even notice.’

  ‘It explains why she’s been acting strangely. Why she said she wasn’t going to university.’ Dot nodded, tears flicking round her face like fireflies. Her mother got out of bed, an air of purposefulness invading the air. ‘Come on, I’ll drive you.’ Dot looked up at her quizzically. ‘I take it that’s why you’re dressed, to go and see her. I’ll drive you.’

  Dot thought it was a beautiful day to be born: 12 June 2005. The air was soft and warm, with neither the suffocating heat of summer nor the bite of spring. The sun was shining out of a clear blue sky and the ground seemed to be pulsating with the presence of life. The roads were quiet, curtains were still drawn across windows and only industrious dog walkers watched them drive away. Her mother opened the car window and turned the radio on, Dot presumed to drown out the questioning silence between them. It was as if, now they found themselves in this unusually intimate situation, they didn’t know how to act. What was the weather like on the day I was born? Dot wanted to ask, but the words held too much weight to force them out of her mouth. What was my father like? Was he a nice man? Is he standing right now in Cartertown General taking a first look at his new granddaughter?

  They drew into the car park just before eight and Dot’s mum told her she’d wait in the car, to take as long as she needed. Even though the hospital obviously never slept, it still retained an early-morning atmosphere as Dot followed the signs towards maternity. The air felt still and close, expectant almost, as if it was trapped, marking time until someone opened a window. Two nurses in navy-blue uniforms, clipboards under their arms and smiles on their faces, were chatting by the reception desk.

  ‘Can I help you?’ one of them asked as Dot approached.

  ‘I’ve come to see my friend, Mavis Loveridge. She just had a baby.’ The words felt too unlikely, too real.

  ‘Oh yes,’ said the nurse. ‘But I’m afraid it’s not visiting time till eleven.’

  ‘But …’ Dot’s eyes misted with tears; she had to get a hold of herself.

  ‘Are you family?’

  ‘Yes. No, but nearly. Her dad just called me.’

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Dot Cartwright.’

  ‘Hang on a sec,’ she said and disappeared through the double doors. Dot heard babies crying and women screaming, but the other nurse just smiled at her and looked down at her clipboard. Things were changing all around her, whole new worlds opening up, but to these women it was all nothing more than a working day. One person’s life is another’s pay packet, after all. The first nurse came back a few minutes later. ‘I really shouldn’t let you go through. She’s not even been moved to a ward yet. But she does want to see you. Ten minutes, OK?’

  Dot nodded, her head bobbing like a waving cat in the window of a Chinese takeaway. The nurse held open the door for her. ‘Second on the right.’

  All she had to do was walk. It was easy and yet her legs refused to move. It was preposterous to imagine that she was a few steps away from meeting Mavis’s baby, from seeing her friend so altered, for this newest of beginnings. Mr and Mrs Loveridge came out of the room and started to walk towards her so she had to do the same.

  ‘We thought we’d go and get a coffee, give you girls a minute,’ said Sandra and Dot was amazed by her. She looked as if she was shining, like someone had come in the night and polished her skin. In contrast Gerry looked grey, his mouth set in a downturn, his eyes ringed in angry black.

  The room containing Mavis and her baby was bright and much larger than Dot had anticipated. A wall of windows looked over the hills behind Cartertown and a strange-looking mini swimming pool stood in the centre of the room, filled with what looked to Dot more like blood than water. The bed stuck out of a wall and Mavis was lying on it, pale and blotchy, her face stained with something that Dot thought might be effort, a tiny white bundle in her arms. She looked up as Dot approached, her face breaking into the smile of her old friend.

  ‘Oh my God, Mave,’ said Dot, sitting down on the chair which had been pulled up next to the bed. The bundle stirred and Dot realised that Mavis was feeding the baby, that the sucking sounds were not a machine, but a contented baby nursing. The world rushed around her, air sucking to and fro through her head. She didn’t feel strong enough to look directly at the baby yet. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I don’t know. I wanted to. I tried. I just couldn’t.’

  ‘But you must have been so scared. I can’t believe you did this on your own.’

  ‘It was stupid really.’

  ‘What did your parents say? What happened?’

  ‘I started getting contractions at about midnight last night.’ Mavis grimaced. ‘Ow, shit it hurts.’

  ‘What does?’

  ‘Feeding. It’s a bit like squeezing pins out of your tits.’ Dot laughed. ‘Anyway, I knew what was happening, I’d read it all up on the Internet and I knew I was due around now.’

  ‘Hadn’t you been to the doctor at all?’

  ‘No. I’m an idiot – what can I say? I had this crazy plan to call a cab but I wasn’t prepared for how quickly they happened or how much they hurt and I didn’t want to be alone. So I woke Mum and it was weird. It was almost like she’d guessed or something, like she was prepared. She got straight up and told me to get in the car and I thought she’d appear with Dad and we’d row all the way to the hospital, but she got into the driver’s seat and drove us here.’

  ‘I thought she couldn’t drive?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s what I said to her. But she said it wasn’t that she couldn’t, it was just that she hadn’t done it in years and it was time she started again. Then when we got here she was amazing. All taking charge and rubbing my back and telling them I wanted to get in the pool, when I hadn’t even thought about that. And when I felt like I was dying and was shouting for them to cut me open, she was the one who held my hand and looked into my eyes and told me I could do it.’

  ‘Maybe I should have a baby.’

  ‘She was like a different woman. I can’t explain it. And she is so happy now, she doesn’t even seem to care that Dad’s got the serious arse.’

  The baby jerked her head back and Mavis started cooing, lifting her on to her shoulder and rubbing her back. Her breasts were huge, lined with thick blue veins and dark brown nipples that looked almost grotesque. It all looked more natural than Dot could allow herself to believe, yet here it was, this wasn’t a film, it was real life, raw and ready.

  ‘Can I see her face?’

  Mavis smiled and turned the baby around, holding her gently in the crook of her arm, a part of the body without meaning before this moment. The only visible part of the baby was her head, a tiny circle of red, flaky flesh with eyes shut tight like a kitten, nostrils but no discernible nose and a perfect pair of pouting lips. She was a scrap of life, a mere moment in time and yet she would grow to occupy all their lives, to occupy her own life. The thought was dazzling.

  ‘Oh Mave, she’s gorgeous.’

  ‘Isn’t she?’ said Mavis, without a hint of irony.

  ‘What does it feel like?’

  Mavis shrugged, unable to take her eyes off her daughter. ‘Not what I expected. It’s like my heart’s melted or something, like it’s made of chocolate.’ She ran her finger down her baby’s cheek. ‘She’s so soft and she’s so tiny.’

  ‘Have you got a name for her yet?’

  Mavis blushed. ‘Rose. In fact, I was thinking Rose Dorothy.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Of course. You’re my best friend, Dot. I do love you, you know. If I’d have told anyone it would have been you.’

  They looked at Rose together and Dot wondered if she should ask the obvious question. In the end the words ran through her head s
o persistently she had to simply to say them out loud: ‘Who’s the father?’

  Mavis looked up and she looked scared. ‘Promise you won’t tell Dad.’ Dot nodded. ‘It’s Clive.’

  And again the world swooped, like an eagle going in for the kill. ‘Clive Buzzard?’

  ‘Yes. Dot, please don’t hate me. It only happened once. I couldn’t tell you, it was all so fucked up and I knew you liked him.’

  ‘But when? How?’

  ‘He asked me to give him maths lessons at the end of lower sixth. Apparently the teachers thought he was going to fail and his dad was freaking out. He was really embarrassed by it all and made me promise not to tell anyone and, I don’t know, I guess I was star struck or something because I agreed. And then it went on and on and it seemed like too big a thing to admit.’ Mavis swapped Rose into her other arm and coaxed her other breast into the baby’s mouth. Dot thought she was sucking with an impressive urgency, her tiny hands fluttering round her face. It seemed obvious that Mavis belonged to her now and the thought made Dot feel small and sad. ‘I can’t tell you how much I’ve fucked up, Dot. Or at least, that’s what I was thinking. Now I look at Rose and think it was all for the best.’

  ‘I still don’t see how you went from maths lessons to sex.’

  Mavis reddened. ‘It was after that beginning of upper-sixth disco last year, you know, when he drove us home.’

  ‘Oh my God, I knew it. I must have asked you about that night, like, fifty times.’ It was the first moment of indignation that Dot had felt, but within it she realised that she didn’t care that Mavis had slept with Clive, only that she hadn’t felt able to tell her.

  ‘I know. I’m so sorry, Dot. But it wasn’t exactly nice. In fact, it was horrid. We went to the common and had sex in the back of his car and it wasn’t loving or even caring, it was just fucking, that’s all. I even knew he didn’t like me that much – he’d probably had a row with Debbie or something. When he dropped me back home I felt so low and shitty, so bloody angry with myself that I put it to the back of my mind and tried to forget it had ever happened.’

  ‘Until you missed your period.’

  ‘Yeah, exactly.’

  Dot put her hand over her friend’s. ‘I still wish you’d told me.’

  ‘I know, so do I.’

  They both watched Rose suck and then Dot half laughed. ‘Debbie’s gonna freak.’

  Mavis pulled her hand away at this and when Dot looked at her, Mavis’s eyes were sparkling and cold. ‘No way, Dot. You can’t say anything.’

  Dot’s mind wrapped itself around what Mavis had just said and it felt soft and spongy. ‘You are going to tell Clive, aren’t you?’

  ‘No fucking way. Absolutely not. He’s a wanker, I don’t want him anywhere near Rose.’

  The world did its flip again, which Dot was almost getting used to. Everything was moving slowly; something important was happening, but she wasn’t sure exactly what it was. She saw Mavis’s face change and her arm tighten around Rose until it seemed as if a mist had invaded the room.

  ‘Dot,’ Mavis was saying, ‘Dot, what’s wrong?’

  Dot put her hand to her cheek, which felt warm and wet; she wondered if she was bleeding but when she looked at her fingers they were simply wet and then she knew she was crying. A knowledge that she didn’t understand flapped inside her like a trapped bird. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. Finally she said the first words that formed: ‘Give Rose my name, Mave, but please don’t give her my life.’

  Mavis drew back at this. ‘What d’you mean?’

  She heard her voice, high-pitched and catchy. ‘I’ve spent all my life wondering who my father is. You know that. It’s crap. It’s probably why I didn’t notice you were pregnant. I can’t … I can’t …’ Dot clutched at Mavis’s sheets to stop herself from falling. ‘I feel like I can’t move on without knowing who he is. It feels like I’m only half here sometimes.’

  Mavis reached out to her with her one free arm. ‘Oh my God, Dot, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think.’

  The world was returning slowly to its usual focus. ‘It’s OK. But you have to tell Clive.’

  Mavis nodded, her eyes filling with tears. ‘Why don’t you ask your mum?’

  The door opened and the nurse from before came bustling in, followed by Mavis’s mum.

  ‘We’re going to move you to the ward now,’ she said. ‘How’s the feeding going?’

  ‘It hurts,’ said Mavis, ‘but well, I think.’

  ‘She’s beautiful, isn’t she, Dot?’ Sandra Loveridge was saying, pride beaming out of her face as if she was a sun. ‘And Mavis was so good, so calm. Has she told you?’ Dot nodded, not trusting herself to speak. ‘It’s so sweet of you to have come so early,’ she said. ‘Did you get the bus? Gerry could always drive you home. He’s got to pick up some clothes for Mavis.’

  ‘Oh no, thanks, Sandra. My mum drove me actually.’

  ‘Your mother?’ Sandra stopped fussing over the baby at this and her face softened. ‘How is she, your mother?’

  The day was weird enough to allow this question. ‘She’s, um, she’s fine, thanks.’

  Sandra smiled. ‘Give her my love, will you? Say thank you to her for driving you over.’

  Dot looked at Mavis to see if she’d heard any of this, but she was being helped into a wheelchair, her hospital gown flowing open, her body looking as if it had been in a war. ‘I’d better go.’ Dot raised her voice. ‘Bye, Mave, I’ll come again tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh, she’ll be home by tomorrow.’ The nurse smiled. ‘Later today most likely.’

  ‘Really?’

  The nurse laughed at this. ‘She’s only given birth. Women do it all the time.’

  Dot watched them leave, Mavis holding her daughter and waving from the chair, Sandra tripping along beside them, laughing with the nurse – or midwife, as Dot suddenly remembered they were called. She walked back the way she had come, down the sterile corridors, with everything changed.

  Dot arrived in the car park to see her mother leaning against their car with a Styrofoam cup in her hand. She was talking to a man who had his back to Dot and for a second she didn’t recognise him and wondered who her mother might know here that could make those pink spots bloom on her cheeks and the rash blossom down her neck. The man ran his fingers through his hair and suddenly Dot realised it was Mr Loveridge. Realised that Gerry was talking animatedly to her mother. Dot stopped, looking for somewhere to hide, but even the thought tired her out, made her feel she’d had enough. Gerry turned to go; he put his hand gently on her mother’s arm and they smiled at each other. He strode off towards his car, but then he saw Dot and changed direction so that within minutes he was standing in front of her.

  ‘What were you saying to my mum?’

  Gerry looked even more haggard in the bright sunlight. ‘Nothing. She was getting a coffee when I came downstairs. I was telling her about the birth.’

  ‘OK.’ Dot turned to go, but Gerry caught at her arm. She could feel her mother watching them from their car. ‘Did Mavis tell you who the father is?’

  Dot shook herself free from his grip and looked him in the eyes. ‘Yes. But I have no intention of telling you.’

  Gerry threw his hands up at this and they slapped down again surprisingly loudly on his thighs. ‘For God’s sake, Dot, this isn’t a game. He’s got to pay.’

  Dot felt as angry as she ever had. ‘What, like you?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Mavis will tell you the name of Rose’s father when she’s ready. But you’ll probably get away with sleeping with me.’

  ‘What, but I thought … I mean … I thought you wanted to.’

  Dot laughed at this and for the first time she felt the power of sex. ‘I only slept with you because I thought you were my father.’ Of course she’d said the wrong words again. ‘Sorry, that came out wrong. But are you my dad?’

  ‘You don’t know who your dad is?’ His face softened and his jaw slackened. This da
y was turning out surprisingly for everyone.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Alice has never told you?’

  ‘Oh God, it’s not you, is it?’ Dot heard the pitch returning to her voice.

  ‘No! Shit, do you think I’d have slept with you if I’d thought there was the remotest possibility?’

  Dot wondered what her mother was thinking at this moment as she watched their exchange. ‘How can you be sure?’

  He almost shouted now. ‘Because I’ve never slept with your mother.’

  The power had gone now, evaporated like steam, and Dot felt young and foolish. ‘Do you know who my dad was?’

  Gerry nodded at this. ‘Go home and talk to your mum, Dot.’

  Dot turned to go but Gerry stopped her with his hand. ‘Christ, Dot, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise … I mean, what we did …’

  ‘It’s OK, I’m not planning on saying anything, unless you hassle Mave.’

  He shrugged. ‘Still …’ He rubbed his fingers hard against his temples. ‘Shit, I’ve got to get Mavis her stuff.’

  Dot walked away, aware that both her mother and Gerry were now watching her. She got into the car. She couldn’t believe it was only nine. It felt as though she’d lived a whole life since she’d woken up.

  ‘What was that about?’ Alice asked immediately.

  ‘He wants to know who the father is.’

  ‘Do you know?’

  ‘Yeah, but I’m not telling him.’

  ‘And you said that?’

  Dot nodded, wondering how they were saying these words. ‘He’s a wanker.’

  Alice started the car. ‘Yes. He probably is.’

  ‘Sandra asked me to say hi to you. She said thanks for driving me over.’

  ‘Really?’

  Dot let her head roll so that she could see her mother, smiling at the news. She was no closer to knowing what had happened. ‘Mavis said she was amazing, drove her to the hospital and everything.’

  ‘Good,’ said Alice and the word was undeniably heartfelt.

  They were on the open road now with fields whipping past as if they didn’t really exist. Dot thought America might be nice.