by Dani Atkins
‘Who’s taken the bear?’
‘How will he find his way back home?’
‘Why have you stopped reading?’
Hurriedly I scanned the page looking for my place. Nursery-age children are notorious hecklers, and today’s audience was no exception. Somehow or other I managed to get to the end of the book, but I stumbled over words an eight-year-old would have managed with ease, and was informed by at least two disgruntled listeners that I was doing the voice wrong for the toy giraffe.
‘Tough crowd,’ Ryan sympathised, weaving his way through the small bodies and grateful parents at the end of the session. ‘Are they always like that?’
I gave a smile, feeling slightly more in control now that several dozen pairs of eyes were no longer on me. ‘No, sometimes they can be quite critical.’
He shook his head and looked down in perplexed admiration as parents manoeuvred small resisting limbs into raincoats and feet into wellie boots. ‘I can’t believe we’re soon going to have one of these.’
I looked down at the children, some of whom were running around the library like possessed monkeys, expending the energy they’d been forced to suppress for the last thirty minutes. ‘Yours won’t be like this for a good few years. You’ll be an expert by the time she’s ready to come along to something like this.’
I’d made the comment lightly, but there was nothing light about the look on Ryan’s face. ‘I haven’t got a clue about any of this. What I do I know about babies, or toddlers, or little girls? Absolutely nothing.’
It was easy to see his worries weren’t being voiced carelessly, they ran deep like veins of silver in bedrock. ‘I’m sure every new parent thinks exactly the same thing,’ I said, perfectly aware that his unique circumstances made him nothing at all like most new parents.
‘Except most of them are doing it as part of a duo, they’re a team. But unless Maddie miraculously wakes up just in the nick of time, there’s a very good chance I’m going to be doing this all by myself. At least for now.’
I bit my lip, and said nothing.
‘The baby’s due in six weeks,’ he said, the fear of that countdown showing in his eyes. He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know. The buzz around Maddie had increased dramatically the closer she got to her due date. Plans were being made for the delivery, which must surely be exciting and terrifying for Ryan. Particularly if he’d heard the same whispers that I had.
I was very careful to make sure no trace of them showed on my face, as I looked up and gave him my most reassuring everything-will-be-fine smile. But there were shadows everywhere: in his eyes, beneath them, and hanging over him like a spectre. There was a real and tangible concern that Maddie might not survive the birth of her child, and I could tell that Ryan was well aware of that.
I grappled to erase that look from his face any way that I could. ‘Not that I blame you for wanting to know how the lost bear managed to make it back home, but what exactly are you doing here, Ryan?’
He shook his head as though he couldn’t believe he hadn’t already made that clear, and dug deep into the pocket of his jacket to pull out a small red leather purse. My purse.
I stared at it for a second, as though he’d just performed a magic trick that I couldn’t quite figure out. ‘Where—? How—?’
‘I found it late last night; it had slipped down the side of Maddie’s bed.’
I smiled gratefully and reached for the purse that I hadn’t even realised was missing from my bag. ‘Thank you so much. But you didn’t have to come all this way to return it. Although you have probably saved me hours of tearing my house apart looking for it.’
‘It was no problem,’ Ryan said easily.
He looked around the library curiously, like a man who hasn’t been inside one for a very long time. He didn’t appear uncomfortable exactly, but there was a weird feeling of displacement, having him here in my world. It was as though we were two actors who’d accidentally walked on to the stage of the wrong play. When he glanced down at his watch, I wondered if he was anxious to leave.
‘Are you off to the hospital now?’
‘Actually, I’m not. Not for a couple of hours, anyway,’ he replied, sounding regretful. It made me think of a comment I’d overheard one of the nurses say recently: ‘If that man could live at the hospital he’d move in in a heartbeat.’
‘Maddie’s parents have come up to stay for a couple days, so I’m giving them some time alone with her.’
‘I’ve seen her dad a few times,’ I said, recalling the quietly spoken man who held himself so rigidly upright when he walked that you had to look twice to realise how badly he was broken. ‘But I don’t think I’ve met her mum.’
‘It’s . . . it’s difficult for Faye,’ Ryan said diplomatically. There was genuine affection in his voice when he spoke about his future in-laws. ‘But with the baby coming so soon, Bill wanted to bring her up to see Maddie again.’ Ryan swallowed visibly and looked away for a long moment.
‘So, it left me with some free time to return your lost property,’ Ryan said, trying to shake off the fear that had dug its claws so deeply into him, the scars would be with him forever.
He glanced across the library to the desk, where Sally and another of my colleagues were sitting, doing a very poor job of pretending they weren’t watching us. ‘I should probably let you get back to work,’ Ryan said, with a slightly guilty expression.
‘Thanks again, for this,’ I said holding up my purse as though it was a trophy. I was still holding it aloft as my eyes followed Ryan when he walked out of the library into the driving rain, striding into the torrent almost as though he couldn’t feel it pounding against him.
That was the last time I saw Ryan Turner until the night before he became a father.
I’d stayed later than usual on the geriatric ward and when I was finally about to leave, a couple of the nurses had waylaid me. ‘Come and join us in the office for a bit. We’re celebrating Viv’s last shift before she gets hitched.’ There had been cake, non-alcoholic fizz, and a selection of gifts of underwear that all looked far too uncomfortable to wear, and had certainly not come from any high street store. Viv gamely modelled the skimpy scraps of lace and leather, holding them up against her uniform to the delight of her colleagues. Among the bawdy jokes and raucous laughter it was easy to forget that two floors above us was a woman who’d probably had a similar hen-night celebration . . . for a wedding that never was.
I’d seen Maddie only the day before. It had felt weird sitting beside her knowing that the next time I visited, the huge mound that now seemed to dominate her slender frame would be gone, and a tiny new human being would be in its place. If all went well.
‘Still thinking about the Miracle Girl upstairs?’ guessed Diana astutely, coming up beside me with an open box of chocolates in her hand.
I shook my head, turning down the offer of the sweets, but unable to deny her assumption. ‘It’s hard not to. I can’t believe this time tomorrow it will all be over.’ My throat swallowed convulsively, not liking the choice of words that had come out of it.
Diana looked at me for a long considering moment. ‘If I told you not to get too involved with this one, would I be too late?’
I looked around the room at the small group of women who all knew far better than I did how to separate their emotions from their work. ‘Way too late,’ I admitted sadly.
‘That’s what I was afraid of,’ Diana said, popping a chocolate into her mouth.
‘It just sounds so risky, trying to deliver the baby normally.’
‘Less risky than surgery would be,’ Diana replied, repeating a party line I’d heard in many overheard conversations over the last few weeks. The truth of it was, no one really knew what was best to do, because Maddie’s condition was so unique. I wondered if Ryan had even been given a say in this decision. What if only one of them could be saved? Who would make that choice? Ryan? Maddie’s parents? Or the doctors themselves? I shook my head, tryi
ng to dislodge that thought, but it had burrowed in deep, like a tick.
Despite having said my goodbyes to Maddie the day before, when I eventually shrugged into my coat and left the nurses’ impromptu hen party, I felt an overwhelming urge to whisper one final ‘good luck’ into her unhearing ear.
My feet knew their way to Maddie’s room, but I diverted them first to the nurses’ station. Ellen looked up from a chart she was filling in under a small pool of light from the desk lamp. The ward was quiet and we both spoke in whispers, as if we were sharing secrets in church.
‘Goodness, Chloe, what are you still doing here at this hour?’
‘I thought I’d pop in to see Maddie before—’ Before what? questioned a persistent voice in my head that simply wouldn’t shut-up. ‘Before tomorrow,’ I completed firmly.
Ellen nodded with gentle acceptance. Of all the nurses on the ward, I knew she’d be the one who’d best understand why I was still there so late that night. There was something about the way she was with Maddie that I’d not witnessed with any of the other nurses.
‘Has Ryan gone home already? Because I don’t want to disturb his time with her.’
‘I don’t think he’s gone home, but he did go outside for a walk about fifteen minutes ago. He looked pretty choked-up and I think he needed some air to clear his head.’ I glanced out through the windows at the cold night. That air was probably just above freezing, for the topmost branches of the trees and the roofs of the parked cars were glazed with a shimmer of ice. Somewhere out there in the cold and darkness I imagined a man so full of fear and uncertainty he was probably striking all kinds of bargains with anyone who would listen, to save the woman he loved.
‘That’s great. I’ll just nip in for a moment, if that’s okay?’
‘You know the way.’
I did indeed. And because the ward was so silent and I didn’t want to disturb anyone, for once I didn’t bother knocking or announcing myself as I opened the door to Maddie’s room and slipped into its darkened interior.
My shocked gasp sounded raw, but nowhere near as raw as the sounds coming from the man who wasn’t wandering the pathways of the hospital grounds at all, but was sitting by Maddie’s bedside, his face deeply burrowed against her chest. The blankets had muffed the sound of his sobs from the corridor, but in here they could be heard with heartbreaking clarity. They came from somewhere deep within him, and their force rocked me on my feet.
For a moment I wondered if I could slip back out of the room without him noticing me, but the slice of light I’d let into the room when I’d opened the door had made that easy exit impossible. Ryan raised his head slowly and looked towards the door, so lost in his pain that he didn’t seem to think it was odd that I was here at the hospital many hours after I should have gone home.
‘What if this is it, Chloe?’ he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper. ‘What if this is the last time I’ll ever be able to do this? The last kiss; the last touch; the last chance to tell her I love her?’
I crossed over to the bed without even realising I was moving. ‘You can’t think like that. You have to keep believing that it’s all going to be all right.’ My hand didn’t stop to think whether it had any right to be there, for it was already on his back, squeezing his shoulder in reassurance. It was hard to know if the rock-hard muscle beneath my palm was the result of tension or hours spent at the gym.
I stayed longer than I probably should have done, murmuring all kinds of assurances I had no business giving. It was like trying to plug a gaping hole in a dam with tissue-paper hopes and positivity. Maybe I helped. I’d like to think I did, a little.
When eventually I glanced down at my watch I was amazed to discover it was long past midnight. ‘What time are you leaving here?’ I asked.
‘I’m not. Not tonight,’ Ryan said with quiet resolution. I certainly wouldn’t have wanted to be the hospital employee who tried to challenge that decision. ‘I’m not leaving her side until the baby is born.’
And probably not even then, I added silently, getting to my feet and putting out a hand to steady myself on the bed frame. I was so exhausted I was practically sleep-walking.
‘I’m sorry, Chloe, I’ve kept you here for far too long,’ Ryan apologised.
My head felt twice as heavy as usual as I shook it in denial. ‘No. Not at all. I wanted to be here. I hope I’ve helped.’
Ryan took his eyes from Maddie for a moment to meet mine. ‘You have no idea how much, Chloe. You’re a very calming person to be around.’
It was a measure of how tired I must have been that I felt my eyes smart with tears at his words. I was in danger of confusing heartfelt gratitude with something else altogether. It was definitely time for me to leave.
‘Good luck for tomorrow,’ I said.
Ryan lifted one of Maddie’s lifeless hands and threaded his fingers through hers. ‘Thank you. I think we’ll need it.’ On his face was the saddest smile I had ever seen. It stayed with me throughout the taxi ride home, and was still burning inside my closed lids when I eventually shut them and fell into a disturbed and restless sleep.
By mid-afternoon the following day I’d still had no news from the hospital. I held out for as long as I could, but when I went to the staffroom to make tea, I headed straight for my phone and not the kettle. I’d always thought fathers anxiously pacing maternity wards was just a cliché, but as I waited for my phone to pick up signal, I found myself walking in circuits around the perimeter of the room. Four new messages had landed in my inbox while I was busy pretending to be cataloguing books – and getting it spectacularly wrong. I’d been aware of Sally working silently beside me, correcting every error I’d made throughout the day.
She slipped into the staffroom now, glanced towards the kitchenette where the mugs had neither teabags nor water in them, and took over the task, while I stood on the opposite side of the room, my phone cradled in my palm. From what seemed like a very long way away, I heard her asking if everything was okay. I still didn’t know. My trembling finger hovered over the unopened messages, coming to a stop at the one from Ryan. It took two attempts before I managed to open it: Maddie and I have a daughter. I devoured the words hungrily, never realising then how they would end up changing my life.
There was a photograph attached to the message, and I scrolled down to study it with a sound that could have been either a laugh or a sob. It drew Sally across the room, and she hung over my shoulder to look at the screen. From the angle of the photo, I suspected Ryan must have taken it with his newborn daughter cradled in his arms. The infant’s face was unbelievably small and screwed up, a new arrival to the world who was already missing the warmth and quiet of her mother’s womb. The soft folds of pink blanket cocooning her couldn’t hide the incredible shock of short spiky hair, which looked long enough to need combing. But it wasn’t the hair that made my heart beat faster, it was her face; so tiny, so perfect, and so very beautiful. Maddie’s stunning features looked even more amazing on her newborn daughter than they did on her own face.
Hope. They called her Hope. But of course they did. Afterwards I wondered how I could possibly have skipped through the H section of that book of names, without ever realising it was the only one in the world they could possibly have chosen for her.
I didn’t see her for several days, and by that time I was probably the only person who worked at the hospital who hadn’t done so. Apparently there’d been a never-ending stream of staff from almost every other ward, who’d suddenly discovered a need to visit the sixth floor on some pretext or another. It was telling that Maddie’s circumstances were so unusual that no one had suggested that Baby Chambers might be better off staying in the hospital’s nursery on the maternity ward. Maddie and Hope just kept breaking all the rules . . . and no one seemed to care.
My knock on Maddie’s door was more tentative than usual. I could hear voices talking on the other side, and in the seconds that passed before I recognised Ryan’s voice, calling out for me to ‘co
me in’, I wondered if I should be there at all.
Surprisingly there was no one else in the room, apart from Ryan who was talking into his mobile phone; Maddie; and a small Perspex crib beside the bed, which held the room’s third occupant. Ryan beckoned me in, indicating with hand signals that he was almost finished on his call.
‘Yes, Mum, I know. It took my breath away when I saw her too.’ The mobile was pressed firmly against his ear, but I could still make out the sound of a woman’s voice speaking very loudly into her phone. Ryan’s eye caught mine and he flashed me a quick grin before returning to his conversation.
I tiptoed further into the room, and headed straight for Maddie. Keeping my voice to a whisper so I didn’t disturb Ryan, I bent down low towards her pillow.
‘Hello, Maddie, it’s Chloe.’
I always paused when I did that, as though allowing her time to silently greet me. But then I did something that wasn’t usual, normal, or probably even allowed if I’d stopped to think about it, which I didn’t. I leant in a little closer and placed a single kiss on her perfect white alabaster cheek. ‘Congratulations, Maddie. You’re a mummy. Everyone is so proud of you.’
My hair had fallen across my face, but not enough to hide the single tear of happiness that trickled down my cheek and dropped onto hers. I erased it gently with my fingertip, but when I straightened up I saw Ryan, whose call had now finished, looking at me with a surprising expression on his face.
I took a step backwards, feeling flustered, and skirted quickly around to the other side of the bed, to meet the youngest person in the room. ‘Hello there, baby girl.’
Two bright blue eyes looked up straight into mine. Her tiny rosebud mouth wobbled for a second and then seemed to widen into a smile. I’d read the baby books to her mother; I knew that I wasn’t standing close enough for Hope to be able to focus on my face; I knew what I believed to be a smile was most probably just wind, but for once I refused to accept that the books knew best. I swore that those sparkling blue eyes were looking directly at me, as though she recognised my voice, and that the gummy smile was her saying hello, the only way that she could.
