by Andrea Mara
A buzzing sound from under her pillow pierces through the thick fog of sleep. Then comes the slow realisation that it’s her phone, announcing excitedly that it’s morning. There’s really nothing to be excited about. Zack was up for two hours during the night, though now he’s sleeping beautifully between his parents. And Megan, who usually sleeps through all of Zack’s crying, was also up twice for no apparent reason.
She slides her phone out from under the pillow and makes two failed attempts to snooze the alarm before the buzzing finally stops – just as the radio comes on. Through half-closed eyes, she sees a flicker on her phone. A text. A message that early in the morning is never good news. It’s from Jane – she’s been sick during the night and won’t be able to turn up for work. Great. That means emailing Craig to say she’ll need to work from home. God, this will look crap so soon after coming back and she’ll be playing right into Justin’s hands. Could Tom do it instead? He’d been up late working on a presentation for the head of marketing and he’s nervous about it. He’s been managing the online sales team for only a few months and is still trying to find his feet. No, she’ll have to bite the bullet and send the email. And then actually get some work done to show she’s not just switching off. While minding Zack and doing preschool runs, and all on four hours’ sleep.
She wants to cry. Tea is a better option than tears, so she nudges Tom with her foot and whispers, “Jane can’t make it. I feel like I’ve been run over. Please save me with tea.”
Tom, who is much better at mornings than Sylvia and knows when hot drinks are more important than verbal responses, heads downstairs to put the kettle on.
One Montessori drop later, she’s typing a sheepish email to Craig on her BlackBerry, and trying to connect to the office network on her laptop. It’s not working. Of course it’s not. Picking up her BlackBerry, she emails IT, then goes into the sitting room to check on Zack. He’s on his back, snoring gently in his pram, arms splayed above his head. She bends to risk a small kiss on his forehead, then goes into Megan’s room to gather up her dirty clothes. With no network connection and no baby to entertain, she may as well put on a wash. The muslin curtains are still drawn – she pulls them back and unlocks the patio doors, pushing them open to let the sunlight in. This is her favourite room in the house – the bedroom she would have loved as a child, instead of the small upstairs room she shared with her sister. Not that there was anything wrong with it at the time – it was Ireland in the 1980s and all of her friends were sharing equally tiny bedrooms with equally annoying sisters. But decorating this room for Megan – the white-painted dresser, the canopy bed, the teepee strung with fairy lights – scratched an itch she’d had since she was eight years old. Of course, Megan never notices at all – her bedroom is just the place where she sleeps and plays with her toys.
Upstairs, Sylvia goes to her own more mundane bedroom to gather laundry and wonders again if she should repaint the one red wall. It’s been red since they moved in – a deep brick red she’d never have chosen, yet somehow it works. Walking over to the bed to straighten her pillow, she reaches out to wipe a smudge off the wall. Just as she touches it, there’s a noise from the other side.
There it is again – a muffled sound, coming from next door.
Sobbing? Is it sobbing?
She holds her breath and stays perfectly still. It’s the sound of crying. And it’s a man. There’s a man crying in the bedroom next door.
“Oh, you’re home! Here, take this guy,” Sylvia says, passing Zack to her husband as he walks through the door. “Listen, something weird happened today.”
“What, you went a whole day without Megan having a tantrum?”
“No. I wish. She was okay earlier but she got really cross at teatime and ended up hitting me again. I know it’s a phase but, Jesus, I wish it would pass. Anyway, that’s not it. The weird thing, I mean. It’s that I heard crying through the wall of our bedroom.”
“What’s weird about that?” Tom asks, bouncing Zack up in the air. Megan comes running to hug his leg.
“Like, I don’t mean a baby or a child – it was a man. Have you met the couple next door at all yet?”
Tom shakes his head, still bouncing Zack. “Nope, haven’t even seen them really – didn’t you meet the wife one time?”
“I saw her in the driveway when I came home from work one evening but we didn’t meet or anything – I just said hi and that was it. I don’t even know their names.”
“Well, I guess it’s a bit weird if a man was crying, but who knows what goes on behind closed doors – it could be anything. What’s for dinner?”
Sylvia gives him a look. “Yeah, you do know I’ve been minding a baby and working all day, right? It’s freezer surprise or takeaway – you choose. Listen, I need a bit of headspace –” She sits down to put on her trainers. “I need air. I’m going to take Bailey for a walk – can you get the kids ready for bed?”
Outside, the sky is cobalt blue and the evening air is unnaturally warm, even for August. Across the way in Number 34, Georgia is getting out of her car, looking ludicrously immaculate for someone who’s just arrived home from a full day’s work. Sylvia glances down at her scuffed-but-not-in-a-cool-way trainers and her ancient leggings and wishes she’d put on something with the smallest hint of style, even if it’s just to throw a ragged tennis ball for an enthusiastic Labrador.
“How’re you doing, Sylvia – how are the little ones?” Georgia asks, walking towards her.
How is her hair so perfect on such a humid evening? Sylvia smooths down her own disobedient brown curls.
“Good, thanks, hanging in there – you know the way.”
“Ah, they’re gorgeous at that age – I bet Megan just adores her little brother, does she?”
And there it is – the first thing everyone says when you have a second baby. And who can blame them? It’s just small talk, they don’t mean any harm.
“Well, she’s getting there. I wouldn’t go as far as saying they’ve bonded or anything.” She laughs.
“Oh my God, listen, I totally get it. Obviously not me personally since I only have the one, but my brother and his wife have the exact same thing with their little guy now that the new one has come along. It’s hard work! My sister-in-law was saying my nephew is unbelievably clingy.”
“Yes! That’s it – Megan is glued to me, and gets cross if I have to give attention to Zack – which of course I do. It’s so hard when everyone else is talking about how much their older kids love their new siblings. You end up wondering what’s wrong with your child.”
Georgia nods. “My sister-in-law said the same – people were asking her if Sebastian is jealous, which just sounds so mean, doesn’t it? Like, he’s only two.”
Oh, I could just hug you right now, Sylvia thinks, and she can feel herself starting to well up. “That’s it exactly! I know Megan’s not jealous, she’s just adjusting. But it’s so hard in the meantime. She’s hitting me and biting in Montessori as well now – it’s been really tough.”
Georgia frowns. “Oh really? God, that’s bad all right. No, my sister-in-law doesn’t have that problem. Actually, I can’t imagine Sebastian biting anyone – he’s a gorgeous little kid.”
Sylvia doesn’t want to hug her any more. “Yeah, they’re all different, I guess . . . anyway, Bailey’s getting impatient, I’d better get on. See you later, Georgia.”
“See you, Sylvia, and chin up – do something nice for yourself,” Georgia says as she turns to go into her house. “Maybe treat yourself to a spa day.”
Sylvia walks on with Bailey.
God, she must look a state. A spa day, no less – if only she had the time for a spa day! Though she probably wouldn’t know what to do in a spa – all that walking around in robes was a bit odd. Anyway, no fear of it happening any time soon.
Bailey races ahead down to the green in a jet-black blur as she lifts her hand to wave at a car rolling past, and then another. It’s all on autopilot, she’s not even su
re who she’s waving at. A car driving faster than the others roars up the road and right past her before her hand is even halfway up to wave. She watches, shielding her eyes from the sun, to see where the car is going. It turns into the house next door. The crying man maybe? Sylvia keeps watching as he gets out of the car, carrying two shopping bags. It’s hard to see in the evening sunlight, but he looks like any other suburban man coming home to his suburban wife and kids.
She reaches the green. “You know what, Bailey?” she says, throwing the tennis ball. “It’s time we introduced ourselves to the people next door.”
Making her way back up the cul de sac, with Bailey running ahead, she’s questioning the plan already. It’s not weird to just call in, is it? No, it’s not. In fact, maybe she should have done it sooner, to be polite. And it’s not because of the thing with the pond and the crying through the wall, she decides – it’s just being neighbourly. She walks past her own driveway and rings the bell of Number 26.
Just like the last time, nothing happens. Bailey runs around her feet, darting up to the door and back, but there’s no movement inside the house. Did the bell even ring? She didn’t hear anything . . . and it had sounded so loud when she had rung it on Friday . . . maybe she should try again. Though it would look bad if it really did ring the first time. But then she hears footsteps and for no reason she can pinpoint, her pulse quickens. Why is she suddenly apprehensive? Bailey is barking now at the as-yet-unopened door.
Suddenly Sylvia wants to walk away. This wasn’t a good idea. But it’s too late – someone is opening the door. It’s pulled wide, and Sylvia looks up into a broad, smiling face.
“Hello?” says the man. He’s tall, in his early forties, and looks resolutely normal.
“Hi, how are you – I’m Sylvia, I live next door. I just wanted to say hello and introduce myself. Because we didn’t already. Me and Tom, I mean, my husband.” Her words are tumbling over one another.
“Oh hey, I’m Sam, nice to meet you. We moved in just before the summer but we haven’t been here much – Kate, my wife, is in her mum’s place in Galway with the kids. And I’m down there at weekends when I’m not stuck trying to fix this place.” He gestures behind him.
Sylvia nods. Mrs Osborne probably hadn’t done anything in the house since she moved in thirty years earlier.
“Now, my boys would love to meet this guy,” Sam says, bending down to ruffle Bailey’s ear.
“Oh yes, when they’re back bring them around to meet him – how old are your boys?”
“I’ve two – Seth and Jamie – they’re seven and five. I don’t think they’ll be back till school starts but I’ll bring them around then.”
“Mine are a bit younger – Megan is three and Zack is just seven months. I’m sorry we haven’t been over sooner to say hi. We were away for a few weeks on holidays, and then – well, you know, work, the usual. We’re only here at weekends really and, even then, we go down to my mother-in-law a good bit. She’s in Enniskerry.” Oh my God, why is she still talking?
Sam is smiling politely but he probably didn’t need to know her life story.
“Don’t worry! It’s lovely to meet you now, Sylvia.”
The conversation seems to be coming to a natural end. Sylvia opens her mouth to tell him about the shape in the pond, but no words come out. It sounds so ridiculous in the bright evening light. Instead, she tells Sam it was nice to meet him, and calls Bailey to come home with her.
“Is everything okay? Were you about to say something else?” Sam asks.
“Actually, yes – this is going to sound very weird though . . .” It’s now or never. The words, when they come, trip awkwardly out of Sylvia’s mouth. “It’s just that I thought I saw something in your pond at about four in the morning last week – I mean that fishpond out the back. I’m sure it was nothing, but it looked like a child lying face down in the water . . .” Oh Jesus, how daft it sounded now!
But Sam is still looking at her, waiting for more.
“It was the middle of the night, so it was probably just a shadow. And you said your kids are away – so don’t mind me! Small baby, you know how it is. I’m very tired!” She smiles and shrugs, wishing she’d said nothing.
Sam looks at her blankly. “I’d have noticed if there was anything there . . .”
“Absolutely. Don’t mind me. It was nice to meet you, Sam.”
She calls Bailey and half-runs down the driveway, wondering what possessed her to say anything. And now that she’s met him, it’s clear there’s nothing odd at all about the man next door.
Back inside her own house, she kicks off her trainers and fills Bailey’s water bowl. The theme tune to Peppa Pig is coming from the sitting room – she can see Tom’s long legs stretched out, and Megan sitting cross-legged at his feet. Zack must be in his arms.
“What did you get from the freezer – is it defrosted?” she calls in to Tom, looking at the empty microwave and the clear counters.
“Oh sorry, I didn’t get it yet – I’ll do it now,” he says, starting to get up from the couch. “What will I get?”
“It’s fine, leave it. We’ll just get a takeaway when the kids are in bed, or do some cheese on toast.”
Sylvia starts making Megan’s lunch for Montessori, checking work email at the same time.
“So I went in to say hi to our new neighbour,” she says, talking over the voice of Mummy Pig.
This time Tom does get up. “What’s the story – what’s he like?” he asks, coming into the kitchen with Zack on his shoulder.
“Zack’s not asleep, is he?”
“No, he’s awake,” says Tom, craning his neck to make sure it’s true. “So go on, what’s the gossip? Is he the crying man you heard?”
“Well, I could hardly ask him that! His name is Sam, and his wife is called Kate. They have two kids, older than our guys, and they’ve been away most of the summer so far.”
“And were there tears running down his face or does he seem normal?”
“Very funny. Yeah, he seems nice actually – he was lovely with Bailey.”
“Could it have been the radio you heard through the wall? They have it on quite loud a lot of the time. Or the TV?”
“I didn’t think of that – I guess actually it could have been their TV. That still doesn’t explain what I saw in the pond though.” Sylvia’s not sure why, but she doesn’t tell Tom that she brought up the pond with their new neighbour. She can tell him another time.
Tom gives her a look. “What you thought you saw. I think it’s pretty safe to say you imagined it. When I’m up at night I’m practically hallucinating with tiredness.”
When you’re up at night once in a blue moon, Sylvia thinks. She cuts the crusts off Megan’s sandwiches and puts them in the lunchbox.
“Yeah, it probably was just in my head,” she says, “but so weird – I really believed it at the time. What I wouldn’t give for a full night’s sleep now, especially with everything that’s going on at work.”
Tom winces. “Still bad? What was the reaction to not going in today?”
“Craig didn’t reply for ages so I was left hanging and then, when he did, he said he’d have to get Justin to cover my work. Which means I’ll go in tomorrow to find nothing done again. But he got to make his point and that’s what he wanted. Much as I desperately need Jane to be back tomorrow, there’s part of me that’s dreading going in – it’s just so toxic. I could do with another day away from them all.” She takes Zack from Tom. He’s looking sleepy – time to get him down before it’s too late. “And another day at home with this little munchkin.”
“Do you mean you’d give up if you could?” Tom looks slightly panicked.
“Oh, I don’t know. If you’d asked me that a year ago, I’d have said no way, but it’s just miserable since I went back. They really don’t want me there, and they make it so obvious all the time.” She shifts Zack to her other shoulder. “Like, they’re still leaving me out of meetings, and when I spoke to
my biggest client yesterday, she didn’t even know I was back.”
Tom puts his arm around her shoulders and gives her a squeeze. “I know it’s hard but you’ll get there. And we can’t afford for you to give up. Look at it this way – if they’re paying you to go in and do no work, how bad is that? Lots of people would kill for it!”
“Ugh, it’s awful though. Time goes so slowly and I just feel useless. It’s tough enough going back after maternity without feeling like you’re surplus to requirements. Anyway, if I did quit – we’d get by. We’d have to cut back a bit, but we’d be okay, wouldn’t we?”
Tom looks even more panicked. “I wouldn’t like to try it, so don’t do anything to lose your job just yet – deal?”
“Tom, we’d be fine, but don’t worry, I’m not going to make any drastic decisions.” She touches his arm. “Right, let’s get these guys sorted. Is Peppa over – can you get Megan?”
Upstairs, before pulling the curtains, she stops to look out at the evening sky, still bright blue after the long hot day. Her eyes are drawn to the garden next door. The pond looks black despite the sun, the water still. Her eyes move to a mound of earth beside the pond – like a small flowerbed but without flowers. That wasn’t there before, was it? Maybe Sam is trying to do something with the garden. Zack starts to whimper in her arms and she pulls her gaze away from next door.
Lying in bed later that night, listening to the soft breathing of her baby son, the images play on her mind – the imagined child in the pond, side by side with the flowerbed at its edge, and when she falls asleep she dreams of missing children.
