A Mother’s Sacrifice

by Gemma Metcalfe

  He shuffles around awkwardly, looks down at his feet, not saying a word. Anticipation swells inside me, making me almost giddy. I am edging closer to the truth. I know I am.

  ‘You haven’t had a drink today,’ pipes up Doug, looking at James oddly. He is still holding Cory who appears to be taking everything in. Don’t panic, baby, I inwardly promise him. Mummy will always protect you.

  A heavy silence hangs in the air as everybody fixes their eyes on James.

  ‘Fine,’ says Magda, her voice a notch above a whisper. ‘If you must know I offered to drive James. I phoned him earlier today but I told him to keep it quiet.’ She sticks her thumb in her mouth and bites her fluorescent pink nail.

  ‘And why would you do that?’

  All eyes slide from James to Magda, tension thick in the air.

  ‘Because, Louisa, I’m really worried about you.’ She takes a deep breath. ‘As a counsellor, it is my professional judgement that you’re suffering with postnatal psychosis, a highly dangerous form of postnatal depression. I phoned James to convince him to admit you to hospital. You’re my best friend and I love you.’ A sob escapes her mouth. ‘I’m sorry but it’s for the best.’

  ‘You’re no friend of mine, Magda,’ I say evenly, not caring when my words cause her face to crumple. ‘ You’re just a barren old hippy intent on stealing my family.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Magda

  After

  Soft light seeps through my closed eyelids, its warmth evaporating the dream which previously rested there. I don’t know where I am or how I got here, only that nothing is how it should be. A smell, strong and sterile, hits my nostrils, like stepping into an indoor swimming pool. I fight to open my eyes, forcing all of my strength into my eyelids, both at once, then one at a time. Neither of them budges.

  In the distance, a machine beeps, another one breathes; powerful, raspy, not quite human but thereabouts. Something burns in the back of my throat, the sides of my mouth aching, similar to spending hours in a dentist’s chair.

  I hear footsteps, two sets, maybe even three. Think, think.

  My memories are vague: chopped, spliced, muddied over. The pain in my lower abdomen intensifies, burns – what’s happened to me?

  ‘How’s she doing?’ A man’s voice pierces through my thoughts, his tone clear and sharp.

  ‘No change really. Have you found her yet?’ This second voice is somehow familiar – both tone and pitch stored in an area not yet erased.

  ‘We haven’t as of yet. I know this is a really hard time for you but we need to ask you a few questions.’ A third voice washes over me, its centre soft, its syllables emphasised in all the wrong places. ‘You met Louisa on Christmas Day, didn’t you? How did she seem?’

  Louisa! Your name hits me like a dozen spinning knives, the memory of when we first met bursting into my brain uninvited.

  One year ago, or thereabouts, I was sitting alone in SureLife’s cafeteria, Doctor Hughes’s earlier diagnosis playing over and over in my mind: ‘inhospitable womb, natural killer cells, unlikely to carry to term’. After four failed IVF attempts with quality donor eggs, I knew he was right.

  ‘What other options do I have?’ I asked him.

  ‘Surrogacy?’ he suggested, his face advertising the fact that he didn’t particularly recommend it.

  ‘It’s too expensive,’ I told him, to which he simply nodded.

  I knew in that moment that my journey to motherhood had ended, or at the very least a great big boulder had been wedged in its path, a boulder so big even the Angel Gabriel would have been hard-pressed to move it. Slowly, my surroundings started to fade away, the cafeteria’s sights and sounds dwindling until all that was left was you.

  You were sitting several tables in front of me, James opposite you reading a newspaper. Your aura was dark blue, a sure sign you were unsure of the future and desperate to take control. It garishly contrasted with your fiery red hair, which hung limply down your back.

  ‘Excuse me? I hope you don’t mind me intruding?’ I was beside you before I’d even realised I’d stood up. You looked me up and down, not intentionally, of course, but my then-purple hair obviously warranted a double-take. ‘I’m Magda. Pleased to meet you.’ I held out my hand, my nails painted a luminous orange.

  You shook my hand. ‘Louisa, nice to meet you.’ I noticed how your nails were chewed, your fingers and wrists naked apart from a cheap-looking wedding ring which you must have owned long before having the sort of finances needed for treatment at SureLife. ‘And this is James.’ You seemed a little awkward introducing James, like you were almost feeling his embarrassment.

  ‘I saw you around,’ I tried to say casually. ‘Are you under Doctor Hughes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Just like me then.’

  You smiled at me then, revealing beautifully white teeth and small dimples.

  I guess I knew in that moment that we were destined to be friends… I just didn’t know why.

  ‘Louisa was a little confused on Christmas Day,’ says the familiar voice now, the sound dispersing my bubble of thought. ‘But she didn’t seem violent. I can’t understand why she would want to kill Magda.’

  My heart races, nought to one hundred in under a second. Surely I can’t be dead? I curl both hands up into fists, bang them down on something firm that lies beneath me.

  ‘It’s just so sad.’ The voice is frantic now, turning up at its edges. ‘I keep looking for any sign of life but there’s none.’

  I’m here, I’m right here! I kick out both legs, can feel my heels sliding down a cool sheet, friction burning my skin. Why aren’t they hearing me?

  ‘Magda always spoke highly of Louisa. She said she felt a connection to her. I don’t know why she’s done this; my sister never asked for any of this.’

  Sister? Of course, the familiar voice, Helen’s voice! Oh God, what have you done to me, Louisa? Why is my sister crying? I open my mouth and scream, the sound like a freight train all around me.

  ‘Just keep talking to her,’ says the masculine voice, his words disintegrating my scream like it was never even there in the first place. ‘They say people in comas can sometimes hear.’

  A coma. I’m in a coma? The question births a memory, delivered fully formed.

  I remember now, I remember what happened.

  And I know exactly who was responsible!

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Louisa

  Now

  I sit on the edge of the bed, cloaked in darkness, my hands and feet numb with cold. The slight gap in the bedroom doorway allows muffled voices from the hallway below to filter through, a secret discussion I’m not privy to. Somebody is crying but I can’t decipher who and I don’t really care. They can all rot in hell, every last one of them.

  After a few moments, the front door slams shut, and the voices slowly taper off until all I can hear is my own solitary breath and the beating of my heart. My eyelids soon grow heavy, the weight of the past three weeks, coupled with endless cycles of broken sleep, causing exhaustion to weigh them down. Despite the danger I am in, I am desperate to sleep, to fall into oblivion where nobody can reach me. The mattress feels lighter than air as I allow myself to fall back into it; dreams quickly leak into my thoughts, like thick black oil in clear water.

  ‘Let her sleep. It won’t do her any harm.’ I peel open my eyelids, look up at an opaque figure looming over me, his heavy bulk lightening the darkness which surrounds him. I sense somebody else in the doorway, a flowery perfume tickling my nostrils. This second figure remains silent – motionless. No longer wanting to fight against it, I allow sleep to pull me under, a little at first, then all at once.

  ‘Come, Louisa… come to me. I’ll protect you both.’ Aiden’s face appears in front of my eyes and I realise I am no longer afraid of him. Gone are the wonky teeth and black eyes, his face now angelic and open, like a waxwork angel. After all, we share the most wonderful gift, we are connected by blood, bounded f
or all eternity. Peace envelops me, the heaviness lifting from my skin until I am lighter than air. I reach my hand up to him, touch his silky red hair, my fingers melting into his scalp.

  ‘Where is Cory?’ I ask.

  He smiles down at me, his teeth whiter than ivory. ‘A place where nobody can harm him. Come… I’ll take you.’ He reaches out his hand, his fingers long and slender. As he touches my cheek, we both begin to levitate up towards a blinding bright light which I realise has been waiting for me all along. I don’t try to fight it. Instead, I wrap my arms around him, grip tightly hold of him, knowing that, with Aiden, I will always be safe. ‘I’m ready,’ I whisper into his ear. ‘I am ready to live in paradise with you and our baby.’

  White light skims across my eyelids jolting me awake. The bedroom is peppered grey, shadows dancing off the walls and ceiling. My chest is saturated with sweat, blood thumping in my ears. I look over to the drawn curtains which soak up the light like tissue paper. Somebody is outside.

  Pulling myself up, I make my way over to the window, my head foggy as if stuffed with cotton wool. Drawing back the curtains, I peer down into the front garden.

  A taxi blocks the front gate, its headlights set to full beam. Downstairs, I hear the distinct sound of the front door opening, the porch light automatically switching on as it detects movement. Tamzin and Doug run down the gravelled driveway arm in arm, the wind blowing Tamzin’s white hair almost off her head. James and Magda follow them out, stand as one under the direct glare of the light. ‘You’re not taking my baby.’ My voice bounces off the double glazing where it disperses without being heard. I watch, my jaw rigid and my eyes unblinking. Annette must have already left. Which isn’t surprising after what James told her. That must have been who I heard leaving earlier. What time is it now? I check my watch, realise I have been sleeping for almost an hour. Guilt sinks my stomach. How could I have fallen asleep when she has my baby.

  As the taxi pulls away, James turns to Magda and whispers something into her ear. I stiffen, my top and bottom teeth clamping themselves together. It’s already beginning. She has already managed to get her claws into my husband. Even if the charm bracelet was meant for me, and James is innocent in all of this, soon he won’t be. Soon he’ll be complicit in locking me away and allowing her to play mother to my baby!

  They are both turned away from the bedroom window, their eyes fixed on each other. Carefully, I reach up and push open the window, just a fraction. The wind carries their voices up through the crack, the cold air drying the sweat on my skin.

  ‘I’ll nip home, grab a few things and tell Helen what’s happening. I’ll be quick. Don’t leave her before I get back, will you? Can’t risk her taking off again.’ Magda leans further in to James.

  ‘Your being here isn’t a good idea, Mags.’

  ‘Well, I have to be. There isn’t another option.’

  ‘I’m not sure I can section her.’ James turns and looks up at the bedroom window. I jump back, heart rate soaring. ‘She doesn’t deserve it,’ I hear him say. ‘She’s a good mother, loves the bones of Cory.’

  ‘You know it’s for the best.’ Magda’s voice slices through the night air. ‘I’ll take care of everything. Don’t you worry.’

  ‘All right,’ says James, leaning in to peck her on the cheek. ‘I trust you.’

  Once Magda leaves, I make my way downstairs and wander through to the lounge. A thick fog blurs the edges of the room, the television somewhat off kilter. A charity advert is playing, dark and threatening, a small, helpless toddler imprisoned in a cot, his huge brown eyes drenched with layer upon layer of pain. I stare at him, my own eyes misting, his plea for ‘Mama’ coming two seconds too late. ‘I’ll protect you,’ I whisper to him. ‘Always.’

  A gurgling noise comes from the other side of the room. I roll my eyes over to where Cory is propped up on the sofa, several differently sized cushions surrounding him like a padded cell. I scan the living room for James, certain he must be hiding behind the armchair or curtains. ‘Where are you? Come out at once. I’ll never allow Magda to take my baby, never!’

  James titters somewhere in the distance, but doesn’t appear.

  The bay window suddenly vibrates, the double-glazed glass almost cracking on impact. Beyond the pane, heavy rain whips itself up into a frenzy, black clouds rolling through the sky like barrels. A bolt of lightning cracks the image in two, a golden streak which flashes my own reflection back into my pupils. I stand stock-still, a white, faceless figure, nothing other than a living ghost.

  ‘Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas any more.’ I turn away from the window and kneel down beside Cory, taking his hand in mine, his skin warm and soft to the touch. He looks straight past me, his eyes widening as he tries to focus on the fairy lights which are draped around the window, their tiny bulbs flickering on and off, staining his milky-white skin all the colours of the rainbow.

  Horses, Dorothy, Wizard of Oz, Mummy…

  ‘Stop talking, stop it!’ A choir of voices continues to chatter to one another, each one a slightly different pitch and yet all of them refusing to be silenced. ‘One at a time, I can’t make out what you’re saying.’

  ‘Who are you talking to?’ James’s voice silences all the others. I swivel round, see him standing in the open doorway, his skin flashing an emerald green. ‘Louisa?’

  ‘Leave me alone!’ I stick my fingers into my ears, squeeze my eyes shut. The voices start up again, louder this time, an orchestra of singing which steamrolls to a crescendo. ‘Stop it… stop it!’

  James’s hand burns my shoulder. I look up at him, his mouth twisted into a scowl. ‘What is wrong with you?’ he says, his words all broken up. ‘You’re scaring me!’

  I shake my head, look over at the TV set to where Dorothy now skips down the yellow-brick road with Scarecrow. The Wicked Witch of the West is hiding on a rooftop ready to light a match. ‘Turn it off!’ I scream. ‘Turn it off now!’

  ‘Turn what off?’

  ‘He’s burning, I don’t want to see.’

  ‘Who’s burning?’ James starts to cry without any sound, his skin now tinged a sunburned red. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘The Scarecrow!’ I look back at the TV set, now showing the opening credits to Coronation Street. I blink, once, twice, three times. ‘It wasn’t, it was Dorothy.’

  James slumps down on the sofa, his head in his hands. ‘I’ll call work. I’m not leaving you like this.’ He reaches inside his trouser pocket. ‘I think I ought to call the out of hours, Lou. I can’t deal with this on my own.’

  ‘No!’ I throw myself at him, knowing only that he cannot leave me. ‘No, Aiden, don’t leave me, please. I’m not crazy.’

  ‘Who the fuck is Aiden?’

  ‘What?’ I look up at him, his hair a burnt orange, his eyes a centimetre too wide apart. ‘It’s all going to be all right now, isn’t it?’’ I say. ‘Me, you and our baby will live Happily Ever After, won’t we? I’m your special girl, Aiden, you said so yourself.’

  ‘Louisa, you’re really freaking me out. What baby? What are you talking about?’

  I stare at him, my eyes unable to blink. How can he not remember? ‘Our baby,’ I tell him. ‘The one you killed!’

  ‘What?’ James jumps up, his nostrils flaring, his face the colour of fire. ‘You had a baby? Who killed your baby?’

  I shake my head, unsure of what’s just happened. How does James know about the baby? ‘No, yes… Oh God!’

  ‘When?’ He looms over me, his eyes as hard as flint, his nostrils flaring. ‘In fact, don’t answer that. I can’t believe anything you’re saying right now. I’m calling the mental health team!’

  He storms out of the room before I can say another word… leaving me in a heap on the floor.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Louisa

  Now

  I attempt to open my eyes but my eyelashes are stuck together. I prise them apart with my fingers, my head pounding, the bridge of my nose ac
hing with unshed tears. How long have I been asleep for?

  Tea, toast, Wizard of Oz, Mummy…

  ‘Shut up!’

  The voices quieten on my command, as if they too are grateful for a rest.

  ‘See, wasn’t hard, was it?’

  I pull myself up off the floor, not sure why I was ever there. My back cracks as I stand, pain radiating down the left side of my body causing me to wince. I ease myself down onto the sofa where Cory lies sleeping. He’s surrounded by cushions to keep him safe. I smile. ‘Didn’t I say I’d always protect you?’

  The evening is a blur, my memory of it hazy, as if trying to remember a dream after waking. I run through what I can remember, now even more certain than ever that I have to stop taking the antidepressants. There is no way they should be affecting my memory like this, although I have been pretty tired lately. Perhaps I just need a good night’s sleep? I look out of the window as I think, the night sky calm and still as if the storm from earlier had never really happened.

  I remember going to SureLife and speaking to Doctor Hughes earlier today. He’d seemed slightly annoyed with me but I can’t remember why. Then James turned up and… Magda! That’s right, Magda was with him. She was with him because she is trying to whisk me off to a mental institution so she can become Cory’s mother. She’s been manipulating James the whole time, hasn’t she? I remember now; remember the way she held Cory in her arms yesterday, remember her jealousy of Annette’s pregnancy, the charm bracelet she’d purposely dangled in my face. The gold locket around my neck starts to choke me, the chain digging into my skin. Yanking it off, I throw it against the wall. I glance back over at Cory, my heart physically aching to see him lying there so vulnerable. ‘I won’t let them separate us, baby. We’ll go to a place where there isn’t any more pain.’

  I pick him up and make my way into the hallway to where the pram is parked. James is in the kitchen speaking a succession of words I don’t have time to process. We have to get out of here, have to somehow get away from Magda before she manages to take everything away from me. I’m calling the mental health team right now. A memory suddenly splices down the centre of my brain; James, a moment or two ago, threatening to call the mental health team. He was angry with me, furious, but why? What did I say to him?