by Gil McNeil
One of the doctors asks Molly if she’s chosen any names yet.
‘Jack if it’s a boy, I think, and Alice, if it’s a girl.’
Oh god, I really am going to cry now. I feel a tear rolling down my cheek into my mask. I wonder how many other people have stood here, crying into their masks. I keep thinking, Please let it be all right, let them both be all right, while I squeeze her hand and she smiles, very faintly.
The nurses have been chatting and checking the instruments, and the doctor’s describing what she’s doing using all sorts of medical terminology, so I think the other doctor must be some kind of junior and she’s training him, when suddenly they all go quiet.
The doctor seems to be rummaging about and everyone is looking at Molly’s tummy. The room is totally silent except for the beeping of machines. I hold my breath. And then suddenly a tiny foot appears and a second later a baby is lifted into the air and the doctor says, ‘Well, here’s Jack.’
He’s sort of waxy and purple, and then suddenly he starts to go pink, and he spreads his arms out like he’s trying to catch hold of something, and his hands are like tiny starfish. And then he gives a little cry like he’s been startled out of a long sleep and the doctor hands him to the paediatrician. She takes a quick look and carries him round to Molly, all wrapped up tight in a little green sheet.
And when she sees him. The look on her face. It’s just magic. She smiles and her eyes fill with tears and she says hello, and then she breathes out. A really long deep breath, like she’s been waiting all these months and now she can finally relax.
And he’s got those dark navy-blue eyes newborns have and thick waxy black hair and he’s looking at Molly and he’s perfect. I can see Alfie when I look at him and for a moment I don’t think I’m going to be able to stop myself from running out and going home to find him.
But then Billy hands the baby to me and tells Molly that we’re going to take him upstairs to the ward to get him washed and dressed.
‘So he’ll be ready for you when you come up.’
‘Yes, but let me have a few more minutes with him first.’
So we stand there while she looks at him. And he looks at her. And she puts her hand up to his face, the hand with the needles in for the drip, all covered up in white surgical tape. And she strokes his hair, with one finger, and smiles.
Billy pats her shoulder.
‘He’s lovely. Well done.’
‘Thank you.’
‘We’ll get him upstairs now.’
‘Alice.’
‘Yes.’
‘You’ll stay with him, won’t you, until they bring me up?’
‘Of course I will, sweetheart.’
Wearing a mask means I can’t give her a kiss, so I put my hand on her cheek and say I’m so proud of her and he’s perfect and I notice one of the nurses stiffens slightly. Blimey, word must have got round.
‘I’ll watch him for you, and I won’t let him out of my sight, I promise.’
* * *
We put him in his little plastic tank when we get out of the theatre, and wheel him through the corridors and up in the lift and everyone who sees him smiles. Billy washes him very gently with cotton wool, and he just blinks and stretches and doesn’t make any kind of fuss, and at one point he locks his gaze on to mine and I just stand there, staring into his eyes, and I can’t believe he’s only just been born.
‘This is the best job in the world, at moments like this.’
‘Oh yes, I can see that.’
‘It still gets me. Every time. Look at him, little poppet. And he’s big too – just over nine pounds.’
I put him in the sleepsuit, which is only just big enough, and I’d forgotten how tiny newborns are, and about the cord and everything, and I feel very clumsy.
Billy wheels the cot round to a bed on a side-ward, and says he’ll leave us here for a minute while he goes to get Molly’s notes. And then one of the nurses brings Mum in. She says they’ve kept her waiting downstairs for ages, with Molly’s bag.
‘Mum, this is Jack.’
‘Oh bless him, isn’t he lovely? Where’s Molly?’
‘Still downstairs. She had a Caesarean but she’s fine.’
‘And what about you?’
‘What? Oh fine. Oh Mum, it was so amazing.’
And to my horror I find myself clinging on to her and sobbing. Which is pathetic really, because everything’s lovely, and he’s perfect and Molly’s fine. So god knows what I’m crying about. Mum pats my back like she used to do when I was little.
‘He’s lovely. I’m so proud of you.’
‘Oh Mum, it’s nothing to do with me. It’s all down to Molly – she was just brilliant.’
‘Yes. But I’m still very proud of you.’
No wonder Patric said that being there when Alfie was born was the most terrifying thing he’s ever done. I mean when you’re the one on the trolley it’s bad enough, but somehow standing there all helpless and trying to be strong and encouraging when you’re actually frightened out of your wits is almost worse. And Molly made much less fuss than I did – she was so amazing. I almost feel tempted to ring him, just to say I understand a bit more now. But he’d probably think I was trying to make some point and end up getting all defensive.
I sit holding on to the crib while Mum goes off to find some tea, and then a nurse and a porter arrive with Molly and lift her on to the bed, and get her settled. She looks tired, but very happy.
‘Let me hold him.’
I pick him up and put him into her arms and she cradles him and strokes his hair.
‘Do you want a pillow under your arm?’
‘Please.’
I prop two pillows from the next bed under her arm.
‘Thanks, Alice. Thanks. You were great.’
‘So were you.’
‘He’s pretty fantastic, isn’t he?’
‘Amazing.’
‘He looks quite like Lily when she was born.’
‘Does he?’
‘Yes. Only he’s got more hair.’
‘Well, he’s perfect.’
‘Mum’s brought your bag in. Do you want me to unpack it for you?’
‘Oh yes please.’
‘She’s just gone for some tea. Do you want some? Or a drink? Can you have anything yet?’
‘I don’t know. They said I’ll have to have this catheter in until morning, and this drip too, probably. But they didn’t say anything about drinking.’
‘I’ll go and find out, shall I?’
‘Yes. In a minute. Just stay here with me for a while. I still feel a bit weird.’
We sit and she asks me to hold him, but so she can still see him, and then a nurse arrives and says they’ve got the blood results back and Molly needs a blood transfusion, and she puts another drip stand by the bed and hangs a big bag of blood from it. It looks almost black, and slightly menacing, but within a few minutes the drip’s doing its thing and Molly starts to go a bit pinker.
The nurse hovers and keeps checking her blood pressure, and then Mum comes back with the tea and says congratulations, and he’s the most beautiful baby she’s ever seen.
And then she says she’d better go and get Alfie, and I walk her to the lift and she says she hoped I didn’t mind about her saying Jack was beautiful, because of course Alfie was much more beautiful, which is so sweet it makes me tearful all over again.
I creep back into the ward and we sit and whisper about how lucky she is to have such a perfect son, until they both start to fall asleep. A new nurse comes in and smiles at me and hands me the baby while she very gently checks Molly’s blood pressure without actually waking her up. So I sit there giving him a cuddle, and then I put him into his crib on his back, and roll up a blanket and tuck it down one side like I used to with Alfie so he felt all snuggled up.
‘I’ll come back tomorrow, first thing. Tell her, when she wakes up. I’ll be back in the morning.’
‘OK. And congratulations. He’s lovely
.’
When I get out into the car park I can’t find the car. After about ten minutes I remember we came in the Range Rover and I’m just about to get in when Dan walks over and says hello, rather tentatively.
‘Is she all right?’
‘Yes, she’s fine. She had to have a Caesarean because her blood pressure went a bit weird but she was wonderful.’
He makes a coughing noise like he’s being strangled and then the tears start, but without any noise, like he’s not even aware that he’s crying.
‘I’m sorry, just ignore me, I’m so sorry. I’ve fucked everything up, haven’t I? And Mum rang and told me and I didn’t know what to do. I’ve been so worried.’
‘Of course you have. Oh Dan, I’m sorry, but she’s fine. And the baby’s lovely.’
Somehow it just doesn’t seem right to tell him that he’s got a son while we’re standing in a car park, like he’s just some interested passer-by, so I put my arms round him and give him a hug, and whisper into his ear, ‘He’s lovely. A lovely big beautiful boy, and Molly says he looks like Lily did when she was born. And she made me get her Opal Fruits, just like you did last time.’
And then he breaks down and sobs. Really sobs. We stand there for ages, and he says he doesn’t want to go in, in case she’s asleep or it upsets her, but he’ll call later and come back tomorrow. And then he asks me about the baby again, and what colour hair he’s got, and am I sure Molly’s all right.
He looks so lost when he walks back to his car I have to sit and pull myself together a bit before I drive home.
When I get back there are no lights on at home so Mum and Alfie must still be up the lane with Charles. I drive up and park the car, and find Charles sitting in the kitchen surrounded by teapots.
‘I made tea, but then it got cold, so I made some more.’
‘Right. Lovely.’
‘The children are fine. Molly’s mum collected Lily, and Alfie’s upstairs watching a film with your mum. She’s terrific, isn’t she? She was so excited when she got back from the hospital, and so full of how great you’d been.’
‘Oh well, I don’t know about that. I nearly fainted and I’ve been crying half the afternoon. Not exactly a rock.’
‘And Molly’s all right?’
‘I think so. They’ve given her a transfusion and she seemed much better when I left. I mean tired, obviously, but a much more normal colour and everything.’
‘Oh I’m so glad. Here, I’ve made you some sandwiches – I thought you might be hungry. Actually, Mrs Bishop made some much nicer ones, but the children ate them. So I’ve made some more. They’re not very delicate.’
He passes me a plate of very thickly cut cheese sandwiches.
‘Great. I’m starving. But I want to see Alfie first.’
I go upstairs for a quick cuddle, but he’s not really that keen because he’s deeply involved in his film. Mum tells me to go back down and get something to eat because I can’t have had a thing for hours, and then we’ll go home when the film finishes.
The sandwiches are great, and we talk about babies and birth and Charles says the first time he saw Ezra he remembers thinking he was going to try to do everything he could to make sure he was always happy and felt safe.
‘But it hasn’t really turned out like that. I mean at least my father managed to hang on to my mother. We probably shouldn’t have had children, you know. I don’t know why we did really. Lola just decided and that was it. It was as if we’d got the house and the car so we’d better have the children, like they were some sort of – what’s that phrase Lola’s always using – consumer something, consumer durable, that’s it, like children were some sort of consumer durable.’
‘Well, they certainly consume a great deal.’
‘I was reading something in the paper the other day, about Alpha women, and you know, I think the trouble is that Lola’s an Alpha woman, definitely, whereas I’m a Delta. Or an Effer, if they have Fs, I can’t remember. Anyway, what she needs is an Alpha male.’
‘Well, whatever an Alpha male is, he’d have his work cut out for him.’
‘True. But I do feel guilty. About the children, I mean. Did I tell you Ezra’s started wetting the bed again?’
‘Charles. You’ve got to stop it, you know. You can’t go on like this, blaming yourself for everything. Lola may well be an Alpha woman, but she’s also an Alpha bitch, and you’re better off without her. You’ve just got to start being happy and upbeat for the kids. Sorry, I’m really tired – I didn’t mean to be rude.’
‘No, it’s all right. I think you’re probably right.’
‘I think you’re a great dad, I really do. You try your best, and that’s what really counts, in the end, whatever letter of the alphabet you are. Everybody knows that, and I’m sure Ezra does too.’
‘I hope so. Sometimes he looks at me as if I’m such an idiot, it’s almost frightening.’
‘Oh they all do that. Alfie does it all the time. It’s just part of growing up, I think, looking at your parents like they’re morons.’
‘Oh. Right. Well, that’s a relief.’
Mum comes home with us and then says she’d better be off to sort out something to eat for Dad, who sends his love and says he’s glad that the baby arrived safely.
Alfie is very excited about the new baby being a boy, and has already chosen a sword to lend him when he comes round to play. It takes me ages to get him settled, and then Molly rings and says she’s got the nurse to wheel a phone to her bed.
‘Mum’s bringing Lily in tomorrow morning, but will you come in first? I want to look nice for Lily, and I’ll need to put a clean nightie on, and could you bring a bit of make-up or something, so I don’t look too washed out? I haven’t got any, and I must look dreadful, and I don’t want her to get worried.’
‘You look fine, but of course I’ll come.’
‘Do you think she’ll like him?’
‘Oh sweetheart, do you want me to come back? You sound a bit wobbly.’
‘No, I’m fine. It’s just the hormones, I think, or this morphine stuff they’re giving me.’
‘Is there anything else you need?’
‘No, I don’t think so. He’s asleep and I think I’ll sleep too, in a bit. I just keep looking at him. He’s so lovely.’
‘He’s perfect. Get some sleep, and I’ll see you in the morning.’
* * *
Mum says she’ll take Alfie to school, so I go into the hospital early and they’ve both slept a bit, and Molly looks much better. She gets really nervous before Lily arrives, but she’s so happy to see Molly it’s fine, although she’s still slightly annoyed that the baby’s a boy. But at least he’s got her a present, a Barbie, with a car, so she’s pretty impressed. Molly must have had it all ready in her bag.
And then Dan arrives, and stands at the end of the bed looking slightly awkward.
‘You can hold him, if you like.’
Molly smiles. He walks towards her and picks up the baby from his crib, and looks close to tears before walking very fast straight out into the corridor.
‘Where’s Daddy going?’
‘Oh I think he’s just having a little walk. He’ll be back in a minute.’
And sure enough he comes straight back, and has obviously pulled himself together.
‘He’s pretty special, isn’t he?’
‘Yes.’
‘But not as special as Lily, of course.’
‘Oh no, nobody could be as nice as our Lily.’
And Lily nods and I suddenly feel I’m intruding, so I say I’m going off in search of tea and will be back in a bit. When I get back Dan and Lily have gone.
‘He seemed pretty knocked out with him, didn’t he?’
‘Yes. But then we all are. He’s a very special baby.’
‘They’re all special, Alice.’
‘I know. But he’s extra special.’
‘Yes. He is. He slept nearly all night, you know.’
‘Blimey. We
ll, don’t count your chickens.’
‘Talking of which –’
‘Yes. I know. I will feed them, I promise. I forgot last night but I’ll go round later.’
‘I’ll get Mum to do it. I forgot to tell her, but I’ll call her later.’
‘It’s all right.’
‘No, you’ve done more than enough. I can’t ever really tell you what it meant to me, you know, having you there. You were great.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. I really wouldn’t. It was wonderful.’
‘Not even my death-grip shoulder press?’
‘Well, maybe not that. You could have warned me, you know. I think one of my shoulders is lower than the other one now. Maybe I should get a parrot.’
‘Dan had backache for weeks after Lily.’
‘Now you tell me.’
‘What am I going to do, Alice?’
‘I don’t know, sweetheart. There’s no rush. Wait until you get home and see how you feel.’
‘Yes, but what if I don’t know how I feel? Half of me just wanted him to stay today, and for us to pretend that nothing happened, but the other half just can’t get over it.’
She starts to cry. Oh god.
‘I know. It’ll take time, Moll. Just give it time.’
‘Do you want a cuddle?’
‘What, and freak out the nurses, you mean?’
‘No, the baby, you fool.’
‘Oh yes please. I thought you’d never ask.’
10
October
Hickory Dickory Dock
Garden Diary
Collect fallen leaves. Harvest spinach and greens before frost. Move tender plants into pots and place in sheltered areas. Plant out winter tubs and baskets.
The gutters are filling up with leaves and overflowing every time it rains, so I find the step-ladder and poke about with a stick. Thankfully Alfie’s at school, or he’d definitely be standing at the bottom of the ladder shaking it. I end up with a bucketful of horrible leaf sludge, which is rather satisfying in a weird way, and I decide to start a compost heap. I pile it up in a corner behind the garage along with the leaves I’ve raked up from the lawn, but then I’m not really sure what you’re supposed to do next. Before I get a chance to read up on it when I get him home from school, Alfie decides that leaf sludge is the perfect thing for SAS-type camouflage manoeuvres, and spreads it all over his face and hands, and comes into the kitchen crawling on all fours and threatening to blow the house up if I don’t give him some biscuits. Great.
