by Nikki Smith
‘How much?’ I’d asked.
He’d hesitated. ‘Another five thousand.’
I’d resisted the urge to laugh. How stupid did he think I was? I wasn’t going to hand that amount over again. He’d brought me here for a reason; he must have guessed my reluctance to let him into the flat meant I hadn’t told Ali I’d raided our savings, and he thought he could use that to blackmail me.
‘What’s it for this time?’ I’d asked.
‘An investment.’
‘I thought that’s what it was for last time? Didn’t it produce the returns you were expecting?’ I’d asked.
He’d reached into the inside pocket of his blazer and had taken out his diary, pulling out a small biro that had been tucked down into the spine, licking his finger as he’d turned the pages. I shouldn’t have asked the question. I shouldn’t have even been there. I hadn’t been able to believe I was related to this man. I’d wondered whether I could behave like he had towards his own child. Whether the same character traits were buried somewhere inside me, just waiting for an opportunity to manifest themselves.
‘The fund did brilliantly for months, returned over twenty-six percent, but a few weeks ago it crashed. Might still come back, apparently, but there’s a question mark over the conduct of a couple of the directors.’
‘And what’s it worth now?’ I’d asked.
‘Around two.’ He’d seen me raise my eyebrows before adding, ‘Hundred.’ If I hadn’t known him better, I’d have felt sorry for him. Desperate to keep up with other members in his club, he’d got involved in things he didn’t understand. But I had known him better, and it was hard not to feel he’d got what he deserved after all he’d put us through.
‘I’m not going to give you any more money.’ I’d sat back in my chair, waiting for him to threaten to tell Ali.
He’d looked at me. ‘I think you will, Jack.’
‘Or what? You’ll say something to her?’
He’d continued to stare at me, not speaking.
‘Go ahead. I can explain why I did it. She’ll believe me over someone she’s never even met. I’ve told her what you’re like.’ I’d shut my mouth before any more vitriol could escape.
A woman had pointed to the extra chair at our table and asked if she could take it. I’d nodded. The brief moment of interaction with a stranger had made me realise he’d been deliberately antagonising me. My anger had been clouding my judgement, which was exactly what he wanted. I needed to keep a clear head.
‘I will tell her,’ he’d said.
‘Fine, you go ahead.’ I’d begun to stand up.
He’d smiled at me, and his lips had narrowed in triumph. Something heavy had slid into my stomach. He’d been hiding something since the start of this conversation. An ugly surprise he’d been saving just for me. I’d gripped the chair. He’d waited, knowing I would too.
‘What?’ I hadn’t been able to help myself.
His lips had twitched, rearranging his original smile into something I’d been more familiar with. The one I’d been used to seeing when he’d walked out of our house, leaving my mother in the sitting room. Lying on the floor. The one that said he knew something I didn’t.
‘Do you think Ali will forgive you now if you tell her what you did? After you’ve lied to her for this long? Come on, Jack, think about it from her point of view. If you’ve lied about this, what else might you not have told her? I hear your company’s not doing so well at the moment, have you told her about that?’ He’d relished every word as he’d stabbed them into me. How did he know? No one knew that. He’d smiled again, waiting for me to ask, seeing if I could resist the temptation to find out where he’d got the information. I hated him, but I’d asked all the same. I didn’t have anything to lose.
‘How do you know?’ I hadn’t bothered trying to deny it. There hadn’t been any point. I’d just needed to work out if Ali would hear it from anyone else.
‘Someone at my club mentioned something. It’s only a rumour, but you know how news likes to travel. Businesses are folding all the time in the current climate. I wouldn’t want your clients to get nervous and I don’t think Ali should hear about it from me. Do you?’
I’d hesitated, and then shook my head. He hadn’t made me beg. Not like he used to do with my mother; he’d kept her on her hands and knees until she was too exhausted to plead anymore. He hadn’t needed to do that with me. He’d known he’d already won.
‘It’s only a temporary cash-flow issue. We’ll be fine in a couple of months.’ My words sounded hollow.
‘I’m sure you will. But it’s not something you want people to find out about right now, is it? Especially your wife. Don’t worry, Jack, no one else knows. For the moment. And they won’t hear anything from me, providing we can sort this out.’
For about the millionth time, I’d wished I’d told Ali what I’d done. I’d panicked, not wanting to face her and tell her we couldn’t afford another round of IVF because I’d given the money to my father. I’d known she’d be furious. And part of me had been secretly relieved at the thought we didn’t have to go through another round of treatment. As much as I’d wanted us to have a baby, I’d been sick of the dates and cycles and injections and disappointments. I’d thought we could be enough for each other. So I’d come up with a lie that had been easier than telling her the truth. That I hadn’t got a bonus and so we couldn’t afford it. I thought Ali had accepted it until that phone call from Edward when he’d offered to lend us the money. And I’d taken it and lied to him, too.
My father had studied me. ‘You could tell Ali, of course. I’m sure she’d get over it. But I think the timing now she’s having a baby is probably something you want to avoid.’ I’d stared at him. ‘I’ve seen her,’ he’d said, by way of explanation, ‘Going into your flat. Hasn’t got long to go now, I imagine.’ He’d dabbed at a small drop of water he’d spilt on the table with a napkin. ‘I’ll give you a couple of weeks,’ he’d said. ‘To sort something out.’ He’d circled a date in blue pen in a page of his diary. ‘You must still have all my bank details from last time.’ He’d got up out of his chair, leaving his half-empty cup on the table. ‘I’ll expect to hear from you, or I’ll be back in touch. Bye, son. I get the impression you won’t mind if I don’t give you a hug.’
I’d watched him walk out of the door and had swallowed the lump in my throat with my last mouthful of coffee. Despite everything he’d done, I still felt the pain of rejection as fiercely as I had twenty years earlier.
The sound of Tilly crying interrupts my thoughts and I walk into the bedroom, where Ali is sitting on the bed, holding her against her shoulder as she pats her back. Tilly’s face is bright red, her fists screwed up into tiny balls, her mouth wide as she screams so loudly her lips tremble.
Ali looks at me. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. She doesn’t want to feed.’ Tears well in her eyes.
I hold out my arms. ‘Do you want me to take her for a bit?’ I ask.
She nods and I pick her up. Ali’s shoulders sag as she massages her forehead.
‘She’ll be fine in a minute,’ I say. ‘I’ll walk round with her for a bit. See if I can settle her.’
Ali stares at me, but I don’t think she’s really listening to what I’m saying.
I carry Tilly on my chest round the flat, rubbing her back, waiting for her cries to quieten before I go back into the bedroom. Ali’s lying on the bed, curled up on her side and at first I think she’s asleep, but then she rolls over, wiping her face on the pillow.
‘I don’t think I can do this,’ she says.
‘You can,’ I say. ‘I’m here to help and it’ll get easier. Do you want to see if she’ll feed now she’s a bit quieter?’
She sits up slowly, wincing as she adjusts her position. I hand her Tilly, who nuzzles into her, latching on this time.
I sit next to her silently, trying to think of something to say. I want to remind her she’s everything we wanted. That we’d tried for her
for so long. That we all just need some sleep. But I don’t. I can’t find the right words amongst the possibilities that flicker on my tongue before I reject them as unsuitable. The weight in my stomach that I’ve carried round with me over the past few months feels heavier than ever. Ali looks exhausted. For months I’ve lied to her about what I’ve done, and I’m sure she knows I’m hiding something. I daren’t consider telling her the truth, but I’ve no idea where I’m going to find five thousand pounds that we don’t have. She closes her eyes as she leans back on her pillows whilst Tilly feeds. I wish I could go back and change what happened. If she finds out now, she’ll leave me – and take everything I’ve ever wanted with her as she walks out of the door.
THEN
Alison – Day Two
I lie awake with my eyes shut, Tilly making strange snuffling noises in her Moses basket beside me. It felt like I hadn’t slept at all last night – I’d leaned over the side of the bed so many times to check on her. Her eyes had always been shut, even though her tiny body had twitched every now and again. I’d thought she’d lie still at night, like the pictures of babies I’d seen asleep in magazines. I hadn’t realised she’d be so noisy. Each time I’d begun to drift off, she’d brought me back to reality with a scuffle or gurgle, my senses somehow tuned into her every move. Without me, she’ll die. I know Jack doesn’t feel it in the same way. It’s all down to me. A duty designed to smother me with its intensity.
Jack hadn’t come to bed until late and has been restless for most of the night. My brain won’t switch off. It seems a lifetime ago that we found out I was pregnant. I’d held the white stick like a fragile ornament in our bathroom, too scared to look, watching Jack’s face when he’d seen the blue line. I hadn’t realised until then how hard he’d found the past few years, the three rounds of IVF. How devastated he’d been when he’d thought we couldn’t afford a final attempt. How my anger had transformed into pity when I’d found him crying in the bathroom as he’d told me he hadn’t got a bonus and we couldn’t justify the expense. He’d wanted it as much as I had, and I’d found a way to get it for both of us. Looking at him lying beside me now, I don’t feel anything.
I wait until it’s light before I get out of bed, wash my hair and put on some make-up, keeping the bathroom door open so I can keep an eye on Tilly through the glass shower screen. The midwife is due at ten o’clock. Jack keeps telling me she won’t care what I look like, that it’s not a test. He’s naïve. Of course it’s a test. And if I fail, she could take Tilly away from me.
I jump up when the buzzer sounds for the front door, leaving Jack sitting in the kitchen, pulling down my top over the remains of my bump. The material’s creased. I should have ironed it.
‘It’s Mrs Reynolds, isn’t it?’ the midwife says as she steps over the threshold, offering to shake my hand as she takes off her jacket. ‘I’m Lisa. Lovely to meet you.’
‘Call me Ali.’
‘Have you got somewhere we can go and have a chat?’ she asks.
‘Yes, we can go in the sitting room,’ I say. ‘Can I get you a cup of tea or anything?’
Lisa shakes her head. ‘I’m good, thanks.’ She pushes the door of the lounge shut behind her, smiling conspiratorially. ‘That’s so we’re not disturbed.’ She can’t be older than twenty. She gets out her stethoscope, blood pressure cuff and a large notebook. Tilly makes a gurgling noise in her Moses basket and I pat her blanket gently, hoping she’ll settle. ‘Did you manage to get any sleep last night?’ Lisa asks.
‘Some,’ I lie.
‘Perhaps try and have a rest when she naps today? It’s good to catch up if you can.’
I don’t like being told what to do by someone so much younger than me; I want to ask her how long she’s been qualified. She writes something in her notebook, but I can’t see what it says. I think it could be that I’m not getting enough sleep. Surely that’s something all new mothers find difficult, not something I could fail her test on. I want to ask her, but I’m worried she’ll jot that down too. Ali asks too many questions. She seems to lack basic knowledge of childcare. I could tell her I’ve been to all the NCT classes, I’ve completed all the exercises. I was confident I knew what I was doing when we’d changed the doll’s nappy. But it’s all so different when I try and do it in real life, Tilly’s delicate limbs flailing around, actively fighting where I try to put them. I wonder if Lisa will write a report on me when she leaves here. Perhaps she’ll discuss me with her boss. I press my lips together to stop any more information slipping out.
‘Can I?’ She holds out her arms as I pick Tilly up. ‘She’s such a sweetie.’
I hesitate, not wanting to hand her over to this stranger who already doesn’t seem to like me. I’m worried she won’t give her back. I pass her across reluctantly, hoping she doesn’t notice my hands are shaking. She strips off Tilly’s Babygro and checks her over. My breathing quickens as I search for any sign of the marks I saw yesterday, but her skin is flawless. Dad was right, they must have been from what she was wearing. I wince as Lisa holds the cold metal chest piece onto Tilly’s skin to listen to her breathing. I wait, half-expecting her to tell me there’s something wrong, but she passes her back to me whilst she packs her stethoscope away.
‘Do you have any children?’ I ask. I bet she doesn’t.
Tilly starts to whimper and I put her on my shoulder, rubbing her back. I plead with her silently in my head not to cry. Not to embarrass me in front of Lisa.
‘Not yet. I’ve got enough on my plate dealing with other people’s.’ She smiles. How she can possibly understand what this is like when she doesn’t have any of her own? ‘Your husband,’ she says. ‘Jack, isn’t it?’ I nod. ‘It’s great he’s got a bit of time off work. Good to have another pair of hands around to help you.’ I think she’s already questioning my capabilities. I wonder if it says Tilly was an IVF baby on my notes. That I’d already been marked out as having failed at the first step of parenthood before I’d even started.
‘Have you looked after many new babies?’ I ask.
‘Quite a few.’ She’s sidestepping the question. A few. That could mean three or thirty, and if it’s only three I want someone with more experience, who’ll notice if something’s wrong. I’m worried she missed something when she listened to Tilly’s breathing, but I can’t ask her to do it again. I wonder if I can ask to swap to another midwife.
I rub my forehead. She’s talking to me, but my head hurts and it’s difficult to hear what she’s saying.
‘Do you want to pop your trousers off, so we can take a look at those stitches? Your notes say you had a difficult labour, so I just need to make sure everything’s healing properly.’
I put Tilly, quiet for now, back in her basket, take my trousers off and lie down on the sofa. My top is stuck to me, the material damp with perspiration. I’m dreading Lisa touching me. Lying with my knickers off in front of a stranger in hospital is one thing, but in my own home I’m acutely aware of my nakedness and my protruding stomach that makes me look like I’m still pregnant. I want to tell her to fuck off, to leave me alone, to stop this assault on my vulnerability, an anger instantly welling up inside of me. But I don’t. I lie mute as she puts on a pair of plastic gloves and peers between my legs, prodding parts of me that are tender, making me wince before telling me to put my clothes back on. I’m tempted to add more layers next time. To cover up my body and give it a chance to hide. She sits back, a slight frown on her forehead as she peels the gloves off.
‘Have you felt unwell, Ali? Since you left hospital? A temperature?’
I shake my head as I hear voices in the hall and sit up, reaching for my pants. I hadn’t heard the buzzer. Doesn’t Jack realise I don’t want visitors at the moment? ‘I’m not expecting anyone,’ I say, stretching my top down to cover my trousers as I pull them up. I’m panicking they’ll open the door before I’ve had a chance to get dressed properly.
‘Sorry?’ Lisa looks at me.
‘I … I didn’t k
now someone was coming.’
She looks confused. ‘Where?’
‘Here,’ I say, putting my finger to my lips. ‘Listen. Someone’s talking. In the hall.’
Lisa frowns. ‘I can’t hear anything.’ She turns her head to the side. ‘No … nothing.’
‘Jack?’ I shout.
‘What?’ He puts his head round the door.
‘Is anyone out there with you?’ I ask him.
He looks confused. ‘No. Why?’
‘I thought I heard something. Ignore me. Sorry.’
Lisa repeats her question as Jack goes back into the kitchen. ‘And you’re sure you don’t feel unwell at all?’
‘No,’ I say. ‘I’m fine.’
Lisa finishes scribbling in her notes and puts them in her bag. I wonder if she’ll give me a copy when she leaves. ‘I’d better make a move, Ali, unless there’s anything else you’d like to ask me?’
A dozen questions pop into my mouth, but I swallow them and shake my head.
‘I’m going to come back tomorrow, just to check on those stitches. I think they’re OK but everything still looks a bit raw, so I’d rather keep an eye on them. It’s nice to meet you. You’ve got a beautiful daughter.’
I stare at Tilly, her face scrunched up and blotchy. ‘I know,’ I reply. ‘I’m so lucky.’
‘You’re driving too fast,’ I say as Jack swings the car round a bend, and I reach for the handle above the passenger seat.
I had to get out of the flat. Tilly’s grizzling had become unbearable. Eating into my brain until there hadn’t been an inch left to escape into. At least she sleeps in the car. I twist round to look over my shoulder to check her seat is fastened firmly in the back. She seems fine, but it’s difficult to tell when she’s facing away from me. We need to get a mirror put up so I can see her properly.
