Fearful Symmetry

by C F Dunn

  CHAPTER

  10

  Secrets and Ties

  Pat frowned at the cradle on the simple shaped stand that let it swing gently with the lightest push. “Why couldn’t you just get something new? It’d be more hygienic. And why does Matthew like this old English oak, for pity’s sake! A coat of paint would at least brighten it up.” The glossy surface of the wood, polished smooth through generations of use, gleamed reassuringly in its antiquity.

  “Oh, you know us, Pat; why have something new when we can have something old instead? It’s the ultimate in recycling.” I stroked the pretty carved scrolls of the canopy. “And Matthew’s made certain it’s clean, don’t worry.” Holding Rosie carefully, I eased forward on my pile of cushions to put her in the crib, trying not to wince. Henry stepped forward.

  “Here, let me take her for you. I suspect,” he said, smiling at her sleeping face, “that Dad likes the thought of continuity. He’s collected antiques for as long as I can remember.” He placed her gently in the cradle, and straightened. “Someone once said that people surround themselves with the things that make them feel safe and reflect their idea of family. His parents died when he was young, after all; perhaps all these antiques are his way of creating a home he never knew. I know I liked them when I was growing up, although my mother wasn’t as keen. He kept most of them in his study – his little bit of home, he once said to me. I never did get that, seeing we were home. Still,” he rocked Rosie in her crib as she began to stir, “home and family are everything to my father. He’s over the moon with this new addition, and I can see why.”

  “Thanks, Henry,” I smiled. “And thank you for her toy otter; she’ll love it – it’s so silky and squishy.” Rosie wriggled a little against the otter, signalling contentment.

  “That’s our pleasure. Dad thinks he’s the most fortunate man alive, but I have much to be grateful for: within a few short weeks I’ve become both a great-grandfather and a brother for the first time. How many men can claim that? There now, this clumsy old man has woken her up.” He shook his head, tucking the quilted blanket Pat had made around Rosie’s wriggling legs.

  “Go on with you!” Pat exclaimed. “You’re as soft as Matthew when it comes to your family.”

  “And you’re not, Pat?” I laughed, regretting it as my healing torn skin tweaked.

  “I may well be. Now, I’ll look after Rosie at any time when you want to go out. I dare say there’ll be shopping for baby clothes you’ll want to do before long; she’s such a big girl, and growing.”

  “I’ll probably buy online and Mum’s sending a parcel. It should be here soon.”

  “Oh, so you don’t want to go to the stores?” She wore a hopeful look, and I remembered not to be so selfish.

  “I might have to go to college, though. Would you mind if I left her with you then?”

  Pat’s disappointment melted into a smile. “Sure and I’ll be glad to, sweetie; just let me know when.”

  “As soon as I can walk without looking like a penguin,” I said a trifle caustically, as I inched off the cushions into a standing position resembling a rheumatic tree. Everything sagged, or it felt like it, and each movement was soreness magnified. “Yes, next week. She’ll be three weeks old then and I should be more mobile and have mastered this feeding business.”

  “Is she still not feeding?” Henry asked, switching to doctor mode.

  “We’re getting there,” I replied, more cheerfully than I felt.

  “Next week? If you’re still experiencing discomfort, are you sure you’re up to driving? I can take you if you wish.” Matthew watched Rosie snuffling at my breast.

  “I want to get out and I’ve work to do. I said I’d meet up with Aydin and Josh for a supervision to check progress on their doctoral theses, and it won’t take long. Come on, Rosie,” I urged, feeling increasingly hopeless. She had seemed so hungry a few moments ago, but now she turned her head away and cried. “Why won’t you feed?”

  “Have you tried putting a pillow under your arm?”

  “I’ve tried that.”

  “Perhaps she’s sensing your tension,” he suggested.

  “Perhaps you should try feeding her yourself,” I bit back. I sucked my cheeks. He stood up without commenting and picked up the shawl from where it had fallen to the floor. “Sorry. It’s just that I’m worried she’s not getting enough to eat.”

  He draped the shawl around my shoulders. “She must be; she’s content and she’s thriving.”

  “But she barely feeds for more than a few minutes, Matthew; how can she survive off that?” Illustrating my point, Rosie twisted away, her face screwed up in disgust. I felt horribly inadequate. “See? Perhaps there’s something wrong with my milk? Or… or she knows I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with either your milk or you. I don’t know why she isn’t feeding, unless…”

  “What?” I pushed when he didn’t complete his thought.

  “… unless it might be that she doesn’t need as much.” He avoided my inquisitional stare, but couldn’t disguise the transient fluctuation in the colours that surrounded him indicating he was hiding something from me.

  “You said she is perfectly normal, Matthew. You said the tests showed nothing out of the ordinary for a Lynes.”

  “For a Lynes in the first generation, no. The differences were less marked with succeeding generations. I must have forgotten how Henry was at two weeks, although Ellen was less inclined to discuss those matters with me, such were the times.”

  “Didn’t you have to train Dan and his children to eat more so that they appeared normal?”

  “We did. That must be it,” he said. “Anyway, there’s nothing wrong with Rosie, nor how you are with her, so stop worrying.”

  “It’s a bit difficult when Ellie’s so at ease with Charlie. She seems to instinctively know what to do. That gene’s missing from me.”

  “That’s because you’re overthinking everything. Disengage this for a bit,” and he tapped me lightly on the forehead, “and start thinking with this,” and he touched his fingers lightly to my heart, “and between the three of us we’ll figure it out.”

  By the following week, it became clear that Rosie wasn’t suffering as a result of my feeble attempts at nurturing, and the unfamiliar routines of waking at all hours to feed her a few mouthfuls of milk became the norm. Nor did she object when I bathed her. On seeing her bare tummy as I dried her, I couldn’t resist kissing her petal-soft skin. She wriggled. “Did that tickle?” I asked. Her arms and legs jerked in response, and I kissed her exposed tummy again. She made an odd little noise and I looked up to find her mouth twitching, her eyes wide and bright. “Matthew!” I called. He came into the bathroom with his sleeves rolled up and her clean baby suit in one hand. “Look at Rosie.” I nuzzled her with my nose. “She’s smiling.”

  “Hey, baby girl, are you smiling at your mummy?” he said softly, and she responded by moving her head in his direction and waving her arms, making excited little noises in her throat. “I do believe she is. Now we know how to keep her entertained through her christening.”

  “I don’t think we can ask the vicar to blow raspberries to make her laugh,” I said, doing just that and being rewarded with her wonky smile. “It might set a precedent. At least Mum and Dad will get to see her like this when she’s tiny. They’re so used to seeing Beth’s three almost every day, and they’ll miss Rosie growing up.” My voice wobbled without warning and I sniffed back a watery laugh. “Ugh, these hormones. I can’t listen to music without it setting me off.”

  Matthew put his arms around me and I welcomed his steady strength. “They’ll settle down soon, and we’ll make sure your parents see Rosie as often as we can and for however long we are able.” Until such time as my agelessness becomes evident, he might have added. He didn’t need to; we were both acutely aware of time running out. “I’d better get back to your father and finalize the christening arrangements. You go and have a sle
ep; I’ll look after Rosie.”

  I pushed myself away from him before his tenderness set off an unwelcome round of tears. “I think I’ll drop in on college and see how things are going; I promised I would.” I reached for a clean nappy, ignoring the sudden twinge in my womb.

  “What was that?” Matthew said, sharply. “Are you in pain?”

  “Nothing some fresh air and exercise won’t sort out.” I whipped Rosie’s nappy on like a pro. “She’s clean, fed – sort of – and all yours for an hour or so. I’ll be back soon.”

  * * *

  If I expected the campus to have changed in the last three weeks since I last saw it, I was mistaken. It swam in a milky mist the sun failed to break, students milling in the way they do the planet over. One or two raised their hands in greeting when they saw me, otherwise nobody seemed to notice that my world had been turned upside down.

  I made my way across the quad to my rather bare tutor room with a degree of caution to avoid the sloshing sensation inside, and the occasional stab in my nether regions that accompanied my progress. Months of pregnancy had left me breathless and I flopped into my desk chair, sweating, to await Josh.

  “Holly’s got a job at the museum as a curator,” he told me in an exchange of news, long legs, as ever, stretched out in front of him as he lounged inelegantly. “She’s keeping me in the manner to which I am accustomed while I get my PhD,” he added, in a most appalling attempt at a British accent.

  “Beans on toast for every meal, then?”

  He grinned. “Yeah, something like that. Anyway, she was offered this job and it was too good to pass, so…” he shrugged. “Can’t afford hair dye, but we’re kinda happy with that.” He looked it and his naturally dark hair suited him. He had grown up in the last year and, I suppose, in a way, so had I. People change, don’t they? Things move on.

  A little ache tugged away, reminding me that Rosie was growing older by the second and I wasn’t with her to witness it, an odd feeling and one to which I wasn’t accustomed. I steeled myself and thought about work, but in around the edges Rosie crept, finding my weakness, undermining my defences. I missed her, but first, I had promised to see Aydin. I looked at my watch, calculating how long it would be before I could see her again.

  Aydin looked much the same as he ever did when he arrived carrying an oversized carrier bag. I had been resting my eyes for a moment or two when he knocked quietly, and I probably looked as awake as I felt.

  “I am sorry to disturb you, Professor.”

  “No, not at all, Aydin; come in and sit down. How’s the research going?”

  “It is well, thank you. I will email you. I will not be keeping you long, but I wanted to give you this.” He held out the big plastic bag, from which a few large leaves poked. I peered inside.

  “Thank you. What is it?”

  “It is mulberry tree – for your little girl. It is traditional gift for a girl in Turkey. It is for your… your… o-chard.”

  “How on earth do you know about my orchard?”

  “Professor Smalova told me. She tells everyone about your daughter and your house and your o-chard. She says your daughter looks like her anne.”

  “A-neh?” I queried, thinking that I must have a quiet word with my garrulous friend before she let something slip I might regret.

  “Mother,” he said. “Yes, she is like you.” Beaming now and jerking his thumb in the direction of my remaining posters with the demons leering out at us, he said, “In Turkey, pregnant women must avoid looking at such things, but I do not think this superstition can be true. Professor Smalova says that your baby is çok güzel – very pretty. It is not possible for her to be a monster when her parents are good.”

  “Oh, Aydin!” I laughed.

  “I do not joke. There are monsters in this world. They are out there,” he pointed through the window at the mist-swathed trees, “and they are in here,” he rapped his knuckles against his head. “We make monsters – they are not born. You and your husband do not make monster.” He rattled the stake supporting the sapling, making the leaves shake. “You plant good seed and it makes good tree. Its fruit will be good because you are good – inside you are like the sun – you… you shine.”

  Taken aback, I could only blush.

  “Now, I leave you because you will want to get back to your küçük Gül – little Rose – and you look tired. I think you will need rest, no? But I give you this first,” and he pressed a small, rough object into my hand. I squinted at the fragment of pottery – about three inches long – with an incised shape along its length. A hole had been drilled through one end. “I cannot give you gold as my custom say I should, but I can give you this. I found it at Miletus when I was a boy. I did not know its… sig-ni-ficance then. It is better than gold, is it not?”

  I nodded, speechless, as I traced the flowing outline of a fish with my finger. I felt a sudden need to be with Rosie and Matthew with a yearning that squeezed my heart.

  “I did not mean to cause offence…”

  I found a hanky in my sleeve. “You haven’t, Aydin. It’s one of the most special things I have ever been given. Thank you. And thank you for the tree. Rosie will love it, and I’ll make sure she knows it’s from you when she’s old enough to understand.”

  “You are most welcome.” His eyes warmed, losing their customary guardedness. “I hope that I might be honoured to tell her myself one day.”

  The staff car park seemed miles away as I trudged slowly past the med centre and accommodation blocks, carrying the tree. It felt insanely heavy for its size, and I shifted it to the other hand, feeling my insides object to the sudden movement. Despite the early promise of sun, mist had thickened into fog, and droplets clung to my hair, making it curl damply against my neck. Safely tucked in my trouser pocket, the little fish pressed comfortingly against my thigh, yet the waistband pinched and I wished I’d worn my maternity skirt instead. My legs were filled with porridge, but my head felt as if it would take off if it hadn’t been attached at the neck. Forcing my legs to move, I reached the car feeling bloated and increasingly uncomfortable. I fumbled my keys from my bag and dropped them.

  “Hey, Emma!”

  Leaning against the car, I suppressed a groan. “Sam. Hi.”

  He bent and picked up the keys. “You dropped these.” My hand shook slightly as I took them from him. He ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. “That glad to see me, are you?”

  “Sorry; must have overdone it a bit. How are you?”

  “I was going to ask the same. You’re a mom now, huh? A little girl.”

  “Elena told you?”

  He grinned. “Who else! You gave birth in a field, she said, and Lynes wasn’t there…”

  “In an orchard,” I corrected, crisply, “and, no, Matthew wasn’t there, but he would have liked to have been had she not been two weeks early.” Needing to sit down and wondering where this was leading, I unlocked the car, but Sam didn’t appear to be in a hurry to leave. He held the door wide, looking relaxed and amiable. “Sure, it’s tough him missing out. I was there for all three of mine; wouldn’t have missed it for anything. Been a hell’ve a year for you both and that would’ve made up for it a bit. Still, she’s safe and that’s all that matters, isn’t it, Freckles? You and she are safe. Tell him we’ll catch a beer sometime, you know, hang out.”

  Sam. Being nice? About Matthew? “Uh, yes, I’ll do that, Sam. I’d better go.”

  “Yeah, you sure look pale. She keeping you up at night? You’ll need more rest than you think in these early weeks. Is she colicky?” I began to shake my head, then decided I’d better not in case it came off or I threw up. “That’s lucky. I’ll let you go. Take care.” He planted a kiss on my cheek, and waited for me to climb into the car before shutting the door and tapping the roof in farewell.

  Resting my tacky forehead against the steering wheel, I gathered myself for the journey home.

  Tap, tap.

  I opened the window and Sam peered in, brown e
yes molten with concern. “You sure you’re OK? I’ll drive you home if you like, no sweat.”

  Gripping the wheel, I formed words through numb lips. “No, thanks; I’ll be OK.”

  “I haven’t been drinking or anything. I’m off the hard stuff now. On OJ big-time.” His attempt at a joke was lost on me.

  “No. Thanks.” I started the engine.

  “Well, if you’re sure…”

  I pulled away and, in the rear-view mirror, saw him watching me disappear down the drive until I lost him in the fog. From somewhere a horn sounded and I slammed on the brake, the seat belt constraining my violent forward propulsion. Jerked back in my seat, I sensed something inside me snap – like the feeling you get when an old rubber band gives way under pressure. Stupid idiot, I castigated myself, feeling more nauseous now.

  With greater urgency than before, I stepped on the accelerator and headed on the back roads home, avoiding the traffic. I made it over the narrow bridge in one piece, not caring now that it and I were bound by Guy’s death, because that seemed a lifetime away and irrelevant. My pulse galloped, perspiraton running freely down my neck and gathering beneath my arms and stickily between my legs. Head pounding, I turned onto the road heading towards the mountains and Rosie and home.

  Around a wide bend not a mile from home, a car headed towards me through the fog, flashing its lights in warning. I swerved back onto my side of the road and came to an abrupt halt. Like a nightmare, Guy’s face appeared in my windscreen, mouth gaping, blood oozing from his ears and nose. I could smell it – fresh blood, fresh… blood. I felt sick again.

  Staggering from the car, I threw up into the long grass by the roadside as the other car slewed to a halt yards from me, the engine left running. A hazy figure emerged.

  “Emma!”

  I looked up as Matthew reached me. His gaze dropped to my legs, face paling in the mist, and I glanced down to see what he saw: a dark stain had appeared down the front of my trousers. Confused, I reached and touched it lightly and my fingers came away wet and red. My mouth opened, words slurring. “I… I… don’t think I’m very well…”