Hello, My Name is May

by Rosalind Stopps

  I obviously don’t get my point across, because Jackie says, next time, I’ll bring a notebook and pencil, and you can write it down.

  It’s a stupid idea, because my arms aren’t completely reliable, well, the left one isn’t too bad but I never could write with my left hand. It’s a kind thought though, and I’m worried that it will reduce me to tears again so I think of something pleasant. That’s what I used to tell Jenny to do, think of something nice and you’ll go to sleep quickety split. I don’t know what was nice for Jenny to think of. I should have asked her then, and maybe I would have been able to borrow it now. Poor Jenny. Lumpy Jenny with her ink-stained fingers. Jenny at thirteen, asking what happened to her dad. Jenny at fifteen, staying home on Saturday nights with me. I told her to go out and have fun but she didn’t want to.

  I’m miles away with all this, thinking how great it would be to have a second chance. I look up, thinking I can meet Jackie’s eyes properly now that I know I’m not going to cry but he’s there again, like a bad penny. The man called Bill. The one in the wheelchair who everyone seems to love.

  Hello, he says, and he’s wheeling his own chair this time, wearing those pretentious fingerless gloves. Mind if I join you?

  Oh Bill, trills Mary, oh Bill it’s so so lovely to see you looking so well. Do you know, she says to the rest of us, do you know that Bill is the youngest of all of us, just a baby really. And he’s going to go home soon, when he’s well enough, isn’t that lovely?

  She claps her hands and Jackie joins in and even Trevor claps a little. I keep my hands where they are and so does my chubby table mate. Solidarity, I want to say to her but I think it’s more that she has no idea of what’s going on.

  Does anyone mind, says Bill, if I steal Jackie away for a moment? Just a moment? I want to show her something, we’ll be right back.

  It’s weird because he’s talking about Jackie but he’s looking at me, and I feel like we’re connected by something but I still don’t know what. He’s bald, completely bald so maybe I knew him with hair, without his tortoiseshell glasses, I don’t know. But I don’t want Jackie to go off with him.

  Stay here, I try to say but I can see that she hasn’t understood. Stay here, I try again, I’ll look after you. I put everything I’ve got into it but I can hear what comes out. It’s an urgent growl, that’s all it is. The kind of growl a polar bear might make if someone went for her cub.

  I’ll be back, she says, I won’t be long.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  December 1977

  Hull

  May’s world shifted focus as quickly as a conjuring trick.

  ‘It’s terrifying and wonderful at the same time,’ she said to Helen, ‘and, so you know, it’s all true what they say in the books, every word. I love having her, but I do miss her being inside, part of me, my bump.’

  It was their first meeting since Jenny’s birth, and May had been looking forward to it. The manager and all the staff had been over to congratulate May.

  Helen cradled Jenny over her own bump.

  ‘I can’t believe I’m going to have one of these,’ she said. ‘I’ve been so worried about you. How’s it going with his lordship? Is he feeling all that stuff they talk about in the magazines, you know, nose pushed out of joint and all that?’

  ‘No,’ said May, ‘and that’s the amazing thing. He absolutely dotes on Jenny, seems to love being a dad. He’s been really helpful, washing nappies, making me endless cups of tea when I’m breastfeeding, all that sort of stuff. He even gets up with me for the night feeds and tells me stories so I don’t drop off with Jenny attached. He’s amazing.’

  There’s another part of the story, May thought, don’t ask me anything else about him. I don’t want to jinx it, I can’t explain.

  ‘It sounds great,’ Helen said. ‘I’m jealous. I can’t wait to have mine, even though I haven’t got a wonderful Alain to help me. Tell me though, honey bunch, I can hear something in your tone that worries me – is it really so marvellous at home? If it is, you’ll be one of the first new mums I’ve ever met with no complaints.’

  Relief washed over May like a summer shower.

  ‘Is that right?’ she said. ‘Do other new mums feel a bit, you know, lost? Only I’ve never met any, not close up and personal. I thought everyone was screamingly happy. And Alain, well, he’s mostly very helpful, on the whole.’

  For goodness sake, May told herself, what’s wrong with you? Stop it, Helen doesn’t want to hear all this. It’s fine, just hormones, stop it.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘don’t take any notice of me, I’m fine, it’s all fine, I guess it’s just like starting a new job, it takes you a while to learn the ropes, doesn’t it?’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ Helen said. ‘I just want to help, that’s all. You don’t look happy, I can tell that something is a bit off-key. I’m sure it’s normal. I’ll probably be bawling my eyes out when it’s my turn and then you’ll have to look after me. I’m pleased that things are going well for you on the whole, honest I am. Maybe that’s the most a person can ask for with a brand new tiny person to care for. Can I just ask though, what happened to all that stuff about the job with the Welsh Film Board and the caution and the money? Did Alain explain? Did the letter ever turn up?’

  May could feel herself droop. She had known that Helen would bring the whole mess up again. In a way she welcomed it. After all, she would have to face it at some time. It felt better when she didn’t have to actually say anything out loud, that was all.

  ‘We haven’t really had time to talk about it. It’s too late now anyway, as far as the law is concerned I definitely did commit a crime and the caution stands. Who would have known that writing a cheque on an empty bank account could be so serious? It’s going to be on my record and everything, I keep thinking about it. I’m not sure how it will pan out when I want to get a job.’

  ‘Don’t you think you should talk about it with Alain?’ Helen said. ‘Sort it out together? It doesn’t seem fair that you’ve been dumped with it all.’

  ‘Ah,’ said May, ‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I haven’t said anything yet, not with Jenny and Christmas and everything. I’m going to talk to him about it afterwards. What’s the point of upsetting him? No point in both of us getting stressed out. It’s done now. The thing is, I know he’s really upset about the job. He hates that there’s no chance of moving to Wales now. I can understand that he doesn’t want to hear about it any more, doesn’t want me to mention it. It’s hard for him, we’re back to looking for somewhere to live, we can’t stay in a shared student house much longer.’

  ‘But why would you get a police caution when you had the letter saying you’d be refunded?’ Helen asked. ‘And where on earth has the letter gone? Can’t you ask the Welsh Film Board to send it again? Surely Alain will help you, give you the address? And if they don’t send it again, he can speak up for you, explain what happened, that you had a letter but lost it. It’s not fair otherwise.’

  You think I don’t know that? May thought. She had a sudden memory of telling her mother something wasn’t fair, maybe something about those damn multicoloured biros she had wanted so much. Life isn’t fair, her mother had said, you’d probably better get used to it.

  ‘Honestly, I’m fine, don’t worry, please leave it,’ May said. ‘Let’s talk about you. Have you had any practice contractions yet?’

  Their talk was stilted after that. May tried hard, for Helen’s sake, but they both knew that something wasn’t right. It was like hearing some music, May thought, where one instrument was slightly out of tune. She was upset on the way home from the meeting. She didn’t want to think about why she couldn’t bear to ask Alain for help. Why she wanted to keep the lid on the can of worms and seal it up tightly. She had been looking forward to talking to Helen, and she had wanted so much to paint a good picture, make herself look less like a stupid victim, concentrate on the marvel that was Jenny rather than the bloody job and the police thing. May wished that
Helen hadn’t brought it up, but she couldn’t blame her for it. She would have done the same in Helen’s position. It was just that she had been desperate to show the baby off, and to have a little celebration for Christmas and for Jenny, but Helen’s concern had made her realise that things at home were odd, off balance.

  May leaned into the pram to make sure that Jenny was tucked in against the wind coming from the North Sea. Time out, she thought. I’m going to give myself some time out, just over Christmas. Relax with Jenny, not think about the difficult stuff. The new year, that was the time to think about it all. She had enough to think about for now with breastfeeding and nappy changing and, worse, the daily bath. They had taught her how to do it in the hospital, but May was not confident yet and she doubted that she ever would be.

  Alain was out when she got back from the meeting with Helen, and the two students had gone home for the holidays. May prepared some food for later while Jenny slept, and then woke her with a kiss.

  ‘Time for me to behave like a real mum,’ May said to the baby. ‘I’m going to give you a bath all by myself. That way, it’ll be over and done with and both of us can relax for the rest of the day.’

  Jenny looked at her mother and moved her mouth as if she would like to say something. May held her out so that they were face to face and kissed her. She was actually loving this baby business more than she had imagined. If she could just sort the other stuff out, she thought, that’s all. She poured water into the baby bath and covered the baby in soap until she was too slippery to hold.

  ‘Right,’ she said, ‘one soapy baby in the bath.’

  May had read in one of her baby books that even if you don’t feel confident, you should try to sound confident so that the baby isn’t alarmed.

  ‘Are you alarmed, baby frog?’ she said. ‘Are you scared that I’m going to drop you?’

  ‘Yes, Mummy,’ came a falsetto voice from outside the door.

  May felt as if she had stepped off a pavement into space, or got into a car in a late-night car park only to find a man with a gun in the passenger seat. Don’t let this be happening, she thought, please, not in front of Jenny.

  ‘Alain?’ she said. ‘I didn’t know you were in.’

  ‘No,’ he said, still speaking in the same strange falsetto, ‘I don’t suppose you did.’

  ‘Come and give me a hand,’ May said, trying again to keep her voice confident and normal, but knowing that this time she was not succeeding. ‘I can’t quite reach the towel.’

  ‘Oh, the towel,’ said Alain, this time using a deep, gruff voice.

  May tried to breathe deeply, keep herself calm for Jenny, but she hated the scary voices, always had done and Alain knew it.

  ‘Anything for the little lady,’ Alain said with an American accent. ‘Or should I say, the fat lady, yee ha.’

  He whirled the towel round over his head and then hurled it like a lasso to the other side of the room.

  ‘Oh sorry,’ he said, normal voice this time. ‘Sorry, I don’t think you can reach it, can you? Oh God, how thoughtless I am. I expect you’ll want to go and meet up with someone now, tell them how stupid and unhelpful I am, won’t you?’

  Alain made no attempt to reach the towel. May could feel herself starting to shake. Not now, she thought, not now we have a baby. That was never in the plan. She forced herself to speak calmly, for Jenny.

  ‘Could you give us the towel?’ she said. ‘I can’t get the hang of this slippery baby stuff. D’you know, I think I’m going to try to bath her another way tomorrow, a bit less soap can’t hurt her, can it? It’s not as if she’s been down a mine or anything.’

  Alain didn’t get the towel, but at least the funny voices had stopped. He stood still, staring at her. May took a deep breath and then tucked the baby under her arm and moved slowly towards the towel. The wall of sound trick was going well, she thought, she’d better keep it up, as long as she could keep the shakes out of her voice.

  ‘Some people say that baby soap isn’t even good for babies at all,’ she said. ‘It washes all the natural oils off or something. I’m not sure, sounds a bit like hippy nonsense but on the other hand, I find this slippery stuff very difficult.’

  May was nearly at the towel and she reached down with her left hand, keeping the baby tucked in to her right side. Alain whirled round and grabbed her left hand by the wrist.

  ‘Are you saying,’ he said, ‘are you saying that I’m rubbish, that I can’t even give you the towel when you ask for it?’

  Jenny started to cry.

  ‘See,’ Alain said, ‘she hates me, she thinks I’m rubbish too, she’s cold and I didn’t even give her the towel, what kind of a father am I? Who the fuck would do that?’

  May was shaking all over by this time. It was part anger and part fear, but the anger was starting to win out. This is where I have to be careful, she thought, there’s Jenny to think of, I could really mess up here. She wanted to run so badly that her feet started involuntarily twitching.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, ‘Jenny’s fine, the electric fire is on both bars and she’s tucked in to me. Can I just get…’

  May reached down and scooped the baby into the towel in an awkward one-handed movement.

  ‘I didn’t even help,’ said Alain, hitting his forehead with his fists. ‘I didn’t even do anything and it’s nearly Christmas.’

  May held her breath. Yes, she thought, turn into Sorry Alain, Remorseful Alain. Get to the part where you cry and beat your breast, because hateful as that part is, it’s safer for me and Jenny. There was even a chance that she could help him.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, keeping her voice level, ‘I know you’ve been under a lot of strain. Why don’t you go and make a cup of tea, I’ll finish drying her and then I’ll come through to the living room to feed her. We could watch something together, or read. Bit of peace away from the Christmas rush.’

  May knew that she had said something wrong as soon as the words had left her mouth.

  ‘Ah,’ he said, standing a little too close to her, ‘bit of peace is it now? That certainly wasn’t what you wanted earlier today in Binns cafe, was it?’

  So that’s it, thought May, trying to push a vest on to Jenny with trembling hands, he knows I was out with Helen.

  ‘No,’ May said, ‘it was crazy. Christmas shopping, huh? Who’d want it?’

  Keep calm, don’t act scared, that was the only hope May had. Act as if it was completely normal to go to town and meet a friend. Because it is normal, she thought, don’t start thinking like a mad person just because Alain is behaving like one, it is normal and you’d better not forget it or you’ll be as bad as he is.

  Alain left the room.

  ‘Tea,’ he said, but there was no sound from the kitchen as May dressed Jenny in woolly tights and the little red velvet dress she had made her. No running water, no whistling kettle, no shouting.

  ‘There,’ May said to Jenny, breathing in her lovely soapy clean smell, ‘lovely Christmassy baby. I was going to save this dress for the actual day, but I think we all need a bit of Christmas cheer today.

  ‘Look,’ May called out as she went into the kitchen. ‘Look who’s got a new Christmas dress on, just to cheer up her daddy?’

  There was a strange smell in the kitchen, which wasn’t unusual. It was never terribly clean, and the student couple tended to cook odd things at odd times. They’re away though, May thought before she realised what was happening. She looked closer. It was Alain. He was holding his index finger over the electric ring, so close that May could hear an occasional sizzle as the flesh caught.

  May clung on to Jenny as if she might be able to help. She had to stop him. It was her fault he was so upset, it must be. She wasn’t sure what else he might do, there were no rules that she understood. He had never gone this far before.

  ‘Stop it,’ May shouted. ‘Alain, stop it now. It’s OK, come on, stop hurting yourself, everything’s OK.’

  Alain took his finger away f
rom the cooker and cradled it in to his chest. Look what I did, May thought, I am so, so sorry. She moved forward to comfort him and as she looked, May realised that perhaps he wasn’t as badly burnt as she had thought. He must have waited until she appeared, she thought.

  ‘It’s not OK,’ he sobbed, ‘it will never be OK, will it? I’m rubbish, just rubbish, I couldn’t even get you the goddamn towel and the baby was all slippery and cold and it’s all my fault.’

  May wrapped Jenny in her shawl and put her in the carrycot, which was standing in the doorway of the kitchen. She forced herself to talk in a steady voice. No sudden movements, she thought, keep it together, you’ll be OK, concentrate.

  ‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘Honestly, it will be alright, we’ll be fine, we’ll all be OK, look, Jenny’s fine.’ May pointed to Jenny, who had fallen asleep as soon as she was inside the carrycot. Sorry, Jenny, she thought, I’ll pick you up and feed you in a minute, honest. She had no idea whether she was doing the right thing. May felt alone and lonely. She wished she could tell someone, ask their advice. She resolved to tell Helen everything, next time she had a chance, get some perspective on it. Try to find a way to stop being scared.

  ‘Let me have a look at that finger,’ she said. ‘I think we have to run it under cold water. Otherwise you might have to go to casualty, get it dressed.’

  ‘No,’ Alain said, sounding heartbroken. ‘No, I can’t leave you and Jenny. What’s happening to me, May, what’s happening?’

  May was trapped. She wanted to grab Jenny, run away, comfort Alain, tell him she loved him, lock the door between Alain and her baby, call the police, tell Alain she would always be there for him and hit him with something heavy. All of those things. Every single one. Especially hitting him with a heavy object. She had to protect Jenny first, May thought. Yet she knew she had to try harder to help poor Alain, that was her job too. To keep them both safe, she thought, wasn’t that the bottom line?

  Alain was still sobbing. May did not feel safe. Not yet, she thought, be careful. Too much sympathy and Alain would get suspicious, think that she didn’t mean it. Too little and he might become either angry or suicidal, it was hard to know which. What May really wanted to do was pick Jenny up and feed her. Poor Jenny, poor little baby who had never asked to be part of this madness, who was surely too watchful already. It had been over four hours since she had been fed, the magic four-hour slot had been and gone, and even though she looked as if she was sleeping peacefully May wasn’t sure what damage was being done by not giving her any milk.