‘May,’ he said again, ‘May, help.’
He pointed towards the telephone. It seemed to be an enormous effort for him.
‘We don’t need anyone to help us, Al,’ May said. ‘Jenny’s happy in her playpen, let’s wait a minute, see how things go.’
Alain groaned and clutched his chest.
‘Help,’ he said again, his voice sounding much weaker this time. He scrabbled at the neck of his T-shirt, as if it was constricting him, and his face fell forward towards his knees.
‘Oh dear,’ said May, in the voice she would use in later life for speaking to exasperating pupils, ‘somebody isn’t sitting up nicely at all.’
It would only take a small push, she realised, just a little tiny shove and he would overbalance on to the floor. She stood still as he tumbled slowly from the chair until he lay curled, bottom in the air as if he was a toy that had been fixed at the knee and hip into a sitting position. He vomited a little and some trickled on to the carpet, just where May had scrubbed away the drink stain a few days earlier.
She touched him lightly with her foot, moved him on to his back so that the vomit would stay inside, keep the carpet clean.
‘May,’ said Alain again. It was more difficult to understand him now.
May hated him for asking her for help. What was she supposed to do? What was it he wanted? She tried to think back to earlier in the day, and the decisions she had made in the sunshine, with Jenny.
‘Oh yes,’ she said to Alain, who had started to shake in a very odd way, ‘I forgot, I was going to say, I’m leaving. I’ll find a better place to raise a child.’
‘May,’ Alain said again, for the last time.
He reached his hand towards her ankle and touched it, a flittery, light touch that she found unbearable.
‘Get off,’ she said, ‘get off.’
She kicked him.
Not a hard kick, just enough to keep him away from her, stop him from touching her again. Or getting up. In case he had been thinking of it.
He lay still. He had gone too far this time, May thought, this was a trick she hadn’t seen before. Alain’s mouth opened and shut several times as if he was going to say something and there was a gurgling noise deep in his throat.
‘I don’t like that,’ she said. ‘Stop it.’
Alain didn’t seem to hear her. His mouth was opening even more widely now but she couldn’t hear any breaths going in.
‘Stop it,’ May said.
I could put my foot, she thought, over his face. It would stop him from looking at me. Come on, she told herself as his eyes rolled back until all she could see was the white part.
‘I’ll go and get some milk,’ May said to Alain, ‘make you a cup of tea.’
The gurgling had almost stopped as May put Jenny in her pushchair and left the flat.
*
Much later, after Alain had been declared dead, the kindly ambulance man explained that there would have been nothing May could have done, even if she’d been there.
‘I took the baby for a walk,’ she said, ‘he was fine when I left.’
The ambulance man said that she shouldn’t blame herself and that there would be an autopsy because he was so young but that he could see from the needle marks on his arms that he was a drug user. He explained that heart attacks happen when people inject narcotics and offered to call someone to be with May.
‘No thank you,’ May had said, ‘we’ll be fine.’
She resolved never to think of it, of him, ever again. It would be as though he had never lived.
Or never died.
Acknowledgements
There are many people who deserve my gratitude. Jill, my literary mentor, I take my hat off to you for your unfailing and perceptive encouragement. My lovely writing group, Writers of Our Age, especially Joan, Bartle, Marcus, Hilary, Cherry and Clare, for sharing stories and laughter over so many years. Thanks to Claire W. for the smoke. Julia, the best agent ever, I’m grateful for your patience and support. Manpreet and your team, thanks for believing in me, and for your sensitive and clever editing.
I’m grateful to all of you who listened while I outlined plots and ideas over the years, especially Helen and my beloved family, Samuel and Hayley, Anna, Charlie, Molly, Joey, Bella, Matilda and Arthur Bear – and always remembering Tom and Georgia. Your support has meant everything. Thank you to my sisters, Carolyn, Amanda and Elizabeth, for listening to my stories for all these years. And thanks Dom, for being with me on the adventure.
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