by Diane Saxon
‘You should never have gone to his house. What the hell were you thinking of?’ Fern’s mouth tightened with disapproval as she pressed the child’s face into her neck and crooned, rocking her as though she was the most precious thing on earth.
More precious even than her own sister, the voice prodded.
Appalled at the lack of support, the lack of understanding, Emily’s temper spiked again. ‘I don't fucking care, it was his fault.’
‘I don't think it was his fault.’
That voice of reason, the tone, the wheedling appeasement was starting to piss her off.
Emily’s breath stuttered in her throat. How did she not understand? She was her sister, for God’s sake.
Judgement hardening her expression, Fern reared her head back. ‘I don't think you’ve taken your medication for a lot longer than just before you went to see Zak, Emily.’
The little hiccupping sobs faded as the toddler settled against Fern’s flat chest.
Her sister’s feet were planted wide as she snuggled her face soothingly into the child's curly, black hair.
Emily’s fury petered out to leave a squirming mass of restless eels in her stomach ready to surge to the surface at any moment. Under control for now, but with the threat ever close, she watched as Angel snuffled into the soft skin of her sister’s neck.
Lifting her hand, Fern stroked away the tears that streaked the child’s face with sweet tenderness, but her narrowed-eye stare still pinned Emily. ‘You need to start taking your medication again, Emily. I'll go get it myself.’ Her pacifying tone spiked Emily’s temper.
‘I don’t want my fucking medication. It wasn’t doing any good.’
Her sister’s pathetic, appealing voice ramped up her own annoyance.
‘I think it does you good. I think you need to take it. How long has it been since you took your last dose?’
From under lowered brows, Emily glared at her sister. Fern couldn’t make her take her medication. It’s not as though she could force the tablets down her throat. ‘I don’t want them. You can’t make me take them.’ She tilted her head to one side in a challenge and grit her teeth until her jaw popped.
‘Calm down, Emily.’
That voice. That fucking voice with her fucking control.
You no longer need control. You’re good. Just great exactly how you are.
‘Emily, everything’s going to be fine.’ Fern’s weak smile made Emily want to punch her in the mouth, smoosh those thin, smiling lips until they lost all form.
The black eels squirmed in the pit of her belly, a dark threat desperate to emerge writhing and spewing while her sister looked on, ignorant of the danger.
‘I’m just going to change Angel. And then we will get your medication.’
How much would it take for the woman to understand? ‘I don’t want my medication.’ The voice emerged dark and feral, but, oblivious, Fern prattled on.
‘I’ll just do this. Angel has to come first.’
She lay the child down on the changing mat and reached for a new nappy, all the time keeping a gentle hand on the child as though she lacked the confidence to break contact with her.
Emily watched, temper still simmering. The brightness at the edge of her vision closed into a narrow tunnel while she kept a close eye on the proceedings.
If Fern let go and Angel turned, she’d roll onto the floor, her head would…
Emily’s dark smile spread.
Like her mother. Dead in a pool of blood.
Emily narrowed her eyes while she watched her sister. Curious, she focused in on her as Fern turned her head, refusing to look as she swiped a wet wipe over the child’s genital area, then grasped her feet and wiped her bottom. When she slid the fresh nappy underneath, it could have been with a sense of relief as her attention only returned as she pulled the nappy up between the child’s legs and smoothed the sticky tape down over her tummy as Angel started to snivel again.
Fern’s gaze met Emily’s over the top of the toddler’s head as she swung her back into her arms. Eyes calm once more, her sister smiled at her. This time genuine and warm as she came towards her. ‘Angel’s a good girl.’ She came alongside her and leaned her back against the wall and, with slow, measured movements, slid down until her narrow bottom touched the floor next to Emily. She raised her knees and adjusted Angel, so she lay across her chest sideways.
Within that short space of time, Emily’s heartbeat slowed, her pounding pulse stepped down and the fury filling her heart seeped away.
Emily stared at Angel. She wasn’t so bad after all now that she’d stopped her squalling. In fact, she was rather beautiful with those special eyes just like Zak’s.
Happy for her sister to take responsibility for her, Emily reached out a finger and stroked the soft skin of Angel’s cheek, fascinated at the silken feel of it.
She did look like Zak, with her black hair and violet eyes. Eyes that were closed now as her perfect lips moved in a suckling motion. Lips that looked remarkably like hers. Her child. She’d brought it for Fern, but the child was hers.
Zak’s child. Her child.
They needed to be together.
Fern’s voice, moments ago grating and condescending, changed. Soothed while she concentrated on the child in her arms. She massaged gentle, circular movements over the child’s tummy.
The soft lilt of her voice as she hummed along to Brahms’ lullaby loosened Emily’s muscles and her eyes drifted shut, her limbs melted while memories of the tune circled in her head.
‘Close your eyes, little girl. Close your eyes, go to sleep. Close them tight, little girl, for the rest of the night. Close your eyes. Close your eyes, little girl.’
Aware of Fern making up the words as she went along, Emily absorbed the familiarity. Perhaps they’d heard them when they were younger. Perhaps their mother had sung to them.
Their mother. Wild. A party girl with so little care for the children she carried, she gave birth to, she reared. With nothing more than the basics and desperately lacking in any love.
Emily squeezed her eyes closed. No. She wasn’t about to allow herself down that dark avenue of thought.
She blocked out her mother and let the melody wash over her, the gentle, soothing voice of her sister who’d provided her with that love, the love she so desperately needed. Sleep drifted closer, taking her under in a warm cocoon of comfort.
24
Monday 12 July, 04:35 hrs
Fern cast a sideways glance at Emily, relaxed and pacified next to her, and realised that whatever else happened, her sister was never to be left alone with the child again.
She blew out a breath in the overheated room and adjusted Angel’s position, so her heel no longer dug into the soft flesh covering her hipbone.
Content that she had the situation under control, Fern tipped her head back to rest it against the wall and allowed the soft drift of sleep to take her down.
When she stirred, Fern cracked open eyes thick and swollen with grit as a trickle of sweat traced down the length of her spine. She glanced up at the little nursery clock on the wall and with a jolt of surprise blinked at the time. Five past eight. How could she have slept so long?
Stiff with sitting on the hard floor, she groaned as she blinked the child on her lap into focus, a vague smile skimming over her lips at the sight of a contented little angel. Her angel.
She raised her hand and scrubbed the sleep from her eyes. The weight of the child pressed down on her and relentless heat pulsed through the pair of them.
Aware they were alone, relief washed over her. Her sister had gone, sneaked off while Fern and Angel slept, oblivious of her exit.
She slipped her hand under the child to adjust the pressing weight of her on her sweltering body and froze as Angel’s eyes fluttered open, and she let out a disturbed whimper.
Fern held her breath and smiled into the toddler’s face, watching until Angel’s eyelids fluttered shut.
Terrified to move, she waite
d until she could wait no longer, her skin slick with sweat. Angel’s cheeks turned ruddy in the golden sunlight of the new day.
Fern watched the hand of the clock tick round, aware she needed to move limbs that had turned stiff with lack of movement.
Heart filled with tenderness, Fern inched the Angel’s weight up until she lay across her chest. Evidently content, Angel’s sweet bud of a mouth popped open, her wet lips shiny, she made soft sucking noises against Fern’s chest, sending crest after crest of longing through her veins until her breasts ached to let the little one’s mouth latch on to her.
Fern knew she had no choice but to move if she didn’t want to set for all eternity. Decision made, she scooped her arm around the child’s back and rolled to one side, keeping a firm hold of Angel while she let out small grunts as she came to her knees, hauling in deep breaths.
Angel’s warm, sodden nappy gave a hint as to how long they’d both been asleep.
She came to her feet and staggered under the weight of Angel. She made a quick recovery and leaned over to place the whimpering child back into her cot as she prayed for a few precious moments so she could visit the toilet and brush her teeth and telephone work to let them know she was sick. She never called in sick. She was stable, reliable. She’d not had a sick day in a couple of years.
With a quick glance out of the window, Fern puffed out a sigh of relief at the absence of Emily’s little white Honda Jazz in the driveway.
She placed her hand on Angel’s tummy and rubbed in gentle circular motions in time with the slow, sluggishness of her own heartbeat, content and relaxed, until Angel closed her eyes again and drifted off. It really didn’t matter that her nappy was soaked. Angel didn’t seem to mind. She’d survive a little longer without it being changed. Just long enough for Fern to see to her own ablutions.
Fern whispered the door closed behind her and stepped the short distance into the bathroom, across the hall.
With eyes red and puffy, she stared back at herself through the mirror and considered her options. Her stomach let out a rude grumble, but food would have to wait, she’d feed them both together just as soon as she’d cleaned up. Personal hygiene came high on her agenda and right now she stank. The smell of her own dried-on sweat swirled, drifting under her nostrils until the scent of her body odour tightened her throat. Unlike the fresh smell of the child, she’d turned rancid.
Fern stripped off the nightdress she’d worn for far too long and let it drop to the floor. She slid the shower cubicle door wide and stepped under the torrent of water, breathing in through her nose. She tipped her head back and blew out as she wallowed in the cool gush of water sluicing over her body, rinsing away the staleness from too much sweating. She lathered up the fresh, lemon scented shampoo and dug her fingers deep into her scalp to clean nails she’d noticed were grubby and hair she’d somehow allowed to become greasy. She peered through eyes squeezed almost closed against the onslaught of water, grasped the old-fashioned bar of soap and scrubbed Imperial Leather all over her body until her skin glowed.
She swilled away the suds and sighed out her pleasure as the heat of her body flushed away down the drain with the dirty water.
Refreshed, she stepped from the shower and, instead of wrapping the thick yellow towel around herself, she gave her whole body a brisk scrub while she stood in front of the narrow open frosted window to catch a meagre waft of warm air as it sneaked in.
As she turned, Fern raised her hand and hesitated before she pulled the mirrored door open on the bathroom cabinet. She studied the box of drugs inside, a quiver of anxiety running through her. Reaching in, she tilted the box towards her to peer inside. She chewed her lip as she studied the contents. Almost full. She glanced at the issue date on the side of the box that had been there since her sister had disappeared from her life last time.
‘Oh, Emily. What are we going to do with you?’
Fern wasn’t her keeper, she couldn’t force her to take her meds. It wasn’t up to her, it was up to Emily to medicate.
‘Emily, what have you done?’
With a sigh, Fern pushed the box back into the medicine cabinet. She clipped the door closed and stared at herself again in the mirror. Irritated, she grabbed her toothbrush and squirted toothpaste on it, noting Emily hadn’t brought one with her so she possibly had no intention of staying.
Fear and relief warred with each other. She knew she shouldn’t be relieved. She loved her sister. She would do anything for her. But life ran so much smoother when Emily wasn’t there to stir the bubbling pot of jealousy and resentment.
Fern spat and rinsed, drying her toothbrush before she slotted it back into the holder. She reached for her hairbrush and ran it through the thick lushness of her sun-streaked golden hair just as Angel’s voice piped from the bedroom across the hallway. Not a pained cry, but a chirrup, a happy call for attention rather than a cry for help.
Heart tripping with delight, Fern dashed naked across the hallway to Angel’s room before the child’s happy gurgles could turn to cries of distress.
She swooped Angel from the cot into her arms, heart bursting with joy as she snuggled her to her chest. Naked skin pressed against her little sweetheart.
Angel’s mouth moved in a suckling motion and the hormones Fern had dismissed raged through her veins to heat her skin to boiling point again until sweat slicked over to make her skin slippery.
With the child’s face close to her bare bosom, Fern mourned, her chest constricting with tears. She needed to feed Angel, but she had no milk inside her, nothing to offer her.
Overheated, Fern’s breath came in short pants as she adjusted Angel against her, hitching her higher onto her shoulder and away from her aching, heavy breasts. She slipped her hand under Angel’s bottom and the nappy that was heavy before, was drenched.
Humming in the base of her throat to soothe them both, Fern lay Angel across the changing mat and kept her hand on the child’s stomach to stop her rolling onto the floor.
She reached for the neatly piled nappies next to the changing table and placed one next to Angel’s bottom and then plucked two baby wipes from the wet wipe packet beside the nappies before she peeled off the saturated nappy and dropped the deadweight of it into the bin at her feet. The strong stench of urine wafted up to assail her senses.
Averting her eyes, she swiped wet wipes over Angel’s delicate area without taking a closer look, and then dotted on a little Sudacrem to keep her bottom from getting chafed.
She grasped Angel’s ankles between the fingers of one hand and lifted her so her bottom came up from the changing mat while she slipped the fresh nappy under her. She smoothed the sticky tabs over the front of the nappy and tugged the little cotton dress down to cover it.
She cooed down at Angel, heart stuttering with joy as the child babbled back up at her.
The loud grumble of her stomach served to remind her that she hadn’t yet eaten. Unlike her sister, who, it appeared, needed little or no sustenance. Especially when she was on withdrawal from drugs.
Fern desperately needed food, food to sustain her. She needed her energy now she had a dependent. She needed to keep fit and healthy. Healthy for the sake of her child.
She suspected Angel was ready for her feed too. Ravenous, in fact.
She swept her up into her arms, knees almost buckling beneath her at the unexpected weight. So much heavier than she should be at her age.
Fern stroked the back of her knuckles against Angel’s cheeks and smiled down at her. ‘We need to get some breakfast, my darling. I wonder what Mama has in the house for you.’
‘Mama.’ As the child cooed back at her, Fern smiled, delight rippling through her. ‘I’m sure Mama has something, but first of all, I need to make myself decent.’
She tucked a small teddy bear against Angel’s chest and made her way into her own bedroom. She placed her on the floor and yanked on her underwear followed by a pair of shorts and T-shirt.
She hefted Angel up, so she reste
d on her hip as she made her careful way down the stairs, no longer tempted to trot down, but to take her time, one hand firmly on the banister.
Downstairs, she slipped Angel into the high chair and moved across the kitchen to grab a slice of white bread out of its packaging, and with a sharp knife, she efficiently cut it into small fingers and placed them on the high-chair table, smiling as Angel grabbed a piece and crammed it into her mouth.
Her heart melted at Angel’s delighted chuckles of pleasure as she kicked her chubby little legs.
Fern turned to open the cupboard. Baked beans on toast would do for her, but she reached inside to take out three jars of baby food.
‘Everything’s going to be okay, Angel.’
It was going to be just fine.
She had Angel and Emily was gone.
For now. And even if she returned, Fern didn’t have the time to think about Emily, she had Angel now, and Angel needed all of her attention.
If only Emily hadn’t left her in a right pickle. What the hell was she supposed to do? She could hardly go to work. She squeezed her fingers against her forehead.
Trust Emily.
She plopped one of the jars of baby food into a bowl of hot water and swiped up the phone as her gaze caught Angel’s and she handed her another piece of bread to keep her quiet. ‘Ssshh, Angel. Ssshh.’
On the third ring, when it was answered, she dulled her voice and made it nasal as she recognised the receptionist’s voice at work. ‘Hi, Maddie.’ At the woman’s quick response, Fern sniffed. ‘Could you let them know I won’t be in today. I’m sorry.’ She sniffed again and let out a soft moan. ‘I’ve picked up something. Probably from the other night. I may be off for a couple of days.’
25
Monday 12 July, 19:30 hrs
Certain people came into your life at a time when you needed them, Jenna firmly believed.