by Julia Green
But that wasn’t true, was it? She was not by herself at all. Not yet. Not for a few hours longer. Little bean.
‘All right, dear?’ The nurse perched on the side of the bed, next to where Mia sat in the upright green chair.
‘Is there anything you want to ask?’
Mia shook her head. Now she’d thought of little bean she couldn’t speak. She bit back the tears. On her lap she held the sheaf of pages explaining how to relax and calm yourself down which Noreen had brought her earlier. Her hands were trembling.
The nurse put her hand over Mia’s. ‘I’m sorry, love. It’s hard, isn’t it? A bit scary?’
Tears welled up. Mia couldn’t help it.
‘I’ll get you some tissues.’
Mia watched her walk between the rows of beds. In this half of the ward most of them were empty. There were a couple of older women in the beds near hers. They’d drawn the curtains round. One had a man with her, and the other, another woman. Her sister, maybe. That woman had asked the nurse where she could have a cigarette and the nurse had said she couldn’t: ‘Not till afterwards. If you must!’
The nurse came back with a box of tissues and left them on the bedside cabinet.
‘The anaesthetist’s arrived to do the ward round, love, so I have to go. Sorry I can’t stay with you. I’ll see you later. OK? What are you reading?’
Mia showed her the cover. Tess of the D’Urbervilles.
The nurse laughed. ‘Bit heavy for me! I’m not brainy like you.’
‘I’m not either. My dad gave it to me. Don’t suppose I’ll read it anyway.’
She put it back on the locker.
‘Don’t forget about getting your nightie on, love. And pop yourself on the bed. Doctor’s round next.’
Mia didn’t see what difference it made. All this scurrying around for the doctors. She wasn’t getting undressed until the last minute. The minute you put on your night things you felt different. Sort of defenceless. She didn’t own a nightie, anyway; she’d just brought a big T-shirt.
Mia’s hands cupped protectively over her stomach. It was still flat. You’d never guess. Fleetingly she let herself wonder how long it would have been before it began to show. But some girls went for months, not knowing. Right up till the last minute. There were stories about it in the newspapers. Teenage girls thinking they had stomach cramp and the next minute they were giving birth.
Birth.
She wouldn’t think about it.
Just a few cells. A blob, like Becky said.
Little bean.
No. No. Don’t think. Watch the ward. Pick up the book. Footsteps. Look up…
The anaesthetist was a young man with an Australian accent. He smiled at Mia. He looked like he’d just stepped off a surfing beach, except for the white coat. He had undone it so it flapped open. He had blue shorts on underneath and tanned legs. He started to explain to her what would happen, and then he asked her a whole load of questions. ‘Had she had an anaesthetic before?… Any allergic reactions?’
His voice was kind, like the nurse. Mia could feel the tears welling up again inside her.
‘So I’ll be looking after you all the time. But it’s very quick. Only about five minutes and then it’s all over.’
She stared at him. She’d been feeling so helpless and blank before, but now she felt something suddenly shift inside her. His words ran up and down her body and made her flesh prickle. Then it’s all over. All over.
At the window a pigeon stared at her with its beady eye. It fluffed up its feathers and Mia saw how the grey was shot through with bright green, purple, silver. It spread out its wings, preened, shook and then took off. She could hear the wing beats, the whirr of feathers in flight.
‘Are you all right? You are sure about this?’ The anaesthetist sat down on the edge of the bed. He looked right at her. His eyes were very blue.
He spoke very quietly. So quietly, she wasn’t sure afterwards whether he’d actually said the words aloud at all. Perhaps they had been her words, inside her.
‘You know you can change your mind at any moment? Even right up to the point where we wheel you in for the anaesthetic? It happens, you know. People do change their minds.’
Mia stared at him. The tears began to drip down her face again.
He patted her hand, and then he stood up and moved away, on to the next patient. She heard him talking to the woman behind the curtain. They laughed at some shared joke.
Mia watched him go back down the ward, his shoes squeaking softly on the lino. The pigeon was back on the window ledge. She heard it cooing gently. It preened its feathers for a while and then stared right in at her through the smeared window pane, cocked its head slightly as if to get a better look.
It’s a sign. If it flies off it’s a sign. The bird spread each wing, closed them again. Then it spread them again, launched off the ledge and flew up into the pale blue sky. There! She knew with sudden clarity what she must do.
The other beds still had the curtains drawn round. She stood up and tugged the horrible flowery curtains along the rail around her own bed. She found her washbag and T-shirt and purse in the locker, and stuffed them with her fleece jacket into the canvas bag she’d brought with her. She slipped her trainers back on. Then she looked at the time. Nine thirty-five.
The nurse, Noreen, was in the other half of the ward, getting the first people ready for theatre. ‘It’s a mixed ward for day surgery,’ she’d told Mia. ‘Everyone’s here for different operations. No one will know what you’re here for.’ Between the two halves of the big airy ward were the loos, and the double doors into the hospital corridor. Easy. If Noreen saw her she’d assume she was going to the loo.
But Noreen didn’t even notice her. Mia walked quietly past the curtained beds, out into the lobby and then through the double doors into the corridor. She kept walking down the long corridor, past the sets of doors opening off on either side, making straight for the exit. It only took a few minutes. Then she pushed the door open and she was outside in the pale sunshine of the hospital car park. She kept going. Across the car park, down the road, through the big gates on to the main road. Free.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The hospital was a mile or two from the town centre. Better catch a bus. Then she’d be back in Ashton well before Dad left work.
She felt light-headed with relief, walking along the busy street away from the hospital, her bag over her shoulder. They’d forced her into it really, hadn’t they? But she could choose. Why should she do what they wanted? Didn’t she always do that? Well, not now, not any more. She’d show them. Why shouldn’t she be a mother? What did age have to do with it? She’d find a way.
Mia sat on the top floor of the bus at the front. She’d not been along this route before. The bus didn’t go straight into town like she’d expected, but turned off and meandered through huge estates of houses she didn’t know existed. At each stop there were groups of mothers with small kids and pushchairs. Mia stared out of the window at the rows of terraced houses, the semis with paired front gardens, neat squares with clipped rose trees next to wild wastelands of bindweed and dandelion, rusting swings and half-dismantled motorbikes. On the outskirts of Ashton the bus lurched along a pot-holed road to a row of houses near the old gas works.
Mia’s heart skipped a beat – a small girl was sitting on the low wall in front of one of the houses. Lainey? The bus had gone past the stop, but Mia was sure it had been her. She craned back to get another glimpse. The child had turned too, gazing back at Mia. She saw Lainey’s dark eyes, her halo of fair hair, the thin cotton dress she’d worn that first time Mia’d seen her on the bridge. Impulsively, Mia pressed the bell. The bus driver swore, braked, barked something at Mia as she clattered down the stairs and out of the door. She didn’t care.
The figure had disappeared from the wall. Now Mia couldn’t be sure on which wall exactly she had seen Lainey; the walls and houses all looked exactly the same. She hovered on the pavement, suddenly u
ncomfortable. A woman stared at her through one of the windows opposite. Now she could hear a baby crying. Perhaps it was Lainey’s baby, the baby who was sick. But there was no sign of Lainey. What was she playing at? She’d definitely seen Mia, the way she’d turned and watched the bus. But maybe she hadn’t realized Mia would get off the bus to find her. Should she knock on one of the doors now she was here? If only the woman didn’t look so hostile, standing there watching her.
A car careered past, splashing right through a puddle and drenching Mia’s legs. Two youths hung out of the windows and laughed. The woman at the window turned her back on Mia. In the house next door someone was playing music. A light was on upstairs. She’d nothing to lose, had she? She’d knock on the door and ask which house was Lainey’s. She had to find her, tell her what had happened. About her baby.
Baby Baby Baby. She said the word over and over in her head, trying to take it in, make it real. She, Mia, with a baby! And then the thought came, Lainey would be pleased. Lainey would understand.
The rain started again while Mia wondered whether she dared knock. The door suddenly opened and a man with grey hair tied back in a ponytail looked directly at her.
‘Do you want something?’
Mia nodded. ‘Does a little girl, Lainey, live here? One of these houses?’
He shrugged. ‘Not here. Dunno. Millions of kids round here. What’s she look like?’
‘Little. Thin. About eight. She was out on the street just a minute ago. Fair hair, sort of fluffed up round her head. In an old-fashioned sort of summer dress?’
He shrugged again. ‘Can’t help you. Sorry.’
She knew he was watching her as she walked along the pavement. Creepy. She wished she’d stayed on the bus. Her bag was heavy, dragging at her shoulder. Now she’d have to walk into town and where was she going to go then? Dad would be making his way to the hospital any minute. They must have realized she’d gone missing; there’d be police called out or something.
What on earth was she going to do?
Mia turned away from the gas works and walked back to the main road. Too bad if they saw her. Where did she think she was going to hide anyway? They’d catch up with her sooner or later.
The main road was busy with traffic. The narrow pavement petered out altogether once she’d got past the refuse depot and she had to huddle into the edge of the buildings that lined this section of the road. Water sprayed up from the puddles as cars splashed by. Her trainers were already soaked. How did Lainey manage this busy road? Or did her mother drop her off somewhere in town each morning, thinking she was going into school?
At last she reached the part of Ashton she recognized. Factories and warehouses changed to office blocks, car parks, the college where Becky wanted to do her textiles course next year. Then the first row of shops. Mia headed for the old market. So far, so good. No one had stopped her. No police-car sirens. No sign of Dad.
Mia ordered herself a hot chocolate in the market cafe. Her feet were freezing in the sodden trainers. Her hands shook as she took the mug from the counter.
‘You OK, love?’
Mia nodded. Mustn’t cry.
‘Look. You sit down and I’ll bring it over. You can’t carry it like that! The world on your shoulders! What you got in there? The kitchen sink?’
Mia squeezed herself along the row of plastic chairs fixed to the floor alongside the table in the far corner of the cafe.
‘There you are, love. You’re wet through, aren’t you?’
Mia fumbled in her bag for her purse. She hoped the woman hadn’t seen inside her bag. All her stuff. She mustn’t look suspicious.
‘I’ve seen you in here before, haven’t I?’ The woman wanted to chat.
‘Yes.’
Mia didn’t want to talk. But then she remembered the last time she’d been here, with Lainey. Perhaps this woman knew Lainey too? She might be able to help.
‘I come in here with a little girl sometimes. Thin, fair hair, wears funny sort of clothes? Have you seen her?’
‘Can’t say I remember her. But we get all sorts here. It’s cheap and cheerful, isn’t it? Not those silly prices you pay in the posh places.’
Two people were queuing at the counter; the woman had to go back to serve them. Mia warmed her hands on the mug of hot chocolate and planned her next move. The river. If Lainey wasn’t there, she’d give up and go home.
Home? How could she possibly go there now? What could she possibly say to Dad? He’d go completely mental. He’d probably kill her. And then Will. The enormity of what she’d done began to trickle through.
All the recent rain had swelled the river, churned it brown and swirling and fast. Not much more and it would burst the banks. The water raced under the bridge, thick and dark. Whole trees were being whirled downstream. Further down the river a shabby, patched-up narrow boat was moored; the sort you live in, with a wood-burning stove and curtains at the little windows. There was smoke coming from a chimney. Mia watched a woman on the deck unpacking a bike pannier, and then a younger woman appeared on deck and waved up at the bridge. Mia turned to see who she was waving at.
She gasped. There she was again, perched on the parapet like a bird about to take flight, her hair lifting in the wind. Lainey, bird-child, looking as if she might fall at any moment. Mia rushed back towards the steps, but Lainey was safely back on the road already, her pointed little face beaming at Mia. ‘There you are! Good. I knew you’d come.’
‘What do you mean? And how –’
‘How’s your baby then?’
Mia flushed. ‘I’m going to keep the baby after all. I wanted to tell you, Lainey. I knew you’d be glad. I’ve just come from the hospital. I changed my mind. Ran away. Just now. This morning. And I wanted to tell you.’
‘Good. We’ll both have babies then, won’t we? My baby’s getting better.’
‘I thought I saw you, earlier. At your house. Didn’t you see me, on the bus? I got off specially.’
Lainey just laughed. She waved again at the girl on the boat. ‘See them? You know, from that stall? I told them about you, but they’d already spotted you. They’re kind. They give me dinner sometimes. Are you hungry? Come on. You can meet them.’
Lainey skipped along the river path; Mia panted behind, out of breath, trying to keep up.
‘Why do you do that, Lainey? Go up on the bridge like you were a moment ago? It isn’t safe, you know. And I’m sure it was you back on the estate. You saw me, didn’t you? On that bus? Where did you go?’
‘Don’t you ever stop asking stuff? It makes my head hurt.’
They’d reached the moored boat. Mia could read its name now, painted in blue along the peeling green side: Dragonfly. The dark-haired woman smiled at them both. Mia recognized her now. She had that stall by the wall in the precinct, with the ‘Temporary Tattoos’ sign, where she laid out hair braids and Indian-looking stuff, embroidered wrist bands and necklaces made of glittery beads, beautiful bags. Too expensive for Mia.
‘This is Mia,’ Lainey said. ‘She’s my friend. Can we come on the boat?’
Mia ignored the voice in her head. Dad’s voice, drummed into her over years and years, warning her to ‘be careful, beware strangers’. Walking out of the hospital ward, she’d stepped over some invisible line. Now anything was possible.
The woman held out her hand to steady Mia as she stepped across from the slippery bank.
‘Evie,’ she introduced herself. ‘Hello. And that’s Shannon.’
Mia had seen her before too: that amazing head of auburn hair braided into masses of tiny plaits, the bright orange mohair jumper. She was skinny, like Mia. Dark eyes. She didn’t look much older than Mia.
‘Hi. We’ve seen you around. Wondered about you. Thought you might be one of us. Your hair’s different, isn’t it? Not long enough for braids now. Suits you!’ Shannon smiled.
One of us? What did she mean?
‘You’re soaked. Want to come in out of the rain for a bit?’ Evie asked.
Mia looked towards Lainey.
‘It’s fine. You go. I’m busy. Bye.’
‘Hang on, Lainey! Wait! Where are you going?’ But Lainey was already skipping back along the path towards the bridge. Mia stood there, stranded. Embarrassed.
‘Well? You coming in or not?’ Evie smiled warmly at Mia.
‘Sorry. OK. Thanks.’
What else could she do? It was pouring with rain. She had nowhere else to go.
She followed Evie through the wooden door of the narrow boat, down the step into the cabin.
Inside, it was dark and smelled strange. Incense? Oils? Mia wrinkled up her nose. The small windows were draped with swathes of embroidered and sequinned cloth, like the quilt on the low beds which lined the narrow space. Deep reds and purples and gold. At the far end there was a little kitchen, with a wood burner and even a tiny sink and draining board. There were shelves above it, and mugs on hooks. Like a play house. Becky would love it.
‘Sit down then. Take off your wet things. Shannon’s making soup. Want some? You look frozen.’
‘Thanks. If it’s OK? I’m starving.’
Mia took off her wet fleece. She shivered. She was chilled through. She watched Evie ladle out three bowls. She hadn’t eaten anything since last night, she realized. You weren’t allowed to eat anything after twelve the night before the operation, because of the anaesthetic.
The soup tasted wonderful. Evie nodded at Mia’s empty soup bowl. ‘You needed that. How come you were so hungry? What’ve you been doing?’
Mia hunched on the edge of the seat, suddenly shy again. ‘Well –’
‘Stop hassling, Evie. Give her some space,’ Shannon interrupted.
Evie looked crushed. She ladled some more soup into Mia’s bowl, and they ate in silence. The rain battered against the roof.
Finally Mia looked up. ‘So do you both live here? On the boat?’
‘Yes,’ Evie said. ‘Lovely, isn’t it?’
‘Better in the summer, when it’s not always raining,’ Shannon said. ‘But it’s cool. Beats houses. We can just move on whenever we need to!’