Cold Bath Lane

by Lorna Dounaeva

  “Mum!” I said. She looked up, her face stricken as she saw my expression.

  Her handbag dropped from her arms and a tube of lipstick rolled away, coming to a stop under the bookcase. Dad stood behind me, his breath was a harsh wind on my back. I stood between them, shoulders braced, like the Thames Barrier.

  “Out the way, Jody!”

  I reluctantly stepped to one side.

  “Did you have a man in the house?”

  “Tony, it’s not what you think…”

  “Did you?”

  “It was just one kiss…”

  “Who is he?”

  Dad looked around, as if he expected to catch him in the act.

  Mum fell quiet and Dad’s eyes grew even more wild.

  “Tell me.” Saliva dripped from his tongue like a hungry dog.

  “Doug. It was Doug.”

  “My mate Doug?”

  Dad looked outraged. Horrified. Her admission had stoked his anger even further.

  “And the baby? Is it mine?”

  I don't think he remembered I was there, or if he did, he was too angry to care.

  “It's your baby,” Mum said softly. “I’m so sorry, Tony. It should never have happened. He offered to make us a crib. You know how he likes to build stuff? Shirley’s got a cabinet he made. It’s a beauty, all done in cherry wood.”

  Dad sniffed. “How did he come to be in our bedroom, that’s what I’d like to know.”

  “We were up there measuring the space for the crib. I don’t know how it turned into a kiss. I was just grateful, I suppose. It was a nice thing he was doing for me. For us.”

  “The baby can sleep in the bottom drawer, same as the other two did. We don’t need no cherry wood.”

  “Of course,” Mum said. She looked down at her swollen fingers. “It was a moment of weakness and I know I will never forgive myself. Please give me another chance?”

  Tears ran down her face and I felt her shame. Why couldn’t she be strong like Dad? I resented her for her weakness, and I hated her for showing it. I swore I would never be like her.

  Mum’s tears had their desired effect on Dad though. His face softened.

  “It’s alright, love. It’s alright.”

  He wrapped his arms around her. I was so surprised to see this. Usually, Dad’s anger was like a runaway train, but perhaps he was scared of losing her. If he didn’t back down, then this would be it. Our family would be ruined. I watched for a few more minutes, but the expected break up never came. Instead, I felt like I was intruding on something, so I tiptoed quietly out the door.

  A few days later, I heard Dad get up in the middle of the night. I rolled over in bed, assuming he was going to the bog, but then I heard the front door bang. I went to the window and looked out, but I couldn’t make out where he was going. It wasn’t unusual for him to go down the Halfway House of an evening, but it was too late for that. The pubs would all be shut. You could normally hear tipping out time, because the streets filled with rowdy singing and muffled laughter, as people staggered home.

  I drifted back to sleep but woke up again when Dad slipped back in.

  I crept down the stairs.

  “Dad?”

  “God, Jody. You made me jump!”

  “Where have you been?”

  “I had a job to do.”

  He snapped open a can of beer, with a loud hiss.

  “What sort of job?”

  “One that will pay a few bills.”

  He swung his legs up on the table and closed his eyes, leaving his beer fizzing noisily in the can. I picked his coat up off the floor and hung it up for him. It stank of smoke. Not tobacco smoke. More like a bonfire.

  Mum and Dad were at it again after school, sniping at one another, and exchanging insults.

  Sam and I had the sense to stay in our room, playing snakes and ladders. Sam was winning, but neither of us could concentrate on the game. Downstairs, we heard Dad laying into Mum about the baby again.

  “I've told you, it's yours!”

  But that didn't satisfy him. Dad kept referring to the baby as a rat, and when Mum went into the kitchen to make tea, he said: “That’s right, you’ve got to feed that rat, haven't you?”

  Mum started crying and clumped up the stairs to her room, and once again I was embarrassed by her weakness. Dad was being nasty, but I sort of understood, after all, Mum was the one who had cheated.

  “I’m hungry,” Sam said, after a while.

  “Me too.”

  School dinner had been liver and onions, with tapioca for pudding. It had been all I could do not to puke.

  “I’ll heat up some soup,” I said, “But you have to come down with me.”

  I opened two tins of Oxtail and stood at the stove, stirring until it warmed through.

  I thought about taking Mum some up to her room, but I didn’t want Dad to think I was taking her side. The rest of us ate in stony silence, Sam chewing noisily on a hunk of bread. Nobody spoke a word the whole time. It was horribly uncomfortable listening to Dad slurping his soup like a dog.

  Mum still hadn’t come down by the time we had finished, so Dad went upstairs to see her. I hoped they would kiss and make up as they had done before, but Dad wasn’t in the mood. Soon, they were having a right barney, neither of them listening to a word the other said. I got on with the dishes as best I could, but it was impossible to ignore that racket. Was this the beginning of the big divorce I had been dreading? Would Mum chuck all his shirts out onto the front lawn, the way Dawn’s Mum had done? That didn’t seem fair, when she was the one who had wronged him.

  Eventually, I set down the sponge and crept upstairs to see what was happening.

  I saw Dad hand Mum a bottle of clear liquid.

  “Go on, drink it, you lying tart.”

  “No, it’s not good for the baby.”

  “I don’t care about that little parasite! It’s not mine.”

  “It is yours!”

  Mum’s eyes welled up. It seemed like she was always crying.

  “Drink!”

  Nobody argued with Dad when he got that look, not even Mum.

  Her hands shook as she took the bottle and tipped a little of the liquid down her throat.

  “Down it!”

  I backed into my room, but I kept my head pressed against the wall, listening. When I looked again, they were on the landing. I gasped as he kneed her in the stomach. She was doubled over but still Dad wouldn’t leave off.

  “Get rid of that baby!”

  “It’s too late!”

  “Then I’ll do it for you!”

  He gave her a violent shove. Her arms and legs flailed, but she couldn’t save herself. She tumbled down the stairs, landing at the bottom with a horrible crunch.

  “Mum!” I screamed.

  “Come on, Sam. We’re going down the pub,” Dad said. He walked down the stairs and stepped over Mum at the bottom, like nothing had happened. I ran down after him, and knelt down at Mum’s side. She had landed flat on her back, and with hands wrapped around her big belly.

  “Oh god,” I cried.

  Mum just lay there and whimpered.

  “Jody, you stay here and look after your mum,” Dad said. “Make her a nice cuppa or something.”

  Sam refused to look at her as he slipped his coat on. His eyes had that steely look that I’d come to hate.

  The door slammed behind them, and I glanced down at Mum, who was still lying there, moaning in pain.

  “Should I ring for an ambulance?”

  “No, I’ll be alright in a tick. Help me up, will you?”

  I helped her into a sitting position, and from there, up onto the sofa. It wasn’t easy, she weighed a flipping ton. I made her a cuppa, like Dad had said.

  “Thank you, Jody Bear.”

  Her hands shook badly as she took the cup.

  “I really think I should call an ambulance.”

  “I’ll be OK in a tick,” she said, firmly. But she continued to squirm about. />
  I switched on the telly and we watched Doctor Who as if it were a normal evening, but I kept glancing at her and wondering if she was really alright, or if she was putting on a brave face. I decided if they were going to get divorced, then I was going to live with Dad, but I wished I could go back in time and stop it all from happening.

  “You know what, I might go and have a nice bath,” Mum said, when the programme finished. “Would you mind helping me up the stairs?”

  I did as she asked. It was difficult, with her being so heavy, and she moaned with every step. We were both knackered by the time we reached the top. Mum sat down on the landing and I went into the bathroom to run the bath. I added the best lavender bath salts to make it smell nice. I turned away as Mum undressed and lowered herself into the tub.

  “I’ll be alright now,” she assured me, with a smile.

  I left her to enjoy her bubbles and went into my room to play with Sam’s remote-control car. He never let me play with it when he was home.

  The car whizzed around the room, and I set up some little jumps using some of Sam’s other cars. I squealed in delight as it jumped over a toy lorry and zoomed under my bed. Next, I was going to see if it could jump two lorries.

  Sometime later, I realised I hadn’t heard Mum get out of the bath. I knocked on the door.

  “Mum, are you OK?”

  “Jody, love can you come in here? I think the baby’s coming.”

  9

  I didn’t relish the sight of my mum’s naked body.

  “Do you want me to go and get Dad?” I asked, hovering in the doorway.

  “No, darling. Please, stay with me.”

  Her face distorted as a wave of pain gripped her and she grasped my hand and held on tight. A few moments later, she released me, and her face returned to normal.

  “There, that one weren’t so bad.”

  I think she was talking to herself.

  “Shall I call that ambulance?”

  The nearest phone box was down on the corner.

  “No love, it’s going to be hours yet. We can wait until your father gets in.”

  I thought of Dad and his rage, and I wondered if that was such a good idea, but Mum gripped my hand again and squeezed it tight until the pain in her stomach subsided.

  Every few minutes, she grabbed my hand again and squeezed it so hard it hurt. The pains seemed to be getting closer and closer together.

  “I really think I should get someone.”

  “No, don’t leave me. Dad will be home soon. He’ll know what to do.”

  I had never seen a woman in labour before. I hadn’t expected it to be so barbaric. Thanks to Mrs Benedict, I understood how the baby was supposed to come out, but no one had told me how difficult it was, or how long it would take.

  Mum huffed and puffed her way through the contractions but I could see that she was hurting from the way she whimpered. Soon, she was screaming her head off. I’d never heard such language come out of her gob. I wished those squatter women still lived next door. They might have been able to help.

  Mum screamed so loud, I was frightened. I promised myself that I would never have to go through that much pain. It didn’t seem worth it, and the pains kept coming.

  “I’ve got to get you an ambulance,” I told Mum as the latest one died down. But she shook her head vigorously.

  “No time,” she gasped. “You have to be a brave girl and help me deliver the baby.”

  “Deliver it?”

  I didn’t even know what that meant.

  “You have to...catch it when it comes.”

  And with that, another pain took hold and she screamed with all her might. The pain was so intense, I could feel it myself. The invisible waves radiated out towards me.

  “Can you see the baby’s head?”

  I looked down and saw wild black curls.

  “Yes! I can see it!”

  Mum pushed again and more of the head came into view.

  “Mum, it’s amazing!”

  She pushed and pushed, but the baby seemed stuck.

  “I can’t do it! I can’t!”

  “You have to. No one else is going to do it for you.”

  I sounded like Dad, I knew I did. “Try taking a deep breath. Then give it another go.”

  Mum screwed up her face as another spasm came and she pushed with all her might, letting out the most almighty howl.

  She dug her fingers into my wrist, and I wanted to howl too, but I needed to help her through this.

  “Catch the baby!” Mum yelled. It took all her strength to speak. She gripped the sides of the bath and gave an unholy moan. Out popped the rest of the baby’s head and shoulders. I tried to hold on, but the baby was as slippery as a snake.

  The baby shot out with a force and I dove down into the water and lifted it out. It was such a muddle of arms and legs, that it took me a moment to find the face. I looked down below.

  “It’s a girl!”

  The baby kicked and struggled in my arms, but she didn’t make a sound. Her eyes were screwed up tight and her face was a reddish purple.

  “Is she breathing?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I said yes, didn’t I?”

  Mum smiled weakly, her head resting uncomfortably against the back of the bath. Milk leaked from her breasts as she looked at the baby.

  “I knew it would be a girl,” she said, as I placed the baby into her outstretched arms. She was still attached by a thick blue cord. It looked like an alien tentacle.

  “That’s the umbilical cord,” Mum said. “Get some scissors and string. You have to tie the string in a knot, then cut it.”

  The baby found her breast and suckled whilst I rummaged through the cupboards. I found the hairdressing scissors and held them up triumphantly.

  “Clean them first,” Mum warned, so I ran them under the hot tap, and lathered them with soap.

  “Ready!”

  “Careful now. We don’t want to hurt her.”

  With trembling hands, I tied the string and snipped the cord. The baby had nodded off again, so Mum handed her to me.

  “Keep her warm.”

  I reached for a clean towel and wrapped it around my baby sister. I held her clumsily, unused to the heaviness of her head. I studied her bloated, scrunched up face as I cradled her in my arms. I had never held a baby before. I couldn’t believe she was real.

  “You have to support her neck.”

  “I am.”

  I moved my arm up, just in case. She had a strange smell, a bit like the tadpoles Mr Blackthorn had once kept in a tank on his desk.

  “She’s covered in sticky stuff. It’s all over the towel.”

  “Hmm…”

  Mum’s eyes fluttered. She was struggling to stay awake.

  “I should go and get help. We need to go to the hospital.”

  Mum didn’t reply. I noticed she was shivering, so I felt behind her and let out the plug. All the bath water had turned red. It was like something out of a horror film. But as the water drained from the bath, the blood kept coming.

  I grabbed a blanket from my room and covered her with it.

  “Come on, Mum. We need to get you out.”

  Mum didn’t say anything, so I set the baby down on the mat and tried to pull her out. But her body was still very heavy.

  “Mum, you have to try.”

  I was worried about all that blood, but I thought if I could just get her out, the bleeding would stop.

  The baby coughed. I looked down at the mat. It was the first real sound she’d made. I smiled down at her.

  “I’ll pick you up in a tick,” I promised.

  She coughed again. That’s when I smelled the smoke.

  10

  “Mum, I can smell fire! We have to get out!”

  Mum murmured something. I couldn’t make out what it was.

  “Mum, we have to get out!”

  I shook her hard, but she barely moved.

&nb
sp; “Mum!”

  She looked really dozy. I grabbed her by the arm. “Come on Mum, we have to go!”

  But Mum just lay there, in a pool of her own blood. Her face was ghostly pale.

  “Mum…”

  Tears rolled down my face. I blinked them away.

  “For Pete’s sake, Mum, you can’t go to sleep. You’ve got to help me.”

  Her eyelids flickered and I shook her.

  “Stop it! We’ve got to go!”

  “Get the baby out.”

  “But I can’t leave you here!”

  “You have to,” she said, her voice barely audible. “Please, get the baby out.”

  For a crazy moment, I considered pulling her out of the bath, and rolling her down the stairs. But I wasn’t sure I could do it. She would still be heavy, even without the baby inside her, and I might hurt her even worse than she was hurt now.

  I kicked the bath, hoping to spur her into action.

  “I don’t want to go without you!”

  I kicked it again, but Mum barely stirred. I shook her shoulders, and her saggy belly juddered. It looked pathetic now, like a deflated balloon.

  “Come on! It’s getting hot.”

  The baby kept coughing. I looked down at her. She looked so fragile, with her pinched little cheeks and her tiny fingers. I had always wanted a sister. Now we would be able to gang up on Sam, and he wouldn’t be able to boss me around anymore. I couldn’t wait to tell him.

  I went to the window and looked out.

  “When’s Dad coming home? Did he say?”

  I remembered how he’d slammed the door behind him. He hadn’t even bothered to grab his keys.

  So much smoke. Where was it coming from?

  “Did you leave a pie in the oven? Mum? Mum! You have to remember!”

  I pictured Dad rolling up in a big fire engine, spraying the house with a giant hose. But Dad wasn’t here, and Mum was in no condition to do anything. It was all on me. I stepped out onto the landing. Taking a deep breath, I took a few steps down the stairs. To my horror, the whole living room was filled with smoke. I couldn’t even see the door. The smoke was so thick, it made me eyes stream, like I’d been peeling onions. I couldn’t do it. I had to come up for air. Terrified, I fled back up the stairs.