Cuckoo

by Julia Crouch

  Rose pulled the duvet right back and closely inspected the rest of the bed. There was one pubic hair on Gareth’s side – his, she decided with relief after a close inspection. There was nothing else, except the old black mark from a time when, a little drunk, she had fallen asleep in bed over a shopping list, letting her pen bleed into the sheets. She had never been able to get that mark out.

  Then Rose got down onto her knees on the bed and pressed her face to the sheets, running up and down them, sniffing like a curious dog might at the rear end of a bitch. She was certain that there was a tinge of Polly to them. But then she had the physical evidence of the hair, and if she had actually been in the bed – which she had – then of course it would smell of her.

  Rose sat on the bed, twisting the hair around her scarred index finger, winding it tight until the tip grew white. Then she glanced across the room at the big mirror to her side of the bed and caught sight of herself, hair awry, eyes open a little too wide.

  She smiled at her reflection. ‘You’re being absurd,’ she said out loud to herself.

  She pulled the Polly-hair until it snapped. Cooped up in that ward, she had quite clearly lost the art of perspective.

  She got up, shook the duvet and plumped the pillows. Then she went to the bathroom, cleaned the bath and ran herself a deep, hot tub. She washed her hair and every part of her body. Then she lay back in the water, counting the puffs of cloud through the skylight above the bath. She was on her way to feeling reborn. The world began to settle. She tingled with the feeling of work to do. Soon she would have order restored, and then they could all move on ahead.

  She got out and cleansed, toned and moisturised her face. She rubbed body cream on her body, foot cream on her feet, hand cream on her hands and elbow cream on her elbows. After a moment’s hesitation, she decided also to put the elbow cream on her knees.

  It was time to get on. She went, naked, to the bedroom to get her kimono from the hook on the back of the door, but it wasn’t there. Possibly Gareth had put it away somewhere. She searched through her drawers, but it wasn’t there, either. The kimono was special to her, and quite valuable. Perhaps Anna had needed it for comfort? She told herself not to worry. Gareth was sure to know what had happened to it.

  Instead, she pulled on some tracksuit bottoms and a long-sleeved tee. She went down to the kitchen, put the radio on, then cleared everything up, scrubbing down the cleared floor, table and work surfaces. She put fresh water in the vases, gagging as she tipped away their old contents – her suspicions about the smell had been well placed. A closer look at the cake showed it to be heart-shaped, studded all over with little sugar flowers, with Rose written on it in a wobbly, child’s icing hand. Anna’s work, Rose thought, smiling. She cut herself a slice and sat down with a cup of tea, looking at the light dappling on her herb garden. The chives were beginning to sprout their purple tufts already. Should she remove them and keep the herb for cooking, or let them grow on as flowers?

  Then, guiltily, she remembered Flossie. There were more important things to worry about than flowers on herbs.

  A flash of pink drew Rose’s eye up to the Annexe door. It was Polly, wandering down the steps towards the house, singing to herself. She looked rumpled, as if she had just risen from sleep. But what Rose particularly noticed was that she was wearing her kimono, drawing it around her, stretching it tight across her hips, belting it up as if it belonged on her.

  She came into the kitchen and, without noticing Rose, went straight to the coffee-machine.

  ‘I was looking for that,’ Rose said.

  Polly jumped. ‘Oh, I didn’t see you there! Hi, Rose,’ and she went over and put her arms round her and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Want a coffee?’

  ‘I don’t do coffee,’ Rose said.

  ‘Oh yes, sorry, of course, I forgot. I’m still half-asleep!’ Polly chirped. She turned to the machine and performed the coffee preparation ritual as perfected by Gareth. Grind, scoop, fill, level off, switch, froth, steam.

  ‘I was looking for my kimono,’ Rose said.

  ‘What? Oh God, I’m sorry. I meant to put it back, but you beat me to it,’ Polly said. ‘I had a bath down here and didn’t want to put my dirty clothes back on, but I didn’t want to go up the garden in a towel and frighten the neighbours, so I just grabbed this off your bedroom door. You don’t really mind, do you?’

  Rose did mind, but she didn’t say anything. ‘That level of modesty doesn’t sound like you.’ She forced a smile.

  ‘Well, you know, it’s the countryside. When in Rome,’ Polly said, using Gareth’s wooden spatula to scoop froth from the milk jug onto her coffee.

  And what neighbours? thought Rose. No one overlooked their house and garden. That had, after all, been the point of moving out here.

  ‘Do you like the cake?’ Polly said. ‘Anna spent hours on it.’

  ‘It’s lovely,’ Rose said.

  ‘And the pussy willow! We had fun gathering that from the river. Feel,’ and she brought a jug over for Rose to touch. They both stroked the velvety buds in silence.

  ‘I’m sorry, Rose,’ Polly said. ‘About the kimono. About Flossie. About it all.’

  ‘Remember what we said about apologies.’ Rose smiled and put her hand on Polly’s.

  They sat and drank, and a bright shaft of sunlight pierced the morning sky, pouring through the window, illuminating them like a follow-spot on the two main characters of a play.

  Twenty-Two

  ‘He was going to die, but he’ll be all right now, won’t he?’ Anna said, looking up at Rose, her large brown eyes circles of concern.

  ‘I think you’ve saved him,’ Rose said, her arm around her daughter. It was later in the afternoon, and Rose had just fetched Anna and the boys from the school.

  ‘He was on the grass at the back, and he was all like this.’ Anna crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out.

  ‘He must’ve fallen out of his nest.’

  ‘Or perhaps he was pushed by a baddy bird,’ Anna added. ‘Anyway, I picked him up – I made sure not to touch him with my scent – and I saw he was still alive, so I brought him back in here, and put him in this little box. I’m feeding him five times a day with bits of cut-up worm.’

  ‘Yerk.’

  ‘I do it myself. I don’t mind. His name is Jason.’

  Rose looked at the fledgling in the box of cotton wool that Anna had lodged in the airing cupboard. She didn’t hold out much hope for its survival, but she liked Anna’s optimism.

  ‘Jason will think you’re a hero, Anna,’ she said. ‘If he pulls through.’

  ‘Oh, he will,’ Anna said.

  ‘Do you fancy a walk down to the river?’ Rose asked. ‘Before I go?’

  It was nearly four and she had to get back to the hospital. After Polly had gone back to the Annexe, Rose had spent a restorative afternoon in the kitchen and now there was a stew in the Aga, a pie in the fridge and a level of peace in her heart. But Gareth would be wondering where she was if she didn’t leave soon.

  ‘Come on then!’ Anna said, jumping up and taking Rose by the hand.

  They wandered across the field towards Gareth’s willow. It felt good to be in the open again.

  ‘Come on in,’ Rose said, holding the willow branches to one side. Anna followed her and they sat on the smooth stone.

  ‘How have you been with all this Flossie stuff?’ Rose asked.

  ‘She’ll be better soon and we’ll all be back to normal, won’t we?’ Anna said, picking up handfuls of earth and sprinkling them through her fingers. ‘I miss you, though. And Floss.’

  ‘I miss you,’ Rose said, and kissed her. ‘And you’re right. We’ll be back really soon.’

  ‘Good,’ Anna said, and she clenched her fists.

  ‘What is it?’ Rose asked.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘No, there’s something. Tell me,’ she said.

  ‘Well . . .’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Well it’s the boys.
They’re fine,’ Anna said. ‘We have fun. I really like Yannis.’

  ‘And Nico?’

  ‘He’s OK.’

  ‘OK?’

  Anna went silent and let her eyes rest on the swirl of the river as it rushed past their willow. It must seem so immense to her, thought Rose. Enough to take her away.

  ‘It’s just he gets so cross, Mummy. Not only with Yannis. Sometimes with me, too, even when I don’t do or say anything. It’s like he’s got an angry dog or something inside him, trying to burst out.’

  ‘Has he hurt you at all, Anna?’

  ‘No, no. It’s just it scares me. Sometimes I think he could hurt me if he got a little bit crosser. And . . .’ Her voice trailed off and she pulled a strand of hair through her lips.

  ‘What, love?’

  ‘And I want you back, and not Polly.’

  Rose felt the blood prick to her face.

  ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can, Anna. I promise.’

  They walked arm in arm back to the house, and Rose let Anna ride to Bath with her in the car. They got to the hospital to find Gareth sleeping, with Flossie tucked up against his chest.

  Anna and Rose smiled at each other. It looked as if he had fallen asleep breastfeeding. It was such a sight, the baby in the arms of the big man, holding his broad finger in her little fist.

  As they drew near, he woke and looked up. ‘She’s perfect, Rose. Perfect,’ he said.

  Rose sent Anna to get some chocolate from the WRVS stall just outside the ward, then quickly turned to Gareth.

  ‘Anna is being freaked out by Nico,’ she said. ‘She says he’s always angry. She says she’s scared.’

  ‘He’s definitely not been himself the past couple of days,’ Gareth said. ‘But I haven’t picked that up.’

  ‘It’s what she says, Gareth.’

  ‘Of course. She’s not going to lie about it.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Look – I’ll keep an eye on it. I’m not going to let him scare Anna. No way.’

  ‘But he already has,’ Rose said.

  ‘If it was that bad, she would have come to me,’ he said.

  ‘Perhaps she didn’t feel able,’ Rose said. ‘Perhaps—’ but she had to cut short because Anna was skipping across the ward with five bars of Galaxy.

  ‘I didn’t get one for Polly, because she’d never touch chocolate,’ Anna said. ‘But there’s one for you, one for you, one for me, one for Yannis and one for Nico.’

  ‘I don’t think we need to worry too much about our Anna,’ Gareth whispered to Rose.

  But don’t you know how brave she is? Rose thought.

  Twenty-Three

  By Thursday, the doctors said Flossie could go home. She would have to come in every six months for long-term monitoring, but she was beginning to put weight back on, her temperature had returned to normal and she passed all the tests they ran on her for alertness. She had been moved out of Blue Ward onto a regular ward for young children. Most of their fellow inmates were tonsillectomy and acute asthma attack patients. Their immediate neighbour, aged four, was nursing a broken leg. He lay there strung to a traction contraption like a wriggling fish on a line.

  ‘It’s extraordinary,’ Kate said when she visited on the final evening, ‘how resilient healthy babies like Flossie are. Whatever’s thrown at them, they hold on to life for all it’s worth. As if they can’t wait to see what’s coming.’

  ‘If only they knew . . .’ Rose, who was lying on the bed, jogged Flossie up and down on her knee. She turned to Kate and looked directly at her.

  ‘Can I ask you something, Kate?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘And I want a straight answer. Don’t you think Flossie looks a bit . . . lost? Behind the eyes, I mean.’

  Kate held Flossie’s head and had a deep, long look.

  ‘She’s had a rough time, Rose, and she’s taken a lot of drugs. It’s going to be a humdinger of a hangover for Flossie, and I don’t know if you remember those from your youth, but they are enough to take the spirit out of anyone.’

  ‘Hmmm . . .’

  ‘Really. Anyone would take a good long time to get over such a big shock to the system. It’s far too early to say if there’s been any lasting change.’

  ‘Why does that not sound encouraging to me?’

  ‘Look. What you’ve got to do is stop looking for signs of damage and start looking for signs of improvement.’

  Rose thought about this.

  Gareth picked Flossie and Rose up, and the three of them drove home out of the clogged, rush-hour city and the busy A36, onto the country lanes that were lined with trees just bursting into leaf. It felt so good to be leaving the hospital for good. Like hostages taking their first steps into freedom.

  But the past eleven days had drained Rose. She felt like a lamp that someone had slipped a low-wattage bulb into by mistake. She felt like she had been filleted. By way of contrast, Gareth was on top form. His effervescent good humour was almost infectious, but she couldn’t take it on.

  ‘You’ll be fine. It’s just been a really stressful time. Let’s get you home and look after you both, get everything back to normal,’ he said.

  ‘I’m not the one that’s been ill. You don’t need to look after me.’

  ‘Yes, I do. You look so tired, my love.’

  Rose felt tired, too, at the thought of how much work would be facing her in the house since she cleared up three days ago. She sighed and looked out of the window. The green shoots in the fields calmed her.

  They swung into the driveway and Gareth unbuckled Flossie’s car seat, clicking the handle into place above it and holding it in the crook of his elbow like a pro. Rose got the bags.

  The three of them made their way down the steps to the house. A foul stink hit Rose as she passed the manhole cover that went over the mains.

  ‘What’s that smell?’ she asked Gareth.

  ‘Oh, there’s been something wrong with the drains. I’ve tried rods, but I think we’re going to have to get some of those water-jet guys. It’s been throwing it down all week. You probably didn’t notice, cooped up in the hospital, but it’s been biblical. It’s most likely just some silt and stuff left over from building work that’s all got flushed out at once. And now all the shit’s backing up. They’re coming tomorrow.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Mum! Floss!’

  The front door burst open and Anna rushed up the final two steps to throw her arms around Rose and press her face against her belly. The heat and love of Anna’s embrace gave Rose a little more energy. Enough, at any rate, to make the final few yards to the kitchen.

  ‘Put Floss on the kitchen table, Gareth,’ Rose said. ‘I’ll strap her to me.’

  ‘Sure. Hey, guys!’ Gareth boomed into the sitting room. ‘Look who’s back!’

  Rose put Flossie in the baby sling then followed him through. She was greeted by the sight of Polly and the boys sprawled on the sofa, in front of The Simpsons. Polly had a large glass of red wine, and the boys had a can of Diet Coke each, which Rose never normally had in the house. Polly jumped up and threw her arms around her.

  ‘Welcome back, Rose, welcome back, Flossie. We’re so glad you’re home.’ She leaned in and stroked Flossie’s cheek. ‘Get up, boys, and give them a kiss.’

  Yannis and Nico did as they were told, without removing their eyes from the screen.

  ‘I must apologise for my sons, Rose,’ Polly said. ‘We didn’t get much of this back in Karpathos, so it’s a bit of a novelty.’

  ‘Let’s leave them to it, then,’ Rose said. It was extraordinary how quickly Polly’s warm welcome – on top of Anna’s embrace – had drawn her in and turned her energy around. She wondered for a moment what it would have been like if Gareth hadn’t relented; if he had gone ahead and thrown Polly out, and it had been just the four of them at home tonight.

  Rose, Polly and Anna went through to the kitchen, where Gareth was tossing a salad to go with the stew he had made.
/>   ‘You sit down, Rose. Me and Anna’ll set the table,’ he said.

  ‘If you insist,’ Rose said. Anna poured her a glass of wine and set it in front of her.

  ‘It’s good to be back,’ she said. And it really was.

  ‘It’s such a beautiful evening,’ Polly said. ‘After all that rain.’ She opened the window above the sink to let the sun-warmed evening air stream in.