by Amy Bratley
Lexi looked at her hands and suddenly felt like a thirteen-year-old girl, sitting in the living room alongside her mother in one of her episodes of depression, willing herself to tell her mother to get up off the sofa and get help. To take control and be the grown-up. To listen. But, though she sat up in her bedroom with a script written in her diary rehearsing exactly what she would say, when they were face to face her tongue felt like a useless stump in her mouth. The heaviness of the atmosphere that hung around her mother when she was in this distant, lonely, private state of depression suffocated Lexi like a hand slapped over her mouth. Swallowing hard, she took a deep breath and reminded herself of why she was here.
‘I think you need help,’ she said, sitting forward in her chair. ‘I think you should go to the doctor and tell him or her exactly how you’re feeling.’
Katy picked at a thread that was loose on the hem of her dress. ‘I don’t need help,’ she said in a flat voice, not looking at Lexi. ‘Who are you to tell me that?’
‘Professionally, I’m a social worker, and I’ve worked with new mothers,’ she said. ‘Have you considered that you might have a mild form of postnatal depression? I know the symptoms very well, and I think you are displaying them. Has the health visitor done one of those questionnaires with you?’
‘I haven’t seen the health visitor since that first check,’ Katy said. ‘But, no, I don’t think I have postnatal depression and I certainly don’t need any help. I’ve never needed help.’
Katy was crying now, wiping at the tears falling down her cheeks with a tissue. In the background, she saw Alan clock her but stay outside, his hands pushed into his trouser pockets.
‘We all need help sometimes,’ said Lexi with a kind smile. ‘My help came in the form of a Danish wanker.’
Katy met Lexi’s eye and smiled.
‘And Katy,’ said Lexi with a sigh, ‘my mother had depression that went undiagnosed for my entire childhood. It was not a good environment for me to grow up in, and she could so easily have taken responsibility and got herself to the doctor. He might have been able to help her. Instead, she refused to do anything about it and I really, really, resent her for that. You owe it to Rufus.’
Katy’s eyes flashed. She wrapped her cardigan tightly around her body. ‘I’m so frightened,’ she said in a tiny voice. ‘I don’t know why I feel like this. I’m frightened that I can’t look after Rufus and that I don’t love him enough. There must be something wrong with me if I’m not woman enough to love my baby.’
‘No,’ said Lexi. ‘We have to learn to be good parents, and you have to learn to love your baby. I really believe that. You had a horrible, stressful birth, and you might need counselling for that. Perhaps the post-traumatic stress has triggered postnatal depression.’
‘I’ve never needed counselling,’ said Katy. ‘The whole idea of it makes me feel that I’ve failed.’
‘Not admitting you have a problem would be a failure,’ said Lexi. ‘If you get help – counselling, treatment, medication, whatever works – that’s success.’
Lexi strained to listen as she heard Poppy stir in the hallway. She got up from her seat. ‘I’ll leave you now and go home and feed Poppy,’ she said, moving towards the door. ‘Don’t get up. I’ll be in touch, and maybe we could try helping each other out. Or not. Don’t worry, I’m not going to force myself upon you.’
She closed the door behind her and pushed the pram, with Poppy waking now, towards her flat. The houses towered into the early evening sky. She was pleased with herself. She’d done the right thing. She hoped that Katy would, too. Later, when she climbed into bed, exhausted, with Poppy asleep in the basket beside the bed, her mobile phone beeped. Thinking it would probably be Gary, she picked up the phone, feeling guilty for not calling him earlier. It wasn’t him. There was a text from Alan. In the darkness, she read his words: Lexi. You worked some magic. Thank you for being great. Alan x
A moment’s hesitation before she deleted his message. A sense of relief washed over her. Goodbye, Alan.
Chapter Thirty-three
‘What’s the weather like, Len?’ Rebecca asked as Lenny lifted up the edge of the blind to reveal bright blue sky. She was sitting up in bed after a sleepless night worrying, giving Elvis his morning feed.
‘Gorgeous,’ he said, pulling up the blind completely. ‘Postcard perfect.’
Relief swept over Rebecca. She’s been anxious all night that, if it rained, she’d have to go to a café or stay in the flat while her mum and dad were visiting, and Elvis hated staying inside or even being still. Now, though, on a day like this, they could walk down to the seafront and Elvis could be in the pushchair or sling and nap.
‘Are you worried?’ Rebecca asked. ‘About meeting my parents?’
Lenny shook his head but continued to look out of the window. Rebecca frowned. He’d been really distant the last few days, as if he had something on his mind. But when she asked, he shrugged it off.
‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘They either like me or they don’t. It’s no big deal.’
‘So, if you’re not bothered about my parents’ visit,’ she continued, ‘what are you thinking about? You’ve been really quiet recently.’
Pressing her breast to see if it was empty, she swapped Elvis over to the other side, where he latched on and started to drink, pulling strands of her hair with his tiny hands while he did so.
Lenny looked at his shoes, gave her a sideways glance and a reassuring grin. He grabbed a towel and moved towards the shower.
‘Do you still want to get married?’ Rebecca asked, as he walked away. ‘Because I don’t mind putting it off and waiting, or whatever.’
‘Of course I want to,’ he said. ‘Don’t start saying you can wait. Jesus babe, look at me. I’m a great catch. You should be chasing me up the aisle.’ He put his arms out by his side and rotated his hips, making his penis swing round and round in circles. Rebecca cracked up laughing.
‘Don’t do that when my mum and dad get here,’ she said. ‘They’re coming in two hours.’
‘Oh no, really? I was planning just to be naked when they’re here,’ he said sarcastically. ‘I’ll sit on the armchair naked, maybe with a strategic leaf over this monster and act like I’m fully clothed. Maybe I’ll even sing a song to your mum. That’d be funny.’
‘My mum wouldn’t be laughing,’ Rebecca said. ‘She’s not into nudity. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her naked. She’s a very private person.’
‘Really?’ said Lenny. ‘Wow, my folks walk around naked the entire time. Even now! Last time I went home my dad was doing some gardening in the nude, just to piss off the neighbours. Fuck, I’ve just had a thought – they’re not going to get on too well at the wedding, are they?’
‘So, Lenny,’ said Harriet, sitting neatly on the sofa in the living room where Elvis had been born ten weeks before, ‘what is it that you do?’
Rebecca had been struck by her mother’s appearance when she arrived. Though they looked very similar, sharing soft, dark eyes, pale pink lips and lustrous black hair, Harriet had lost quite a lot of weight. Despite the fact that she looked lovely in her rust-coloured dress, with lace detail on the arms and collar and dangly earrings in a matching tone, she looked worn out. Her dad, too, unassuming in a blue shirt tucked into his jeans, seemed less intimidating than usual. When they’d embraced, Harriet had squeezed her so tight, Rebecca fought for air.
‘I’m a musician,’ said Lenny. ‘I’m in a band and we’re making an album.’
Rebecca held her breath, waiting for her mother’s reaction. Even though she’d convinced herself she didn’t care what her mother thought of her life in Brighton, really, she desperately wanted her to approve and to understand. She was acutely aware that this life was nothing like the one her mother had wanted for her – a university education, a respectable, well-paid career in medicine. But would she be able to see how much happier Rebecca was, and that she was able to be herself here?
‘That
’s very interesting,’ Harriet said. ‘And can you support your family on the money from that?’
Lenny shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He earned a pittance, but that wasn’t the point of his music. He opened his mouth to speak, but Rebecca interrupted.
‘We’re not materialistic, Mum,’ she said. ‘Money isn’t what matters to us.’
‘I know that,’ said Harriet. ‘But you’ve still got to live, haven’t you? This flat won’t be big enough for all of you for much longer. Elvis is going to need his own room.’
Lenny pushed his hand through his hair.
‘Lenny earns enough,’ said Rebecca. ‘And I’m doing massage at a health centre in Kemptown, which pays well. We can manage just fine. Elvis sleeps with us at the moment. That suits us.’
She felt full of rage. She couldn’t believe how just a few words from her mother’s mouth could put her back up so much.
‘Don’t take what your mother is asking the wrong way,’ said Thomas, her dad. ‘We were talking in the car about offering to give you some money if you needed it. That’s all. Please don’t take offence.’
Lenny’s lips tightened. He shook his head. Rebecca tutted.
‘That’s very generous,’ Lenny said. ‘But we’re fine. We’re doing okay. We’ve even managed to save our pennies for the wedding. Do you think you’ll be able to come? My friend is going to do it for us.’
‘Your friend?’ said Harriet.
‘Yes. I’ve got this pal who’s a total eccentric and a poet. He knows both of us, and I think he’ll be the best celebrant there could be. We’ll have a registrar there, so it’s official, but he’s going to run the whole gig for us.’
‘We’re having a humanist wedding,’ said Rebecca. ‘On the beach.’
Harriet nodded slowly. Rebecca felt annoyed. Her mother seemed completely distracted and kept glancing at Thomas, as if she wanted to run from the room.
‘I’m sure you don’t approve of that either,’ said Rebecca coldly. ‘But it’s what we want.’
Harriet looked up in surprise. Thomas cleared his throat.
‘It sounds very good, and of course I approve,’ said Harriet. ‘Listen, Rebecca, I know you have me down as some kind of monster, but I’m really not. Could I trouble you for a glass of water, please? I need to take a paracetamol.’
Rebecca felt embarrassed, as if she was acting like a teenager. Lenny jumped up and poured Harriet a glass of water. At the same time, Elvis had started to fuss. Rebecca picked him up, grateful for the distraction.
‘Lenny,’ she said, ‘do you mind if I take Elvis for a walk with my parents? I think we could all do with the fresh air.’
Lenny virtually threw Rebecca the sling, which she placed Elvis inside and clicked up together like a professional. While Harriet swallowed her pill then pulled on her jacket and collected her bag, Thomas moved over to Lenny and patted him on the shoulder.
‘I’m not sure when I’ll see you again,’ he said. ‘But good luck with your music. It’s been good to meet you. Hopefully, we’ll make the wedding.’
Lenny smiled awkwardly. For the first time since Rebecca had known him, he didn’t seem to know what to say. Rebecca couldn’t get outside fast enough but, once they were on the streets, walking side by side, her parents in silence and occasionally exchanging worried glances, she wondered why she had ever agreed to this visit in the first place. Though she was trying to be calm, she suddenly stopped dead in the street and exploded.
‘Why are you so quiet?’ she asked. ‘Why are you so disapproving of me and everything I do? Can’t you just appreciate the fact I have found Lenny and had Elvis? I love them both! Isn’t that the most important thing in life? Will you ever, ever, be pleased with what I choose to do?’
Harriet put her hand on Rebecca’s shoulder. ‘We are pleased,’ she said unconvincingly.
‘No, you’re not!’ said Rebecca. ‘You want me to be just like your darling son! You want me to be at uni, studying medicine. I’m probably an embarrassment to you. Why don’t you just admit it! All I really want to do is love my boys and go travelling one day. I want to see India. I want to see where our family lived and where Grandpa was born. Just because I’ve had Elvis doesn’t mean I’m suddenly going to give up on my dreams or not use my brain.’
Harriet and Thomas looked pale and upset. Rebecca hated herself for shouting at them, but why were they holding back so much? It felt so passive aggressive.
‘We’ve always known you’re a free spirit,’ said Harriet quietly. ‘I guess I haven’t let you be what you want to be. I know how that feels. Honestly, I really do. I spent my entire life trying to please my father and, in a way, I envy your independence. Your father and I have had a bit of a wake-up call recently. We were wondering if you, Lenny and Elvis would agree to a week’s holiday with us in a few months’ time?’
Harriet’s lips were trembling. Thomas had his arm around her, his expression grave. Rebecca almost laughed. Go on holiday with her parents after months of not speaking and years of being at loggerheads?
‘On holiday?’ she said, bemused. ‘Why?’
Thomas and Harriet looked at one another. Thomas held her mother more tightly and nodded at her. Harriet picked up Rebecca’s hand and held it.
‘We didn’t always fight,’ she said. ‘When you were little, you and I were incredibly close. I can remember you sleeping next to me when you were a toddler, holding my hand all through the night. I remember all your school plays and the sports matches you played in. We even used to paint our toenails together. I was so proud and, though I haven’t always shown it – I am proud of you still. We both are.’
‘Thank you,’ said Rebecca, taken aback. ‘But why a holiday? Isn’t that a bit drastic?’
‘Well, not really,’ Harriet said flatly. ‘Look, shall we just carry on walking?’
‘No,’ said Rebecca. ‘Tell me what’s going on.’
Harriet looked at Thomas, who gave her a kind smile.
‘Your mother’s not well,’ he said.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Rebecca, her throat constricting.
‘We don’t know how long I have to live,’ said Harriet, her eyes glassy.
Rebecca stood frozen to the spot. Her stomach turned over and her face flushed. Her mother was dying?
‘What?’ she said, her voice shaking. ‘I don’t understand. You can’t just say that—’
She hadn’t even got to know her mother properly and here she was, saying she was going to die? Rebecca was taken aback. The idea of Harriet, strong-minded, proper, high-achieving, strict mum becoming frail and weak was too awful. She cursed herself for not being in contact these past few months.
‘But you’re a doctor,’ said Rebecca lamely. ‘I . . . I—’
‘It’s a brain tumour. I’m going to have radiotherapy, but I’m not sure how long I’ll have,’ sighed Harriet. ‘So we want to give you a lasting memory that’s positive. I’ve been far too controlling of you, but only because I loved you. Only because I wanted to give you the best chance in life. Since finding out about my condition, I’ve become very reflective, and my biggest regret is not listening to you properly. I knew in my heart you wanted different things to me and your dad, but I didn’t give you the chance to get your voice heard. I’m sorry.’
Rebecca felt the tears rushing into her eyes. She pushed her head into her mother’s shoulder and held on tight. Thomas put his arm around them both and held them.
‘I’m sorry, darling,’ said Harriet in a whisper. ‘I’m glad you have Lenny and Elvis. I’m glad you have them both to love and to love you. I’m sorry I haven’t been a good mother. I’m sorry.’
‘No, Mum,’ Rebecca said. ‘I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, Mum. Oh, Mum, I’m so sorry.’
Chapter Thirty-four
An accident. Yes. That’s what it was. Just as she hadn’t meant to break Leo’s finger, Mel hadn’t meant to open Leo’s email. His Googlemail account was just there, open and tempting on the desktop of the compu
ter. An invitation. He’d told her his password. There were no secrets between them. What was the big deal if her fingertips accidentally landed on the letters that spelled out his password?
‘Mabel,’ she said, placing her cup of coffee on the desk, her face flushing in vague embarrassment as she typed in Leo’s password and waited for his emails to appear. ‘I know this is a bit naughty, but, while Daddy’s at work, I want to make sure Coco isn’t sticking her nose where it’s not wanted—’
While the computer made its unnerving whirring sound as it loaded, Mel twisted in her chair to check on her daughter, who was on a mat on the carpet, cooing and trying her damnedest to roll over. Surrounding the mat lay various squeaking and beeping toys Mrs Lelani had bought her; there was something new virtually every day, and they now had a collection that rendered their subtle wooden toy box useless. She passed her eyes over the rest of the living room. It was a bright day, and the streaks of sunshine falling through the shutter slats were throwing spotlights on dustballs everywhere. Yikes. The corners of the room had balls of fur in them. What if Mabel was breathing all that in? Would she get asthma? Groaning and pledging to dust and tidy at some point in her life, Mel cocked her head apologetically towards Mabel.
‘Shall we go swimming in a minute with Becs and Elvis, away from all this dust?’ she said. ‘Just let Mummy do this and we’ll go.’
Beaming at her daughter then turning back to the computer, her eyes fell on the screen, which was slightly obscured by the leaves of the spider plant that sat on top. She blinked. Pushing it back so hard it fell down the back of the computer and on to the carpet, she gaped. Three emails down from the top was one from Coco. It was clearly part of an ongoing conversation.
‘I don’t believe this!’ she said, opening the succession of emails, her heart banging and her mouth going dry.
Her eyes wide, she read their email conversation:
Hi, Leo. My address is 24 Honey Hill, Hampstead, London. Just call to arrange x
Then came Leo’s answer: