“What was all that about?” asked Pauline.
“I don’t know,” said Lauren, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t you want to see your babies, Lauren?”
“Yes,” she said, “I do. More than anything.” It was true. She thought of how much she wanted to see Morgan and Riley, and she started to cry again, hopeless, helpless tears, before stopping herself abruptly. To see them again, she would first need to see the imposters, to appear to accept them as her own. She had to make this woman believe, so that she could convince the doctor. “I don’t know why I did that. Will Patrick bring them back? I really want to see them. I do.”
“Let’s give it a few minutes, shall we? They’ll go up to the nursery, and when you’re ready we can have them brought down again. OK?”
“OK. But not too long?”
“You need to be calm, petal. Babies can pick up on emotions.”
“I’m calm. I’ll be calm.” But the way she said it, far too quickly, and the way Pauline looked at her with eyebrows slightly raised, cast doubt on her words.
The nurse put the telly on, that big rectangular pacifier. The notebook came out a moment later, the pen scratching away at the paper for what seemed like forever, recording all of the things Lauren had said and done, all of the things she didn’t want the doctor to know about. Lauren’s hand twitched. She wanted to get hold of that book and rip the pages away from the spine. There had to be a way to get it off her.
A knock-knocking, a cry of “dinner,” and Pauline tucked the notebook out of sight. She got up and unlocked the door.
“Lovely, thanks,” she said to someone outside and the door gave a squeak as it closed. She came back with the tray and placed it on Lauren’s lap. Horrors. On the tacky wood-effect surface were two plastic bowls and a plate piled with matter; all of it emitting a thick odour of meat, fat and over-boiled vegetation, none of it Lauren would have chosen to put in her mouth and chew. Next to the bowls and the plate, plastic cutlery. Patients weren’t trusted with metal. I could still fashion something pointy from those, she thought.
The nurse was watching her. Lauren needed to get this right. She was on the back foot now. There needed to be a plan if she was going to get out of this place before it was too late.
Staying focused was crucial—she couldn’t afford any more mistakes. Morgan and Riley were somewhere out there, waiting for her to rescue them, and she was the only one who understood the truth about what was happening. The creatures inside the bodies of Morgan and Riley had fooled everyone but her. She could see why; she wouldn’t have believed it herself if it hadn’t been happening to her. And why was it happening to her? Maybe she deserved all of this, for being a bad mother. And perhaps she deserved it because, when they were born, she didn’t love them immediately, the way you’re supposed to do, the way she expected she would.
She hadn’t loved them immediately, but she loved them after a spell. It seeped into her. Slowly. Like the love was something she’d been sipping at. Intoxicating. Accumulating. Snowballing. Slowly, quietly but unstoppably until she was quite drunk with it, and it was all she did. She loved them, it was her calling. Every instant was devoted to it, every thought, every action, every reaction. All her plans, all her dreams were about them, through them, for them, because of them, because of this love, that had not been there immediately but came upon her slowly, inexorably, irreversibly. That was why it was such a shock when it disappeared, the love: just like that, click your fingers, gone. She’d looked at those creatures in the stroller and the love was not there, not for them. It existed in her as a painful yearning, a missing part, reaching out to her real babies, wherever they were now, wherever that revolting woman had taken them. Under the water, somewhere. It didn’t matter, she’d find them. Because she was their mother, and that was her job.
Nurse Pauline watched Lauren inspecting the tray of food, and without taking her eyes from the patient she slipped her notebook and pen out of her tunic pocket and rested them on her knee. If I don’t eat this, thought Lauren, what is that nurse going to write? She needed to stop the treacherous note-taking, starting right now. All of the evidence needed to be in her favour. Lauren cleared her throat and reached for a piece of cutlery. She forked up a lump of the sloppy beige and brown mess and held her breath as she swallowed it down. Pauline nodded, smiled and wrote a short note, but what did it say? Lauren ate her meal nicely? Lauren pretended to like her meal? Lauren hesitated before attempting to eat her meal? Lauren ate the food even though she clearly didn’t want to?
The smell of the food was outrageous. She took a gulp of lukewarm water from the plastic beaker, but the taste of the gelatinous yuck stayed on her tongue. Yes, she thought, placing the flimsy vessel down again, if I had a real glass perhaps I would think about slashing my way out of here. She glanced up at Pauline, who was openly staring. Did she have to do that? The whole situation was inhuman. Don’t they know, can’t they see that this kind of close scrutiny would drive anyone mad? The way she was being inspected made Lauren wonder if her face might be giving too much away. She flattened her expression, and then, suddenly overcome with fatigue, turned towards the window to see sparrows kicking up dust in the brownish remains of the lawn outside.
“You not hungry, love?” asked Pauline. The woman seemed suspicious. Was Lauren allowed to not be hungry?
“Oh, not really, I’m afraid,” said Lauren, worrying about how the words were coming out. She sounded like she was lying, but it was true. Her stomach felt like it was full of stones. She forced another wet globule into her mouth. Swallowed. Smiled. “It’s nice, though.” Weirdly, the lie sounded more convincing than the truth had. Don’t gag, don’t gag. More water, but the goo had stuck on her teeth, coating them in starch.
“What about your pudding?” said Pauline, “Don’t you like steamed sponge and custard?”
In this heat? Who ate custard in summer?
“Not much of a sweet tooth,” said Lauren. The nurse was still looking at the bowl of yellow-and-red, which reminded Lauren of a film she’d seen once in which a zombie ate its own ear during a dinner party. After a moment, the nurse was still looking; she licked her lips. “Do you want it?” said Lauren. “Help yourself.”
Without further hesitation, Nurse Pauline reached over and picked up the bowl and the plastic spoon. She sliced off a huge chunk of the sponge with the side of the spoon and shovelled it in, custard dripping from her lower lip. Don’t gag, don’t gag.
“Yum,” said Pauline, before she’d even swallowed. Lauren turned away. The sparrows had gone.
Nurse Pauline finished the dessert in four or five spoonfuls, then replaced the bowl on the tray in front of Lauren, who stared at the smeary yellow streaks and the spit-slick surface of the plastic spoon.
“That filled a hole,” said Nurse Pauline, patting the front of her uniform.
It wasn’t too late. It couldn’t be. She had seventy-two hours to convince them she was fine before they committed her to any more treatment. The clock would have started at lunchtime, when she’d been admitted. Time was ticking. She turned to the nurse.
“I think I’m ready now.”
Pauline said, “Ready?”
“Yes,” said Lauren, “to see the boys. They must be hungry; they usually feed at this time.”
“Are you sure? We don’t want another performance like last time. It will only upset the little poppets.”
“I know, I think I was just … overwhelmed. I’m ready now. I’d love to see them.”
Pauline considered for a while. Then she made a quick note.
“Right,” she said, “OK. I’ll get Susan to bring them up from the nursery.” She stood up and unlocked the door to lean out, but kept a foot in it to stop it closing completely. Lauren could hear her exchanging muttered remarks with another nurse over the two-way radio. Why couldn’t she do that in front of Lauren? What was she saying, exactly?
Nurse Pauline re-entered after a minute, replacing her handset on her belt.
She said to Lauren, “They’ll just be a few minutes—you’re lucky, the babies haven’t woken up for a feed just yet but they will soon. They’ll be happy to be fed by their mummy. Though, you do know you won’t be able to breastfeed them yet, don’t you—because of your medication?”
Lauren managed a disappointed smile, but she was sickened at the idea of breastfeeding those things, and desperately grateful to the drugs that had contaminated her supply.
“I’ll just be happy to see them again,” said Lauren.
“Shouldn’t be too long though, until you can.”
“Can what?”
“Breastfeed them. Depending on what they keep you dosed up with, of course. There are some anti-anxiety medications you can take and still feed.”
A jolt of fear. No.
“Great,” said Lauren, keeping her eyes on the smiling face of the man on the screen, who was gesticulating in a yellow hard hat at a half-built concrete house. Lauren felt her blood pulsating in her head. She concentrated on breathing slowly.
Knuckles rapped on the door.
“Here they are,” said Nurse Pauline, flicking the mute button on the TV.
Don’t panic, Lauren told herself. Whatever else they are, they are two small, helpless things. They can’t hurt me. There is nothing to be afraid of.
The door opened and two more nurses came in, each holding a baby-shaped bundle.
“Aw,” said Nurse Pauline, “they’re asleep, little angels. Just pop them in the cot, ladies, if you don’t mind.”
“They’ve not had a bottle yet,” said the smaller nurse, “not since Dad fed them earlier. They’ve just been sleeping, bless them.”
“Lovely,” said Nurse Pauline.
“Are you planning to keep them overnight?” asked the smaller nurse. “Or should we pop back and get them in a couple of hours?” Lauren was thinking about the answer when she realised the nurse wasn’t asking her, she was asking Pauline. The patient didn’t get a say, of course.
Pauline glanced at Lauren and frowned doubtfully. “We’ll see how we get on.”
“Right. We’ll leave you to it, then.” The two nurses turned to leave.
“Is Patrick still here?” asked Lauren.
“Sorry, love,” said the small nurse, “he went home about an hour ago. He’ll be back tomorrow.”
Night was falling fast. The taller nurse flicked the lights on as she left.
With their eyes shut they could easily have been normal babies. But even with their eyes shut, she could see it, the wrongness. Lauren and Nurse Pauline stood, looking down at the small figures, the pair of babies breathing in tandem, stomachs rising and falling together. Pauline was taking careful notice of her charge.
“Right then, Mum,” she asked, “which one’s which?”
I don’t know, she thought, I can’t tell. They look exactly the same, apart from the colour of the vests. She knew now how other people had felt when looking at the twins before they were swapped. It was eerie, how alike they were.
“Green for Riley,” said Lauren, feeling her pulse quicken but keeping her voice steady, “Yellow for Morgan.”
Lauren glanced at Pauline. When she looked back at the babies their eyes were open. She gulped back a gasp and grabbed one hand with the other to stop them flying to her mouth. Both of the creatures were fully awake and concentrating on her with a steady gaze. Baby lips pressed together, miniature hands clasped.
“Hello, there, Morgan and Riley,” said Pauline in a sugary voice. “Mummy’s been missing you. Haven’t you, Mummy?”
Three pairs of eyes upon Lauren, waiting for her response. The nurse wanted her to be insane, that much was clear. It probably made her job more interesting. But those two babies, what did they want from her? The eyes were old, full of knowledge. Her boys had crystal-blue eyes, with grey at the edges, just like Patrick. But these two pairs were starting to turn green. River-weed green.
“Yes, I’ve missed you,” said Lauren, aware not only of the eyes, but of the unit’s CCTV camera mounted in the ceiling, making her self-conscious, so that she felt forced to put on a show. She could do this. She told herself, pretend you love them, Lauren, you know what that looks like. “I don’t ever want to be parted from you again. My precious boys.”
The tears that came were real. Pauline patted her shoulder. The babies watched Lauren crying for a minute, fascinated, then turned their faces towards each other. Lauren saw something pass between them before they both inhaled and started to cry too. It was the same sound she was making. They were copying her. Lauren’s throat closed, her sobs strangled. The twins continued. That same unnatural tone.
“Hungry, are we?” said Pauline, apparently not noticing that the boys were doing an exact impression of Lauren’s soft sob, her adult cry. They didn’t sound like babies at all.
Lauren tried not to stare at them as Pauline went over to the little table by the cot where the formula and the baby bottles stood. She picked up an empty bottle. “Oh, fiddlesticks,” she said, “I need boiling water. Hang on, love.”
At the click of the closing door the two creatures stopped their bizarre mimicking of Lauren’s cry and were suddenly calm, absorbed in watching her. Did they want acknowledgement? Hear that? Didn’t we sound like you? Aren’t we clever? She shivered, and would have moved away to the other side of the room. But for the camera at her back. She kept her eyes on the facsimiles of her children. What do you want? she wondered. She tipped her head to the side, and both the boys did, too. A whisper, then. One in each of her ears. Plaintive and distant, she could have imagined it: Mother.
The door opened and Pauline came barrelling back in, holding two steaming bottles of water.
“Sorry, love. You OK?” She seemed nervous. The nurse checked the babies, coochy-cooing them under the chin. She glanced up at the camera in the corner. Then Lauren realised what it was that was making her nervous. She’s not supposed to leave me alone with them.
“That CCTV,” said Lauren, holding Pauline’s gaze, “is it recorded?”
Pauline looked away, arranging bottles, teats, the big tub of formula.
“It’s a monitoring system,” said Pauline. “It’s to help us make sure you’re getting better.”
“But is it recorded?”
“I’m not supposed to discuss it with patients.”
“Oh,” said Lauren, “I see. Well, I suppose there are things I could keep to myself, too. If I wanted to. Or I could tell people. Depending.” She could feel her heart beating. This wasn’t her, she wasn’t a bully. But she had reason, and she had to grab every little chance she was given. “Like just now,” she glared straight at the nurse, “when you left me alone with these two.”
Pauline wiped her sweaty hands on her tunic. She took a step back, to just behind the corner created by the ensuite, the only place in the room not covered by the camera. “I was only gone for a second,” she hissed, her face turning red.
“How long do you think it takes to smother a baby?” whispered Lauren, without turning her head. Both twins were paying attention, their eyes travelling between the two women.
“You didn’t do it, though.”
“No. Because I’m not insane. Whatever you might think.”
“Huh,” said Pauline. “You all say that. The ones who deny it the loudest are the most insane, in my experience.”
Lauren took a small step towards Pauline, making it look like she was bending to examine the babies more closely. “You could lose your job for that, couldn’t you?”
Pauline’s whole head had gone beetroot. “Nothing happened. They’re fine.”
“Do they record it?” she asked again.
“OK,” said Pauline, “what does it matter? Yes, they record it. But they don’t watch it all. Only if something happens that’s significant. The footage is stored for a week and then wiped.”
“They don’t watch it? Why do they bother, then?”
“There are twelve beds here, all full. That’s twelve days’ worth o
f footage, every day. Plus, the hallways, the entry doors, the grounds. You couldn’t watch it all if you tried.”
“Aha,” said Lauren. “So you might get away with it then? Leaving a patient alone with babies, when you’ve been told not to.”
“I might, yes,” said Pauline, swallowing nervously.
“If I keep my mouth shut.”
Pauline just looked at her.
“So, barring the unlikely possibility someone was watching the screen at that exact moment, no one will ever know. Unless I tell them, within the next week, before they scrub the footage.”
Pauline’s face screwed up in anger, then went slack in defeat. She shrugged and went about the business of scooping powdered formula into the bottles of hot water. The twins started making soft mewling noises and flapped their hands by their sides. The one in green chewed his right hand, while the one in yellow chewed his left.
“Which one do you want?” asked Pauline, swirling the milk in the bottles to mix it up and cool it down.
“You choose,” said Lauren.
They sat in the chairs to feed the babies, who both kept a fixed gaze on Lauren. The one dressed as Riley showed no interest in Pauline, turning his head determinedly in the arms of the nurse so that she had to shift her position to get the bottle in. Lauren smiled down at the one she held, feeling cold. The small body was holding itself in a strange way. Morgan would have curled into her arm. This baby didn’t know how to do that. In a way, she almost felt sorry for it. But her revulsion for the things, and her longing for her boys were hard to keep in check with pity alone.
Without moving her lips very much, she nodded towards the camera and whispered, “Does it have sound?”
Pretending not to respond, Pauline breathed out, “Yes, but it’s not very good quality.”
Lauren saw her opportunity and grabbed it. She could make things right, before the doctor saw the things Pauline was writing about her.
“I need your notes from earlier,” whispered Lauren.
Little Darlings Page 19