A Mother Like You

by Ruby Speechley

  ‘I didn’t even know if you were alive.’ His voice gave the slightest waver.

  ‘You could have gone to my parents’ house, told them, demanded they try to find me.’

  ‘Don’t you dare tell me what I should have done.’

  ‘You should have tried harder,’ she shouted.

  ‘And if I could have contacted you, are you saying you would have torn yourself away from your new life?’

  ‘Yes, yes I would.’ Even though it would have meant jeopardising her marriage to James. Wouldn’t she?

  Paul didn’t reply.

  ‘Yes,’ she said again, confirming it to herself, but her voice lacked resonance in their snow-insulated surroundings. She imagined only muffled sounds carrying back to the restaurant. If she’d been a braver person, she would have done the right thing. But she was so used to lying about it, she’d even fooled herself. The truth was she’d thought about Frankie every single day, wondered how she was doing, what she looked like. She’d walked round with this gaping wound that no one could see because she was so good at hiding her shameful secret. She’d made sure she kept busy with the business, even married a man who wouldn’t ever talk about children. All the time accepting that whatever she did in life, however successful she appeared to be, she could never ever be completely happy.

  ‘You didn’t deserve to know,’ he said again, more slowly. And when she didn’t respond, he continued, ‘I didn’t want you turning up just because you felt sorry for us.’

  Kate shook her head.

  ‘It was difficult enough…’

  She followed his line of vision to a holly bush and the small clots of red that had burst on the ground. ‘I can’t pretend to know how scared you must have been.’

  He rubbed his face in the crook of his arm. ‘When it happened, Frankie lay there so still and silent. I knelt next to her and she couldn’t speak; she was holding her breath because it was too painful to breathe. It turned out that several of her ribs were broken as well as her spine. I’ll never forget when I asked her if she could move and she simply shut her eyes.’ Paul wiped his hand across his eyes. ‘I thought she’d never walk again.’

  ‘She’s a brave and lucky girl.’

  He nodded. ‘The specialists say she’s getting stronger all the time. She hardly needs her stick now.’

  ‘Are you two coming in?’

  Frankie texted.

  Paul showed Kate the message. They looked at each other and a smile ruffled their lips.

  ‘Give us a couple of minutes, Frank’

  Paul texted back. He took a lighter out of his pocket and flipped open a silver-plated cigarette case, offering her one.

  The words, With love, Kate were engraved on the inside of the lid. She’d forgotten about that. Her first-anniversary gift to him.

  ‘I gave up years ago,’ she said.

  He shrugged and lit the cigarette. He still wore the same gold signet ring on his middle finger. The distinctive smell of Marlboro took her back; she could see Paul as he was then, with unruly blond hair and tanned skin, barely shaving when she’d first met him.

  ‘Did you ever think about us after you left?’ He drew the smoke in, and it came out of his nostrils.

  ‘Of course I did.’ Although she tried not to for a long time. She had pushed it to the back of her mind, out of reach.

  ‘Have you any idea what it was like those first days and weeks after you left?’ There was a tremor in his hand when he drew harder on the cigarette until its walls started to collapse. He blew the smoke out and didn’t wait for her answer. ‘We could have worked things out, you and me, we were great together, special.’

  That wasn’t how she remembered it towards the end, although she had to admit her attraction to him had never waned. She hadn’t been sure she could stay with him long-term because he hadn’t been bothered about finding a steady job, which was why it came as such a shock to discover she was pregnant.

  ‘You weren’t well after Frankie was born, I can see that now, but you didn’t say anything. If you’d have talked to me, I could have helped you; we could have worked it out.’

  Kate doubted it. He was too busy drinking and staying up late. He couldn’t see the point of her going on any short evening courses at college and university when she already had a perfectly good job. He’d wanted her to keep working so he could stay at home and paint portraits.

  He gently laid his warm hand on top of hers. ‘Can you honestly say you never wondered how it would have been if you’d stayed?’

  Kate edged her hand away. He wouldn’t like her answer.

  ‘Not even once?’

  ‘Paul, I’m happily married.’

  ‘Someone your mother approves of?’ He flicked the remains of the cigarette on the ground. ‘Who is he? What’s he got that I haven’t?’

  ‘I don’t want to have this conversation. You still haven’t said why you didn’t bring Frankie to Mum’s house?’

  ‘You wanted me to come begging…?’ he mock-laughed. ‘You didn’t want us.’

  ‘It would have been the natural thing to do, especially as you went to Dad for maintenance.’

  ‘Natural? You make me laugh. Isn’t it natural for a mother to want her child?’

  ‘Or was that why he paid you, because he thought in doing so he might get to meet his grandchild?’

  ‘He paid up because he was ashamed of what you did.’

  Kate leaned over as though he’d winded her. The tiny hope she had that he hadn’t told her dad had gone. She started back to the restaurant.

  ‘What kind of woman abandons her child?’ Paul shouted after her.

  Kate paused and drew in a breath. He caught her up.

  ‘I knew you’d take better care of her,’ Kate said quietly. The layer of snow looked deceptively solid.

  Paul reached out and touched her shoulder. ‘I needed you back. We both did.’ His face softened. The glowing warmth in his eyes had drawn her in once. He’d been her hero, standing up for her when he met her parents, especially her mum. He’d helped her find the courage she needed to leave. For a fleeting moment, she longed for the Paul she first knew. The cheeky smile, the way he’d adored everything about her. They’d come to the Isle of Wight for a weekend in his camper and stayed with his friends, dossed on the floor in front of a log fire. Most nights a few of them played guitar, drank tequila slammers, smoked pot and did mad things like glue chairs to the walls. She’d truly believed she was in love with him. But now he was set on destroying her.

  ‘I had to get away,’ she said.

  Paul shook his head. ‘You’ve never told me why.’

  Kate examined the snow delicately balanced on the branch of the holly tree. ‘I was so, so tired. Even after I’d finally got Frankie to sleep, I would sit there, knowing if I closed my eyes, she would immediately wake up again, as though she knew and was doing it on purpose. I’m not proud of it.’ She imagined herself falling face down in the pillow of snow, letting the ice melt her hot skin. ‘And you weren’t helping much, sleeping during the day, staying up painting every night―’

  ‘Why didn’t you see a doctor?’ Paul interrupted. ‘Why run away?’ He paced up and down, brushing past her.

  Kate put her hand out to a branch, disturbing the snow scattering at her feet. She realised how cold she felt. ‘I was so scared,’ she said not looking at him, ‘that I might leave Frankie somewhere or hurt her.’ A shiver ran through her body.

  ‘But you did.’ His face had turned white.

  ‘I didn’t mean to.’

  ‘It’s all excuses.’ Paul stood too close, swiping her with each word.

  ‘I was scared I might do it again.’

  ‘You never came back; surely a good mother would have?’

  Kate felt herself sway. The words reverberated through her head in an aftershock. ‘You don’t understand…’ She touched her tiny bump, ‘…I didn’t feel like a mother.’

  ‘I told her what you did.’

  Kate stared
at him, stunned.

  ‘You should have stayed.’ He was shouting now.

  ‘How could I after…?’ She knew she sounded pathetic and weak.

  Paul lit another cigarette. ‘Because you had a daughter – you have a daughter!’

  Kate turned away.

  ‘I take it you got what you wanted: a big cheque at the end of every month and the important title on your little business card?’

  ‘I’ve done okay.’

  Frankie texted again. Kate waved and started back.

  ‘Didn’t you once think of coming back to us?’

  She faced him. ‘I truly believed I’d done the right thing. I was certain Frankie was better off without me; I thought a clean break was best―’

  ‘It’s all down to your bloody mother,’ he said.

  ‘You’re wrong to blame her.’

  He dug his foot in the snow, down to the wilted grass and the mud.

  ‘You’re unbelievable.’ He kicked mud up, soiling the snow.

  ‘That’s it – enough.’ Kate swept passed him. ‘You think you know everything, Paul,’ she shouted, ‘but you don’t.’ She marched back to the restaurant and grabbed her handbag.

  ‘I’m sorry, Frankie.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Frankie scraped her chair back and stood up.

  ‘Ask your dad.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ Frankie asked.

  ‘I’m sorry, I need to go for a walk on my own to calm down…’ Kate handed Matt some cash for the meal.

  ‘Leaving again, are we?’ Paul stood at the door, arms crossed.

  Kate hesitated. ‘I hope I see you again soon,’ she said to Frankie.

  She pushed past Paul and strode back across the grass. It was a mistake coming here. Nothing she did now could ever make up for what she did.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Paul called after her. At first she ignored it, then she broke into a trot, determined to be too far away for him to catch her up. Her footfall was softened by the snow, but after a few yards she slowed her pace, out of breath, the weight of the baby pulling down. As she approached a playground, she saw the light bounce off the top of the slide. Every inch of the climbing frame had been gripped by ice; furlike crystals glistened, and the tarmac shone like a sheet of cracked glass. A graveyard to happy summer days.

  A flock of birds, sitting in rows like black socks on a washing line, suddenly rose from the climbing frame, one dropping a hunk of bread from its beak. Kate remembered the wisdom of Aesop’s Fables, her father reading them to her at night, safe and warm in bed, not knowing that the daddy she loved and adored wasn’t really hers at all.

  Beyond the playground, a road lined with conifers wound out of sight. Paul called to her again. She glanced over her shoulder. He was catching up. She knew she should walk around the playground, on the grass, but it would take so much longer. If she trod carefully, she wouldn’t slip. Each step sounded a crack in the thin ice. A few moments later, he was right behind her. As she glanced round, his arm lashed out and gave her a hefty shove in her shoulder. Her foot slid out and, for a few suspended seconds, she was falling. She let out a squeal as she crashed to the ground, landing on her front with a deadening thud.

  Paul stood over her. She pushed onto her side. Her coat fell open.

  ‘Call an ambulance,’ she screamed up at him, feeling her hardening bump.

  He crouched down, hands hovering above her. ‘I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Quickly!’ Kate stared up at his puzzled face.

  ‘Are you okay? Have you broken anything?’ He fumbled in his pocket for his mobile.

  ‘I’m pregnant.’

  ‘You?’ His eyes widened.

  She said it again, shouting this time.

  He blinked at her.

  ‘Please…’ She bowed her head.

  ‘How can you be pregnant?’ He shook his head and wandered away from her as he spoke on the phone.

  She dared not move as a fire ripped through her belly.

  ‘They’re on their way.’ He knelt beside her. ‘Let’s get you up.’

  ‘I can’t,’ she wailed.

  ‘Can you at least sit up?’

  ‘No, I daren’t, the baby… I’m not sure if it’s moving.’

  ‘Tell me what I can do.’ He moved to touch her.

  ‘Get away from me!’

  ‘How far gone are you?’

  ‘About fourteen weeks.’

  ‘I thought you’d put on a bit of weight but…’ His fingers hovered above her, immediately transporting her back to the time she was pregnant with Frankie, lying in Hyde Park in the warm sunshine, his hand resting on her bare skin, the air fragrant, heavy with pollen. He’d made her feel so safe that she believed everything would slot into place as soon as she was born. She’d thought she’d love Paul more than ever, be content with her life and turn out to be a great mother.

  ‘You’re having it then?’ he asked, bringing her back to the present.

  ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ she snapped.

  ‘I don’t understand you,’ he said. ‘Never have.’

  ‘It’ll be your fault if I lose it,’ she shouted, pulling away from him.

  A dart of sunshine burst through a crack in the clouds. She squinted, trying to see his face. He looked serious as he put a hand on her shoulder and another on her elbow to help her sit up. The pain subsided but her fingers had stiffened in her snow-soaked woollen gloves. Paul took off his jacket and draped it round her shoulders. As they waited, a solitary robin sang its melancholy winter song, echoing around them, bringing their silence into relief. Kate thought over what Paul had told her about Frankie’s accident, how she could have died or been paralysed, and how she hadn’t known. Her child seriously hurt, and she wasn’t there for her.

  After what felt like hours, an ambulance siren could be heard faintly in the distance.

  Paul put his hands on his head. ‘Let me guess – James hasn’t got a clue about Frankie?’

  She stared at him until her eyes burned from the cold air.

  ‘Why would I keep it from him?’

  Paul grinned as if he could read her mind.

  The ambulance arrived at high speed and pulled over by the side of the park.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll let him know what’s happened,’ Paul said as the two paramedics lifted Kate onto a stretcher.

  ‘There’s no need,’ she said, reaching out her hand.

  A paramedic came towards her with an oxygen mask.

  ‘No, please, you don’t understand,’ Kate said as they lifted the stretcher into the ambulance. The paramedic clamped the mask over Kate’s face. Why was this happening to her? She’d come to see her first child and now this had happened. Was it because she had abandoned Frankie and hadn’t been there for her after her accident? Because she was a bad mother? What if the baby was hurt? What if she was miscarrying? She wanted this baby more than anything. Tears welled in her eyes. She hoped with every cell in her body that it would be okay. She tried to sit up, to reach out, but the paramedic gently put her hand on Kate’s shoulder to keep her down. The other paramedic handed Paul’s jacket back to him.

  ‘We’ll come and see you later.’ Paul stood on the pavement holding his hand up briefly as the doors closed.

  Kate’s skin and clothes became warm and damp beneath her. The last thing she remembered was her body beginning to shake.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Kate woke up in a hospital bed. It was dark outside, and the ward was reflected in the huge windows. She remembered why she was there. The pain she had experienced at the playground had gone. She touched her belly but could feel no movement. She rubbed the bump gently with both hands. Please, please be all right. She eased herself upright. Where was her phone? She needed to call James, tell him what had happened. Then she remembered that Paul said he would call him. Her heart stopped. Would he tell him everything? He could find James’s number on their website. She opened the bedside cupboard and found her
handbag inside. She rummaged round and took her phone out.

  There was one missed text from James earlier asking her how she was and saying he’d heard what happened from Paul. She texted back, telling him that she and Paul had argued, and he pushed her over. When he replied asking why Paul would do that, she said she couldn’t say by text. She needed to tell him in person. A moment later, he called her on FaceTime.

  ‘How are you? You look tired. Tell me what happened with you two.’ It looked like he was sitting on the sofa in their hotel room.

  ‘I’m okay. Just worried about this little one.’

  ‘And is the baby all right?’

  ‘I don’t know yet.’ She tried not to show her anguish.

  ‘So why did Paul push you over?’ He pulled a disgusted face. ‘He didn’t tell me he was the reason you’re in hospital.’

  ‘I was trying to get away from him and slipped on ice. I went down with quite a wallop.’

  ‘What were you arguing about?’

  Kate blinked at him. There was nowhere to hide. ‘He’s been sending me messages, threatening and blackmailing me.’

  ‘I don’t understand, what for?’

  She let out a breath. ‘It’s complicated.’

  ‘How long has this been carrying on?’ He drew back from the screen.

  ‘I bumped into him at Sopwell House.’

  ‘Is there something going on between you?’ His voice was uneven.

  ‘No! That’s not what it’s about.’

  ‘What is it then?’

  ‘I’d rather tell you when you get here.’

  ‘Right. I’m coming over in the morning. And you need to text me if he comes near you again, okay?’ He stood up and starting pacing round the room.

  ‘Okay, but don’t contact him, will you? You’ll only make it worse.’

  ‘Okay, I promise. Now try and get some sleep.’

  She ended the call and pressed the phone to her chest. It was going to be hard, but she needed to be honest with him, let him know how sorry she was, and there was a slim chance he might just forgive her.

  Her phone buzzed. A notification popped up, saying she’d been tagged on Instagram. Could this be the same person again? She hadn’t been on Instagram long and wasn’t entirely sure how it all worked apart from the basics. She opened the app and clicked on ‘Activity’. Someone called NudeNumberOneGirl had tagged her in a post. She didn’t recognise the name and it was obvious she shouldn’t touch it, but she needed to see what was being said about her. She clicked on the link and a photo opened of their front door. Neon writing and arrows had been drawn on the picture, pointing to the words: