by Chris Curran
Slowly she went back up. One more check from Ivy’s window. Nothing.
Ivy was stirring, probably sensing something and she took her back to the rocking chair longing for the return of that wonderful sense of peace.
But it was no good and she knew she must tell Alex and show him the second Instagram comment. This affected him and Ivy too.
When the front door opened he shouted, ‘Hello,’ and ran upstairs to her. Something must have shown in her face because he said, ‘What’s wrong?’ Going down on his knees and looking not at her, but at Ivy, ‘Is she all right?’
It was as if her body was flooded with heat, and she clenched her hands so tightly her nails bit into her palms. Don’t overreact. ‘Of course she is. We both are.’ She knew she shouldn’t but found the words bursting out anyway. ‘Didn’t you think she’d be safe with me?’
He reached out to touch her hair, but she jerked her head away.
‘I’ll put her down then get on with the dinner.’
‘I can do that.’
She noticed for the first time that his hair was thinning slightly at the back. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t drop her.’
A sigh as he stood. ‘I know you won’t. I meant I’d start the dinner.’
She didn’t look at him just put Ivy into her cot and stood fiddling with the mobile of brightly coloured birds above her head. She wanted to tell him about her fears, but what if he didn’t believe her?
When she turned back he had gone and she plonked down in the rocking chair again. Why was she being like this? In the old days she would have told him everything as soon as he got home. They would have talked it through and he would have helped. He was always so calm and reasonable and that was one of the things she loved about him. And she did love him.
Her mobile was ringing downstairs again. Then the home phone shrilled.
Alex’s voice, sounding strange. ‘Eve, come down, please,’ and she knew something was very wrong.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Eve
Her mother was in hospital. Another heart attack and a serious one this time. She left Ivy with Alex and drove there fast. Her dad was all alone, looking almost green under a flickering strip of fluorescent light.
When he saw her his face crumpled as he tried to hold back his tears. He reached for her and they held each other but, instead of making her feel safe, it made her want to cry. Not just for her mum but for how shrunken he seemed and how sharp his shoulder blades felt through his clothes. When they parted she recognized his jumper as an old one Jill was always threatening to throw out. There was a stain just where he had the beginning of a small paunch. All she could think was: Mum will be so embarrassed when she realizes he’s been out in that grubby old sweater. But it didn’t matter because her mum might never see it. Might never see anything again.
‘It’s bad,’ he said. ‘They’re doing a bypass right now.’
She took his hand. There was nothing to say.
She seemed to drift away for a while and wasn’t sure how long he’d been talking.
‘Can’t think what she was doing. Even in good weather she should never have thought of walking all that way. But in that terrible cold wind and rain.’
‘Dad?’
His eyes were misty grey. ‘When did she leave you?’ he said.
‘Just after lunch. About half one I think. Why?’
‘She didn’t come home, so I thought she must still be with you. Tried ringing her a couple of times. Tried you, too, but when neither of you answered I thought you were busy chatting or had gone out with the baby.’
If only she’d answered her phone. ‘Where was she?’
‘It looks like she walked for hours along the beach. In that awful weather. Why would she do that?’
Because I upset her, that’s why. ‘So what happened?’
‘A man found her collapsed on a bench on the seafront and rang 999. He was just in time, but it was touch and go at first. Still is, I think.’
She squeezed his arm. ‘Oh, Dad, I’m sorry.’
He kissed her hand. ‘It wasn’t your fault.’ A wavering croak: an old man’s voice.
But it was my fault.
‘She was conscious for a few minutes, when I got here. Kept saying she loved us and made me promise to tell you that.’
Fire in her throat. Acid tears in her eyes. All she could do was shake her head and grip him tighter.
‘And I had to tell you she was sorry. I don’t know what she meant, but she kept saying it.’ He gulped and pressed his fist to his mouth. ‘They told her she needed to lie still, but she was trying to sit up, grabbing my hand.’ Another huge gulp. ‘She kept saying the same thing over and over. ‘I’m sorry. Tell Eve I’m sorry.’
Stella
The birth was nothing like she’d prepared for. In the weeks leading up to it she had read all the books she could get her hands on. Jill had brought her several from the library.
In the end it happened a week early. She had been in agony all day, pacing up and down in her room, and wanted to wait a bit longer, but when Jill realized what was happening she insisted on driving her to the hospital. It was just as well because everything went wrong from then on. Apparently they had been worried at her antenatal visits that she was too small, or the baby too big, although she couldn’t remember anyone telling her.
She ended up having a caesarean. As they got her ready and wheeled her into the theatre she watched the strip lights passing by over her head and heard her nana’s voice. ‘I had a terrible time with your mother. They had to cut me open because I was so tiny. Couldn’t get out of bed for ages. Was never the same after that.’
They allowed Jill to come in and sit beside her head, while the rest of her body was hidden behind a screen. And Jill’s smiles and soft words helped to keep her from thinking about what was happening.
It didn’t take long, but she lay waiting and listening for endless minutes before she heard a tiny cry. When they told her it was a girl she managed to mutter to Jill, ‘I want her to be called Eve.’
They gave her a quick look at the baby before they sewed her up. Red blotchy face, crumpled little nose, purple-tinged eyelids closed fast against the light. Or maybe against the sight of her mother.
What had her mam said? ‘I was just a kid when you were born and the way you looked at me, after all I went through, well I could see you didn’t like me. Should never have had you.’
Strands of ginger hair on the baby’s head. She had hoped it would be dark, like James. Tears spilling down. The nurse moved the baby away and all she could do was follow the little bundle with her blurred eyes. The books all said early bonding was vital. But they whisked her out of the room.
Next day sitting up in bed and feeling as if she’d been cut in two, she tried to breastfeed like all the other women in the ward seemed to be doing so easily. But the baby jerked and wailed in her arms, and the nurse told her she might not have enough milk, and she gave up and let them bring a bottle. They said she could try again later, but it had hurt so much and she’d been so embarrassed that she didn’t want to. Anyway, Jill said at least this way she would know that Eve was getting enough nourishment. And formula these days was very good.
Jill and David visited, bringing flowers and chocolates, and the other mothers assumed they were her very young-looking parents. She didn’t contradict them. It was nice to feel like everyone else with their families around them.
When she was released both David and Jill turned up in the car for her. They had fitted a baby seat in the back, and she was able to sit there with Eve. Climbing from the car she winced and held onto the door as Jill bustled round to help her while David carried Eve indoors.
‘You go up and lie down in your room and I’ll bring you some lunch. We’ll watch the baby for you.’
As a surprise for Stella’s homecoming they had bought a beautiful Moses basket. David moved the wooden blanket chest from the end of the bed in her room to the side so that she could easily
reach the baby during the night. But Jill said, ‘We’ll have her in with us for the first night. It’ll give you the chance to get some proper sleep.’
The kitchen was always warm and cosy, so Eve spent most of her time in her basket near the Aga and more often than not it was Jill who fed her; Jill who prepared her bottles. Stella knew she should be grateful, but sometimes she wanted to grab her baby and run away with her.
When the plump and laughing health visitor, who introduced herself as Vicky, came to see her, Jill was there too. Vicky was not much older than Stella and after she’d looked at Eve and cooed over her a bit she sat and ate a piece of carrot cake. Licking her fingers, she looked from Stella to Jill. ‘I gather you aren’t related?’
Jill answered, ‘Just good friends.’
Vicky smiled.
Leaning back in her chair Jill said, ‘Stella is an artist. A hugely talented one.’ When Stella made a noise she laughed. ‘Unfortunately she’s too modest for her own good. She has no family, but when my husband featured her paintings in his gallery we kind of adopted her. We love having her here.’
Vicky asked if she could wash her hands, turning to Stella as she dried them. ‘Well it all seems fine. I’m glad to see you so settled and baby is looking wonderful.’
Stella followed her to the door and then to her car. ‘You know I haven’t been able to feed Eve myself?’
Vicky touched her arm. ‘Don’t you worry about that, love. We encourage breastfeeding, of course, but bottle-fed babies do perfectly well too.’
‘What about letting other people feed her. Is that all right?’
‘Of course. And if it gives you a chance to relax and rest that’s all to the good. A relaxed mum is always best for baby.’
She climbed into her car and rolled down the window. ‘I’ll be back next week, but call me if you have any concerns at all. You’re staying here permanently, are you?’
‘Oh, no. Just for a while.’
‘Ah.’ She had put the keys in, but took them out and rested them on her lap. ‘Well do be sure to let me know your plans and I wouldn’t rush away too fast if I were you. It can be difficult when you don’t have the support of a partner, especially without close family nearby.
‘I don’t have any family.’
Vicky looked at her watch and started the engine. ‘Well then you’re very lucky to have found Jill. She’s obviously a really caring person and this is such a lovely house. You couldn’t be better off. Nor could baby.’
She was painting in a kind of frenzy. Painting every day for as long as she could. Ignoring the pain from her stitches and her aching back. If she could get three pictures finished, she could give one to David and Jill to pay them back for everything they’d done for her.
She’d written to Maggie to tell her about Eve’s birth and that she hoped to visit. Maggie replied that she was just about to move into the new house. She didn’t mention the baby.
The weather’s beginning to warm up here. If you come soon we can have a wonderful summer together.
The painting was going well. The Maggie and Me picture was complete and she’d started two more. One was a view looking out to sea from the cliffs above Hastings. The seagulls were transformed into fantasy birds with white feathers so they looked almost like angels. The other was of the Ballantyne’s cottage with David and Jill standing in the doorway. She had put a coronet of flowers on Jill’s curls to turn her into a May queen, or a bride.
She kept both pictures covered and worked on them at the same time, something she’d never done before. Didn’t go out much because she still felt sore from the operation and she didn’t want to leave Eve. Jill had said she could carry on using the car, but, ‘I’ve taken an extended leave from work, so I’m always available to babysit.’ She offered to buy a pram, but Stella refused. ‘You’ve spent enough on us already.’
Jill was at home most of the time now. Occasionally she went shopping or for coffee with a friend and then Stella would sit singing and rocking Eve, feeling as if she was doing something wrong. Watching this tiny bundle with bubbles around her pink mouth yawning and trying to focus her eyes, she still couldn’t think of her as her daughter. And when Jill returned – always too soon – she would put the baby back into her basket and go upstairs to her frantic painting again.
When she finally completed the pictures she waited until both David and Jill were home. It was evening, but the spring sunlight was perfect. They stood just inside the door where they could get a good view of the easel beside her bedroom window. When Stella took off the cloth to show them the painting of themselves, neither of them spoke for a few minutes while Stella stood, heart pounding.
Finally David said, ‘It’s wonderful, Stella. I can see real development.’
Jill spoke very softly. ‘It’s beautiful, thank you.’
‘Are you sure you don’t want me to try to sell it for you?’ David asked her. ‘I can offer it to one of my old friends in London. They could get you a very good price.’
‘No, no, it’s yours.’
The others were leaning against the wall and they hoisted them up one by one. Each time David stood back again shaking his head and smiling.
‘Do you think you could sell these?’ she said.
‘Of course. I’d love to have them in my gallery down here, but couldn’t get you as much as they deserve. I’ll take them up to London when I go next week. You could come with me if you want.’
Stella said she didn’t feel up to it yet and realized she was almost afraid to leave Eve with Jill. She had come into the kitchen yesterday to find her sitting by the Aga feeding the baby and the look on her face transformed her from a plump woman on the verge of middle age into a cherubic beauty. Her skin was flushed and her eyes gazing down at Eve were filled with something more like adoration than love. Madonna and Child. That was the thought that came into Stella’s mind and she wanted to snatch the baby – her baby – up and run, run out into the street and as far as she could go.
She had never felt so tired. The baby had been with her all night and neither of them had slept much. Jill knocked on her door first thing to ask if she should take Eve down and she hadn’t argued. Was desperate for sleep. When she woke she lay looking out at the sunlit garden forcing herself to think. The facts were plain enough. Jill did everything better: calming the baby, feeding her, getting her to sleep. It all took longer and was more difficult when Stella tried to do it. Jill was a born mother, David would make a wonderful father, and they had a home and enough money to give Eve a comfortable life.
When she came down Jill was preparing bottles of milk. Eve was asleep in her usual place by the Aga. As if she’d heard Stella’s thoughts Jill turned to her, shaking a bottle of formula, and said, ‘Have you given anymore thought to the future?’
Stella went to sit by the Moses basket, looking at Eve sleeping. She seemed to grow plumper and prettier every day. ‘I can’t impose on you much longer.’
Jill lined up the bottles in the fridge and wiped her hands, coming to sit on the nearest chair and turning it to face her. ‘Don’t be silly. We’ve loved having you. And David was just saying we won’t know what to do with ourselves if you go.’ Her hands twisted together in her lap. ‘And what about Eve? You know how happy we’d be to look after her. Maybe foster her officially while you decide what to do.’ Her voice dropped as if she was talking to herself more than to Stella. ‘Or adopt her if you think that’s best’
She was suddenly so frightened her breath seemed to have stopped, and Jill must have seen it.
She came to kneel beside Stella’s chair. ‘Oh, no, don’t be upset. I shouldn’t have brought it up now after your bad night.’
When Stella made a sudden move, feeling like running away again, Jill stood and walked round the table, her hands twisting and twisting. ‘I know you want what’s best for Eve. If you did let us look after her, you could see her anytime. But it would mean you could get on with your work knowing she was safe and happy.’
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br /> Stella looked away. Staring at the wall. David had put her painting up there. It showed a perfect home and a perfect couple. But she turned her eyes to the blank plaster above it. Couldn’t bear to look at it. And couldn’t face the real Jill standing in her lovely kitchen – the Jill who would make a wonderful mother.
It might be best for Eve if Stella gave her up, but oh … There was a pain in her throat and in the place where her heart must be.
Far away, Jill was still talking, her voice bright, ‘You said your friend has invited you to Italy, so why not go for a few weeks? Give yourself time to think. Have a proper holiday. And leave Eve with us.’
CHAPTER TWENTY
Eve
There was nothing to do but wait under the flickering strip light, jumping every time a door opened. The waiting room was empty and it would be hours yet, but if something went wrong it could happen any minute. Eve and her father didn’t talk for a while. She rang Alex to tell him she wouldn’t be back until they knew how the operation had gone. Then she went to the foyer and brought back a couple of bottles of water. Her dad dropped his on the chair next to him as if he was too weak to hold it.
‘I upset Mum,’ she said. ‘Asking about Stella.’
He nodded. ‘I thought it must be something like that.’
‘I didn’t know you had only fostered me when she went to Italy. Why didn’t you tell me that?’
He ran his hands through his thin grey hair. ‘What? Well, it was so long ago. And we did adopt you shortly afterwards, which is what we told you.’
‘But you didn’t do that until Stella was dead.’
‘No, but as soon as we could.’
‘So why is Mum saying she’s sorry. What has she got to apologize for?’
He didn’t answer for a while and then it was only, ‘You won’t say anything when she comes round, will you? She’ll need us. Need to know we love her.’