‘No, no no! Please no.’ Placing her hand over her mouth and closing her eyes, Jessica stayed still for a second or two, hoping that it was a mere blip and that Lilly would simply find her thumb and soothe herself back to sleep. There was a moment of silence. Jessica exhaled. She smiled. Even if this silence lasted mere minutes, she would make the most of it. It was in the very second that her head touched the pillow that Lilly started wailing in earnest.
Jessica pushed her face into the feathery depths and cried fat, hot tears that clogged her nose and throat. She forced herself up from the mattress. With leaden limbs she shuffled across the hallway and stood in the open doorway of the nursery. ‘Shhhh…’ she managed between gulps. ‘Shhhh….’
Lilly’s crying stopped, sputtered and recommenced. She wanted picking up, changing and feeding and no amount of reassurance from the doorway was going to alter that.
Jessica crept over to the cot and placed her palm on her daughter’s chest. Lilly hiccupped and cried. ‘Please, Lilly, go back to sleep. Shhhh…’
This suggestion seemed only to distress her baby more. Reluctantly, with tears streaming down her face, Jessica reached in and lifted her hiccupping child from her cot. With her baby perched on her straightened arm, she trod the stairs, carefully and deliberately, wary of tripping. How would she explain that to Matthew? She feared his wrath if she inadvertently did something wrong with Lilly. Not that he had ever shown his anger; in fact quite the opposite: he was patient, encouraging and supportive. But Jessica knew from experience what simmered beneath the surface when you loved someone as much as he did Lilly.
Jessica smiled as she entered the kitchen, wiping her tears on the back of her pyjama sleeve. Matthew had tidied, wiped down the surfaces and stacked the dishwasher. He had even placed her favourite mug by the kettle with a teabag resting in it, ready to make her first drink of the day. Lilly had quieted a little and now gnawed her thumb. Jessica clicked the kettle on to boil.
‘I’m going to put you down while I make your bottle.’ She still found it embarrassing and a little pointless talking to a baby that didn’t and couldn’t respond. She didn’t know how Matthew and her parents did it, babbling away as Lilly stared past them into the middle distance.
Lilly screamed, as if she knew what was coming and being placed in her Moses basket was the last thing she wanted.
‘Please don’t cry, because that makes it doubly hard for me, don’t you understand that?’ Jessica walked over to the Moses basket and laid her little girl inside it. Lilly instantly started to shriek. ‘I’m going to have to just ignore you because I need to concentrate!’ Jessica pleaded, her words cutting no ice with her hungry, damp infant.
Matthew had placed the formula and its scoop next to the sterilising unit, in which nestled enough clean bottles for the day. In a sequence that was now familiar, Jessica washed her hands before shaking the excess sterilising fluid from the bottle teat. She put the required amount of formula into the scoop and levelled it off with a knife, just as she had been shown, before placing it in the bottle where she had put the cooling boiled water. She then fixed the teat and shook the bottle until all the powder had dissolved. Lilly screamed hard, going silent between sobs as though gathering strength to cry harder and louder. ‘I’m going as fast as I can!’ Jessica shouted towards the basket. She ran the cold tap and held the end of the bottle under the water to cool the mix.
‘Just one more minute, Lilly!’ she yelled and wiped away a few stray tears.
The doorbell rang.
‘Oh shit!’ Jessica plopped the bottle on the side and walked up the hallway.
Mrs Pleasant stood on the doorstep, her thin lips pressed together tightly and her cardigan buttoned up to the neck.
‘Good morning.’
‘Yes.’ Jessica nodded. ‘Good morning.’ Willing her to get to the point quickly.
‘What’s wrong with your baby?’ Mrs Pleasant got to the point very quickly.
‘Nothing. I…’ Jessica struggled to find the words.
‘She is yelling fit to burst and I don’t know if you are aware, but it’s a sound that travels.’ Her mean eyes shone like chips of amber.
‘I’m sorry.’ She felt her tears welling again.
‘Well, sorry is all well and good, but I can’t hear my programme. Does she need a doctor?’
‘A doctor?’ Jessica’s heart hammered at the thought. Was that why Lilly was crying? Was she ill? ‘I’m not sure. I don’t think so, she just… she’s just hungry.’ She looked down at her grubby socks and felt terrible that her child was hungry.
‘Well, can I suggest you feed her and do us all a favour?’ Mrs Pleasant shook her head, her grey bowl-haircut barely moving as she made her way back up the garden path and closed the gate behind her.
Jessica looked from left to right up the street, trying to see who the ‘all’ in question might be. Did everyone think she was a bad mother?
Slamming the door, she rushed back into the kitchen. ‘I’m here, Lilly. I was just getting the door. Please stop. Please don’t cry! I’ve got your bottle, here it is!’
She grabbed the bottle and waved it in front of her daughter. This, unsurprisingly, did little to calm her. Jessica turned to place the bottle on the work surface while she reached for her daughter and in doing so she let the bottle slip from her hand. It hit the kitchen floor and immediately spread a white pool across the floor.
‘Oh no, please no!’ Jessica bent down, as if being closer to the fractured plastic could somehow miraculously fix the situation.
Lilly bawled. Her screaming had taken on a new, higher-pitched, urgent tone. The doorbell rang again. Jessica leapt up and headed towards the door. Her eyes were red from crying, but still she attempted a smile, ready to placate Mrs Pleasant. But it wasn’t Mrs Pleasant who stood on the other side of the door. It was her Polly.
‘Oh, Poll!’ Jessica fell into her friend’s arms.
‘What is it, my honey? What on earth is the matter? I can hear Lilly.’ Polly released her friend and pushed past, heading into the kitchen, where she scooped up the little girl and held her fast. ‘It’s okay. It’s all okay, darling.’ Polly kissed Lilly’s little red face.
Jessica watched her friend and realised that yes, it was all okay now, because someone else was there who knew what to do.
Lilly’s breath came in stuttering gasps. Jessica noticed little purple spots around her daughter’s eyelids where she had cried so hard.
‘Her bum’s wet, I’ll go change her. You make up her bottle, okay?’ Polly’s smile was fleeting.
‘Do you think she’s ill, do you think I should call Dr Boyd?’
Polly ran her hand over Lilly’s brow. ‘No. No, I think she’s just a little hungry and soggy. Make her bottle, Jess, and we’ll be down as soon as I’ve changed her,’ Polly repeated as she trod the stairs. ‘I’ve got loads of time – I’m between jobs at the mo, got the whole day off. I had been doing a little work experience as a florist, helping out, but it just wasn’t for me.’
Jessica wandered over to the sink and reached for another bottle.
A few minutes later, as she watched across the kitchen table while Polly fed and burped her daughter before rocking her to sleep in her arms, Jessica felt guilty and grateful all at once.
‘Thank you, Poll.’ Her voice was barely a whisper.
‘You don’t have to thank me, Jess, that’s what friends are for, right? Lilly is such a good little girl. She’s the cleverest baby in the world!’
‘Must take after her dad. I’m not much good at anything really.’
‘Don’t be daft!’ Polly scoffed. ‘You’re good at lots. You are still on record for blowing the biggest Hubba Bubba bubble I have ever seen. What else…?’ Polly tapped her mouth with her finger. ‘Oh, you make the best fish pie, ever! And you can make me laugh like no one else. They’re all good things.’
Jessica shrugged as she plucked at the belt of her dressing gown, grateful her friend was there. She wondered who Li
lly would call on for help when she became a mother; she doubted it would be her. ‘How do you know what to do with her?’ she asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘When she’s crying. I’m never really sure what she’s crying for. Mrs Pleasant said I should call the doctor—’
‘That’s a great idea, Jess; let’s start taking advice from Mrs Not-So! Maybe you could copy her hairstyle too. That’d make your mother happy!’
Jessica knew this was funny but couldn’t quite remember how to laugh, not at that moment in time.
Polly sighed. ‘You just have to run through a little checklist. It’s usually just one of three things: bum – she needs changing; tum – she needs feeding; or mum – she wants a bit of company.’
Jessica nodded. Polly made it sound so easy. Maybe it was for her.
‘Don’t forget, I’ve had to look after my sister’s three rug rats – she and Rich are always gallivanting off somewhere and so I’m well practised, but mainly I’m not knackered like you. When you’re really tired it’s hard to remember how to make a cup of coffee, let alone look after a baby. I get it.’ She smiled.
‘I am tired.’
Polly nodded. ‘I’m a bit worried about you, Jess,’ she whispered as she looked down at the sleeping Lilly.
‘I’m fine.’ The lie was swift and unconvincing.
‘Do you want to tell me what’s going on? You’re just not yourself.’ Her tone was cautious. ‘And I need my bestie back. My life’s not half as good without you making me laugh and making me food!’
Jessica shrugged, her words delivered slowly when she eventually spoke. ‘I don’t really know what’s going on. I just know I’ve never cried so much in my whole life. I can’t believe I have any more tears, but they just keep coming.’
‘Is it anything to do with Matt? Is he treating you right? Because if he isn’t, I’ll proper duff him up.’
Jessica smiled at her friend’s willingness to scrap on her behalf. ‘No, Matt’s great.’
‘Good. I’ll put my knuckle-duster away then. Is it Lilly? Do you not feel well? Are you lonely? Tell me, Jess.’
‘I wish I could. I just know I feel sad, really sad.’
‘Oh, Jess.’ Polly placed Lilly over her shoulder and with her free hand held her friend’s arm across the table. ‘You are one of the strongest women I know. A real coper. Do you remember when Danny died, even though you were little, you just kind of knew that your mum and dad couldn’t be there for you as much and you started getting your own packed lunch and making your bed? Do you remember? You held things together and you were only a child. You were amazing, you just got on with it, didn’t you?’
Jessica nodded. She didn’t know how to say it, but this was different. How could she explain that she was living under a big black cloud and the reason was she didn’t know how to be a mum. The fact that even dippy old Polly was so happy to be in Lilly’s company, so capable, only served to highlight her failings. Jessica knew she couldn’t admit to just how bad it was. But she wasn’t a coper. In fact she thought she might be mad.
Polly squeezed her arm and gave a little laugh. ‘It’s just a touch of baby blues, nothing to worry about. It’ll pass in a flash; a couple of good nights’ sleep and you’ll feel brand new.’
‘Did your sister have baby blues?’ Jessica asked hopefully. Wanting to believe that she was cut from the same cloth as Polly’s vivacious sister.
‘Absolutely!’ Polly patted her arm. ‘I think everyone does. At least every woman I’ve ever known who’s had a baby. Whether it’s for that half an hour that you sit and sob and think what the hell have I done. Or whether it lasts longer and goes a bit deeper, one way or another, all women have it, I think. I know it can be really bad: my sister’s friend was on the brink, they took her baby away from her, it was terrible. And even my gobby sis went to bed for a week or so and didn’t put her fake tan on. But as I’ve said, you’re such a strong bird, a coper. It will pass very quickly. You have a lot of support. You’re right, Matt’s a wonderful dad. And you’ve got me.’ Polly gently rocked Lilly back and forth. ‘Have you spoken to your mum about it?’
‘Not really, but she did say she felt quite fed up when I was tiny. My dad had gone back to work, and apparently she sat on the sofa and cried and cried, thinking what on earth have I got myself into. When did your sister’s baby blues go?’ she asked, hoping there might be signs to indicate her ordeal was nearly over.
‘I don’t know exactly, but I know one day she just shoved her Uggs on, applied some lippy and seemed to get on with it, like she just knew what to do and what needed to be done. And you could tell that it had all started to come naturally.’
Jessica nodded. She couldn’t wait for that day.
‘Tell me how I can help you, Jess, and I’ll do whatever I can, you know that.’ Polly sipped her tea with her free hand.
Jessica considered how Polly could help her. She wanted to take her by the shoulders and ask her what she saw – was it still Jessica? Because it didn’t feel like her, it didn’t even look like her. That’s how she felt, like she had disappeared. And if she had disappeared, where had she gone? And more importantly, when would she be coming back?
Instead, she dug deep to find a smile. ‘Do you mind if I go and have a sleep?’ she whispered.
‘Of course, not. You go ahead.’ Jessica felt her shoulders sag with relief. ‘And then maybe after you’ve napped, you could have a nice bath? Lilly and I will be fine. We have a lot to catch up on. I need to tell her all about the incredible time I’m having with Paz and my plans to move him in and keep him as my sex slave.’
Jessica nodded. There was no humorous aside, no banter, no questioning; she just didn’t have the strength. Not today. She pushed the chair away from the table and made her way up the stairs, unable to think about anything other than the dark space beneath the bedclothes into which she would crawl and disappear for a while.
Polly resettled Lilly over her shoulder and laid her cheek on her back. She sighed. ‘I really miss your mum,’ she whispered, before kissing Lilly’s beautiful face.
4th August, 2014
I saw the psychiatrist today, along with three other women, none of whom I had spoken to before; they seemed to know each other and that made me feel a bit isolated, embarrassed. I don’t like group therapy. In fact I hate it. It makes me feel exposed and nervous. I would be quite content to sit on my narrow bed alone, just thinking, but of course that’s not allowed. We had to sit in a circle and talk about something we were good at. It could be anything. The girl opposite me told us she could juggle – she could juggle up to five things for a long time and had done it with apples, balls, socks, all kinds of things. Her boyfriend had taught her and it helped clear her head, apparently. This earned her a clap. The woman next to me broke the rules and said how she had messed up her life and was crap at most things. We had been told to stay away from anything negative and to try and focus on the positive. The psychiatrist changed tack and told us to try and think of the three words that best describe us. We had fifteen minutes to think about it. During this thinking time, I realised that I see my life in terms of before and after. The me before, I would describe as chatty, energetic and happy, and the me after, sad, regretful, lonely. So very lonely. It’s like there are two of me. I picture the me before and it’s like watching a film. I barely recognise the person who had so much to say, who was so hopeful for the future, who bounded into a room, laughing. I can’t imagine being her, not for one day.
I was still considering this when negative woman was asked to list her three. She stood up, nervously pulling her jumper over her hands and said ‘bonkers’ and her friend laughed. The psychiatrist shushed her quiet and suggested to the woman she might want to look a bit deeper and expand on that. She then paused, giving the woman a chance to consider her next two descriptions. Eventually the woman nodded, sighed and said ‘nutso and loopy’. Even the psychiatrist laughed as all five of us dissolved into giggles. It was a fli
cker of happiness in my unhappy world. It felt nice to be included. And it felt good to be laughing. I thought I might have forgotten how.
Fifteen
Uncharacteristically, Jessica had woken early. Slowly she’d washed her hair, applied a touch of make-up, poured bleach in the loos and wiped around the sink with a sponge until it gleamed. Each task had felt Herculean, requiring all her thought and concentration. Her movements were slow and laboured and her expression suggested they caused her pain. But it was important to get things right today.
When she opened the front door to her home, she did so with a straight back and a smile.
Cathy the health visitor was as chirpy and smiley as ever. ‘Aww, she’s gorgeous, Jessica. How’s she sleeping?’ She peered at Lilly lying on her beanbag, watching the world go by, her tummy gently rising and falling with each breath. At eight weeks, she had filled out; her features were more distinct and her movements smoother. She had also smiled twice, once for Matthew and once for her Granny Margaret. Both of whom were ecstatic, carrying the experience around like a precious gift.
Jessica pushed her newly washed locks behind her ears. ‘She sleeps for about four or five hours, sometimes six, before waking up, but then she’s not awake for long. Sometimes she just needs a pat or help finding her thumb.’ She gave a tentative smile.
‘Well you can’t grumble at that, can you?’ Cathy beamed.
‘No. You can’t.’
‘So, what I’m going to do today is weigh her and measure how long she is and her head circumference, things like that. I’ll pop all the measurements in Lilly’s red book to help us monitor her as she grows, okay?’
Jessica nodded. ‘Smashing.’
‘And I have a little questionnaire for you, Mum, just to see how you are doing. If you wouldn’t mind filling it out for me.’ Cathy opened her bag and removed her scales and notepad before casually passing the questionnaire to Jessica.
Jessica stared at the pad, wanting desperately to pass this test, wanting to get it right.
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