‘Oh, well, thanks for that. I didn’t realise I had to be punished for not having to scrub loos and live in poverty!’ Jessica snapped.
‘That’s not what I meant at all. I am trying to say that I understand that looking after a little baby can be hard work, but she’s an angel, Jess, an absolute angel. She sleeps so well, she’s a great feeder and you have a lot of support.’ Coral’s tone was anguished.
‘God, everyone keeps telling me how much support I have! Like I should be grateful. But everyone loves being involved with Lilly. It’s not like I force any of you to come and help – you all hate to be away from her!’
Margaret took a gulp of coffee and considered her words. ‘I hate to see you out of sorts. Anthony and I were thinking, why don’t you and Polly go to the house in Majorca for a few days? You are right, we do love to look after Lilly and I know Coral would help out.’
Jessica’s mum nodded, quickly.
‘Maybe a little holiday might help you recharge your batteries and come back with a new head?’
Margaret’s naive suggestion caused Jessica’s temper to flare suddenly and in a manner entirely out of character. ‘That’s a great idea, Margaret – a week in fucking Majorca! Paella every night and a couple of jugs of sangria and I’ll come back perky, the perfect mother! Jeez, why didn’t I think of that?’ she barked.
Margaret was shocked into silence: Jessica had never spoken to her like that before. She wasn’t angry, however, but saddened and concerned.
Coral reached out and took her daughter’s hand. ‘Margaret is only being kind and trying to help you, Jessica Rose. There is no need to talk to anyone like that.’
Jessica slid down the bench and placed her head on her mum’s shoulder. Coral allowed her to cry while the three sat in silence. No words were needed, just the odd pat on the shoulder or stroke on the back of the hand and a barely audible cluck or compassionate hum. ‘Oh, Jessica, my little girl.’
Anthony wandered out onto the patio with a cafetière full of hot refill. He caught his wife’s eye as, almost imperceptibly, she shook her head. He knew enough not to approach, retreating back into the shadows, happy to re-join his son and chums at the kitchen table.
Eventually, Jessica breathed deeply and felt her head clear. ‘I’m sorry, Margaret,’ she sniffed. ‘I am really sorry, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I don’t know what came over me, I…’ She felt a mixture of huge remorse at having flared up at her mother-in-law, but also a strange kind of elation at having released some of the pent-up emotion that had been bubbling for some time.
‘Darling, don’t apologise. If you can’t vent your spleen at those closest to you, then you are in big trouble.’ Margaret smiled at her daughter-in-law; she meant it, every word.
Jessica tried to laugh. If only she knew just how big her trouble was.
Margaret continued. ‘All I want to say to you, Jess, is that you know where we are if and when you need us. You’re a big girl and more than capable of sorting out whatever it is that’s eating at you; this I do know. I have masses of faith in you and your ability to be the best mum on the planet. Lilly is very lucky to have you.’
Coral chipped in. ‘That’s true, Jess. Please remember that you will always be my baby and if things get too much for you, I’m never more than a phone call away.’
‘Thank you, Mum. Thank you both.’
‘And remember, darling, you are never sent more than you can deal with.’ Margaret nodded sagely.
Jessica smiled. ‘I used to think that was true, but these days I am not so sure.’
Coral kissed the crown of her daughter’s head as they stood and began to amble back inside the house.
‘What’s wrong with fucking Majorca anyway? I thought you loved it there? Matthew said it was the perfect honeymoon.’
‘Margaret!’ Jessica giggled; it was rare for her mother-in-law to use such language. The three laughed until the tears rolled down their cheeks.
Anthony nudged Roger and looked up from the table where he and Matthew were talking football. ‘What’s so funny, girls?’ he called out.
None of the women could manage a response through their hysterics. Matthew smiled; it was so good to see his wife and mother laughing again. Roger winked at the boy and patted his arm. Matthew felt a heady combination of relief and optimism that it was all going to be okay.
Jessica lay in bed and thought about Margaret’s words. She doubted very much that Lilly was lucky to have her, betting that Lilly wished she had a mum that didn’t want to sleep day and night, didn’t want a mum that would rather shut the world out and hide. What bothered Jessica most was the way everyone else seemed to mother naturally, by instinct, even Polly. And yet for her, nothing about it felt natural. She had assumed when she was pregnant that she would experience what everyone said she would: that she would take one look at her baby, her flesh and blood, and fall in love. Unless… A sudden thought made Jessica sit up as Matthew came into the bedroom.
‘That’s Lilly settled. She’s had all her bottle and I reckon we are good for a few hours.’ He sighed. ‘That was a great evening, wasn’t it? Really good to see everyone. And I must confess to rather liking Paz, he’s up for a laugh and I like that. He and Polly are going to Romford next weekend. I said we might pop over there too, if you feel like it. Might be nice for Lilly to get some different air. Learn about her Essex roots…’ He winked at his wife, who was distracted.
She spoke quickly, clearly agitated. ‘Do you know, Matt, that sometimes babies get mixed up in the hospital? I read an article about it once, about this woman in Russia who took her baby home and fed it and looked after it and it wasn’t until the child was about ten that the authorities contacted her to say there had been a mistake and she had been given the wrong baby and that another woman had been raising her child and they had to meet up and swap back.’
‘God, that’s really horrible! Why are you thinking about that?’ Matthew asked as he sat on the side of the bed.
‘I just am.’ She shrugged.
‘Well don’t. It’s silly to think about things like that, it’ll only upset you. And it’s very rare and probably only happens in Russia.’ Matthew removed his socks and pulled his T-shirt over his head.
‘We… we didn’t see Lilly being born, did we? I mean, I was knocked out and you weren’t in the room. I was thinking—’
Matthew stood and raised his palm. ‘Stop right there.’ He placed his hands on his hips. Jessica watched the heave of his chest and noticed the tense set of his jaw; she could tell he was angry. He put his T-shirt back on and made for the door. Stopping with his hand on the frame, he turned towards her. ‘You need to snap out of this, Jess. You need to find a way to snap out of it. Okay?’
She nodded. ‘I’m sorr—’
‘Yes. Yes, so you’ve said. Often.’ He hesitated. ‘You know, Jess, I miss our sex life, of course I do. We were really good at that.’
Jessica felt the flush of awkwardness work its way up from the base of her chest to her neck. She hated it being mentioned and thought about the night near Halloween, the night they made Lilly, when she’d come home and stripped in the kitchen. His words from that night rang inside her head: ‘How can I admit that I can’t leave the house on time because my wife is too sexy. It doesn’t make any sense!’ She opened her mouth to form a sentence, but realised the only words forming on her tongue were ‘I’m sorry,’ and she knew he didn’t want to hear those. Instead she closed her mouth and stared at her husband, feeling the quake of her trembling thighs against the duvet.
‘But that’s not what I miss the most, surprisingly.’ He shook his head. ‘No. I miss the laughter. I miss my mate. You are not only my wife, you’re my best friend. We used to laugh every day and I miss that more than I can say. You used to talk all the time and sometimes I’d think, “Shut up, Jess, just for a minute.” But now…’ He paused. ‘I hate the silence. It saddens me how quiet you are.’
Jessica tried to think of something
to say, but again she couldn’t.
Matthew wasn’t done. ‘It’s strange, isn’t it? I see you every day and yet I actually feel quite lonely. I’m lonely.’ He looked at her, his expression distraught, then made his way downstairs.
Jessica sank down under the duvet and lay very still.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, closing her eyes and praying for sleep. She didn’t understand how she could be so tired and yet sleep evaded her. She pictured Matthew’s face and felt her heart crumple with fear. ‘Please don’t leave me, Matt. Please don’t ever leave me!’ she breathed into the night air.
The next morning, Jessica stared at Lilly and ran through a checklist. Her eyes were green, Lilly’s were brown. Her hair was dark and Lilly’s blonde. Her nose quite pointed, Lilly’s flat.
This was the start of a very dark time. Jessica figured that if Lilly wasn’t really hers, then that would explain why she couldn’t do it, couldn’t mother her properly. If she wasn’t hers, then her lack of feelings, her guilt and disconnection, all made perfect sense. She was convinced that if Lilly was her baby, she would have found it easier and there would have been that instant love that she had eagerly anticipated. This idea was more palatable to her than the alternative. The truth. She googled ‘DNA kits’ and wondered if there was a way to do it without Matthew finding out.
2nd November, 2014
I have been cleverly hoarding pills. Any pills. I have a real cocktail. Painkillers, sleeping tablets, anything I can get my hands on, including one I found in the bathroom that’s large and pink and looks ominous. One of the nurses must have dropped it without noticing. I thought about where to try and hide them, but everywhere is too obvious, like under my mattress or stuffed into a sock in my drawer. Instead, I decided not to hide them and so far this has worked. Rather than secrete them away, I lay them on a page inside my closed notebook, which is left casually on my bed or the chest of drawers for everyone to see. No one touches it; there are rules about people’s personal things. Everyone can see it’s just a harmless sketchpad, clearly visible, but what they don’t know is that my pad is full of danger. Not only the pills that lie scattered across one of its pages, hidden by the sheet on top, dotted like the brightly coloured stepping stones of a path that leads to a much, much better place. But the ideas drawn in pencil on the pages, these are dangerous too. I try and capture images as they pop into my head. A bath full of water with broken glass littering the floor, a siren light swirling around a room, turning everything it touches blue and a crowd, surging forward, all with arms outstretched, grabbing for me, wanting a piece of me. And me with my eyes closed, craving peace with every cell of my being. A peaceful mind and a peaceful spirit. This is what I pray for.
Seventeen
Sunday lunch in Romford was a grand affair by Hillcrest Road standards. Her mum and dad had got out the best china, dusted off the spare chairs from the shed and laid the table with wine glasses and a bud vase full of flowers from the garden. Coral, she knew, would have ticked off the jobs from her list that lay by the cooker, making sure her timings were perfect. Potatoes in, check; plates warmed, check.
Jessica looked at her parents, Matthew and her friends. They all had their heads turned towards Lilly, who reigned supreme at the head of the table, sitting in her grandmother’s lap. Polly had her hand clasped over the back of Topaz’s as though he might disappear at any second. Did she and Matthew use to be like that? She didn’t know who she could ask.
‘She’s such a good eater,’ Coral confirmed as she wiped the milk trickle from Lilly’s cheek.
‘Gah!’ Lilly suddenly shouted, waving her hands in the air.
‘Gravy!’ Roger called out. ‘That sounded like gravy!’ Roger held up the gravy boat.
‘That definitely could have been gravy!’ Coral agreed.
‘Gravy! Clever girl. Gravy!’ Matthew joined them, forming a chorusing trio. They did this as a rule, repeated every noise she made as though she were a deity dispensing wisdom.
‘It wasn’t gravy – she’s only three months old, she can’t speak, for goodness’ sake! She laughs at her own farts.’ Polly smiled.
‘I do that too!’ Matthew said. ‘And she might only be three months, but maybe she’s just super advanced, gifted!’
‘Gifted, my arse!’ Polly commented and reached for her plonk.
‘Would that be your arse with the cherub on it, Pollywollydoodle?’ Roger asked.
‘Jessica! I can’t believe you grassed!’ Polly screamed, and banged the table. She turned to Coral. ‘If you tell my parents, I am dead!’ Polly stared at Coral and Roger, who had known her since she was small.
‘Well, that depends on how well you do the dishes today.’ Roger pushed the tray of buttery roasted spuds towards her.
‘But that’s blackmail!’ Polly tutted.
‘Yep.’ Roger reached up and clinked glasses with Matthew.
Polly looked at her boyfriend, aghast.
‘You can leave me out of it!’ Topaz held up his palms.
Jessica found it odd that her family chatted and laughed despite her silence. They ate, giggled and stared at her daughter as though she were a television screen. Mimicking, echoing and praising her every noise and move. Jessica sat quietly, trying to nod and smile in all the right places, all the while trying to think of ways to escape.
Roger, finally beaten, pushed the bowl of uneaten pudding away from him and placed his splayed fingers across his little, rounded belly. He gave a slow yawn. Dinner had been a wonderful success. Succulent meat accompanied by vegetables roasted to perfection and a homemade fruit pie, the fruit for which Coral had picked, stewed and frozen for an occasion such as this. Lilly had been passed around like a prize and just the right amount of wine had flowed in all the right directions. There had been much hilarity as familiar family stories had been resurrected for the umpteenth time and told with a new twist, Roger and Coral alternately recounting their own parts. Everyone apart from Topaz knew how they ended; they knew that Polly ended up in a skip in the middle of Gidea Park and that Jessica had made out that she hadn’t known her and had walked right by, leaving her best friend wedged between a discarded mattress and an old ironing board, with her legs in the air.
‘I still haven’t forgiven you!’ Polly yelled. Jessica watched as Topaz now grasped her hand; things seemed to be going well for them.
Everyone present continued to coo over everything Lilly did and she responded by smiling on cue and giggling wide-eyed at her grandpa, much to his delight. Jessica thought how wonderful it was to be so loved and hoped that Lilly would remember this time in her life when she got older, remember the time when her every action was greeted with fascination, provoking a reaction of sheer delight. All she had to do was smile.
Jessica watched Matthew stride around the table, clearly as pleased as punch. She knew this was the kind of Sunday he had dreamt of: their lovely family, laughing and happy. He looked relaxed. It must make a pleasant change for him not to be walking on eggshells, watching and waiting to see how she was coping with the day. She knew Margaret would take the credit, positive that their presence the previous week had in some way contributed to the new-found peace that seemed to have settled over him, the boy that they adored. The truth was, Jessica had tried very hard in the last week to ‘snap out of it’. She had got dressed, washed her hair and put on some perfume and when Matthew walked through the door, she made sure she was smiling and holding Lilly. It seemed to have done the trick. He kissed her more and didn’t seem quite so anxious about leaving her alone. If only it was that easy to fool herself.
Jessica knew it was best for everyone if she kept up the pretence. But she was a bundle of nervous energy, fuelled by the adrenalin of the mentally exhausted. She felt like a reluctant circus act, spinning plates for the various members of the assembled audience and performing a different role for every individual. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, let’s have a drum roll please for Jessica, the Greatest Deceiver of Them All!’ Matthew had winked
at her when they arrived, a wink that said: ‘I love you for having our baby. We are going to be okay. You are doing great!’ Polly had winked at her during the main course, a wink that said: ‘You seem better, mate, and that is so good!’ Her dad had winked at her during pudding: ‘That’s my girl, holding it all together. I couldn’t be any prouder of you.’ Jessica truly wanted to scream at them all, she wanted to hurl her parents’ prized best china at the wall and watch it shatter, she wanted to clear the table with an outstretched arm and make a big noise and then when she had everyone’s attention, she wanted to ask them, ‘How? How exactly is it all going to be okay? You have no idea how I am feeling. None of you!’ But instead, she kept the words in her mouth; it was easier that way.
Lilly became a little unsettled, wriggling, whining and arching her back no matter how Coral held her or what method of distraction she employed. Her energetic outburst arrived just as the adults were feeling the torpor of full tummies, the haze of too much plonk and the lull after hectic conversation.
Jessica felt her mum studying her face; she knew that Coral would see beneath the smiling veneer and layers of concealer, noting that she looked absolutely shattered. It was hard to hide the two large, dark ovals under her eyes.
‘Darlin’, why don’t you go and grab forty winks? Polly and I could take Lilly for a bit, read her a story, let her have a play?’ Coral patted her granddaughter’s back.
‘Actually, I think I might go for a walk,’ Jessica announced. ‘I could do with a leg stretch and some fresh air.’
‘Great idea!’ Polly clapped her hands. ‘I’ll just grab my phone.’
‘Actually, Poll, I think I’ll go on my own, if you don’t mind. I want a bit of time to myself, and besides, you shouldn’t leave Paz. Dad’ll get the photo albums out and you know you don’t want that.’ Jessica smiled at her dad, who, unused to drinking at midday, was now slumped back in his chair with a happy booze glow.
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