Mother's Story

by Amanda Prowse

  ‘Oh no, Lilly, he is getting us!’ Jessica lifted her legs to form an arc and avoid Matthew’s prods.

  He growled and poked his head under the sheet. ‘There you are!’ He wriggled under the cover and lay down next to his girls in their makeshift hideaway. ‘How was your day?’

  ‘Our day was good! Lilly went for a walk around the furniture with only a little bit of help from me. And she has acquired a taste for broccoli, which I told her was little trees and that she was a giant tearing them up and gobbling them whole! And, drum roll please, she said sock!’

  ‘Sock! How marvellous!’ Matthew lifted his daughter and kissed her feet. ‘At least we know we can turn her out into the big wide world and her toes will always be warm.’ He smiled.

  ‘Hey, we’re not turning her out quite yet; she’s only nine months old. I think another twenty-nine years and two months and I might just consider it.’

  Matthew kicked off the sheet and sat up as Lilly climbed up her mum to reach the lamp on the bedside table.

  ‘Oh no you don’t, little wriggler!’ Jessica pulled her back and, standing, popped Lilly on her hip. ‘Right, come on, Lilly Rose, we have a table to set and wine to chill because when you are asleep, I am going to ravage your dad, yes I am! I shall ravage him stupid!’

  Lilly laughed.

  Matthew undid his shirt and slipped off his tie. ‘You’re going to have to start moderating your speech with her soon. She’ll be repeating everything you say!’ He laughed.

  ‘Love, she just managed sock. I think ravaged might be a few months away yet.’

  ‘Ock!’ Lilly shouted, before clapping her hands together.

  ‘That’s close enough!’ Matthew grinned.

  ‘And I cooked dinner. A big fat chicken is, as we speak, roasting in the oven, and there’s mash and veg, all ready to be slathered in gravy.’

  ‘Gah!’ Matthew laughed.

  ‘Yes, lashings of gah!’

  Jessica turned and looked at her lovely man. The combination of antidepressants, counselling and Topaz’s mindful relaxation techniques were working. Just a few months ago, when she and Polly had cried on the pebble beach, Jessica could not have imagined feeling like this. But ever since the doctor had said the words ‘You have postnatal depression,’ it was as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Jessica didn’t feel sad, or ashamed; she felt relieved. So, so relieved. Someone clever, medical and experienced was giving a name to the thing that was destroying her and not only did that thing have a name, it was an illness. She was ill. Not mad; ill.

  She and Matthew had held hands, tears streaming down their faces, as the doctor explained to them how the disease worked. He had described how it was most likely brought on by changes in hormone levels, and that it affected between ten and fifteen women in every hundred who’d recently given birth. Polly had been right: it was quite common. Unlike with the health visitor’s questionnaire, this time Jessica had been honest about her negative thoughts, her guilt at being a bad mother and even that she had at times considered hurting herself and her baby. Matthew had been aghast, but he had gripped her hand even tighter, for which she was entirely grateful. The doctor had then prescribed a daily dose of mirtazapine to help combat the depression. He also emphasised that she needed to eat regularly and recommended that she exercise and have sessions with a relaxation therapist; she chose Paz.

  Despite wishing for it, Jessica did not feel magically better overnight, but she clung to the diagnosis like an anchor. She was poorly and, just like having a headache or the flu or something more sinister, she had to take drugs to enable her to feel better. And so take them she did. Slowly but surely, she began to feel a little better every day, until finally one morning it was as if she had woken up from a very bad dream. Her senses were sharper and her thoughts positive, but best of all, she started to love every second she got to spend with her little girl. It was as if Jessica and Lilly were on catch-up. Lilly would snuggle into her mother’s lap as Jessica read to her and they would go for long walks and feed the ducks. The best thing about it all was that she felt like a regular mum. That day, she spent a whole hour bathing Lilly, marvelling at her little pink toes, her chubby bottom and her infectious giggle. She was perfect. Preparing her breakfast was no longer a chore; it was a joy to watch her daughter each morning, listening to her burble away.

  Life, however, was not perfect. She still fell into bed each night knackered, like any other new mum, and there were still moments when she felt a longing for her old life, missing the way she and Matthew had once been able to focus solely on each other. And the sex… well, their pre-Lilly exploits were still more of a memory. The difference now was that she was able to snatch moments of joy with her daughter and if she thought about the future, she no longer felt quite so afraid. The black cloud under which she had been living hadn’t disappeared entirely, but it had turned to grey and was full of very large holes through which Jessica could poke her head and take a breath.

  Matthew was standing on the landing, smiling. He loved the new Jess, who was very like the old Jess, but perhaps just a bit less bonkers and a bit more responsible. The vision of her going to feed the ducks with Lilly filled him with unimaginable joy. He could barely believe that only three months ago he had been scared of leaving the two of them alone together.

  ‘So, a good day?’ he asked as his wife made her way out onto the landing.

  ‘Yes, Matt.’ She smiled. ‘A very good day.’

  2nd March, 2015

  Something very strange and wonderful happened to me today. I walked to my art therapy session and halfway down the corridor I started humming. I stopped in my tracks and was so stunned I had to lean on the wall. ‘Are you okay?’ one of the cleaners asked me. I nodded. I was more than okay, I was beaming. I had been singing a song in my head, and humming as I walked! This might not sound like much, but let me tell you this is a really big deal. I cannot remember the last time I had sung. Can’t remember the last time there was space in my head that allowed lyrics and music to fill my mind. It was lovely. The song was one that Matt and I danced to in the kitchen, it made me feel happy, remembering the old me. I arrived at my class feeling positive, me positive! Amazing. I was told to sketch the first thing I thought of and I drew a ravine. Lilly, Matthew and my parents were on one side and I was on the other, they were waving for me to join them, but there was no bridge, no rope, nothing. I was stuck. ‘Look!’ My therapist pointed at the image, ‘You want to cross that ravine, but you are unable, circumstance is preventing you. Circumstance, not something you have done. This isn’t your fault, you have no control. No matter how badly you want to, you don’t have the means to get across.’ I looked at her and I got it. Sometimes no matter how badly you want to do one thing, you just can’t, no matter how much you wish it. Circumstances beyond your control won’t allow it. I thought about the terrible thing that I did and I used to think that if someone offered me the chance to rewind time, would I stop and do something differently, change the outcome? And the answer had always been no, I don’t think I would or could and that frightened me. But with my new head and clearer thoughts I was able to say, Yes! Of course and if I could have that day back and do things differently, then I would. I would in a heartbeat.

  This has been a very good day.

  Twenty

  Matthew woke to Jessica kissing his cheek.

  ‘Good morning,’ she whispered.

  ‘Well, good morning to you. This makes a pleasant change from the alarm.’ Matthew reached out and pulled his wife towards him. His touch was hesitant at first; as a couple they were still a little out of practice. They kissed in a way they hadn’t for a long, long time. This was no obligatory peck hello or goodbye, but a slow, full-mouthed kiss full of love and passion, a kiss that cemented their desire for each other. Jessica shed her nightdress as Matthew pulled her on top of him. There she lay, smiling, skin to skin with the man she loved.

  ‘Matthew, my Matthew…’ She ran her fingers ove
r his face and chest. ‘Polly’s wedding day!’

  ‘Yep. I remember every second of ours.’ He kissed her throat.

  ‘Me too. It was perfect. I love you so very much, you know that, don’t you?’

  ‘I do.’ Matthew held her close and whispered into her hair. ‘I feel like you’ve come back to me, Jess, and that’s brilliant.’

  She nuzzled the space under his chin and kissed his face repeatedly. The young couple held each other tightly, wrapped in the promise of what lay ahead.

  Jessica looked over Polly’s shoulder into the large mirror of the dressing table in the bridal suite of Orsett Hall, where she was to be married.

  ‘You look incredible.’ Jessica smiled. ‘Really hot.’

  ‘Are you allowed to look hot on your wedding day? I thought I was demure!’ Polly laughed.

  Jessica surveyed her friend’s ample bosom, which was squashed into an ivory basque. ‘Yeah, I’m not sure demure is the word, but fabulous, definitely!’

  ‘I’m so proud of you, Jess.’ Polly beamed at her reflection.

  ‘Don’t be daft; it’s you who’s getting married! How do you feel?’

  ‘Nervous. Happy. A little sloshed.’ Polly lifted her glass.

  ‘Perfect.’

  ‘It is perfect.’ Polly sighed. ‘Do you remember when we were little and we used to play brides?’

  ‘Yes! We used to walk up and down the front path with pillowcases on our heads instead of veils and holding a bunch of weeds!’

  ‘I always thought I’d marry you!’ Polly laughed. ‘That was until I discovered blokes and snogging.’

  ‘Which reminds me, Poll. We need to have a conversation.’ Jessica pursed her lips. ‘Your husband might want to do S-E-X.’

  ‘Way ahead of you on that one!’ Polly opened her dressing gown to show off her ivory silk stockings and suspenders to match her basque.

  ‘Wow!’ Jessica grinned. ‘You are amazing!’

  ‘Thanks. You’re amazing. I meant what I said, I am proud of you, Jess. Proud of your journey. You are one of the strongest women I know.’ Polly sipped her cold champagne.

  ‘God, you sound like that hippy Paz!’ Jessica laughed.

  ‘I don’t think you are allowed to talk about my future husband like that.’

  ‘You know I love him, Poll. We both do. Paz has helped save me, him and my little yellow pills.’ She patted her glittery clutch bag, in which sat her drugs, just in case. ‘And do you know the best thing about you getting married, Poll?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It means the end of our bet. I agreed to help you land the man of your dreams and now that you have, I am officially off the hook. The Conor Barrington card can never be used again.’

  ‘Well, not unless this all goes tits up and he leaves me for someone who actually knows what “Love, Light, Universe” means.’

  ‘You have told him you’re not really vegetarian, haven’t you?’ Jessica raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t want you sneaking bacon sandwiches at three in the morning in the airing cupboard.’

  ‘He knows all about me, Jess, and he still loves me. That’s quite something, isn’t it?’ Polly smiled. ‘And if we have a tenth of what you and Matt have got going on, we’ll be just fine.’

  ‘You were right what you said in Majorca about Matt: he did mean every word of his vows. He is my rock.’

  ‘And you’re his.’

  ‘Blimey, then we might both be in trouble, we all know I’m not that anchored.’ She gave a small laugh.

  ‘You are doing great. You know you are.’

  ‘Things are good.’ Jessica nodded. ‘It’s still not all plain sailing. I get so tired and with a baby it’s hard to fit in time for each other sometimes. But everything is on the up and it feels better.’

  ‘Even the S-E-X?’ Polly asked.

  ‘Yes.’ She smiled, remembering that very morning. ‘Even that. And I plan to take full advantage of spending the night in this fab hotel: no chores, a glass of plonk and no alarm clock! Apart from Lilly.’

  Jessica bent forward and kissed her mate on the cheek.

  ‘Talking of Lilly, do you think my little bridesmaid is going to wear her shoes or is she still refusing?’ Polly asked as she straightened up and shook off any tears that threatened; this was no time to be crying, not while she was putting the finishing touches to her make-up.

  ‘In fairness to Lilly, she does walk better in bare feet. She’s only one but already has the gait of a drunk!’

  ‘So she does take after her mother.’ Polly winked in the mirror.

  ‘Yes, she does.’ That’s me. I’m Lilly’s mum. That’s my job and it’s the best job in the whole wide world!

  Roger and Coral made a fair attempt at the Twist and Jessica danced with Paz, who held Lilly high above the crowd. Polly boogied with Paz’s father, who seemed to be enjoying every minute.

  Jake pulled out the vacated chair next to Matthew and plonked himself down; he reached for the bottle of champagne in the middle of the table and filled his glass. ‘Christ, this must be costing a pretty penny.’ He looked around the ornate reception room.

  Matthew nodded and sipped his beer. ‘Lovely though.’

  ‘Oh yes, lovely.’ Jake pulled his collar. ‘And if that slender red-haired dolly to your right plays her cards right, this evening could get a whole lot lovelier.’

  Matthew turned to look at a bored bridesmaid who was repeatedly stabbing a fork into a piece of wedding cake. ‘Lucky girl.’ He nodded at his friend.

  ‘I notice Polly didn’t actually marry Topaz, but rather Roland Raymond Jacques de Bouieller blah di blah di blah!’

  ‘Yep, but the vicar did refer to him as Paz throughout, which I thought was nice, personal.’

  ‘I guess.’ Jake sniffed.

  Matthew turned to his friend. ‘You’ve got to give him a break, mate. He’s in. He is one of the circle now, a friend, a good friend, and Polly’s husband, no less! And you can’t laugh at his name or his ponytail every time you see him for the rest of our lives, okay?’

  Jake shrugged. ‘I suppose so. And you are right, it’s time I embraced him.’

  ‘Good.’ Matthew sounded happy; he’d experienced enough discord to last him a lifetime.

  Jake drained his glass, adjusted his tie and ran his fingers through his hair in preparation for wooing the bored bridesmaid. ‘Still think he’s a tosser though,’ he whispered, just loud enough for Matthew to hear.

  Jessica grabbed her dad’s hand and danced with him in the corner of the crowded dance floor. She leant in and shouted into his ear, ‘Polly and I were talking earlier about how we used to play brides!’

  Roger nodded, pulling Jessica to the side of the mêlée where he could be heard without having to yell. ‘That feels like five minutes ago.’ He shook his head. ‘I remember the day you both snipped the heads off all my roses, to make bride perfume. I went spare! All bloody year cultivating those beauties for you two to lop them off and mush them up in a bucket with one of my screwdrivers!’

  ‘They weren’t entirely wasted, we did smell lovely.’ Jessica laughed.

  ‘Ah, Jess, happy, happy days. And poor old Danny always had to be the vicar, didn’t he? I can see him now, standing by the front door with a black T-shirt on and a serious expression.’

  Jessica looked into her dad’s eyes. ‘He was a good brother; he used to play whatever I asked him to. We liked each other very much, that’s always made me really happy. You hear stories of some kids who war constantly, don’t you, but we were never like that, we were mates.’

  ‘You were.’ Roger inhaled. ‘You did have your moments, though. It wasn’t all playing and friendly. I remember you both rowing in the back of the car: he’d hit you and you’d punched him back. Blimey. I wished you’d both shut up. Cor, Jess, the times I’ve wished I could go back and listen to you both. Listen to him…’

  ‘I don’t remember that.’ She shook her head.

  Roger sighed. ‘That’s the thing about people who’v
e passed on, Jess. It changes the way they’re remembered. If I think about my old mum, I only think about the good bits, her laughing and Christmas Day with us all around the table. I never think about her taking to her bed, her hypochondria or the fact that she wasn’t that keen on Coral when I first took her home. Death gives you an altered perspective, it lets those left behind pick out the best bits and disregard the bad.’

  ‘That’s a good thing, Dad, isn’t it?’

  Roger squeezed his daughter’s hand. ‘I suppose it is, my love.’

  Topaz interrupted them. ‘I think this little bridesmaid is a bit fed up with my dancing!’ He handed Lilly to her mum, who took her into her arms. ‘I’m off to rescue my wife!’ He laughed as he danced through the crowd.

  ‘I love you, Dad,’ Jessica said over her shoulder as she headed towards Matthew.

  ‘And for that I am thankful. Every day, my girl.’ Roger smiled, watching his little girl and her little girl make their way from the dance floor over to the table.

  ‘Well, if it isn’t the most gorgeous girl in the room – and her daughter’s quite pretty too.’ Matthew smiled at his wife, who sat on his lap and plonked Lilly on hers, the layers of tulle on her tutu frock bunched up beneath her.

  ‘Why, thank you.’ She kissed him on the mouth, feeling the longing leap in her stomach. ‘Lilly’s on her last legs, Matt. I think I might take her up to the room.’

  ‘I’ll come with you.’ Matthew downed his pint.

  ‘No, no, you stay. I don’t want to shorten your evening. Lilly and I will be fine. She’ll be out for the count in five minutes.’ Lilly laid her head on her mum’s chest and closed her eyes, her thumb firmly in place.

  ‘That’s what I’m hoping.’ Matthew wriggled his eyebrows at his wife.

  ‘Oh purlease, you two, get a bloody room!’ Jake bellowed, winking at his new companion.

  ‘We’ve got one actually!’ Matthew shouted as he followed his wife out of the grand reception hall. ‘Have I told you that you look absolutely stunning tonight?’ he whispered in his wife’s ear as they made their way up the wide staircase.