Mother's Story

by Amanda Prowse

  I hung up the phone and looked again at the hypnotic display of the alarm clock. Ten minutes had passed, maybe more, since I had given Lilly the strawberry syrup. I watched her tummy rise and fall as her blinks got slower and longer and her mouth fell open, slack and dribbling.

  I laid my head next to hers on the pillow and I whispered, ‘You are perfect, Lilly Rose. Far too perfect for this horrible world, where things change so fast that you feel like you might fall off. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry you got me and not a different mum, a mum that knows how to do it. But I just don’t. No matter how much I want to, I can’t. And this is not a world I want you to live in. A world where you can’t keep the people you love safe. You will suffer because of me – I will be punished, I know it, and you deserve better. So much better. Go to sleep, knowing that you are loved.’

  I realised I was crying as I kissed her forehead and walked into our en-suite bathroom. I ran my thumb over the jagged edge of the large mirror, hardly noticing that it sliced deep, causing a crimson line to appear almost instantly. I swiped my thumb along my jawbone, touching the tip of my tongue against it, taking in the iron flavour.

  I ran my hand under the tap, making sure the water wasn’t too hot. I sat on the loo and stared at the running water, mesmerised. I held my hand under the stream and watched as my trickling blood left a strawberry trail suspended in the water. Pink. Lilly loved anything pink.

  Once, not long after we met, I came home to find Matthew had run me a bath. There were candles flickering around the room and he brought me a cup of tea on a little tray. I thought it was the nicest bath I had ever had. It probably was.

  The bath was nearly full, but I left the taps running. I liked the sound of the thundering spray. Constant noise helped dull the chatter in my head.

  I went into the bedroom and over to the bed. Gently, I picked Lilly up. Her head lolled backwards against my arm. ‘Out for the count, my darling.’ I kissed her nose. Her arms dangled. One of her socks had fallen off, onto the bed; I grabbed it and stuffed it into my pyjama pocket.

  Walking into the bathroom, I felt the water soaking my socks. I moved my toes against the wet floor and it felt quite nice, warm. I thought that I should probably turn the taps off, but I liked the thin wall of water that cascaded like shimmering glass over the rim. I watched it for a second or two and then stepped forward. Lilly was getting heavy.

  I rested her against my stomach and kissed her scalp one last time. ‘You’ll never get sucked in, Lilly. I won’t let that happen to you.’

  I walked closer to the tub and she seemed to roll out of my arms. It made a big splash.

  I was so tired. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sound of the running water and the warmth around my feet.

  I took a step and slipped slightly on the wet floor. The water was over my feet by then. My socks were heavy. That made me laugh a little. Heavy socks? What a ridiculous thing.

  Before I left the bathroom I looked back, just once. Lilly’s hair was fanned out like fine strands of pale gossamer in the water.

  It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

  And just like that, I had done it, the very worst thing a woman could do.

  Twenty-Six

  I sat on the sofa, breathing deeply. My head felt quite clear. I don’t know how long I sat for, but I felt very calm. For the first time in a long time, I felt peaceful and that was good.

  I took a deep breath and ran my fingers over the little pink and white striped sock in my hand. The sock was dotted with blood, quite a lot of blood actually. I knew that I’d cut myself, but I couldn’t really remember where or how.

  The key clicked in the door. I sat upright and smiled, trying to look my best. I wondered if it was too late to go and find my perfume and spray some scent behind my ears. It probably was. I knew I needed to make more effort but decided that he would just have to take me as he found me. Oh, Matthew! I was so glad he was home. I missed him dreadfully during the day. I loved him so much. I wanted him to sit by my side and hold my hand and just enjoy the fact that I was feeling calm. The poor love, things hadn’t been easy for him. I knew he wanted the house to be tidier and for me to be a bit more together.

  ‘What the fuck?’ he shouted, very loudly.

  I could tell he wasn’t happy. My stomach shrank and I shuddered. I so wanted him to be happy and I definitely didn’t want him to be angry with me, especially not then, when I was feeling so peaceful.

  He ran into the sitting room and he looked… crazy. Scared and crazy.

  ‘What…? What the…?’ he shouted, gasping for breath. He held his arms away from his body, as though he didn’t know where to go or what to say next.

  Finally he managed, ‘Where’s Lilly?’

  ‘Where is Lilly?’ he asked again, louder the second time. And then, pointing at Lilly’s sock, ‘Is that blood?’

  I laughed and lifted the sock towards him. ‘Don’t worry, Matt. It’s my blood. I cut my thumb on the mirror.’ I smiled and nodded. ‘I’m so glad you’re home. Come and sit with me.’ I patted the space on the sofa next to me. I could see his chest was heaving and his mouth was open.

  He ran his hand through his hair and raced out of the room.

  Then I heard it.

  Matthew was screaming. I had never heard him scream before. I’d heard him shout, when he was angry or laughing. Yes, I’d heard him being very loud on more than one occasion, but this was something different. It sounded as if… as if he was dying, and I didn’t like it one bit.

  I blinked very quickly and put my hands over my ears. I wasn’t very good with loud noises or bangs. I felt scared because he not only sounded sad but angry too and I didn’t want him to be angry with me, that was the last thing I wanted. I just wanted him to come and sit by my side and hold me in his arms. His words from when we’d stood locked together in the rain were loud and clear in my head: ‘Jess, my Jess. There is nothing you can do, nothing that would make me stop loving you.’

  Even though my hands were over my ears and I was trying to hum to block out the noise, I could hear him shouting, ‘Fuck! No! Oh my God! Help me! Help! NO! Someone please help me! Please!’

  He thundered down the stairs and out of the hallway into the street. And then I heard lots of pairs of feet hammering back up the stairs, all making lots of noise, banging around overhead. I wondered who he had invited in and why they were upstairs. We usually brought guests into the kitchen to have a cup of tea. There were lots of shouts and crying and a couple of different screams. And then more crying. It wasn’t just Matt crying, other people were howling too. One sounded like a woman.

  A little while later a man came into the sitting room. He poked his head around the door and scanned the walls and the floor before walking towards me. He was wearing a green jumpsuit and very thin blue rubber gloves and he was carrying a little plastic box.

  ‘Hello,’ he said.

  I looked at him, wondering if we had met before.

  ‘My name is Chris.’

  ‘Hello, Chris.’ I smiled at him. He was about fifty, with short grey hair and he looked slim and fit, like a cyclist. ‘Do you own a bike?’ I asked.

  He ignored my question and I wondered if he’d heard me. I was deciding whether or not to repeat it, when he said, ‘I have come to help you.’

  His voice was calm and I thought it was a very nice thing to say. But I wasn’t sure how he could help me or what he meant by that exactly.

  ‘Are you hurt, Jessica?’ he asked.

  I thought I must know him because he knew my name. I held up my thumb and flexed it. This caused the blood to pump again, breaking through the congealed crust. ‘I’ve already told Matt it’s just a little cut. Nothing to make a fuss about.’

  He looked over my shoulder.

  I turned around and noticed for the first time that part of the ceiling had fallen away, quite a large part, in fact.

  ‘Oh no! Oh my God!’ I gasped. I couldn’t think how this had happened, but it had made a t
errible mess. I could see up into the dark space: there were the soggy edges of a board hanging down and, behind that, wooden strips that reminded me of lolly sticks, the kind Danny and I used to make things out of when we were little. There were chunks of dark material and dust, lots of dust. Now that I could see it, I could smell it too. It smelt old.

  Wide chunks of plaster had fallen onto the sitting room floor and lay like white mountains with powdered snow scattered around. I became aware of a different sound. I looked back towards the ceiling and noticed there was a steady stream of water running down and pooling onto the floor, which was so sodden, it had changed colour. I noticed too for the first time that water was running through the light socket above me and dripping from the modern green glass chandelier we had bought from Heal’s.

  ‘Oh goodness!’ I said. ‘I didn’t notice that! It’s going to take quite a lot of clearing up, isn’t it? We have a lady that Polly has recommended. I can’t remember her name. Shall I fetch her card?’ I pointed towards the kitchen. ‘It’s in there somewhere.’ I laughed, embarrassed by the mess on the counter tops.

  ‘No, that’s okay. We’ll get all that taken care of.’ Chris’s voice was quite soothing.

  ‘That’s very kind of you.’ I thought it was lovely that Chris wanted to help sort things out and I was in fact quite relieved by his intervention. I liked the idea of someone else taking control for a while and getting everything straight.

  ‘Let’s get you checked out, Jessica. Come with me, my love.’

  I stood up.

  ‘Checked out for what?’ I asked.

  ‘Just to see how you are doing.’ He smiled.

  ‘Actually, Chris, I’ve been feeling very, very tired.’ It felt good to tell him this.

  He nodded as he placed his arm under my elbow and helped me towards the door.

  I noticed I was still wearing my wet socks. ‘Heavy socks!’ I pointed at my feet and laughed.

  Chris didn’t laugh but held my arm tightly.

  We walked outside together, his hand on my back keeping me steady. I noticed a small gathering of people on the other side of the street, crowding the pavement and standing near the ambulance. I didn’t recognise many of the faces, neighbours possibly or just passers-by. But then I spotted Mrs Pleasant: her tiny eyes were shining, her mouth was open, revealing little, yellow teeth. I turned to smile at her and, quite unexpectedly, she spat at me. I was really shocked: how was I supposed to react? I decided to ignore her. I always knew she was horrid, but that proved it. I couldn’t wait to hear what Matthew would have to say about it. I thought he might give her a new nickname, like Mrs Cobra or Mrs Gobalot. I laughed as I thought about that. Mrs Gobalot…

  A policeman was standing in front of them with his back to me. He opened his arms wide, shooing the crowd backwards. There were flashing blue lights in the street, maybe four or five. From the corner of my eye I saw a stretcher being carried out of the house. On it lay something tiny and motionless. It pricked my conscience, but I wasn’t able to say why and I dismissed it from my thoughts immediately.

  Chris helped me into the back of the ambulance. A policewoman climbed in too. She was not smiling; her lips were thin and pressed together. I didn’t like her nearly as much as I did Chris, who laid me down on a stretcher and placed a soft red blanket over me that came up to my chin. He clicked a seatbelt across my body. I liked the feeling of being tucked in, cosy.

  Looking back towards the house, I asked, ‘Can you get Matthew for me?’

  ‘Not right now, Jessica,’ he said.

  ‘I need to speak to him.’ I smiled, still polite, even though I was feeling a little anxious. I wanted my husband. I needed to tell him that I was going with Chris but that I would see him later. I had also remembered the name of the lady that could help tidy up the mess; her name was Paula and I knew where I had put her card, on the front of the fridge under our ‘I heart NY’ magnet.

  ‘Matthew is busy right now. Would you like me to give him a message?’ he asked, his eyes darting towards the police lady.

  I sighed. That would be the next best thing, if he couldn’t come to me at that very moment.

  ‘Can you tell him…’ I paused. What was it I wanted to say to the man I loved, my husband, my Matthew?

  ‘Can you tell him, everything is going to be okay.’ And I nodded and closed my eyes, happy that it would be.

  Twenty-Seven

  1st September, 2015

  I was released today. I’ve got the newspaper; they always use that same photograph. Flashbulbs were popping all around me. I was caught unawares and I’m looking slightly dazed into the lens as they lead me away from the court. It doesn’t look anything like me. My eyes are wide, full of fear and grief. I hate that picture. Here’s a clipping:

  Today will see the release of Jessica Deane, who notoriously tried to kill her baby daughter Lilly, aged fourteen months, in what became known as ‘The Baby in the Bath’ case. She has been detained in the secure psychiatric unit of Mountside Prison for four years. Her crime, like her release, polarised opinion. Women’s campaigners have insisted from the outset that Deane needed medical help and understanding, not imprisonment. But there are others that believe she should have been tried for attempted murder and sentenced accordingly.

  Justice Andrea Silver in her summing up at the trial made these comments:

  ‘This is a case that has touched the nation. You are a woman who stands before me with her life entirely devastated. Your disturbance of mind at the time, due to severe postnatal depression, coupled with your guilty plea, enables me to take a course that will offer rehabilitation and medical treatment. I see no benefit to society in awarding a custodial sentence. Your unwillingness to seek help sooner, afraid of the stigma of being labelled depressed and the inability of the organisations involved in your care to identify the level of threat, is something that we as a society need to look at.’

  Her husband, Matthew Deane, now lives in the USA with their daughter Lilly who is five years of age. Experts say that she was too young to fully understand the circumstances of her early life, and apparently she is now thriving in her new home. Matthew Deane has refused to comment specifically on his wife’s release.

  Deane has shown remorse for the crime and is known to have made two suicide attempts whilst in the care of Mountside Hospital NHS Trust.

  Her friend and spokesman Roland de Bouieller, who has campaigned tirelessly for greater understanding of postnatal depression, gave this statement:

  ‘We are delighted that today will see Jessica Deane released. No system can punish her as much as she has punished herself; she has lost her husband, her beloved daughter and her liberty. Depression is a terrible, terrible illness that needs to be much better understood. For all those screaming for her sentence to be increased and for her to be incarcerated, I would ask that you walk a mile in her shoes.’

  We have been told that Ms Deane will be moved to an undisclosed address.

  ‘All set?’ Polly held both her hands.

  Jessica nodded. ‘Yup. Thank you. Thank you both.’ She hugged her tightly, getting as close as she could across her friend’s bump.

  ‘Careful, mate, I am a coveted vessel.’ Polly winked at her best mate.

  Topaz stepped forward and enveloped them both with his arms. ‘I’m so happy today. You’ve worked hard, Jess, and here you are, new beginnings!’

  Jessica nodded, yes, new beginnings…

  ‘I want you to think about what we discussed. A retreat for women recovering from postnatal depression, with yoga, fresh air, good food. Margaret and Anthony were really keen and your mum and dad thought it was a great idea. And we’d love to be involved, wouldn’t we, Poll?’

  Polly nodded. ‘You bet. We go where you go, you can’t shake me off!’

  Jessica smiled; she didn’t want to shake her off, ever.

  ‘I could teach relaxation and you could run art classes. It could really do some good and would be a nice place for you to continue y
our journey.’

  Jessica pulled away from her friends. ‘We’ll see.’ It was the best she could offer, wanting to take one day at a time.

  ‘Let us know when you’re settled and we’ll be there on the first available flight, promise?’ Polly fought back the tears that threatened.

  ‘Promise.’ Jessica blew a kiss.

  Five hours later, Jessica paid the cab driver and smiled her thanks. She retrieved her hand luggage from the boot of the rusting car and breathed in the warm evening air. Her eyes roved over the garden, remembering her honeymoon, when she and Matthew had wandered around the villa naked, eaten biscuits in bed and sat on the terrace drinking cold beer. She had never felt so carefree, so happy. She walked slowly down the path to the front door; bent down on all fours and with her arm outstretched scrabbled around in the dirt under the shrub. To her relief, her fingers soon touched cool, hard metal. She had found the ancient tin. Picking it up, she shook it, the sound of the key making a pleasing rattle. Margaret had reassured her; confident it would be where they left it.

  Jessica let herself into the The Orangery and made her way to the master bedroom, where she removed her clothes and climbed between the stiff, white sheets of the double bed that she and her husband had once shared. She pulled the bolster pillow into her arms and held it close. She set her alarm clock before slipping into a peaceful slumber.

  The high-pitched beep woke her some four hours later. She climbed slowly from the mattress and put her dressing gown on before tidying the bed, pulling the top sheet taut and smoothing the creases from the pillows. After drinking a solitary glass of red wine, she made her way outside on to the terrace. It was midnight.

  Jessica lit a candle and held it up at arm’s length as she looked out over the majestic Tramuntana Mountains, their jagged profiles grey against the dark sky. She let the warm wind flow over her. For her this was the most special time of day, as the sea sparkled in the moonlight and the land was covered with a blanket of hush. Aubergine-coloured clouds rolled on the horizon. Jessica faced them head on, no longer afraid, remembering a time when her survival was dependent on punching very large holes in them, through which she could poke her head and take a breath. Not any more.