by Lulu Taylor
‘Am I?’ Julia looked down. She knew it was true. Her arms were slender, her stomach quite flat and her behind felt bonier than it ever had. ‘I’ve had quite bad morning sickness. I’m getting better.’
‘I hope so.’ Sally frowned. ‘There’s nothing more to it than that?’
‘No.’ Julia shook her head. ‘Well . . .’ She felt a sudden huge temptation to tell Sally everything. But one look into the clear blue eyes and she couldn’t. Sally seemed too pure for the dark imaginings in her heart. There was no way she would understand. Like David, Sally would only be able to think of the pregnancy and Julia didn’t want to bring her own grim darkness into their world, or share the horrible fears she had. But when Sally went to the loo, she came back holding a plastic bag that Julia recognised.
‘What’s all this?’ she asked, holding it out, her expression worried.
‘Where did you find that?’ Julia said crossly. ‘Are you spying? That’s rather sneaky.’
‘I was looking for another roll of loo paper. I opened this bag because I thought there might be some inside.’ Sally looked in as if to reassure herself she hadn’t imagined it. ‘Dozens of used pregnancy tests. Boxes more unopened.’ She frowned and looked up at Julia. ‘Are you worried that you might not be pregnant?’
‘I . . . I . . .’ Julia couldn’t think of anything to say to explain. She sat down on the sofa and curled up, wrapping her arms around her head.
‘Julia, what is it?’ Sally sat down on the other end and gently reached out to touch her arm. ‘Are you all right? Is everything all right with the baby?’
Julia felt a rush of claustrophobia and longing to run outside the flat, across the road and into the park, to run and run. She yearned to be free of this constant, appalling feeling as though she was in a room with dozens of doors, and she kept spinning around to see if any of them were unlocked and none of them were. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I think so.’
‘But it might not be?’
‘It’s not the baby. It’s me.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I test every day to see if I’m pregnant, in case it’s gone. I’m terrified of losing it.’
‘Oh, you poor thing! Of course you’re worried.’ Sally looked sympathetic. ‘But you’re into your second trimester. You’re safe now, aren’t you?’
‘No, no, I’m less safe than ever! This is when my mother thought she was safe and she wasn’t, she wasn’t at all. Every day took her closer to losing it, not further away!’ Julia looked up at her with frightened eyes. ‘That’s what’s happening to me.’
‘Not necessarily! Julia, you’re not bound to have a disaster because your mother did, it doesn’t work that way. You’re going to be fine, I promise.’
Julia bit her lip. Sally didn’t know. She had no idea. It was easy for her to make these ridiculous promises when the truth was that she was no in position to do so. Everyone kept doing that. They kept saying it would all be fine, natural and easy. What did they know? And what did it really matter to them anyway? They didn’t have to live through it. But each day, she felt more and more certain that she was on her way to disaster. She could barely eat and didn’t sleep for more than an hour or two before being wakened by horrific dreams. Last night’s nightmare had involved blood seeping through her pores, pushed out by the expanding baby inside her until she was as empty as a juiced orange. In the morning, once David had gone, deep depression almost overwhelmed her. It was only taking Greta out to the park that managed to lift her from a feeling that what she really ought to do was work out the quickest way to die and put them all out of their misery – herself, the baby, to whom she would be a terrible mother in any case and who didn’t deserve the awful fate of being born to her, and David, who would be better off without her.
‘All right,’ she said and tried to smile. ‘Yes. I’m going to be fine. I shouldn’t worry.’
‘Shall I throw these away then?’ Sally picked up the bag. Then she said slowly, ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to tell David about this? You’re really all right?’
‘Of course I am. Throw them away. I don’t mind.’ She watched Sally do just as David had done when he took away her pills: the things she relied on were tossed away and no one knew how she really felt.
Whatever I do, I mustn’t tell them.
There was a point when she couldn’t hide it any longer. She ate, but couldn’t prevent the compulsion to go to the loo and throw it all up again afterwards. Why, she had no idea, but she felt calmer and safer when she’d been sick. She found that once or twice during the day she would go to the knife drawer, pull out the small, sharp paring knife and pull it lightly across her skin until a trail of tiny ruby blobs appeared on her arm. If she couldn’t quite bring herself to do that, she would find pencils or anything with an edge, and score it into her tender forearm until it was criss-crossed with pink lines. Each night, while David slept beside her, she thought about leaving the flat and going to the river, standing up on the parapet of the bridge and throwing herself off into the murky waters.
‘I don’t want to die!’ she would hiss to herself, tears leaking out from the corners of her eyes. But a darker voice from deep inside her would respond. I want to die. It’s better that way. Better that way than the torment.
She knew that she wasn’t going to be able to bear it for much longer. It felt absurd on the day she waved David off to Royal Ascot, in his morning coat and top hat and with the elegant badge on his lapel, knowing he was going to drink champagne and spend the day with the glittering titled crowd in the royal enclosure, while she sat at home and wondered if today she would have the courage to end it. Instead, she called Mark and asked to meet him. He was surprised to hear from her, but readily agreed to meet her in the park to walk the dogs.
They met in a sunny spot not far from the Peace Pagoda in Battersea Park and mooched along together, the two dogs frolicking about, and talked of nothing for a while. Then he gave her one of his sideways looks.
‘This is all very nice, Julia, and it’s always a pleasure to spend a bit of time with you. But I can’t help wondering why you called me. We’re not exactly buddies these days, now you’re respectable and I’m still a useless wastrel.’
She thought that even though he was dressed in a baggy shirt that covered up the wrecked skin of his arms, frayed denim shorts and a pair of battered deck shoes, he still somehow managed to look a bit like an off-duty rock star, maybe because of his messy fair hair and the Ray-Bans covering his bloodshot eyes.
Julia hesitated. Then she remembered that this was Mark, crazy, hedonistic Mark who had encouraged her on to all kinds of excess. If anyone was going to help her, he would. ‘I was wondering . . . wondering about drugs.’
‘Really?’ He gave her a quizzical look, an eyebrow raised in the way that used to make her giggle. ‘Drugs? Who for? Not for your saintly husband, surely. Have you got some mad party friends who are up for bit of zaniness? I can do special dinner party packages, you know. It’s quite the thing in the best circles.’
‘No. It’s for me.’
‘For you?’ He took this in and shrugged, slapping the dog lead he was holding lightly across his leg. ‘Okay. What do you want? Coke? Weed? I’ve just had a batch of these fabulous new pills from Ibiza. But you don’t like tabs, do you?’
‘I want heroin.’
Mark stopped and half laughed. ‘Heroin? Why on earth do you want that? I tell you what, darling, if you’ve got this far in your life without taking it, don’t start now. Besides, you’re not looking well. You’re too thin. God knows what it would do to you with that body weight. I’ve no idea how much you could stand.’
‘You mean it might kill me?’
‘All too easily.’
‘But wouldn’t that be a lovely way to go?’ she said as lightly as she could. ‘You’ve told me how wonderful the feeling is. Why not let me have a try? We could go back to my place now and do it, if you’ve got some with you. Why not?’
&nbs
p; Mark stopped. He turned to her, his expression serious, and took off his sunglasses. His eyes were worried. ‘Okay. Stop right there. What is this?’
She gazed at him defiantly. ‘What do you mean?’
From the outside, she thought, they might look like a couple having a minor tiff as they walked their two dogs on a beautiful summer day. She was in a denim skirt and a loose stripy shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and flat leather shoes with cut-outs in the pattern of daisies. Her pregnancy was so well hidden that Mark hadn’t even noticed it. But actually she was trying to persuade him to take her back to her flat and kill her.
That’s weird. It’s so weird. Maybe he’ll get in trouble. He might get taken to court, prosecuted and put in prison. That ought to bother me. But it didn’t. Her only concern was her own escape.
‘Look, Julia, I’m dark. You’re dark. I know that. But you’re not that dark, you haven’t fallen as far as I have. You’ve got the chance to make a proper life for yourself. Why do you want to spoil it now? Take my advice – if you want to get high, have some coke.’
‘What do you care? Come on, Mark.’ Her tone became wheedling. ‘I want to try this out before it’s too late. David’s such a square, he’ll never let me. I promise not to get addicted.’
Mark snorted. ‘Yeah, that’s believable. That’s what they all think. The people who don’t get addicted are the ones who never try it, because they’re not fucking bothered. The ones who want it are the ones who should be kept well away.’
Julia shrugged. She couldn’t be bothered with all that. She put her hands on her hips. ‘So, will you?’
He said nothing, then suddenly grabbed her arm and turned it so that the white inner forearm with its tracks of cuts and scratches was visible. ‘What’s this?’
‘Nothing!’ She tried to pull it away but Mark was too strong.
‘Are you already using?’ he demanded.
‘No!’
‘Then what are you doing? Are you . . . cutting?’
She snatched her arm suddenly from his grip and rubbed it, angry. ‘None of your business.’
He looked at her again. ‘You’re too thin, Julia. You’re cutting. You want drugs. What is it? What the fuck is it?’
Julia felt blood rush to her face. ‘You’re just like everyone else!’ she screamed. ‘I thought you would understand, you of all people! You said we were the same! But you’re going to stand in my way, just like all the rest, just like all of them!’ Panic washed through her, engulfing her and maddening her so she couldn’t bear it any longer. ‘Oh God!’
She turned round and ran to the wall that went along the park by the river. She had some crazy idea to leap up onto it and over into the Thames, but as she climbed up, she saw that the tide was out and she would only land on wet, stony sand covered in litter and river detritus. I’ll jump, and I’ll run, and I’ll get to the water, and I’ll wade in and—
‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Mark yelled, going after her. He reached her and grabbed her. ‘Julia!’
‘Get off!’ She tried to push his arm away. ‘Let me go!’
‘Are you crazy, get the hell down! You’ll break a leg.’
A passer-by stopped and called out, ‘Is he bothering you, miss?’
Mark shouted over his shoulder, ‘She’s fine! Just playing silly buggers!’ Then he hissed, ‘Get down! Do you want us both to be arrested?’
She gave a dry half-sob.
‘Come on, Julia, please.’
‘Let me go,’ she said, but she felt the impetus leaving her. She began to wilt.
‘Come down.’ He put up a hand to her and she took it, letting him help her off the wall. They stood close to each other, staring into one another’s faces. Tears began to pour down Julia’s cheeks. The passer-by moved away, satisfied she wasn’t in danger.
‘What’s wrong?’ Mark asked plaintively. ‘I want to help you.’
‘I want you to kill me, Mark! I don’t want to go on. I want you to inject me with heroin and send me on my way. It’s the kindest thing to do! Don’t you understand?’ She clasped both his arms in her hands. ‘I want to die, I want you to kill me.’
‘Why?’ He was ashen with shock. ‘For Christ’s sake, Julia, do you know what you’re asking me? Why do you want to die?’
‘Because . . .’ She stumbled over the words but managed at last to say them before she found she couldn’t speak at all. ‘I’m pregnant. I’m going to have a baby and I’d rather die.’
Julia didn’t know much about the rest of the day, only that Mark somehow got her back to the flat and inside, using her keys, and laid her down on her bed. He waited all afternoon. She sometimes smelled the tang of cigarettes as he lit up on the balcony. Other times she felt his presence in the room as he checked that she was all right, offered her water or tea. She didn’t reply. She’d sunk down into somewhere far away.
David returned, astonished to find Mark there. She heard voices. Exclamations from David, Mark’s murmuring as he explained what had happened. ‘She told me to kill her.’
‘What? Why?’
‘She’s pregnant and she wants to die.’
‘Oh my God.’
Julia could hear the broken sound in David’s voice and she felt guilty. More reasons to hate herself. How could she hurt David like this? Hurt the baby? What kind of a person was she, to even dream of it?
Wicked. Evil. Ought to die.
Oh, those damn voices, I wish they would shut up!
Mark said, ‘She wanted me to inject her with heroin and let her die that way.’
‘Christ. Surely she wasn’t serious?’
‘Oh, she was serious.’
‘What am I supposed to do?’
‘She’s at risk and so is the baby. You don’t have a choice.’
Julia knew that Mark had left. Someone else arrived. A soft female voice.
Sally.
Phone calls were made, and Sally came to sit with her, holding her hand. The same evening Julia was taken to a secure unit where she agreed, for her own safety, to be locked up and treated. David wept, and Sally held her hand, then the nurses came and took her away.
She knew she ought to feel bad but now, all she felt was relief. They would take it all away, she didn’t have to bear it all by herself anymore.
The rest of the summer was spent in the cool confines of the hospital. They could only give her limited drugs in order to protect the baby, but they kept her calm and safe. When it was understood what was happening, the doctors said that when the time came, she could have a Caesarean. That began to help the great terror to subside. Her fear of miscarriage was still there but alleviated by the knowledge she was already in a hospital, even if not a maternity kind. And the gentle waves of medication took the panic away and let her, at last, sleep. The vitamin drips restored the chemicals she was missing from lack of nutrients and lifted some of her depression. She could sleep again.
The only thing that tormented her still was the knowledge of what she was putting David through. He came to see her almost every day, and when he couldn’t, Sally came, full of concern and sympathy.
‘You should have said,’ was the closest she came to any kind of rebuke. Otherwise, she talked cheerfully of the little things in life, what was happening in her agency and the dates she was going on. She had a new boyfriend, a solicitor, and it was looking promising.
Meanwhile, Julia’s belly swelled, the baby moved and kicked, and at night, if she couldn’t sleep, then she lay grappling with her terror of the thing inside either living or dying – both seemed equally terrible when she was in the grip of her fears.
Lala came too, arriving with David one afternoon not long after Julia was taken into the unit. She was pale with worry but full of words of reassurance. Julia was happy to see her but certain that Lala was angry.
‘Is she cross with me?’ she asked David anxiously, when Lala had left.
‘No. Cross with me.’ David looked tired and sad. He had lost weight too over the last w
eek or so, and Julia had the impression that there were pressures on him from all sides. ‘She thinks I should have seen what was happening. She thinks I shouldn’t have left you alone at Tawray.’
‘I made you.’
‘She’s right. You shouldn’t have been alone. We’ll work out a way that it won’t happen again.’
Julia didn’t know exactly what was going to happen to her and she was content to let others decide. Knowing that she would not now be going through childbirth had lifted a great weight from her shoulders. Other fears remained – that she would go into labour early, miscarry a late baby, that the baby would be sick or suffering birth defects – but the worst one was gone. She thought that they would probably let her out if she insisted but she was happy not to go anywhere. Here was fine. As the year progressed, David came to see her a little less.
‘I’m going to put the hours in now,’ he said, ‘so that we can have more time when the baby is here. I’ve arranged to carry all my leave over.’
‘That’s a good idea,’ she said with a smile, even though she couldn’t really envisage a future with a baby in it, despite her swollen belly.
In the autumn, David was taken up with work and any number of away days, as he tried to bank as much holiday as he could, and Julia spent her days in the unit, visited by Sally and Lala, and David’s parents; even Violet came when she heard that Julia was unwell.
‘What does Aunt Victoria have to say about this?’ Julia asked, as Violet sat with her in the day room. ‘I expect she thinks I’m a chip off the old block – a maniac just like my mother.’
Violet’s bright blush told her that she was not wrong.
The autumn days brought earlier evenings and the changing weather made her gloomy again, but still, she felt safe in the unit and had no desire to leave it, although she missed Greta and was overjoyed when David was able to bring her in for visits.
She was in the day room one Sunday, waiting for David to arrive with Greta, when her eye was caught by a headline on the Sunday tabloid. ‘Baronet’s son found dead.’ Going cold, she picked it up, only to see a grainy black and white photograph of Mark and a short accompanying piece to say that he had been found dead at home of a drug overdose, thought to be suicide.