by N L Ardwick
Once they had settled in, Ajay said she could start looking for work. She applied for several part time jobs and was invited for a few interviews. Eventually, she was offered a job at a law firm half an hours drive away. She worked until two o clock every day and was back in time to collect Gurmeet from school.
It was a year later that she discovered that she was pregnant again.
CHAPTER 7
It was at the five month scan that they learned that the new baby was to be a girl. Harpreet was so excited. She had always wanted a daughter.
“Gurmeet,” she said. “You are going to have a little baby sister. Ajay, can we call her Amarjit and Amy for short. I would like that.”
Ajay was over the moon at the pregnancy. Relations had now thawed with his parents and he spoke of inviting them round for dinner. The spare bedroom of their house was decorated and they bought a new cot with pink bedding. Harpreet loved going to the shops and looking at the tiny pink baby gros and pretty dresses. She felt lucky. She had a very caring husband, a lovely son and a baby girl on the way.
She worked right up to her due date. Amy, as she had now been named was to be born within a couple of weeks. Ajay was now home and had told work that he did not want to travel abroad until after the baby was born.
One morning, only a week after she had finished work, she woke with a dull ache in her back and stomach. Ajay had gone to take Gurmeet to school. By the time he returned, she was rocking from side to side trying to ride the pain. Ajay immediately took her to hospital where they were told that the baby’s birth was imminent. She was nervous but not as nervous as the first time when she had Gurmeet as she knew what to expect.
The labour was over in around two hours. Ajay was by her side throughout, holding her hand and reassuring her. Harpreet was exhausted now. Eventually, the midwife announced that she had seen the baby’s head appear and her daughter was soon placed on top of her. The cord was cut and as she was lifted away, she let out a screech, as loud as her little lungs could manage. It was a sharp piercing sound.
Harpreet held out her hand to Ajay and he kissed her gently on her forehead.
They waited for the baby to be cleaned and wrapped in a blanket before being handed back to them. But this did not happen. The room was quiet. The midwife had her back to them and a doctor had now entered the room.
“Is everything alright?” Harpreet asked now. “Ajay I can’t hear her. Why did she cry like that. Is she ok?”
The midwife looked in their direction. She looked worried. The doctor now turned and walked towards them. There was no smile on his face.
“I don’t know how to tell you this, there is no easy way to say it. I am afraid your daughter has stopped breathing.”
Harpreet did not want to listen to any more. She felt like getting out of the bed and running away but her legs had turned to jelly. She could not breathe. She could not hear anything else which the doctor said to them. Everything sounded muffled. She tried to focus on his face but everything was blurred. She now looked towards Ajay. He had sat down on the chair beside her bed. His head was in his hands and he was weeping
The midwife, who had come to join them now spoke.
“Would you like to hold her?” she asked gently. Harpreet was unable to speak. Ajay looked up and nodded, tears rolling down his face.
Amy was brought over to them. She had been cleaned and dressed in a tiny bonnet and jacket. They both stared at her. She did not look like she was dead. She was so beautiful and perfect, with dark hair, and olive skin. She was so tiny. Ajay broke down again, wrought with grief and despair. It was too much to bear.
Harpreet held her tiny hand. She stroked her head and the jacket which she had bought for her to take her home. This was the only outfit her daughter would wear. There would be no party dresses, no pink babygros, she would never see her go to school, to ballet classes or university or look on with pride as she got married and had children of her own.
Amy was now taken away. Harpreet remained silent for a while, numb with grief and then she started to scream. She did not know what happened after that. She later learned that she had been sedated and moved onto another ward. The next day she was discharged from hospital. Ajay had taken both their parents and Gurmeet to see Amy and say goodbye. He was now arranging her funeral. They did not speak. She remembered watching the world go by as she was driven home from the hospital. She wondered how that could be as her own world had ended.
*
The funeral service was held a week later. Amy was cremated. After the funeral, Harpreet asked to be taken home. She did not go to the temple where prayers were conducted. She did not feel like her legs could carry her body. Once home, she collapsed in bed, not speaking to anyone and unable to eat. Gurmeet was being looked after by Ajay’s parents.
It was only after a few weeks that she was able to go into Amy’s room, the room where she would never sleep. Everything was as it had been left before they went to the hospital. She did not move anything, just looked and left the room, closing the door behind her.
Another week went by, she had not eaten very much or left the house. Calls from her parents, Baljeet and Dave went unanswered. She had barely spoken to Ajay. He was the one who was holding everything together and looking after Gurmeet. The sadness would not go away. Her broken heart was making her whole body ache.
The weeks to follow did not get any better. The feelings of total shock were overwhelming. She remembered walking out of the hospital empty handed, walking past people carrying flowers for the new mothers on the ward. The sound of babies crying echoed in her ears. She went through phases of crying endlessly, feeling like she would dissolve in the tears to periods when no tears came and only numbness.
The question which they asked over and over again was why. Why them.? It was so unfair. The hospital were not able to give them any answers. They could not find any clear cause for Amy to have been taken from them.
Ajay tried his best to support her. It was only after a few weeks that he showed her a picture which he had taken of Amy. He also gave her a trinket box containing a lock of Amy’s hair which he had cut before she was taken away by the undertakers. He handed them to her as she sat in bed. She did not show any emotion or speak. She refused to hold out her hand and take them, so he placed them on the bedside table and left the room.
Gurmeet would come back from school and try to lift his mother out of the darkness which encircled her.
“Mummy, look what I did at school,” he said. He handed her a poem which he had written about his baby sister describing how tiny and perfect she was. She smiled at him and held him close.
Ajay told her that he had chosen to have Amy’s ashes buried so that there was somewhere where they could go to visit her. He would go there regularly and had taken Gumreet occasionally.
“Harp, will you come with me?” he asked one Sunday. “It may help you.”
“I can’t,” she replied. She would not say any more.
“I think you should talk to someone,” he continued. “Gurmeet needs you, I need you. I can’t carry everything any more. It’s hard for me too.”
He moved closer to her and tried to put his arm around her shoulders but she moved away. She stood by the window in the bedroom with her back to him, not saying a word. It was raining outside and dark. The weather suited her mood. The alternative would have been for the sun to be shining and she would imagine putting Amy in her new pushchair which still stood in the hallway with the new tags, never having been used. She would have taken Amy out into the sunshine, with people stopping them every so often to say how beautiful she was.
It was after six months that Ajay suggested she should go back to work. She said she could not face it. There was nothing left of their relationship. They did not communicate. Ajay had moved into the spare bedroom as he could not deal with the rejection any more. His pleas for her to seek help went unheard and finally one day, he packed his bags and left.
Part 2
; CHAPTER 8
January 1991
Michael Daniels looked at himself in the mirror. He looked immaculate. Nothing less would do. He wore a dark three piece Armani suit, with a pale blue shirt. His shoes were clean and polished. He straightened his tie and placed his pocket handkerchief neatly into the breast pocket of his suit. He had a meeting with his future Pupil master in the City today.
He noticed a long blonde hair on his suit and removed it. There was the sound of someone stirring behind him.
“Hey Mike, are you dressed already?”
He turned to look at the young woman semi naked, now sitting up in bed.
“Yes Darling, early start I am afraid. I need to shoot off. But hey, we can catch up later. I’ll call you.”
He went over to the bed and kissed her on her lips.
“You were amazing last night,” he said to her as he smiled and went down the stairs and out of the door. He had met her on his Bar Finals Course. She was one of many of the women who were competing for his attention.
Once out of the house, he pulled his overcoat snugly around him. It was chilly. As he walked down the road, he reached into his pocket and took out his wedding ring and placed it on his finger.
An hour later and he was in the City. His meeting with his future Pupil Master was scheduled for one o clock. He was early. When he reached the Chambers at 12 Gosforth Square, where he was to do his Pupillage, he stopped outside and admired the gold plaque with all the names of the Barristers engraved on it. His name would be on there one day, he thought.
Michael Daniels was fiercely ambitious. His career path had not been easy. He would do whatever it took to succeed. No doubt his charm and charisma had impressed the female Head of Chambers who had interviewed him.
His thoughts were interrupted by the voice of Max Evans who would be supervising him at Chambers.
“Ah, Michael, young man,” he almost shouted and shook his hand with great enthusiasm. Max Evans was a thin, tall man in his sixties with grey hair. He looked at Michael over the rim of his glasses. He looked like he was assessing his body language as if he would find some hidden feature of his personality. Michael imagined him looking like this when he was addressing the court.
“Let’s go and have a spot of lunch at the local bar. That’s also an important part of training. You will be spending many an evening downing a few pints after court.”
He chuckled at his own joke as they walked the short distance to the bar.
The bar was full of people smartly turned out in suits. Many of the men wore dark pin stripe suits, whilst the women wore short pencil skirts and high heels. He would have some fun in here. He brushed shoulders with a tall woman with brunette hair. She looked at him flirtatiously.
“I can see you are going to be a hit with the ladies,” Max Evens laughed.
After lunch, they both went back to Chambers and Michael was introduced to other members of Chambers and the clerks. It was four o clock by the time he caught the train home. The train was packed with commuters on their way home and he had to stand for most of the journey. His phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the name on the screen. It was Vanessa, the woman who he had spent the night with. He did not answer and had no intention of calling her back.
It would not be long before he would be doing this commute regularly. He only had two more months to go at Simmons and Jones. The firm were well known to 12 Gosforth Square Chambers and regularly instructed them. It was important for him to remain on good terms with the Partners there so that he would also be instructed. His thoughts turned to the young Asian woman at Simmons and Jones. She was not his usual type but he was intrigued by her. He would have to get to know her better.
He turned the key in the front door of his home.
“Michael is that you?” a voice came from the landing upstairs. It was his wife Jasmine.
“Yes darling,” he answered.
She came running down the stairs and kissed him.
“Did you have a nice day?” she asked. “And how was the Stag Do?”
He had told her he was going to a friend’s Stag Do the night before and would not be back until the following day. She never doubted him. He loved her for that.
Michael was brought up in care. His mother, Karen Daniels was an alcoholic. His father, Christopher Daniels had left because of her drinking when Michael was five years old. He had not heard from him since. Michael remembered the arguments from an early age, sometimes they were verbal arguments and sometimes they turned physical. He would run upstairs and hide under his bed, holding his hands over his ears so that he could not hear the screaming from downstairs. He was frightened of what might happen.
He also remembered some happy times, family outings when his mother had not had a drink. They would go to the seaside, walk along the beach, eat fish and chips and ice cream. His father would play football with him. However, these happy times were few and far between. He did not remember an exact incident after which his father left, only that he came home from school one day and his mother told him that his father did not love both of them and had left. Michael wondered why he had not said goodbye.
After that, he assumed the role of his mother’s carer. He did not know what was going to happen from one day to another. His mother would be quite normal in the mornings and as the day wore on, she would become more and more incoherent and aggressive. There was often not enough food in the house because the little money they had would be spent on alcohol.
He longed to escape but did not want to leave her. What would happen to her if he did? Who would make sure she had eaten or that she did not drink herself to death. They moved often, being evicted time and again because the rent had not been paid. If his father had looked for him, he would not have found him.
The neighbours would sometimes collect him from school when they went to collect their own children. They must have pitied him, standing all alone at the school gates when his mother did not collect him. Sometimes they would take him home and feed him. He remembered them watching him eat, shovelling the food into his mouth because he was so hungry. Why did his mother not love him enough to stop drinking?
By the time he was ten years old, Michael was self sufficient. He had learned how to cook for himself, how to do the washing and look after his mother when she became more and more ill due to her drinking. He did not have any friends at school and was bullied by the other children due to his mother not collecting him and the poor state of his hygiene and clothes.
It was shortly after his tenth birthday that he was removed from his mother by social services. She had got up on night to make herself some food and had left the stove on. It was only because the neighbours saw smoke coming from the house that saved them. The police were called as well as the fire brigade. The house was in a terrible state. There was no food in the cupboards and the house was freezing as they could not afford any heating.
Michael was taken away and placed with a foster family. He remembered his first night there. He was frightened and confused. He had lost both of his parents. He lay awake that first night, worried about his mother. Who would look after her now?
He did not see his mother very often after that. When he did see her, he felt more pain. She had continued to drink and now looked much older than her years. She had developed liver problems, her skin was yellow and she found it hard to breathe. She was not a nice person to be around. She would start off abit snappy and then start shouting and ranting. Michael would often think about his father. He understood now why he had left. But he could not forgive him for leaving him to cope alone. Why had he not looked for him? Did he not love him either?
His mother’s visits became less frequent. She often would not turn up for scheduled visits. At least when she came, he could pretend that he was wanted. Now he felt more alone than ever.
Michael was moved from placement to placement. And each time, he moved to a new placement, he went to a different school. It was difficult to make
friends or form attachments to anyone. Although the families, he was placed with always treated him well, he felt like an outsider, like he did not belong. He craved for what other children had. He envied the ones whose parents would come and collect them from school and take them home.
It was in his second placement when he was thirteen that the news came that his mother had died. He would never forget the day when he heard. The alcohol was a contributing factor but it was cancer that killed her. To this day, he had never spoken to anyone about how he had felt when he heard of her death. When the numbness had gone, he blamed himself. He did not protect, her, he had left her when she needed him. He was not with her when she died. He wondered if she had suffered. He had been placed with a middle aged lady called Mabel at the time. She also had three other children placed with her.
It was Mabel who had taken him to the funeral. He had wanted to go. He knew nobody else would be there. His mother’s family had disowned her long before when she had been abusive to them through drink. It was a cold November day. His mother’s coffin was taken to the church where prayers were said and after that to a local cemetery. There was no money for a headstone. He promised himself that one day when he had earned some money, he would come back here and make sure that his mother had a headstone. After the funeral, he was given a small cardboard box with his mother’s belongings. He did not open this until many years later.
Mabel had tried in the limited time she had available to devote to his emotional needs to ask him how he felt and hug him but it just ended up being awkward He had no attachment to her. Soon he was moved again and took his story with him to another family who did not know what had happened. He had learned by now not to get too close to anyone and this way he retained control and nobody could hurt him.