by Caron Allan
“Well, yes, that’s why he wants to get the little chap away from them.”
“Yes, but our Matt wouldn’t want you …”
I could see it was going to be one of those circular arguments. So I simply said, “drink? Violence?”
Sid spoke from behind his paper.
“Only when they can’t get the drugs for her johns.”
That shut me up. Oh God, poor little Paddy!
So my mind has been made up for me. I’m going to have to do the “London Job” first. And it’s got to be this coming weekend.
OMG!!!!!!
Have had a bacon sandwich – yes, I know, I’m a bit surprised too! Tummy not so gippy today. Plus am sure I can detect a slight increase in girth. Stood in front of the bathroom mirror turning this way and that. Definitely got a teeny tiny baby belly! Or possibly a bacon and whipped cream belly. Ooh, bacon and whipped cream. That might be a combination worth trying? Yay! Anyway, so I have been fed and watered and have now returned to the den to have a little mull.
Have texted Jess and explained about wanting to chuck a flower in the general direction of Thomas’ ashes on the 13th August. Apologised for changing my mind and said I would understand perfectly if they didn’t have room for me or whatever, didn’t want them to feel under any kind of pressure or obligation. Text back almost immediately saying “don’t be sch a tard, luv to hav u, bring Matt? We rlly shld meet him proply. xx”
Hmm. Am I bringing Matt? Must have another think. I’ll be lucky if I can get all these people killed and all this thinking done before the new baby arrives. Things just keep piling up. Why is my life so bloody complicated?
Am quite impressed she remembers his name, considering how much a) she is against employer-staff relations and b) she warned me about getting involved and c) she told me off for getting up the duff. Hopefully this means they are coming round to accepting him as a vital part of my family life. Jess and Murdo are not so stuffy after all, it would seem. Thank God something is working out all right.
Thursday 10 July – 9.45am
Early start for once. I actually slept quite well last night. Had a little bit of toast and a cup of sweet tea for breakfast, and feel much better, almost in a pre-baby, normal kind of way. I must say it’s rather nice having a break from all that time-of-the-month stuff too. But probably the one and only bonus of being pregnant is being able to stuff one’s face and get away with it. Leaving to one side the eventual production of a cute little baby, that is. I suppose that might be construed as an advantage.
Lill and I sorted out a bedroom for Paddy, then Our Matt left to go and fetch him about half an hour ago. He didn’t phone ahead as he said no one would be awake before lunch time – sounds like he’s going to be arriving at the flat just in time for them to be having their first snort of the day. How precious.
Having vacuumed and dusted and made up the bed, I left Lill putting the finishing touches to the room. Half expected her to provide a cat basket with a cushion in it, but no, she did remember he is a human child and will be sleeping in a proper bed. I wish we had a few toys here for him, I don’t want him to be bored. I hope Matt remembers to bring Paddy’s things with him. Sent him a quick text reminding him to grab some Lego or cars or his Xbox or something.
I asked Lill how come Tracey continues to be able to retain custody of Patrick when she is a drug-addict slash prostitute. She gave me what my Aunt Valeria used to call an ‘old-fashioned’ look, and said, “well I don’t know for sure but I can make a guess.” I didn’t say anything, just waited and eventually she went on to say, “she’s got one of these street-smart young lawyers and I reckon she’s got something over him. She must of, as else how could she afford someone like that on what benefits she’s getting?”
“Sometimes even quite good law firms take on legal-aid cases for next to nothing.” I said. She shook her head, sadly, worldly-wise.
“No, Cressida. Either she’s sleeping wiv him or she’s giving him drugs. Or else maybe it’s him what’s giving drugs to her. There’s got to be some dodgy explanation. And of course they always go on about how Our Matt has been inside and so isn’t a fit parent. And she gets her friends to swear they’ve seen him threaten her, or hit her. Which of course,” Lill said hastily to me, in case I was worried, “of course he would never do no such fing as hit a lady.”
I smiled at her and said no, I knew he wouldn’t. And I didn’t even need to think twice about that. I said he was a real gentleman, and she smiled too, pleased, because she knows I know a lot of ‘gentlemen’ so I’m a good judge of such things. So I came downstairs to have a bit of a mull, and left her to finish off Paddy’s room.
I do hope Paddy will be all right here with us. What if he misses the drug scene and the johns who come to visit his mother? I mean this house hasn’t got much to offer a little boy apart from you know – love, a stable environment, good country air, a nice home and garden, pets to play with and love and a sweet little village school where there are almost as many teachers as children. Actually, yes, that’s quite a lot to offer, isn’t it? I feel a bit reassured. Possibly everything will be all right after all?
If they do take drugs, and I’m sure Matt had told me they drink a lot too, that will all be grist to my mill. I’m planning a fun weekend with Matt and Paddy – it will be good practice for when the new baby comes too. I wonder if Matt wants to take him to the zoo, or something like that? That would be lovely. And I hope we go to McDonald’s, I need some of their chips and milk shakes, I feel a craving coming on.
Later - 2.15pm
Well, well, well. I had half been thinking about popping into the pub for a quick hot chocolate with Henrietta, and then she turned up here! Like the other day, she clearly had something on her mind, only more so. She was very flustered and upset and finally she came out with, “look here, Cressida, don’t know any hitmen do you?”
She said it in a bit of a rush so it had obviously been on her mind for a while.
I was so surprised, she clearly took it for horror, because she quickly said, “oh I know it’s wrong, I’m just so upset, I’m utterly desperate, I’m just not thinking straight!”
Anyway, I prevailed on Lill for a pot of tea and a couple of home-made quail pasties, and made Henrietta try to calm down and relax and tell me everything. It seems pressure is being brought to bear, and Mavis is getting herself in a state worrying what she ought to do, and Henrietta is getting herself in a state, being anxious about Mavis and so frustrated with a situation she cannot see any way of ameliorating.
But I can’t tell her what I’m planning, can I? I mean, I don’t want her to be a party to anything I’m plotting or to try to talk me out of it. Finally, having got it all off her chest, and seemingly a little happier, she rose to leave, then Lill came in and Henrietta thanked her for the lovely lunch, and ended up telling Lill what was on her mind including the “I can’t believe I was so silly I asked you to recommend an assassin” bit. Très embarrassing. Lill shot me a knowing look. I felt so uncomfortable, but then as she was showing Henrietta out the front door, Lill patted her arm and said, “don’t you worry yourself about it. If anyone can do anything it’ll be Our Cressida, she’s good at sorting out these kinds of things.”
Henrietta said a kind of bewildered “oh …” and turned to go, giving me an odd look as she went. Then I was left looking after Lill’s retreating form as she disappeared back to the kitchen with our empty plates.
Can’t decide which bit to focus on. The fact that Lill is pimping me out as an assassin or the fact that I am officially Our Cressida.
OMG!!!!
Have been adopted by my own housekeeper!!!!
Friday 11 July – 4.30pm
Well, what can I say about the last 24 hours?
To begin with, when Matt arrived, it was with two children, not one. He ushered in these strangely quiet little ones into the house just as the heavens opened and the rain began to pour down, and neither of them was dressed for bad weather – or an
ything else really - they were both wearing pyjamas! The filthiest pyjamas I have ever seen, and at least a size too small for both of them, with grotty old trainers and no socks! That was it! They had no luggage, no toys, clothes or belongings of any kind. Nothing! Just their pyjamas and their trainers. There was Matt’s little boy, Patrick, and an even smaller little girl called, incredibly, Bill.
Frankly I just didn’t know what to do. I just couldn’t grasp what was going on. Why didn’t they have any clothes or – well – anything? Why were they so terrified? Why are they so silent? Why were there two children?
Neither of them could be persuaded to let go of Matt or each other. Somehow he managed to get them both into the kitchen, and squeezed their three bodies onto one chair at the kitchen table. They kept their faces hidden for the first ten minutes, and even then, it was as if they somehow knew when they were being observed and hid their faces again, just sending the odd furtive glance around them now and again, as if hunting out an escape route. They reminded of one of Thomas’s mother’s doomed cats last year.
I half-expected Matt to say the police were after him for kidnapping the little girl. (Who calls a little girl Bill?) He indicated he didn’t really want to explain in front of them. I suggested we send the children out to explore the garden. They clung more tightly to Matt, staring at me with too-big eyes.
“They won’t want to do that,” Matt said, “they aren’t used to being allowed to do things for themselves, and anyway, Bill’s only two and a half. And they’ve never been in such a big house, in fact they’ve hardly ever been anywhere. And they’re not used to meeting people. This is all pretty scary for them.”
At that point, Tetley wandered in to see what was going on, and the little girl shrieked and kicked in terror, desperately trying to get to higher ground and safety. It was some minutes before she began to understand the cat wouldn’t hurt her, although judging by the look in Tetley’s eyes, I wasn’t completely sure about that. Even half an hour later, Bill was still wary and tense whenever one of the cats was nearby.
It took an hour to persuade the children to eat a biscuit and drink a cup of milk. It took two hours to persuade them to get off Matt’s lap, and that was only because he needed the loo. They didn’t cry when he left the room, they were too frightened for that. They huddled together and watched us all with those huge eyes. I have never seen such still, silent children. It frightened me and made me feel ill. Patrick had met Lill and Sid once or twice before but he was still nervous of Lill and downright petrified of Sid. Both children wet themselves because they were too scared to ask for the toilet, and when first one and then the other accident was discovered, both children trembled with fear, clearly expecting violence. I had to leave the room at that point.
Lill found me weeping upstairs in the room that is to be the nursery.
“I can’t deal with it. Why are they like that? What’s wrong with them? Why aren’t they like normal children?” I asked, scrubbing frantically at my face with my pathetic hand-made lace and cambric hanky.
“It’s the way they’ve been brought up, Cressida. No love, no attention, no care, no treats, no fun, no cuddles, no bedtime stories. No food half the time. They get hit for everything they do, so they don’t do nothing. And then they still gets hit. They’re constantly in fear of what’s going to happen to them. They’re not used to kindness or love. It’s going to take time. Quite a lot of time.”
I gaped at her in dismay. “But we’ve only got them for the weekend!” Then with dawning realisation I added, “we can’t let them go back to that.”
Lill couldn’t answer that one. She pressed her lips together tightly and said nothing, but there were tears in her eyes.
“And who’s the little girl?”
This Lill could answer. “She’s Tracey’s new bloke Mick’s daughter. His Ex died of an overdose a few months ago, so now he’s got the child. Bill’s short for Belinda.”
That was better than Bill, at any rate. Belinda. That’s rather pretty.
“His Ex died of an overdose and the children are still in the care of people like this Mick and Tracey? What are social services thinking?”
Another question Lill could not answer.
Later – 10.30pm
He’s such a good dad. He hasn’t left their sides the whole evening. After several hours at the kitchen table, Matt managed to move onto the sofa and the children sat on his lap. God knows how we’re going to get them to go to bed. They ate a little of the fish fingers and chips and chopped up tomato and cucumber that Lill made for them. They drank some more milk and ate another biscuit. Judging by how little and how thin they are, that’s the most food they’ve ever had in the same day.
Matt took them upstairs and popped them both in the bath – there was a bit of half-hearted splashing mainly by Matt. But no giggles, no mess. My heart broke when I saw that they just didn’t know that bath-time was supposed to be noisy wet fun.
Meanwhile, Lill and Sid had nipped out to the shops to procure a change of pyjamas, some basic clothing essentials and a few toys, and a few other necessary bits and pieces.
Now, Matt and the two children are all tucked up in Matt’s bed – I hope there’s a rubber sheet on there or they will all be a bit damp in the morning.
I looked in to say goodnight about half an hour ago. The children were looking droopy round the eyes, but not quite asleep. Matt looked exhausted. Now I know why he’s never here. And if ever I had entertained any doubts at all about how I was going to deal with the situation of Matt and his Ex, I don’t any more. I’ve made up my mind and nothing will turn me from my decision. The children can’t go back to that place, those people. It’s got to be this weekend – it has to be. I blew Matt a kiss from the doorway, he blew one back and with a little smile, mouthed the words “thank you.” I quickly turned away so he wouldn’t see me go all weepy again.
I can’t believe the treatment those kids have suffered. And to think Thomas and I struggled for years and never had a baby, and yet miles away, in London, Mick and Tracey were selfishly producing their unloved, neglected babies with no difficulty at all, and subjecting them to unspeakable misery. They deserve to die.
Sunday 13 July – 7.30pm
The last couple of days have been no less peculiar than the previous two. Thursday, Friday and Yesterday I felt unbelievably stressed. I have acquired an instant family. I have dreamed of this moment or something very like it for years but the reality is as far removed from my fantasy as it’s possible to be. It’s not the children’s fault, poor little sods, but it really has been quite, quite weird. It felt like an insurmountable problem. And I just didn’t know what to do to reach out to them.
Until the early hours of this morning.
The children have latched onto the teddies Lill and Sid bought them, but are still nervous of the colouring books, and the story books, and the dolly and the cars and even the concept of watching television programmes which don’t show pictures of men and women doing disgusting things to one another. Poor old Postman Pat has gone completely unappreciated.
But they will now sit on chairs and not on Matt for part of the time, although, (obviously and understandably) they are still pretty clingy. And they are already getting used to asking to go to the loo, even though we’ve explained they can just go, well maybe not Billy, she’s a bit little yet, and not quite as advanced as she should be due to her upbringing – or lack of it - but at least she now knows what the potty is for, even if she doesn’t always make it in time. Clever little poppet.
What I’m trying to say is that even after just three and a half days, they are already beginning to adapt, and last night, or rather in the early hours of this morning, I took certain steps to ensure both children would continue to flourish here with us. And in part, although I’d already more or less made up my mind, the reason things stopped being quite so weird and quite so stressful was this:
I was sitting in the garden-room, flicking through a magazine and wondering
if I dared to do what I sort of already knew I had to do when suddenly I glanced up and there, in the doorway, was Billy. Goodness knows how long she had been standing there, I hadn’t even heard her come downstairs, and it’s a little bit amazing that she ventured all the way downstairs in the dark on her own, but I suppose the light from down here helped a bit.
She was just standing there, with her right forefinger in her mouth (she sucks it), her chocolate-brown hair all afroey like a dandelion clock around her head, and her new pink pyjamas making her look all cute and snuggly and simply angelic. She looked as if she thought I might shout at her and was not sure whether to come into the room, but I smiled and held my hand out to her and she scampered over to me and I scooped her up into my lap and cuddled her and we carried on looking through Vogue.
Anyway, trying to play it cool, I carried on as if a minor miracle had not just taken place right before of my eyes, all the time secretly wondering if I should send Matt a text telling him to come down and see her sitting on my lap and having a cuddle, but I decided to try to keep calm about it. After a few minutes a damp little finger went out to point at the picture of the nice lady in a really gorgeous outfit that will absolutely be ‘IT’ this autumn, and a little weary voice said, “pwitty.”
I wanted to laugh. I wanted to sing. I wanted to cry. Yes! At last! A little girl to share my love of Chanel! It was like a dream come true. It was possibly the most beautiful moment of my entire existence. So we turned back to the beginning and went through from cover to cover. At the end of it, I noticed the little poppet was drowsy, but what could be more fitting for a proper bedtime story? Only two and a half and already a big fan of Vogue. I felt a rush of maternal pride.
I carried her up to bed and popped her in under the covers and found Teddy, and tucked him in too. Without even thinking about it, I stroked her hair back and plopped a little kiss on her forehead and whispered, “sweet dreams, Billy.” I was halfway to the door before I heard a tiny baby voice answer me,