Ebe was pictured in front of his construction with the nursery leader perched comfortably on top, beaming down the lens, happily promoting the academic benefits of her nursery group. But what pleased Carys and Marco, and Ebe’s family, was that for the first time they had ever witnessed, Ebe was smiling!
He had found his niche. The other children loved sitting on his self-crafted chair, and they’d all fetch broken toys for him to mend. But he still had his problems; he still hadn’t spoken, not even a syllable; he was still very attached to his mother; and he was still rather odd looking, attracting jibes of ‘Gollum’ rather than the long forgotten ‘Mekon.’ Carys saw it as a step up.
Even three years on, the health visitor and CPN were still frequent callers. Carys’s mental health continued to be a concern, but she hadn’t suffered any major blips. The medication was doing its job (although, she could tend towards what Marco and her parents described as ‘touchy.’)
None of her hallucinations: of The Amish man, or The Rebecca, or any aliens, had reared their ugly heads. Her psychiatrist suggested she might (as he was sure her mother did) suffer also with ‘borderline personality disorder’: a condition whereby the sufferer reaches a certain level of stress at which point they begin to experience audio and visual hallucinations. Carys’s borderline of stress seemed to be a little higher than her mum’s, so the condition was proving easier to control.
Carys wondered if everybody suffered from this condition, but people’s borderlines differed. Everyone could be pushed to breaking point with enough stressors. It made her feel normal. It made her feel happy.
The purple health visitor, since her advice had been taken and not worked, was more concerned than ever with Ebe’s lack of speech development, particularly as school age was rapidly approaching. But there was another more crucial problem causing stress in the marital home: Ebe just would not sleep in his cot.
It began early on. Dan and Natalia scolded them for ‘making a rod for their own back,’ by letting him settle snuggled up to Carys. She agreed, but continued the bad habit out of desperation.
“He just needs a little cwtch before settling,” Carys defended to her mother-in-law one night when Marco had invited her and Dan for dinner.
“And he settles in his cot okay then, does he?” Natalia probed, already knowing the answer. Marco had been bemoaning the poor sleep routine over the dinner.
“Er… no. We try, but he gets distressed… and I tend to pick him up again,” Carys admitted.
“And then I’m pushed to the side of the bed and don’t sleep,” Marco moaned, trying to pass it off as a joke.
“It’s dangerous. You shouldn’t do it,” Natalia admonished in archetypal mother-in-law style. “Babies are killed all the time by parents inadvertently rolling on them! And what are you going to do when you have more children? They can’t all sleep in bed with you!”
Marco snorted in disgust
“More children! That’s a laugh. We’d need to have sex occasionally, or at least once, for that to happen!” he roared a little too readily. Carys wanted the ground to swallow her and glowered at her husband.
“I’m sure he’ll settle down soon,” she mumbled.
“Not unless you do something about it,” came the stern rebuke. And then, without consulting Carys, she ordered Marco and Dan upstairs to move Ebe’s cot out of the marital bedroom and into the nursery. It had always been the intention for Ebe to sleep in there, of course, and it was decorated beautifully for that purpose, but Carys seethed with resentment.
It was worse because part of her wondered if her mother-in-law wasn’t absolutely right. She hoped she was, but begrudged it already. Once the cot had been moved, Natalia got herself involved in Ebe’s routine for bed.
“Give him a lovely warm bath. Stick some lavender drops in it and then, one last feed. Pop him in his cot. If he cries, go back to him but don’t make a fuss. If he gets up, lay him down without being friendly or cross, no emotion. That’s important. You don’t want him attention seeking.”
Carys felt like arguing, but had nothing to fight back with. Ebe was nearly four and would only sleep on her chest. It didn’t make for a happy marriage. She decided just to give in. There might be something in it.
“He’s nearly four,” Natalia echoed Carys’s thoughts annoyingly. “He won’t fit in a cot for much longer. If he can’t settle on his own, how is he going to settle in his own bed?” she said, shrugging her shoulders.
After his bath, Ebe was presented to kiss Marco, Nana and Grandpa goodnight. Carys carried him up, and took him to his nursery.
“This is your new room,” she encouraged. “How grown up are you?” Ebe didn’t respond in any way and Carys had to assume he didn’t understand. He did look as worried as his non expressive little face could demonstrate. Carys almost laughed to herself as she imagined him looking to her and Marco’s room and saying “Precious…”
“Bad mother,” she admonished, using humour to cover her anxiety. “Come on, little man,” she said, hoisting him over the bars of his cot. She bent over and lay him down. He stared up at her with his big, dark eyes.
“Now, you be a good boy. Maybe one day Mummy and Marco will make you a brother or sister to play with.” He looked blankly back at her with all the understanding of a new born child. Carys winced at the oddity of his three years.
She wasn’t shocked when he was crying by the time she reached the door.
“Leave him,” Natalia commanded. Carys jumped as she hadn’t been aware of being followed upstairs.
“I can’t just leave him,” she insisted. “It hurts my heart to hear him cry. He doesn’t understand the world like other children.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised with the way you’ve molly-coddled him,” she said harshly, before correcting to a less offensive tone. “Don’t blame yourself. You’re a new mum. But you must leave him to it now. Trust me. He won’t cry forever.”
Carys sat in the lounge with her husband and his parents, becoming unbearably tense. All she could hear was Ebe crying. The cries turned to screams, and she was on the edge of not coping. Marco leaned across to his mother and whispered something in her ear. She responded by nodding agreement.
“Carys, dear. He’s sensing your tension. You’re making him cry.”
Carys didn’t get up and punch the woman who all of a sudden was the world’s foremost expert on bringing up children. Nor did she question where that interest had been for the previous three years.
Both sets of grandparents had been a disappointment during Ebe’s short life. To be fair, they had been more enthusiastic at first, but Ebe never rewarded their enthusiasm with any affection. He cried constantly when Carys wasn’t in sight, so she had learned to be grateful for the occasions when they did baby sit. She knew Ebe was difficult. That’s why she needed more help.
Dan and Natalia, or Natalia at least, had clearly decided that Ebe’s problems were due to Carys’s poor parenting skills. As insulted, unsupported, and misjudged as she felt, she was still grateful for the attempts at help offered tonight.
“You go off out with Marco somewhere. Have a drink, I bet you could do with one. Go for a walk. Go far enough where you can’t hear Ebe crying. I’ll stay here with Dan so you won’t have to worry, and when you get back, he’ll be zonco. Guaranteed!”
Carys accepted gratefully. She and Marco headed off down the Drang towards town. The elevation as they walked out of the covered ally gave inspirational views across the valley of farmland with an occasional tree. The obligatory smattering of sheep dotted about made them smile. Away from the close, there was no sound of Ebe at all.
“Thank you. I needed this. It’ll be so nice if it works, and we get back to a silent house, won’t it?”
“If it works?! Of course it’ll work! We can enjoy a snuggle tonight.”
Carys wasn’t sure if snuggling was what she fancied, more than a bloody good sleep, but she didn’t say. She knew how frustrated her husband had been. They walke
d arm in arm down the hill to the little town centre, past the cross of the war memorial and towards the town hall above Rebecca’s cell where Carys had suffered her breakdown nearly four years ago.
Feelings of wellbeing since, she put down to her love for Ebe, but more importantly, his love for her. She felt needed; loved. For now, that was enough to keep her stable.
A better bedtime routine, and the possibility of more children would be a benefit that fitted nicely into her life now. With Ebe starting school soon she was expecting to feel the loss badly. Maybe Natalia’s help could be just in time.
They walked through the town and decided on one of the numerous public houses to venture into. Carys chose the sturdy stone façade of The Dragon Inn. She’d have a pint of best Brains bitter and feel good, relaxed, and Welsh.
She was surprised when just a couple of pints intoxicated her. As she walked back, arm in arm with her handsome husband, she thought he might get his wish tonight. She was feeling more than a little frisky.
As they walked up the steep hill back up to the Drang, and back to their town house, Marco had to steady a tipsy Carys, who giggled at her unsteadiness.
The carefree inebriation was rapidly replaced with taut sobriety less than halfway along the alleyway, as the unmistakable screaming of her son filled her ears and head. She broke free from Marco’s arm and dashed for home.
The screaming became louder and more distressing with her proximity. She was certain he was noisier than when they left.
As she reached the house, Marco arrived half a second later having hurried to catch her up. The door flew open to a flustered looking Natalia.
“He hasn’t stopped!” she accused, before altering her tone to portray a pseudo-calm. “I’m sure he’ll exhaust himself before long.” Carys continued rushing, past her mother-in-law, and up the stairs to her son’s bedroom. As she summited the stairs, Ebe’s screaming became deafening. Even Carys flinging open the door failed to silence him.
What she saw shocked her: Ebe standing up in his cot, covered in blood, and dripping with sweat. The foul smell of urine and faeces almost knocked her out as she rushed over to see where the blood was coming from.
As she reached the bed, she clearly heard it.
Chapter Thirty
Wool
The dreadful humming noise, that only ever meant imminent disaster to Carys, filled the air comprehensively with no clear source, as it always did. She didn’t know if it had been there all along, and she’d somehow managed to ignore it.
With hairs on end, she scooped the smelly little Ebe from his cot, and had the presence of mind to notice he wasn’t little any more, as she struggled to carry him to the bathroom for a clean. He was still screaming as she ran the bath. She held him close and squeezed him tight.
“It’s okay,” she soothed. “It’s okay, my Ebe.” She kissed his head over and over. Slowly his sobbing abated as he calmed to his mother’s presence. As he sat in the bath, she could see no sign of where the blood on his bed had come from, until she spotted it coming from his mouth. He must have hit his teeth on the side of the cot, or bitten his tongue. She tried to open his mouth to check how bad it was, but it was clamped firmly shut now that he wasn’t crying.
A sudden increase in the volume of the humming noise caused Ebe to scream out again. He looked to his mother for reassurance but found none in her anxious expression. His large open mouth provided the opportunity for examination.
She was trembling with fear, but knew she had to see if Ebe needed a doctor. Blood was visible in his mouth, suggesting he must have bitten his tongue. He may have a couple of loose teeth as well, she thought, but it looked okay. Recognising the negative effect she was having, she made concerted attempts to quell her fear, but another sudden increase in volume made them both cry out.
Marco rushed into the doorway in response to the yelling.
“Is everything okay?” he cried, distraught. He wasn’t surprised at the lack of a reply he received.
“I’ve put Ebe’s bedding in the wash,” he announced helpfully, taking the blame for his mother’s interference. “Mum meant well. I don’t think she understands Ebe’s…” he struggled to find words to sensitively describe what he meant. “…difficulties,” he settled on.
“That isn’t fucking obvious much, is it?!” Carys shouted at him.
“I’ll go and put the kettle on,” he placated.
The humming noise was driving Carys mad. It always had, but with her son to protect, it upset worse than ever. Placing a fluffy towel around him, she waddled him along to her bedroom and her bed. Lifting him up on top of the covers, she finished drying him, dressed him in clean pyjamas, still conveniently located in her bedroom wardrobe, and decided what to do.
After his reaction to being put in his own cot, and now with the awful humming, the decision was obvious. She wouldn’t let him out of her sight, and that was that.
Ebe was tired after his second bath, and from being up much later than his regular bed time. Carys thought that if she left him in her bed he’d settle to sleep just fine, but she wouldn’t leave him.
She lay on the bed too, arm loosely around him, and he cuddled into her, falling sound asleep with his face touching hers. She smiled to herself as much as she dared, knowing that one false move could wake him.
Keeping his sleep routine was important. If he didn’t sleep well tonight, he’d catch up during the day tomorrow after nursery, and then he’d struggle more tomorrow night; but that wasn’t why she stayed with him. Fear, tempered by embarrassment, flushed through her. She knew, as Diane had always known, that she was right to be scared. She lay awhile, listening to Ebe’s gentle snoring. Listening to the incessant, excruciating hum.
Waking at dawn, she didn’t remember if Marco ever came to bed. Was it before or after he would’ve looked in on the two of them asleep that she’d stretched out and taken up the whole mattress, blocking his entry? Either way, he wasn’t there.
A glance at the glaring red numbers of the alarm clock declared 6.00am. Good she thought. More time in bed. Pausing in her lazy, snoozy thoughts, she listened. Her heart fluttered as relief tentatively grew within her and she realised she couldn’t hear the hum. Settling into another restful sleep, anxiety drained from her taut body. She awoke to a moody Marco tapping her arm.
“Do you want a cuppa before I go to work?” he asked sulkily.
“Yes… please,” she remembered to add. “You okay?” she asked, as it seemed only fair.
“Yes,” Marco answered before correcting himself “Actually, no. My back aches from sleeping on the couch, and I’m bloody knackered. I could see you’d managed to settle him. I couldn’t get in, so I thought it best to just leave you both in peace.” It was obvious he wasn’t happy. Carys paused a moment.
“Sorry if I blocked you from getting in. Once Ebe was asleep, I just completely flaked out.” Marco’s expression softened. “It took me a while to settle him. It was that bloody humming noise,” she explained, but really she was probing Marco for a response. “Did it disturb you?”
Irritation returned to Marco’s face, knowing exactly what the humming noise meant to Carys. Filled with worry for her mental health, he felt an irate disappointment that her born-again-Christian life wasn’t protecting her from these demons.
“No, I didn’t hear any humming,” he said with ill-contained exasperation. He disappeared, and returned with tea, which he placed noisily onto the bedside table, spilling a little as it splashed over the rim. They air-kissed unaffectionate goodbyes.
Carys settled down for another fifteen minutes sleep before Ebe’s nursery. She lay seething and felt considerably tenser.
She must have pressed the wrong button on the alarm clock, she would later suppose. Easy enough. It was a ridiculous design where the snooze button sat next to the off button. They were labelled of course, and after nearly four years of ownership she might have expected to be pretty sure whether it was the right or the left button, but she never w
as.
The shrill noise of the telephone ringing from its base next to the icy cold tea Marco had left for her, is what startled her awake. She struggled to comprehend who could be ringing. Her blurry eyes unable to read the caller ID on the handset. Without knowing who to expect, she anxiously answered.
“Hello?” she said, realising too late that she sounded like she’d just woken.
“Er, Mrs Ellis?” (She had kept her maiden name despite desperate persuasion from Marco to become Carys Paulo) “Er... is Ebe coming into nursery today? Is everything alright?”
Carys panicked “Yes, what’s the time then?” she looked across at the alarm clock. After ten! Where was Ebe?!
“I have to go. Sorry.” Carys put the phone down without saying whether they should expect her and Ebe or not.
“Ebe!” she called. Hearing no reply, she called again, rushing out of the bedroom.
It didn’t take long to see that since waking before his mum, Ebe had been busy. The first thing she noticed was how she could barely make her way from the stairs because the way was blocked. Tied to the bannister was wool. Lots and lots of wool.
The wool was threaded through every bannister rail, up to the ceiling light and down again before looping through every conceivable hole. Around and into light fittings, through door handles, around pictures, round and round the bookshelf and through the doorways to the kitchen and the lounge and the toilet. She didn’t know she owned so much of it. The balls went further than she ever would have believed.
Carys expected more of the same as she tentatively made her way through the woolly web to the kitchen. “Ebe? Where are you, cariad?” she gently called as she moved. When she adjusted her eyes past the wool in the doorway, she couldn’t believe what greeted her.
Stacked high on the kitchen table was a pyramid, constructed from the chairs that usually resided firmly on the kitchen floor. Heavy, solid wooden carver chairs with bulky arms were stacked one on top of another until they touched the ceiling.
The HUM: The complete novel Page 23